The Awakened World Boxed Set
Page 94
Love had found a way to live with a werewolf. Will the baby carry the gene? she wondered.
"Are you ready, my love?" Tec whispered, smiling with his beautiful green eyes.
She trailed her fingers over the scaled head of the winged serpent. "It's best not to keep one such as her waiting."
Tec lifted the spear and beat the steel-shod bottom of the shaft upon the wooden platform, silencing the crowd. He raised his voice. "The Angel of Mount Laguna bids welcome to her beloved aunt, the Mistress of the Fresno Fey, Ephix Lamia."
The crowd parted, and Ephix Lamia strode forward, once more wearing the form of a young woman. She stopped before the platform, accompanied by a pair of nymphs, including Astris, both wings now completely regrown and buzzing madly. Angie cast a small smile at Astris, who barely wore her short dress, the cleavage exposed to her navel.
Ephix bowed, a slight nod of the head, but a bow of respect between equals. "Greetings, Angela, daughter of my beloved sister. Greetings to the new Grandmaster Mage and the Angel of Mount Laguna."
"You will always be welcome here, Ephix," Angie told her, and meant it.
Ephix’s eye twitched at the spear Tec held. "Lodin won’t love you for keeping his spear," she told Angie.
Angie sniffed. "He loved it even less when I kneed him in the balls."
"Indeed." For one of the few times ever that Angie could remember, Ephix smiled.
After the Fey had come to the rescue of Sanwa City, a new age had dawned between humanity and Fey. And after Angie had opened her new school of magic on the mountain, accepting all students, both human and Fey, that compromise had spread to other nearby nation-states. Students from as far away as the Western Union had risked their lives traveling across the country to join her school. And every day brought new students, including two Fey, a fairy, and a troll.
The new Awakened World had grown strange indeed.
With the dragon Itzpapalotl and Rayan Zar Davi dead, the Aztalan army had fallen apart, fleeing back to the relative safety of their own homes far to the south. Word was that the Aztalan Empire was falling apart, turning on itself. Angie regretted the deaths but could do nothing to stop the turmoil. She hadn't started the war; the Tzitzime had. Of the secret cult of dragon worshipers, there was no new intelligence. Most likely, the cult had fallen apart as well.
She and Ephix exchanged more pleasantries, agreeing to an exchange of students and artisans. Then a delegation from Presidente Carter came forward, asking for assistance in rebuilding. Technically, the mountain was within the Norteno territory, but Angie would have helped even if it wasn't. She had the supplies, all stored away by Tec and Quetzalcoatl to rebuild civilization. She might as well put them to the use they had been intended for.
When the last of the delegates had left, she dismissed her staff, insisting she was too worn out to attend to the minutiae of duties, letting others do the work.
She carried the dragon back to the bedchamber she shared with Tec. No sooner had he closed the door than she had set the dragon into a cushioned box and stripped. They made love, finding a seemingly never-ending comfort in one another's arms.
Later, spent, she lay in bed with him, her head on his chest, her thigh draped over his. She twirled his chest hairs with her finger.
"What now, oh mighty Grandmaster Mage, the Angel of Mount Laguna?" he asked with a mischievous smile.
"I'd like to go north along the coast for a visit," she said softly. "New Seattle. There's someone I need to see, and I want you to come with me."
"Your wish is my command."
"And don't you ever forget it," she said, yanking one of his chest hairs free.
He yelped and caught her in his arms, holding her tight against him. Their giggling disturbed the dragon, snoozing in his crate. The creature lifted its horned head and watched them. Then it went back to sleep.
Far away, in a cavern deep below the earth, the lamia Aernyx held a burning torch over the petrified head of the dragon-god Memnog. The stone dragon was easily twice the size of its children. Aernyx trailed his fingers over the cold stone, detecting not a trace of life. He sighed, shaking his head, forcing his anger down. Never had he hated someone as much as he hated Angie Ritter. But he needed her and couldn't move against her, not yet.
But soon. All too soon, he'd come for her.
"We were all wrong," he told the stone dragon, even though it couldn't hear him. His words were slurred. "Everyone was wrong—Rayan Zar Davi, Chararah Succubus, even your foolish children, Tezcatlipoca and Itzpapalotl. Erin Seagrave wasn't the female who was changed, the Haanal X’ib of prophesy, but neither was Wyn Renna. The prophesies of the Golden Dawn, translated from Olmtec into Mayan and then Aztec, had never referred to someone as banal as an elven changeling." He sighed and shook his head. "All that effort for nothing."
He ran his tongue over the remains of his fangs, which had melted when he had tried to drink the blood of Angie Ritter—the woman who had bonded with an ancient entity, the Shade King, and had become something entirely new on this world.
A female who was changed.
The End.
Acknowledgments
Writing a three-book story with so many threads and characters is a daunting task—especially if you want it to be an enjoyable experience for readers. I hope I’ve succeeded and you have had fun.
These were tough books to write. It’s challenging to put yourself—in my case, a fifty-five-year-old man—into the head of a young woman and realistically portray her thoughts, dreams, and heartaches. No doubt, I got much wrong. I’ll do better next time. Writing is like weight lifting; there is no such thing as “maintaining.” You’re either getting stronger or weaker. Hopefully, I’ve gotten stronger as a writer.
I wanted to take this chance to thank the early readers of the William Stacey Street Team for their wonderful support and assistance. Your help matters—a great deal. In particular, I’d like to send a shout out to Allan M. and Mary B. who both went above and beyond in catching so many of those typos that slipped past the copy-editors and proof-readers. You two rock!
In fact, you all rock.
Everybody rocks!
William Stacey Starter Library
Free William Stacey Starter Library
A free full-length novel and three exclusive short stories.
Hit subscribe below. You’ll always be notified in advance on my most recent novels as well as the occasional deal.
www.williamstaceyauthor.com
SUBSCRIBE NOW
FREE
A copy of the full-length Viking dark fantasy novel BLACK MONASTERY, a 2014 Amazon Breakthrough Award Quarterfinalist.
A copy of FAIRY TALE, a thrilling urban fantasy short story about a little girl, a wounded fairy, and a bloodthirsty monster.
A copy of EARNING VALHALLA, an exciting military science fiction short story about the bond between warriors.
A copy of a PROMISE OF FIRE, a chilling dark fantasy short story about the price of revenge.
SUBSCRIBE NOW
About the Author
A former intelligence officer and soldier who served in the Canadian army for more than thirty years, William Stacey is a combat nerd who lives to tell stories. He is a black belt in karate and possesses a somewhat disturbing and unhealthy fascination for all things medieval and violent—especially Vikings. With operational tours in Bosnia and Afghanistan, he combines his military experience with his love for martial arts and sharp objects. He is a husband, father, and fitness nut whose best friend is a German Shepherd named (natural) Thor.
cale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share