Nomad's Justice

by Craig Martelle

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Legal

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Author Notes - Craig Martelle

  Author Notes - Michael Anderle

  Craig Series List

  Michael Series List

  Social Links

  They say behind every great man, is a great woman,

  but what if the woman is a Werewolf?

  DEDICATION

  We can’t write without those who support us

  On the home front, we thank you for being there for us

  We wouldn’t be able to do this for a living if it weren’t for our readers

  We thank you for reading our books

  Nomad’s Justice

  The Terry Henry Walton Chronicles

  Team Includes

  BETA / EDITOR BOOK Acknowledgements in Back!

  JIT Beta Readers - From both of us, our deepest gratitude!

  Alex Wilson

  Keith Verret

  Micky Cocker

  Kimberly Boyer

  Maria Stanley

  James Caplan

  Sherry Foster

  If I missed anyone, please let me know!

  NOMAD’S JUSTICE (this book) is a work of fiction.

  All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright © 2017 Craig Martelle and Michael T. Anderle

  Cover by Andrew Dobell, creativeedgestudios.co.uk

  Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact info@kurtherianbooks.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

  PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  First US edition, April 2017

  Editing by Mia Darien, miadarien.com

  The Kurtherian Gambit (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are copyright © 2017 by Michael T. Anderle.

  PROLOGUE

  Char had the death grip on Terry’s arm as Sue tried to talk Char through it. The contractions were gut-wrenching, forcing Char to flex as if every muscle in her body cramped at the same time. She unloaded with a scream of pain as each new wave flowed through her.

  She dug her nails into Terry’s arm, drawing blood. He grinned and bore it. “You did this to me!” she growled in a surreal voice.

  “It’ll be over soon, honey, and our little girl will be with us!” Terry tried to console her. Char’s purple eyes were on fire, her face contorted.

  “I’ll fucking rip your fucking face off, you fuck!” Char hissed.

  Terry maintained a usual sense of fear of his wife, but at that moment, it was beyond that.

  He was very afraid.

  Char let out another ear-piercing scream that would have shattered glass had there been any.

  “I see the head,” Sue said excitedly. It was everyone’s first except for Margie Rose, who stood nearby with her hands over her ears. She gave Sue direction, but was afraid of getting punched or kicked or gouged. She was appalled at Char’s language, admitting that she’d never seen anyone turn into one of hell’s demons before.

  Char gritted her teeth and grabbed Terry’s arm in both her hands. He grunted in pain, but knew he had best not say anything.

  With one final push, the baby was born. The little girl belted out a piercing cry, reminiscent of her mother from only moments before, then the baby huffed and shivered. Sue swaddled her in an old shirt.

  It was all they had.

  “Care to cut the umbilical cord?” Sue asked. Terry whipped out his knife, but Char grabbed his arm and glared at the silvered blade.

  “Oh crap.” He jumped up, saw Gerry outside, and demanded the man’s knife. Gerry handed it over without question. Terry did the deed and Sue tied the end closed with a small piece of string.

  Terry wiped the blade and handed it back.

  “Autumn Dawn has passed away,” Gerry said quietly. “I need to go.”

  Terry watched Geronimo walk quickly away. Kiwi intercepted him, and they talked briefly before returning. Chief Foxtail was coming.

  Inside, Char was exhausted but exhilarated. Terry rubbed his arms as he returned to Char’s side. She smiled at him. “I love you,” she said, smiling radiantly, purple eyes glowing. Seeing the look on his face, she was confused. “What?”

  “I love you, too?” he tried.

  “Did I say something? I’d heard that at times like this the inner evil Werewolf comes out. I don’t remember any of it, thank goodness.”

  “Neither do I, lover,” Terry snickered, shaking his head, but then he turned serious. “Autumn Dawn has passed away, and Foxtail is here.”

  “I thought she might. It was her time, and she was more than ready. They made it! That is good news.” She continued to smile and rocked gently as she held her daughter.

  “Name?” Terry asked, thinking he knew what the final decision had been.

  “Cordelia Dawn. Cordelia from King Lear and Dawn for a new dawn ushered in when one passes away and for the one we have to live without. The sun still rises,” Char said.

  The lights flickered as the power plant came online. Chief Foxtail couldn’t take his eyes from the electric bulb as it hummed and brightened.

  “It has been so long,” he started, then turned to Terry and Char. “Congratulations.”

  The baby fussed and Char finally was able to look at her baby girl. A full head of black hair with a silver streak on the side. Her little ears were fuzzy and a touch pointed. Terry studied her closely. She looked like a normal baby except for the silver streak and fuzzy ears.

  “Is she a Werewolf?” Terry asked.

  “Does it matter?” Char replied.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “I’m pretty sure there’s no motherfucking way in this universe I’m going to tell the kids to call you Uncle Joe,” Terry announced in measured tones, clenching and unclenching his fists as he glared at the Forsaken

  Joseph stood calmly. “I don’t see what the big deal is. Uncle Gene is barely house-trained,” Joseph answered, peeking out from under the wide brim of his black leather hat.

  The Werebear bristled at first, but it reminded him that the grizzly cub Bogdan was definitely not housebroken. He needed to clean up the latest mess before reminding the bear cub that he’d be sleeping outside if there were any more accidents.

  “Uncle Joe. Sounds like a politician.” Ted snickered, finding his own joke funny.

  “I’m just saying…” Joseph tapered off.

  Timmons watched the For
saken through baleful eyes.

  Billy and Felicity were strolling toward them with Charumati and baby Cory in between. Aaron followed with Kaeden and Kimber in tow.

  “We’re done with this conversation!” Terry warned Joseph and the pack.

  Terry heard Ted mutter something about “Uncle Joe” and giggle.

  “Not another word, Ted, and I mean it.” Terry stopped to lock his gaze on the nuclear engineer. “There’s not going to be an Uncle Joe.”

  Char shook her head. “You know I can hear everything you’re saying?” she said, laughing. Since giving birth, Terry had seen a more vibrant sparkle in Char’s eyes. He was mesmerized each and every time he looked at her and their burgeoning family.

  Bringing humanity back to civilization meant bringing his own humanity home, where his family was.

  Terry wrapped one arm around his wife and the second under their newborn daughter. Together, he and Char supported the baby as they kissed, passionately, the way married people had forgotten. He caressed her face and then turned to Cordelia.

  “How’s my little girl?” he cooed. Char watched her pack, as if daring someone to say anything. Joseph chuckled and Ted couldn’t look at the Forsaken without giggling.

  Gene had taken a knee so he could scold Bogdan. The Werewolves alternated between looking at the sky and their own feet.

  Terry took care picking the baby up and cradling her. Char excused herself to talk with Timmons and Joseph. Billy carried Marcie and asked if Terry could speak privately. TH expected that they couldn’t get far enough away for the Weres to not hear.

  They didn’t go far before Billy stopped and faced TH. Marcie was getting big and seemed to be an armful for the smaller man.

  “I want to apologize, TH,” Billy started, kicking a stone and swallowing before he continued. “Everything you said from the start, man, you were right. You were always good to your word and I was still a douchebag. I want you to know, it won’t happen again. I’m here for you, supporting you. I know what I’m not in control of.”

  Once Billy finished stammering his apology, he shifted Marcie to the other arm and offered his hand.

  Terry pointed to the others with his chin. “We’re only in control of what they let us be in control of. Felicity and Char, Billy, we’d be nothing without them.” He grabbed Billy’s hand firmly and shook it twice before letting go.

  Billy walked with a spring in his step as he returned to the group with Terry.

  Margie Rose shuffled toward them as she shook her wooden spoon. Terry looked at Char. She held her hands up and pointed back at her husband.

  “What did I do?” he asked.

  Margie Rose put her spoon away before Terry was in imminent danger of getting smacked. The old woman held out her hands to take the baby. Terry thought about arguing, but decided against it and handed Cory over after kissing her on the head. Margie Rose gently took the baby and held her tightly.

  “You know how long I’ve been waiting for this, mister,” Margie Rose berated Terry. “Char tells me you have training? Two days after the baby’s born? I’m not sure you’re ready, dear, but if you must. I have baby duty for the next four hours. Aaron, care to join me with those other two scrumptious little morsels?”

  Aaron looked about wildly. Terry held his hands up in surrender, then waved at Kim and Kae. They waved back and the Weretiger motioned for them to follow the rapidly retreating old woman.

  Terry joined the group to find Char facing the Forsaken.

  “Uncle Joe?” Char asked him.

  “Quaint, don’t you think?” Joseph asked, not really asking. The Forsaken tensed as he saw the violence within the Werewolf’s mind, but she forced herself to relax.

  “What the fuck do you want from us, Joseph? Are we your friends, your posse, your only companionship?” Char demanded, stabbing his chest with her finger to emphasize each question. She pulled her hand away when he looked at her, profound sadness gripping his features.

  “Quaint, don’t you think?” he asked, a completely different question this time around.

  Timmons sneered, and Char silenced him with a glance.

  “Don’t feel sorry for me, beautiful Werewolf. We are all cursed in some way, are we not?” Joseph looked at his captive audience. All eyes were on him. “If that will be all, Terry Henry Walton, I’d like to take my leave and sleep for a while, maybe a year or two,” Joseph removed his hat so the others could see his face. He didn’t look as if he were trying to lead them astray. “I find myself more and more fatigued of late. Sleep will help, and then, when I awake, I’d really like to drain a cow or something. Maybe you could arrange that in my absence?”

  Terry joined his wife, standing at her side as the Vampire held his hat in his hands, humbly asking for help.

  “We’ll see what we can do. No promises, Joseph,” Terry replied.

  “I can ask for no better. Thank you. If necessary, you can wake me. The combination is four-seven-seventy-six.” Joseph put his hat back on, adjusted it to block the sunlight, and turned to go.

  “What happened on April seventh?” Terry asked.

  “July fourth. I still consider myself very European, despite the awful colonist foibles that have crept into my manners,” Joseph explained. He waved half-heartedly and strolled away, stopping momentarily to rest a hand on Gene’s shoulder. The Werebear covered the Forsaken’s hand with his own and nodded briefly before letting go.

  “Interesting,” Char whispered. Terry slid an arm around her waist and gently caressed her back. She leaned into him.

  Two days earlier, the baby had been born and Char’s body had completely healed. She carried no extra weight. Her abdomen was back to being rock hard. The nanocytes coursing through her Werewolf body had taken care of her. The human women who didn’t know her true nature were jealous and chalked her recovery up to magic.

  “So, lover, what’s on the schedule for today? I seemed to have missed the planning meeting, what with the new baby and all, but I’m here now.” She smiled and started to stretch.

  “Sandpit for training?” he asked the group.

  “I’d like to be excused,” Ted said. Terry and Char looked at each other.

  “Fine,” she replied. As Ted started to speak, she interrupted him. “But you can’t have Gene until after we train!”

  Ted grumbled to himself as he walked away. “Look at you, the belle of the ball!” Char taunted as Gene stood up. Bogdan wasn’t done getting his ears scratched and he stood, too, putting his paws on the Werebear’s shoulder.

  “What can I say, I am likeable guy!” he said in his heavy Russian accent. “Even wild animal love me.”

  “To the sandpit!” Terry called, ready for a change in his daily activities. “It’s time that we met the platoon and our new recruits.”

  ***

  Kiwi stood with her arms crossed, tapping one foot as she looked at her father and her uncle. The older men were facing each other with Kiwi to the side.

  “If we turn the rifles over, do we still have to serve?” Leaping Deer asked Chief Foxtail.

  “Yes,” the chief stated, jaw set and not inviting further debate.

  “Listen here!” the young woman interjected with a growl. “My husband is in the FDG, and I work for them, too. I’m not sure you and the others are man enough to serve in the Force de Guerre. It requires loyalty, dedication, selflessness. I know those braves. They are none of that!”

  “Kiwidinok, hold your sharp tongue,” Leaping Deer cautioned, looking past the chief to scowl at his niece.

  “She speaks the truth, little brother.” Foxtail stepped to the side, creating a triangle and giving Kiwi equal space.

  “We saved the tribe!” the younger man exclaimed, wrinkling his eyebrows as he tried to defend himself. The chief sighed impatiently.

  “And the FDG has saved us all, by finding this place and helping us to move here. We have a say in what goes on. Would we shirk our duties with the protection of our own people? Do you want us to hand
over that responsibility?” the chief pleaded.

  “I’ll serve,” Kiwi said, but the chief held up a hand, stopping her from antagonizing her uncle further. She stomped a foot, crossed her arms, and looked very young.

  “But I’m too old and it’ll be hard,” Leaping Deer admitted, finally looking away from the chief.

  “Nothing worth having is easily gotten, my brother,” Foxtail said softly, gently gripping his sibling’s shoulder. “Take the others with you, join the Force de Guerre, and assume your rightful place as a warrior of our people, protecting all of us, whites, blacks, natives, and Were folk alike. Remember Black Feather’s final words. One land. One people.”

  Leaping Deer sighed, breathing deeply and lifting his head high. “It will be done,” he looked around. “I’ll gather the men and have them bring their weapons and blankets. We shall move to the barracks, if Terry Henry Walton will have us.”

  “And take Donoma with you. She wants to fight,” Kiwi added, stepping closer to the men.

  “That’s for her husband to decide,” Leaping Deer snapped, but looked quickly away after his outburst.

  “We will let her decide, but that does not have to happen right now. I will talk with the colonel and see how many others he is willing to accept and capable of training. Until then, don’t you have horses to tend to, Horsemaster?”

  Kiwi smiled at the use of her title. “Over forty horses and yes, we need to find a new pasture and stable. Lots to do, Father.” She waved as she turned and raced away.

  Both men watched her go. “She is our future, Leaping Deer. She and those of her spirit, like Donoma. This is a whole new world and we have to change if we want to be a part of it,” the chief philosophized, no longer talking with his brother but speaking as the chief to his people.