by Joshua Roots
“That mindset, however,” Devon continued, “was short-sighted. In our haste to step out of the shadows, we failed to consider the needs and wants of our nonhuman counterparts. Fueled by desperation and hubris, we assumed that the paranormal world would be grateful, welcoming inclusion with open arms. That their needs matched our own.
“For years we fooled ourselves into believing that our two worlds, human and paranormal, were living, if not in harmony, at least in tolerance. We stuck our heads in the sand, hoping that words on parchment would heal wounds that stretched back thousands of years. We assumed that the protection the treaty offered was more than adequate to keep the peace among all species. Whether it was denial or arrogance, we blinded ourselves to the reality of the division that existed.
“Recent events proved the error of our ways. The actions of a single species, a single leader, forced everyone to see just how fragile our alliance was. But our eyes have been opened in the wake of the Minotaur war. Unity is not forged in hope or ceremony. It is created through negotiation, debate and a willingness to listen. All of these we failed to do two decades ago. Today, we correct our mistake.”
He picked up his own copy of the treaty. “We invited you here not as afterthoughts but as equals. Without your participation, this treaty is merely ink on parchment. The material is easily destroyed, the words simply ignored. But the partnership we hope to foster by rewriting this treaty will build the bonds that these words are intended to represent. Therefore, we’re formally inviting each and every species, the ones here and those who couldn’t or wouldn’t join us today, to participate. Only together can we establish a single, unified society where humans and paranormals coexist. With your willingness, we’ll take the first steps on the long journey of creating that world. It won’t be easy, but I can promise you that it’ll be worth it.”
Thunderous applause filled the room, echoing off the marble floors. Even I was unable to stop myself from joining in. Devon might be a cranky old bastard, but he was one hell of an orator.
The speeches continued for another hour, each praising the new direction our worlds were heading in, and outlining some basic tenets for the new treaty. It was earnest talk, steeped in a true longing for peace, but it was also just words. The real work would begin the next day when everyone broke into committees, sub-committees and sub-sub-committees to hash out the details. Then we’d face round after round of debate and bargaining.
It would be slow, boring work. The kind I’d have shunned years ago. But now I was part of the process and despite the agony of bureaucracy, I was actually helping to build a future for my people. It might not be a perfect process, or a fun one, but it sure as hell was fulfilling.
Eventually, Devon ended the meeting, calling the day a success. The various groups broke into huddled discussion while several leaders, including Chief Phrixus and Lady Ochlea, approached the Elders. The latter grinned mischievously at Steve. The new Alpha winked back. Her former betrothed scowled at the two, but nothing more.
Above me, Mom and Quinn were deep in conversation with Elsa and Mick, no doubt about wedding stuff. I smiled. Hopefully we’d test more cakes tomorrow. But today, I had business to attend to. Specifically, checking in with the new Alpha.
I wove through the various species, smiling and shaking hands or paws along the way. For some, like the Elves, I was simply glad-handing. For others, like the Trolls, we shared a firm embrace.
Eventually I reached Steve, who was surrounded by guards. They stepped aside as I approached, offering me the three-finger salute. I returned the gesture.
“Wow, I get a pass to see His Highness?” I asked.
Enneticia bowed deeply. “You will always have unrestricted access, Creator.”
“Unless you get uppity,” Steve said. “Then Lythos and Enneticia have orders to bat you around like a rag doll.”
The former smirked while the latter gave me a wide grin.
I swallowed. “I’ll be good.” Then to Steve, “Hello, Alpha.”
His nostrils flared with annoyance. “I prefer Ambassador Asterios, thank you very much.”
“Using your surname, eh?”
“I requested Big Daddy Steve, but your Elders feel it isn’t official enough. Tools.”
I laughed. “You’ll always be Big Daddy in my book, even if you are Alpha.”
He shrugged. “It’ll be nothing more than a title once I’m done restructuring the clan. The last thing I want is to get bogged down in the day-to-day micro-management of the Minotaurs. Let the euphors handle that crap. I’d rather serve as the go-between with them and the Council.”
“You’re staying?”
He nodded. “I have some work to do in the homeland, but after that, I can lead where I choose. I don’t see any reason to leave the cushy life I’ve built at your folks’ place. Plus, there’s work that requires my attention here at HQ.”
I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my face.
“Although,” he added, “dealing with the Council’s newest bureaucrat might drive me back to Canada.”
“Councilman Shifter.” I shuddered. “That still doesn’t sound right.”
“I can’t believe they actually promoted you. And that you accepted. What happened to the footloose and fancy-free moron who burned down my bar?”
“He grew up. At least, a little.”
He smirked. “You may just do okay on the Council.”
“We’ll see.”
Steve looked around the room. “So many species meeting at once, including Pixies and Werewolves. A year ago I’d have laughed in your face if you’d mentioned something like this would happen. But now, it’s a reality. Makes me wonder if we can pull it off this time.”
I clapped him on the arm. “You know, I think we actually might.”
Chapter 24
Beginnings
“In leaving the Labyrinth, she became lost. Only by embracing the Labyrinth of the soul could she find herself. So before the eyes of the gods, she married the mighty Asterion and bore unto him numerous children.”
—The Legend of Ariadne
The sun was white, blasting the apiary at the Homestead with warmth. The hum of hundreds of thousands of honeybees filled the air, their tiny bodies zipping in and out of the hives like fuzzy bullets. Standing at the back of the nearest stack of boxes, I removed the top cover, relishing the smell of wax and honey that drifted upward.
The inside was literally buzzing with activity. The first warm day in almost five months and the bees were busy cleaning house. They crawled over the comb and each other as they tended to eggs, transferred pollen and nectar, or fed the queen.
I inhaled deeply again, allowing the scent of the hive and the hum of activity to wash over me. It surrounded me, calmed me, comforted me. I heard the steady beat of the wings. Felt the soft touch of antenna against antenna. Sensed the excitement of the foragers’ waggle dances.
This.
This was my happy place.
“Babe?”
I cracked open my eyes, grinning at Quinn. Unlike my suit, her beekeeping outfit was stark white and still smelled like the plastic packaging. Her shiny hive tool glinted in the sunlight.
“Sorry, just enjoying this. It’s so relaxing.”
Her eyebrows knotted together. “You consider a swarm of bees all around you relaxing?”
“Very.”
“You are so, so weird.” She went rigid. “One’s on me.”
“It’s okay. She’s just curious. Let her check you out.”
Quinn stood rock solid as the bee crawled up her sleeve. It paused, then took off for parts unknown.
“That is not calming.”
I laughed. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I don’t know. I’ve seen what your bees can do when threatened.�
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“Yeah, but they like you.”
She blew out a breath, apparently unconvinced.
One of the bees landed on my veil with a soft thud.
“Food?” she asked, her abdomen vibrating.
“This time, yes.”
“Food!” she repeated. Her body shook excitedly, then she launched off of me and zipped back to her hive. I caught Quinn staring at me.
“What was that?” she asked.
“I can, um, communicate with them.”
Her eyes went wide. “You can talk to bees?”
“Somewhat. Direct contact like that allows for very limited conversation. Single words or ideas at best. Occasionally I can sense their point of view. For the most part, however, the hive is muffled and confusing. Kinda like listening to a party through a wall.”
“You never mentioned this before.”
“You’re the first to know.”
She turned serious. “Not even your folks?”
I shook my head. “After I returned from my self-imposed exile, I was angry and frustrated over my atrophied Skill and the cold reception from my peers. I needed some way to control those emotions, otherwise I’d never complete my Warlock training. Mom recommended I get a hobby, something to do with my hands to burn off the nervous energy, and beekeeping sounded interesting.
“What’s funny is it soon became my Fortress of Solitude. I could lose myself in the bees for hours. It was my private time, moments when no one, not even the folks, existed. Just me and the soft hum of a hive.
“I didn’t realize the connection at first, but the more I came out here, the more it dawned on me that we’d somehow bonded. Revealing that to anyone seemed wrong. It felt good to have something private. Something that was all mine. It was an intimate relationship, one that I’ve kept to myself for years.”
“So why share this with me now?”
“Because I needed to.”
She smiled, blinking rapidly. After a moment, she cleared her throat. “Show me how to tend to them.”
I pulled her around to the back of the hive. “See the corner of the frame? Tuck your hive tool underneath and lift.”
Her hands were awkward in the thick cowhide gloves, which bulged over her left ring finger. It took some work, but eventually she loosened the frame. Once it was free, she went to task on the other side. Brushing aside some of the girls that had gathered near the edge of the frame, she gripped each end and gently freed it from the hive. The wooden rectangle was covered in bees, each busy with their assigned role. Quinn whimpered softly as she turned to me.
“Holycrudholycrudholycrud.”
“You’re doing fine. Just be gentle.”
I gave the frame the once-over.
“How’s it look?” she asked, her voice tight.
“Pretty good, actually. They’re already filling cells with pollen and nectar. With any luck, we’ll harvest a decent amount of honey this year.”
Quinn made a choking noise as bees moved onto her gloves.
“Okay, let’s put that back and check the brood chamber.”
“We have to do more?”
I grinned. “There’s always more to do in beekeeping, babe.”
Slowly we removed the food supers, then examined the brood chambers. The queen was impossible to find, but there were plenty of newly laid eggs, so all signs indicated a healthy, happy hive. Content that the girls were all right, we put everything back together, placed a feeder on the top, and filled it with the sugar syrup chow. We did the same for the next two hives.
A shadow fell across us as we were buttoning up the last one.
“Figured you two would be out here,” Steve said. He was dressed in a well-tailored tux, his horns glimmering in the sun. In the distance, Steve’s bodyguards waited by the entrance to the Homestead. Lythos wore similar attire to his Alpha while Enneticia was decked out in a stunning dress of turquoise sequins.
“Your wedding coordinator is driving your staff nuts,” Steve added. “What the hell were you thinking, getting him involved?”
“We made a promise.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve created a monster.”
Quinn smiled. “I’ll talk with him.”
He frowned at her. “You’re not supposed to let this idiot see you. Apparently it’s bad luck or something.”
My fiancée patted my screened veil. “Marcus can be brutally charming when he wants to be.”
Steve huffed. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Not cool, dude,” I replied.
“Anyway,” he said, waving at a bee that had decided to check him out, “we’re going to be late.”
“Steve, it’s barely past noon. We have plenty of time.”
“You guys have a lot on your plate. Get cleaned up, change, take pictures. All that crap.”
“I can shower in less than five minutes.”
He glowered. “You may not care about being punctual, but I do. So, too, your guests.”
“Fine, fine.” I gathered our supplies. “We’re finished here anyway.”
Quinn and I walked to the small stone hut that I used as my honey house. We removed our keeper suits and stored our gear.
Steve checked his enormous watch as we exited. “About time, slowpokes.”
“It’s our day, Steve. You can’t rush us.”
“Can and will.” He checked his watch again. “Speaking of which, the folks want a moment alone with each of you before everyone else arrives. I promised them ten minutes apiece. After that, Pastor Rado wants to say a prayer with the entire family. So we need to get you both presentable ASAP. Meet you in your room in five.”
I chuckled. “Yes, sir.”
He turned.
“Hey, Steve?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you, man.”
“Of course you do.” He winked, then trotted off. Lythos preceded him indoors. Enneticia followed.
“You’d think he was the one getting married,” Quinn said as we headed toward the mansion.
“Yeah, he’s taking his Best Man duties a little too seriously.”
“I think it’s cute.”
“I’m not sure cute and Minotaur belong in the same sentence.”
She laughed and slipped her hand into mine as we entered the Homestead. The staff hurried through the halls, no doubt executing last-minute orders for stuff like decorations, better lighting, or an ice carving of swans. They would pause long enough to congratulate us before scampering off once more.
As we passed from the south to the north wing, I stopped to look inside the huge ballroom. After years of neglect, it was odd for it to be packed with so many tables and fancy flower arrangements. The marble floors were like mirrors and the small makeshift altar at the front was covered with white roses.
The images of fallen loved ones and cries of death still echoed in my mind, but their edges were fuzzy these days. Their noise muted.
“You okay?” Quinn asked, gripping me tighter.
“You know, I think I finally am.”
Standing in the middle of the room was Pip. Dressed in the tiniest tuxedo I’d ever seen, and sporting a sling and bejeweled eye patch, he gestured wildly at one of the staff with his good arm. Apparently something was amiss with the place settings. The poor man looked completely frazzled.
I stared at the Bookworm, still feeling relief at his survival. He’d only just gotten out of his body cast, and his jaw would stay wired shut for another month, but that didn’t seem to slow him down. Despite the numerous surgeries to reconstruct his face, the loss of his eye and the weeks of physical therapy, he never stopped brimming with his infectious energy. Bloodied and broken, he kept on smiling.
We could all learn a lesson from him.
Quinn chuckled. “I think Steve was right.”
“True, but I’m not about to say anything. Look how happy he is.”
“I don’t have the heart to interfere, either.”
“Just don’t admit it to Steve. Otherwise we’ll never hear the end of it.”
She laughed once more, then glanced around the room. “I’m glad we decided on this location.”
“Me too.” I put my arm around her. “I let my past be a burden for far too long. It was an anchor, dragging me down.”
“It’s also what shaped you,” she countered.
“True. And while I’d never change it, that chapter of my life needs to close. Time to start a new one. Together.”
She kissed me gently. “We have a long road ahead of us.”
“Yeah, but I have a feeling we’ll be all right.”
She squeezed me. “I agree.”
“Marcus Shifter!” Steve’s voice boomed through the halls.
Quinn pulled me out of the ballroom. “Come on. Time, tide and weddings wait for no one.”
I gave the room one final look. I couldn’t rewrite the past any more than I could bring back the dead. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t author a future. And for the first time in years, I was ready.
Because who knew what the next chapter would hold?
* * * * *
Go back to the beginning with Undead Chaos by Joshua Roots, the first book in the Shifter Chronicles:
The job was simple: decapitate the zombie, get paid, get out. Warlock Marcus Shifter followed the plan perfectly.
The corpse, however, did not.
Now there’s a body on the loose, accusations of illegal necromancy are flying, and the answers are waiting in the perilous alleys between the mortal and paranormal worlds. They’re no place for someone who mostly gave up magic after a childhood accident. And given his tendency to shoot off his mouth and his Glock, Marcus is having a hell of a time digging up more than just bodies.
