Holy crap. Owen wasn’t kidding about the numbers…
1st Lord – Cesare, origini Omet, 4 alterni
2nd Lord – Pasquale, origini Taavi, 12 alterni
3rd Lord – Massimo, origini Naois, 13 alterni
4th Lord – Ignazio, origini Fifna, 16 alterni
5th Lord – Gustavo, origini Mynogan, 8 alterni
6th Lord – Lucian, origini Ebo, 7 alterni
7th Lord – Dante, origini Elaine, 1 alterni
8th Lord – Rico, origini Ayako, 2 alterni
9th Lord – Tiberius, origini Rabiah, 1 alterni
10th Lord – Eglid, origini Devon, 30 alterni
11th Lord – Aaron, origini Teithi, 22 alterni
12th Lord – Phillip, origini Ula, 17 alterni
13th Lord – Wynn, origini Jesnia, 11 alterni
14th Lord – Vincent, origini Muriel, 15 alterni
15th Lord – Uriah, origini Vilem, 7 alterni
16th Lord – Peter, origini Bairrfhionn, 6 alterni
17th Lord – Nathaniel, origini Cocidius, 14 alterni
18th Lord – Benjamin, origini Owyn, 25 alterni
19th Lord – John, origini Allena
20th Lord – Edmund, origini Ura, 9 alterni
21st Lord – Andrew, origini Perth, 5 alterni
22nd Lord – Isaiah, origini Petric, 6 alterni
23rd Lord – Robert, origini Mavis, 5 alterni
24th Lord – Jonathon, origini Keelin
25th Lord – Luke, origini Stana, 8 alterni
26th Lord – Aiken, origini Darcy, 11 alterni
27th Lord – Cyril, origini Teodus, 13 alterni
28th Lord – Earl, origini Gabris, 2 alterni
29th Lord – Eli, origini Selma, 7 alterni
30th Lord – Serge, origini Tsuhgi, 1 alterni
31st Lord – Gian, origini Ruda, 2 alterni
32nd Lord – Eldwin, origini Zivan, 4 alterni
33rd Lord – Faran, origini Nami, 9 alterni
34th Lord- Wallace origini Regan, 17 alterni
35th Lord – Arthur, origini Azven, 26 alterni
36th Lord – Thomas, origini Cachamwri, 4 alterni
37th Lord – Samuel, origini Tristan, 7 alterni
38th Lord – Douglas, origini Arnost, 2 alterni
39th Lord – Gareth, origini York, 3 alterni
40th Lord – Vergo, origini Havel, 16 alterni
41st Lord – Lunden, origini Culain, 22 alterni
42nd Lord – Ned, origini Bobek, 6 alterni
43rd Lord – Fabian, origini Diva, 19 alterni
44th Lord – Orlando, origini Cahal, 13 alterni
45th Lord – Oswald, origini Frana, 17 alterni
46th Lord – Gabriele, Llyr, 4 alterni
47th Lord – Asa, origini Cepek, 20 alterni
48th Lord – Joseph, origini Ione, 13 alterni
49th Lord – Anson, origini Kirwin, 3 alterni
50th Lord – Enzo, origini Dosne, 2 alterni
51st Lord – Godric, origini Budislav, 1 alterni
52nd Lord – Timothy, origini Custennin, 1 alterni
53rd Lord – Freeman, origini Orin, 6 alterni
54th Lord – Matthew, origini Nola, 4 alterni
55th Lord – Stephen, origini Ignac, 2 alterni
56th Lord – Montgomery, origini Kaoru, 5 alterni
57th Lord – Franco, origini Akando, 11 alterni
58th Lord – Roan, origini Pachu’a, 3 alterni
59th Lord – Alfred, origini Gilda, 6 alterni
60th Lord – Sherwin, origini Ota, 6 alterni
61st Lord – Stuart, origini Jennyfer, 7 alterni
62nd Lord – Treddian, origini Kuba, 3 alterni
63rd Lord – James, origini Evelyn, 8 alterni
64th Lord – Virgil, origini Kayne, 24 alterni
65th Lord – Bryce, origini Jiri, 12 alterni
66th Lord – Kenton, origini Finnobarr, 5 alterni
67th Lord – Jeffrey, origini Ludek, 9 alterni
68th Lord – Lex, origini Berta, 3 alterni
69th Lord – Upton, origini Dal, 7 alterni
70th Lord – Paxton, origini Gwri, 10 alterni
71st Lord – Baxter, origini Dern, 15 alterni
72nd Lord – Wentworth, origini Boone, 24 alterni
73rd Lord – Jerome, origini Milos, 19 alterni
74th Lord – Hugh, origini Inness, 8 alterni
75th Lord – Grimm, origini Briannah, 2 alterni
76th Lord – Jason, origini Harvey, 4 alterni
77th Lord – Avery, origini Brittany, 5 alterni
78th Lord – Byron, origini Reuben, 21 alterni
79th Lord – Daniel, origini Trent
80th Lord – Owen, origini Esme, alterni
Esme found this last blank unsettling.
I’m his ninth Esme. There will only be nine!
She turned the page.
Lord Cesare’s Reign
Five winters after inferno burned open our world, malevolenci spread far and wide, terrorizing our peoples. We conjuri, masters of magic, harnessed our gifts to fight the demons, protect the populace and guard our world. Our efforts were not enough. The great Cesare trained his armies in the ways of magic and battled the malevolenci. He hunted demons tirelessly, saving hundreds of villages. Yet still the desolate inferno remained open, and new rifts tore open in the darkest hours of night.
It was then our visitors from other worlds discovered the key to our salvation. They claimed to sense whenever a new rift opened, and they agreed to warn us when they did. Yet none of these blessed allies were strong enough to join Cesare and fight the malevolenci. We conjuri then cast the spell of summono once again, and the man we summoned agreed to fight with us. He learned our magic, and his ability to wield it was beyond what we’d hoped. He trained with Cesare, and a strong partnership was formed. Thus began our first effective offense of this war…
A week went by. Mostly Esme had been shut up in the library, reading with Ada and occasionally Roman. Tonight, however, Owen had suggested a field trip. She knew her questions about other races were getting on his nerves, but he’d agreed to take her to his monthly meeting with the paranormal race representatives.
While Esme walked with Owen up a sidewalk, she again marveled at how normal the city looked. She’d always liked this district back home, with the old-fashioned lights strung across the street and flowering foliage rising from planters along the curb. It was hot and humid even now, after dark, but she wore sandals, white shorts, and a loose top that hung off her shoulders. Owen had picked her up straight from the police station, and he still wore his full uniform, which she had to admit left an impression.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
Owen led her across a street. “A kind old troll owns a barbecue restaurant up ahead. After-hours, Order paranormals gather to have a place of their own. I only visit monthly. I like to give the purebloods space and a sense that they’re free to live as they choose.”
Stifling a hundred questions, Esme stepped onto a new curb and hurried to match strides with the police chief king. She nervously wondered what she was about to walk into.
Purebloods! I wish I could read more on the paranormal races. Roman keeps shooing me away from the paranormal history shelves. But don’t I need to understand the paranormals if I’m to live here? What if I say or do something wrong? The pop culture here is weird enough – what about werewolf culture? Or werewolf pop culture…
Owen strode past an empty patio to the door of a restaurant. The hours posted by the entrance said the restaurant was closed, and the sign’s light was off. Even with the sign off, Esme recognized the illuso worked into the logo. The symbol gave off a faint glow, its spell shielding the restaurant from uninitiated eyes.
Esme looked through the windows and saw lots of people moving around tables and booths. She jumped when the king knocked on the door, and a second later it opened. A wonderful smoky aroma wafted outside, and although Esme wasn’t
hungry, she almost drooled.
“Greetings, my lord,” said an unbelievably deep female voice.
Esme looked around Owen to see a stout, aged woman holding the door open for them. The woman wore an enormous apron with smears of sauce obscuring the words “Kiss The Cook” across the bosom. Under this she wore a flowery red dress that reached to her feet, which were crammed into yellow flats. Her hair was done in tight, grandmotherly curls. Her face was wide, sagging, with a broad nose, big lips, and beady eyes behind large, round glasses. She had yet to smile.
Esme tried not to stare.
A real live troll! This must be the restaurant owner Owen mentioned.
“Thank you, Marybeth. You’re looking well.” Owen smiled at the troll, then back at Esme, and led her into the restaurant. “I hope you saved some ribs for me!”
Esme gave the troll woman a quick smile before surveying the rest of the scene. The restaurant itself was ordinary. A hostess station right by the door was currently unoccupied. The near wall had a long bar with liquor displays and reflecting mirrors. High-backed booths lined the far wall. Throughout the room, dining tables and chairs filled the open space. Modern industrial chandeliers that doubled as art hung at intervals from the metal ceiling. The front of the restaurant held one of those garage doors that could open to the patio on a nice day. Esme surmised that a hallway in the back probably led to bathrooms. An indoor fountain bubbled beside that hall, and on the other side stood doors to the kitchen.
As for the room’s occupants, here were the paranormals Esme was dying to meet. One table was surrounded by a group matching the general appearance of Marybeth. Seated at another table were eight short men with pointy noses and ears who chattered amongst themselves with great gusto. One booth was full of tall, gorgeous women that in another life Esme would’ve scouted on the spot as models. Their movements were fluid and ethereal, their laughing voices mesmerizing. A few burly werewolf men in cavali-black pants and boots – Esme could easily spot these by now – sat at a table and eyed the beautiful women. Still more unidentified men stood along the bar, sipping beers and speaking in whispered tones.
The restaurant fell silent as Owen led Esme into the room. Group by group bowed to the king. Once all were bowed, Owen returned the gesture of respect. Esme, not knowing Order customs, just stood there trying not to fidget. Soon enough, the crowd’s gazes swung from the king to Esme. At first they seemed perplexed by the newcomer, but then she saw looks of recognition.
Great.
Owen winked at her and entered the room. “Everyone, please welcome my new alterni. Esme’s eager to meet you, so I’ll leave you to introduce yourselves while the goblins and I take care of some Order financial business.”
Esme whispered at him, “You’re leaving me?”
“You’ll be fine. I’m not going anywhere. If you get overwhelmed, I’ll rescue you.” He turned to Marybeth beside them. “Bring me ribs when you can?”
The troll woman nodded, still appearing sullen. “I’ve saved a plate for you.”
“Excellent!” With that, Owen gave Esme’s arm a quick squeeze for comfort before walking to join the eight little men at their table.
Esme shook her head.
Goblins run the Order’s banking?
Marybeth reached out a meaty palm, and she shook Esme’s hand in a firm grip. Her low voice was inexpressive. “Pleased to meet you. Love the hair.”
Esme stuttered a reply, but the troll turned away and waddled toward the kitchen, presumably to fetch the king’s food. Self-conscious, Esme reached up to flip the part of her gray hair.
The beautiful women slid out of their booth. All wore formfitting iridescent dresses and impossible stilettos. Their hair was long and varying shades of blond, and their makeup was impeccable.
Esme again tried not to stare as they approached, although she doubted these women would mind.
These are the type who’d love to be approached by a model scout. But they are different… Is their skin sparkling, or is that just the light in here?
The closer Esme looked, the more unusual she found these women. Their iridescent dresses moved strangely as they walked, and Esme realized with surprise that the women weren’t wearing dresses at all.
Those are wings! They have wings wrapped around their bodies that look like dresses! I see it now. The crisscrossing on their shoulders is where their wings connect. Beautiful. A little risque too. But what race are they?
The clique’s apparent queen bee extended a manicured hand to shake with Esme. “Hi. I’m Piper. On behalf of the fairies, I want to say we’re thrilled you’ve come.”
Fairies!
“Thanks. It’s nice to meet you.” Esme smiled and admired their dress-like wings. “Those are beautiful.” She had another thought and couldn’t stop herself. “Do your men wear their wings like this too?”
The women behind Piper giggled and looked at each other, covering their smiles with dainty hands.
Esme mentally kicked herself. “Sorry if that’s a rude question. I don’t know anything about-”
“It’s not that.” Piper smiled at her. “For the future, you may wish to remember that all pureblood fairies are female.”
“Oh…” Esme glanced at the others and dared another awkward question. “How is that possible?”
Piper lifted a suggestive eyebrow, and Esme decided she didn’t want to know how fairies reproduced.
One of the other fairies stepped beside Piper. “If we could have a moment of your time, we’re wondering if you’d be willing to take our request to the king.”
Uh-oh. I don’t know anything about paranormal politics. What-
Piper still smiled. “You’re his alterni, after all. Who better to speak for us girls?”
“Uh…”
From somewhere behind Esme, a deep male voice said, “Cat balls, Piper. Leave her be. The alterni has enough to worry about without getting you sparklies into Hollywood.”
Piper frowned at whoever said this but returned her smile to Esme. “Well, we’ll talk later.” She winked. “Us girls have to stick together, right?”
Giggling, the whole group of fairies turned on their stilettos and returned to their booth.
Esme let out a breath and turned to see whoever had saved her. “Oh. Hi.”
The muscular Hoffman brothers stood against the bar behind her. They lived double lives as police officers and still wore their KCPD uniforms. Max and Dax could pass for twins, but she’d heard they were a few years apart. Both had dark, wavy hair and stubbly beards. Both nodded at her with attempted smiles.
They’re mixed blood werewolves, she remembered as she looked at the group of men they’d been sitting with. Why are they allowed at this meeting of purebloods? Huh. They seem respected by their…pack. Maybe werewolves aren’t as elitist as other races.
“Don’t pay any mind to the sparklies,” said Max, the younger brother. “Piper wants to get them into show business and thinks the king can pull strings to make it happen.”
Dax, the other brother, crossed his arms and muttered, “Like we don’t have bigger problems.”
“Yeah.” This was all Esme had to say. She couldn’t help but remember seeing these two critique her as she’d trained with Lexi.
“Hear you’re working with the Master Conjuri now,” said Max.
“Yes. And Ada Pound.”
For the first time, Max looked pleased. “Ah, Ms. Pound. Damn good cavali in her day.”
“So she keeps telling me.” Esme grinned.
Dax still looked unsure of her. “Are ya better with magic than you were in the gym?”
“I hope to be.” She looked up at him and tried not to glare. “Ada says I’m learning fast, but we’ve only been reading the Chronicles of Kings for now.”
Dax looked at his brother. “Told you. Not even teaching her the termino yet. Do the conjuri think we have all the time in the world?”
“Hmm.” Max frowned at Esme and turned with his brother to move farthe
r up the bar.
Esme’s confidence wasn’t exactly bolstered by this exchange.
As she watched the departing Hoffman brothers, her gaze dropped to one of the goblins carrying two drinks on his way back to his table. When his path crossed with Dax and Max’s, the little man glared without fear at the bigger men. Shaking his head, the goblin then shuffled over to Esme.
“Pay them no mind,” he said with a bite to his tone. “Werewolves don’t tend to be intellectual. They’ve little use for books, even mixed bloods like those two who can’t go full doggie.”
With that, he waddled back to the goblin table with his drinks.
Esme didn’t know what reaction to have.
What a weird kind of racism. How the hell does Owen navigate all this?
She looked over to see that Marybeth had brought the king his slab of ribs, and Owen had his sleeves rolled up as he dug into the meal. He waved a gooey rib at the goblin across from him as they continued their discussion.
“Hi.”
Esme jumped as another troll greeted her, but she recovered with a smile and shook his hand. The rest of the trolls stood in a line behind him. She shook hands with the whole group, who then returned to their table once done with the obligatory greeting. Marybeth sat at their table, and she nodded at them like they were obedient children… Were they her children?
When Esme was alone again, she faced the bar and saw a lean, fair-complected, middle-aged man with long, smooth, blond hair. He wore a gray tailored suit and set a martini glass on the bar before turning her way. His pale blue eyes met Esme’s, and he smiled as he came to stand before her. He took her hand in his and bowed, then stood with her hand clasped in both of his.
“Oliver Leaflen, at your service.” His voice was lovely, with an accent she couldn’t place. “I’m sorry to hear the Hoffman brothers were a bit rude. Allow me to apologize on behalf of the paranormals. We elves, in particular, appreciate that you’re studying before jumping blindly into battle.”
“Ah. Thank you.”
Is he ever going to give back my hand? But he seems nice. An elf! Is his long hair hiding pointed ears?
She remembered a story she’d read. “The seventh king’s last alterni was an elf, wasn’t she?”
Alterni Page 9
