Renegade (The Cross-Worlds Coven Series Book 5)

by Phil Stern

  RENEGADE

  Book Five of

  The Cross-Worlds Coven Series

  Phil Stern

  Renegade

  Copyright © 2018 by Phil Stern

  All Rights Reserved.

  First Edition

  March 2018

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are entirely the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  www.philstern.com

  Table of Contents

  The Cross-Worlds Coven Series

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  The Cross-Worlds Coven Series

  Witches

  Earth Fire

  Rivals

  Sorceress

  Renegade

  RENEGADE

  CHAPTER ONE

  EVEN AS THE LAST, lingering wisps of morning fog hesitantly drifted off, more and more people eagerly crammed into Donlon’s waterfront. As always, the Grand Regatta drew spectators from far and wide, a solid mass of humanity now extending outward along the encircling arms of the vast harbor.

  Riding expectantly at anchor, nearly two dozen sailing yachts glistened in the brightening sun. Pennants flapping, brass work gleaming, one was reminded of eager greyhounds straining at the leash. Farther out still, in the center of the nearly-enclosed bay, was the floating judge’s dock. With a telescope one could pick out the crusty, white-haired gentlemen awkwardly disembarking from a rowed launch, their ill-fitting tuxedos hopelessly at odds with the young sailors in tight striped shirts.

  As always in this rigidly stratified Victorian-era society, the distinctions of birth and power were properly observed. Lords and ladies gracefully exited ornate carriages to settle down in centrally-positioned viewing stands, their servants rushing about with cooling drinks. Meanwhile, working families were relegated to the docks below, jostling for a good view. Rope lines and helmeted police carefully kept the two classes separated, though children occasionally darted in to take a kindly patrician’s proffered coin.

  With the sun fully clearing the horizon, many spectators turned their attention to an oversized bell sitting on a nearby hill. At the stroke of nine the copper behemoth suddenly rocked back and forth, it’s booming, concussive peal officially opening the Grand Regatta.

  Even as thousands of throats roared their approval, a single young woman glided along the back of the rambunctious crowd. Dressed like any other Donlon native, blonde hair primly tucked beneath a faded cap, one would think her a simple kitchen maid or serving wench. Yet she moved with an unusual, purposeful grace, body held in alert readiness. Casually scanning the immediate vicinity, earth stone surreptitiously pulsing underneath her shirt, reserves of power flowed throughout her entire being.

  It was only two days since Caylee had realized the trap she’d fallen into here, yet her mood was much improved. Since being shot by the police and fighting a desperate, rooftop battle with the demon, she’d gone completely underground. Blending into a crowded, industrial-age city was fairly simple, particularly in a world with only marginal magical awareness.

  Escaping the dimension entirely was a different story, but surely some solution would present itself. Yes, the city lake where she’d first entered Donlon was completely closed off with nets and guards, but they couldn’t keep that up forever. Eventually she’d be able to slip in and transit the underwater passageway back to Lysandy.

  Plus, this was only one metropolis in an entire dimension. Perhaps she’d find a Boundary portal in another land, or maybe even another direct connection to somewhere else. Supposedly, the locally despised “danders” were washed into Donlon from a dozen different worlds. It might even be fun to travel though a few of them before returning to Haven.

  Which is what brought her here today. The Grand Regatta provided a perfect opportunity to scout the waterfront for potential passage out of the city. It also gave her an opportunity to observe Donlon’s supernatural power brokers in a public setting. Did the demon aristocrats look different from normal humans? Openly display their powers? Could they be magically detected from a short distance? If nothing else, this was exactly the type of intelligence the Coven Council would expect in her report.

  Glancing up as she meandered past the main reviewing stand, Caylee nonchalantly studied the lords and ladies present. With the sun now blazing down, hectic servants were busy employing parasols and hand-held fans for their patrons benefit. Obviously bored, some of the aristocrats were looking idly about, while others intently studied the waiting vessels through small telescopes. Clearly, only the ship owners truly found this kind of thing interesting, while the rest simply had to suffer though it.

  But how was one to spot the demon/human hybrids? Thinking back to Lord Jaron’s initial assault in the alley between the warehouses, she looked closely at their jewelry. A few sported large, silver ornaments vaguely resembling ferocious beings. Even as she watched, an ugly razorback frog squatting on a lady’s hand snatched a bug. Swallowing it’s prey in one ferocious gulp, it settled back into somnolence with a satisfied croak.

  Coolly looking away, Caylee continued skirting the back of the working-class crowd. Some moments later she noticed yet another fancy carriage actually pull out onto a dock a short distance ahead, a cumbersome safe strapped to the back running board.

  *****

  Bending forward slightly, Lady Wendily turned her beautiful face to the carriage window. Breathing in the sweet salt air, the demon’s spirits were instantly buoyed. She’d always found the smell of the sea quite invigorating, especially when sailing with a human victim safely tucked in her yacht’s hold.

  It all began innocently enough, gracefully transiting the harbor entrance and traveling some distance out into the ocean. Anticipation slowly building, she would finally order the terrified prey brought out on deck. Then, over the course of a cheery, sun-splashed afternoon, the supernatural fiend would methodically drain the poor wretch of all it’s vital energy.

  Pleasantly sated, the crew would finally dump the empty husk over the side for the sharks to take over. Oh, the ferocious, roiling sea, blood-red gore splattering all about! There was an odd symmetry to it all, every element of a person’s mental and physical self fully recycled for the benefit of other, stronger beings.

  But today, Wendily was fishing for a much more challenging quarry. Exiting the carriage as soon as the door was pulled open, the demon walked back several steps along the dock to the back running board. Remaining firmly in place during the short ride from her city manor, the dull safe seemed unusually ugly in the otherwise festive surroundings.

  No doubt the Haven witch was already nearby. Full of confidence after her defeat of Lord Jarton, the Grand Regatta would provide the perfect opportunity for a clandestine reconnoiter. Presumably, the young interloper had firmly promised herself not to intervene in any way, simply watching it all without being observed herself.

  But Wendily had brought a temptation strong enough to overcome any resolve. Placing a loving hand on the iron behemoth’s side, the bright young socialite felt the magical rocks through the metal itself. By now thoroughly unstable, all three were radiating a chaotic, powerful signature. />
  *****

  Exiting his own carriage the moment it rolled to a stop, Lord Sathron quickly scanned the reviewing stand. Briskly mounting the three dozen stairs to the very top row, the demon sat down beside Rhapsony without invitation.

  “Good day, my lady,” he cheerfully began. “Fine weather for a regatta, I’d say.”

  Spy glass pressed to an eye, the red-haired demon merely continued sweeping the harbor. “Yes, my lord,” she drily replied. “By all means, join me.”

  “Come, come. We’re old friends here, are we not?” Even dressed in an exquisite three-piece suit, the dandy lord seemed utterly unaffected by the rising temperature. “I would have thought we were beyond such niceties a century ago.”

  “Civility never goes out of style, my lord.” Seeing nothing unusual among the waiting vessels, Rhapsony now swept the nearby crowd. “Oh, no. He’s here.”

  “Who?”

  “Who do you think?” Passing the small telescope to her red-gloved fellow demon, she pointed off to one side.

  Following her lead, Sathron focused the instrument on a small group of ruffians gathered by a far pier. A young hoodlum named George, now inhabited by the demon formerly known as Lord Jarton, leaned against a post. Hands plunged in his pockets, their colleague chewed on a toothpick while aggressively staring all about.

  “How revolting,” Sathron commented, passing the optical device back. “And no one can convince him to take a more appropriate host?”

  “No. Actually, he insists this George character actually provides an advantage.” Closing the glass with a disappointed snap, Rhapsony sighed. “Something about infiltrating the local resistance and finding the Haven girl.”

  “So a bunch of homeless kids is now the resistance?” Sathron scoffed. “Please. And even so, I doubt our Coven friend would be desperate enough to work with them.”

  “Agreed.” Frowning, Rhapsony irritably beckoned at a servant, who promptly rushed up with a fresh drink. “But Jarton feels otherwise.”

  “Jarton, or George? Perhaps we need to get used to his new persona.”

  “Come, my lord. Egalitarianism doesn’t suit you.”

  “No, it certainly doesn’t,” Sathron admitted. “After all, we couldn’t openly socialize with some lower-class riffraff. He’ll simply have to take a new...”

  Only half-listening, the lady demon spied something else of interest. Opening the spy glass once more, she focused on Wendily’s carriage sitting a short distance out on a pier.

  “Hey.” Elbowing the still-talking Sathron in the arm, she once more passed him the telescope. “Check that out.”

  Mildly annoyed, the dapper lord watched as two strong men wrestled the safe down onto the pier itself. Lady Wendily stood close by, carefully supervising. A sturdy launch was tied up right beside them, with two more men already leaning over to help bring the cumbersome safe aboard.

  “So?” Diffidently lowering the instrument, Sathron shrugged. “Lady Wendily has a safe.”

  “Yes, but what’s in it?” Snatching back the spy glass, Rhapsony intently studied the proceedings. “She must be bringing it out to her own ship.”

  “No doubt.”

  “Why?”

  “Who knows?” Already restless, Sathron stood to lustily applaud as this year’s Miss Regatta paraded by down below, attended by several younger girls holding the train of her long dress.

  Sighing, Rhapsony gave him an annoyed glance. “Could you focus here for just a minute?”

  “On what?” Dropping back down, Sathron made a mental note to have the lovely Miss Regatta brought to his own mansion tonight. “Wendily’s just being Wendily. That’s probably nothing more than an elaborate prop designed to annoy you.”

  “Please.” Rhapsony regally raised the spy glass once more. “You’re not curious as to what’s inside?”

  “And you are, I take it?”

  Without answering, the red-haired demon carefully watched the proceedings down below, Wendily’s favorite male slave now hesitantly exiting the carriage behind her.

  *****

  Maintaining her casual demeanor, Caylee wandered closer to the carriage on the dock. By now a haughty young “lady” was imperiously directing several strong men as they lowered the safe into a large boat. Off to one side stood a nearly naked, fit young man in collar and chains, miserably glancing all about.

  Unfortunately, she was becoming all-to-accustomed to such sights. Donlon’s rulers treated the working-classes with disdain, while the danders and political prisoners were virtual slaves. It said much that no one openly objected, the nearby revelers even hurling abuse at the shackled youth. Such was often the way of things, the oppressed segments of any society generally finding comfort in those even more downtrodden than themselves.

  Still, even by local standards this was a bit outlandish. Pausing a short distance off, as if she’d finally found a suitable place to watch the races, Caylee studied the beautiful young noblewoman.

  Attired in a fashionable outfit perfect for a day of outdoor entertainment, the arrogant girl was clearly losing patience. Snapping at the men to hurry things up, she only became more exasperated when one of them crushed a hand underneath the safe. Petulantly waving him up and out of the boat, she failed to exhibit even the slightest sympathy as he painfully stumbled off, mangled fingers held to his chest.

  Watching closely, Caylee noted a distinct flash of silver in the patrician’s eyes as she disdainfully glanced after the injured man, proud chin held high. Then, revealing delicate hands adorned with light red gloves, the young blue blood viscously yanked on a leash hanging from her prisoner’s collar. The youth was sent tumbling head-first into the boat, scraping his chest on a bulwark.

  Yet the demon didn’t react at all to the nearby presence of a sorceress. This matched Caylee’s experience from two days ago, when Lord Jarton had only detected her presence upon the active projection of an invisibility spell. Perhaps the demons couldn’t detect a passive earth stone at all? If so, that would be a distinct tactical advantage.

  Still, it was just a theory at the moment. Thoughtfully turning about, the undercover enchantress began moving off. She’d have to press things a bit, wandering even closer to some demons to see if they reacted...

  Yet she soon rocked to a halt, glancing about in alarm. For drifting across the crowd, like some fine mist, was the distinct tinge of magic. Not Coven magic, to be sure, yet still far more robust than anything else she’d encountered here so far. That wasn’t good.

  A general shout burst out as the first yacht took in it’s mooring lines and began moving out to the starting line. Inadvertently blocking someone’s view within the rowdy crowd, Caylee found herself half-shoved aside. Swatting his lingering hands away, the sorceress briskly moved off while focusing all her senses on this new contact.

  Within moments she realized the magic wasn’t directed in any way. Raw and roiling, it was actually reminiscent of the massive lode connecting Lysandy and Donlon. Bubbling out from somewhere nearby, it was probably just another natural phenomena spiking to the surface.

  Relieved, the blonde sorceress paused to regroup. Visions of a malignant hunter-sorcerer, stalking her through the crowd, faded as quickly as they’d first formed.

  Still, the false alarm piqued her interest. Heartbeat gradually slowing, Caylee now realized this wasn’t a purely natural occurrence, but rather a mixture of slightly different magical strains jumbled together in caustic proximity. Which, of course, implied some degree of human manipulation. Curious, to say the least.

  More cheering as the immaculate yachts were towed out to the starting line one by one. Spooked, a carriage team reared up in unison before the Lord’s viewing stand, the frightened grooms failing to sooth them. Several other horses nervously clattered about in place, nostrils flaring. A mounted bobby was flung from the saddle, while another officer wisely jumped to the ground.

  Almost without thinking, Caylee told all the equines to relax. There was no danger here, t
he noise merely from stupid humans exited by a boat race. And while not understanding the specifics, they all got the general idea.

  Even as the crowd cheered anew, the agitation instantly drained away from the powerful animals. In moments they all just calmly stood about once more. The one who’d thrown his rider even gently sniffed at the officer’s shoulder, snorting an apology.

  A boisterous fat man knocked against the enchantress, spilling a mug of beer all over her. But as Caylee turned away, fanning her clothes in disgust, she sensed the renegade magical signature drifting off. By nearly imperceptible degrees, to be sure, but moving nonetheless. In a few menlars it would be gone entirely.

  So, while not an actual talisman in possession of a competent magician, this also wasn’t just the tip of some boulder beneath the dock. Someone, or something, was in possession of a portable, magical object. Or objects, perhaps. Whatever the case, she couldn’t just let them slip away.

  There was a four-foot wall bordering the main, inner waterfront, beyond which were warehouses, taverns, and other businesses. As if excited to see her favorite yacht, Caylee now jogged over and put up her hands, allowing herself to be pulled atop the low wall for a better view of the entire area.

  *****

  Frowning, Lady Rhapsony watched her carriage team rear and buck near the base of the viewing stand, the incompetent grooms only making things worse. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the horses suddenly became entirely docile.

  “Well, your men seem to know their stuff,” Sathron observed. “For a instant there it looked like a full stampede was in the making.”

  “Indeed.” Eyes flicking out over the entire vista from their raised position, the lady demon noticed all the other horses had quieted as well. “But I don’t think my grooms had anything to do with it.”