Entwined Realms Volume One

by Danielle Monsch

  No. Compartmentalize. Later. He’d think on it later. Now he had to get into that fucking hospital.

  Ignoring shouts to keep out, he bounded up the steps to the sixth-floor maternity ward, leaping over rock and broken steps that littered his path.

  The front desk of the maternity ward was empty and the automatic doors were open. Here the earthquake had done enough damage to twist walls and leave chunks of tile lying about. Power was on, but it was dim – back-up generator only. It was safe enough to keep the patients here, but it was clear the ward was in crisis mode. With no one to stop him, he ran down the hall. “Lauren! Lauren!”

  A nurse ran out of one of the rooms in front of him. “Sir, you need to stop! We are trying to keep everyone calm.”

  “I’m looking for my wife. What room is Lauren Miller in?”

  A stillness stole over the nurse’s form except her shoulders, which pushed back in quick movement. “Lauren Miller?” she asked, but it was stalling disguised as a question, something a cop saw and heard on a daily basis. Tendrils of fear Jack had not experienced even when faced with those monsters only minutes before uncurled from his belly, his skin growing chilled as they wormed their way to the surface.

  “Where is my wife?” he asked, advancing on the younger woman.

  The nurse would not look him in the eye, her throat working in nervousness, and his skin went from chilled to sub-zero. “Sir, you need to wait here. I need to get my supervisor…”

  “Where’s my wife?” he screamed, grabbing the young woman by the shoulders and shaking her.

  “That’s enough.” The voice was a whip, cracking through the air. He turned to behold a battle-axe of a woman, late sixties, built broad and strong with a face that told she had seen much and overcame it all. “Let the girl go.”

  “I want my wife! Where is Lauren Miller?”

  The older woman walked to him, no fear in her as she grabbed his hands and peeled them away from the girl’s shoulders, her focus such he could not look away from her. She said to no one in particular, “Bring Mr. Miller a wet cloth to wipe down and a scrub shirt.”

  The squeak of shoes at his side told him someone was following her orders. Wet cloth was thrust into his hands and habit had his body moving even as his thoughts were centered on his wife. As soon as he pulled the clean top over his head, he said, “Please, my wife, where is she?”

  There. That flash of compassion in her eyes, that fucking flash that every cop and doctor and nurse displayed when they were about to tell you your life was over. He backed away from her, shaking his head. “No. No, no, no.”

  She was ruthless in her efficiency. “Mr. Miller, I’m sorry to tell you that your wife died today. There were complications. The baby was born as the earthquake started and we lost power, and in the chaos we couldn’t do what was necessary to save her life.”

  No.

  No no no nononono nonono­nonono­nonono­nonono­nonono

  It was the hand on his cheek, the living warmth of another human that brought him to awareness, the realization the litany was not in his head but coming out of his mouth. He grabbed her wrist. “Let me see my wife. Take me to my wife!”

  “No Mr. Miller.” The nurse’s eyes were steady on him. Not breaking eye contact, she called out, “Sarah, bring the baby.”

  A young woman approached, sidling up to the older woman and angling her body away from his. With unhurried movement, the nurse disentangled her wrist from his grasp, twisting to take the bundled infant from Sarah.

  She put the baby to his chest. Long practice had him grabbing the precious bundle before his brain caught the significance of the moment. “This is your daughter, Mr. Miller.”

  Daughter. He had wanted a baby girl so badly, had prayed for her every night. Lord, you’ve blessed me with my boys and I’m grateful for them. But if you could, I’d love a little girl. I want her to be like my Lauren.

  “Daughter…”

  “Did you know you were having a little girl, Mr. Miller?”

  He shook his head. “No. Lauren wanted it to be a surprise, Lauren…” and he choked, because Lauren should be here answering these questions, about how she refused to find out, because she said, I’m not going to let anyone make a big deal if this baby is a girl or act all sad for us if it’s another boy. You and me, Jack Miller, we make the best babies in this world, and boy or girl, that’s how it is.

  “How many other children do you have, Mr. Miller?”

  The question brought his attention back to the battle-axe, and he blinked several times to focus on her.

  “I know you have others. The way you hold that baby speaks of a lot of experience.”

  “Four. Four boys.”

  “So you have four boys, and now you have a little girl to protect as well. I’m sorry about your loss, but you can’t be carrying on any more. You’ve got too much responsibility on your shoulders and you need to be strong for them.”

  An electric current passed between them, empathy between two survivors who knew there was a path ahead they needed to take, and their loved ones would have to wait a little while before they were reunited. He straightened his back and brought his daughter up to his chest, laying her little head over his heart. “Yes, ma’am.”

  The nurse gave a decisive nod and turned back to the hospital personnel behind her, issuing orders as she marched down the hall.

  His daughter started to snuffle, so he brought her head up higher onto his shoulder, bouncing lightly to calm her. He looked down, seeing the curve of baby cheek, smelling the baby soft smell only newborns possessed, bringing peace even when the world around them was falling apart. “Don’t worry, baby. You’re safe now. Daddy is here and will always protect you, I promise.”

  His little girl. He hoped she would have her mother’s coloring, especially those cornflower blue eyes. He hoped she had her mother’s kind heart and strong spirit and loving compassion…

  He squeezed his eyes shut, holding the tears back. None of that now. There were other things to do.

  Like a name. He and Lauren hadn’t chosen one for a girl. Mostly because Lauren didn’t really believe they were going to have a girl, but also because she hadn’t wanted to use his choice.

  We can’t name our daughter that, Jack. I know you love it, but it sounds too much like my name. I don’t want people thinking I’m so egotistical I need my little girl to remind everyone who her momma is.

  Lauren, my love, my life, your little girl will be as amazing as you are, and she’ll be proud to let everyone know who her momma is.

  Jack Miller, don’t try to sweet talk me. Jack… – stop that! You letch!

  Jack… Jack… I love you…

  He rubbed his cheek over the downy soft skin of his little girl’s head. “Your name is Larissa, little girl. I know it fits you, and I think your momma would agree.”

  Later, and soon, he’d have the outside to deal with. Later was telling four boys they no longer had a momma who would love and care for them. Later was dealing with a world that went to hell and figuring out how to bring it back. Later. But now, there was only this moment with his precious baby girl.

  Welcome to our family, Larissa Joy.

  Chapter Two

  ‡

  26 years later

  She is connected to the future of your Clan. Guard her well.

  Three months.

  Three months he stood sentry, crouched in the shadows of the building across from her.

  Three months he watched, waiting for her importance to become clear, to explain why she was brought into his life.

  Three months she consumed his every waking moment.

  She was in the living room, picking up the clutter which accumulated over the day. She danced as she went about her task, her hips moving in sinuous rhythm to the song heard through the open door of her balcony – the beat heavy, the female singer’s voice soft and alluring and darkly sexual.

  The fingers of his right hand curled, claws raking over his palm.
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br />   The autumn night had taken on the crispness that spoke of winter arriving soon. Humans were more sensitive to temperature than his kind, but the cold seemed not to bother her. After finishing her task, she walked out on the balcony and sat on the metal chair that stood flush with the outside wall. The thin sweater she wore offered little protection from the chill but she made no move to go back inside. She wrapped her arms around her waist and stretched long legs in front of her, crossing them at the ankles.

  He burrowed deeper into the shadows, more habit than fear she would notice him.

  Her long hair spilled behind her, a color he had only seen once before when he flew over a wheat field on a blinding summer day. Her face contained no harsh lines. It was all soft curves, heart-shaped with the fullest mouth, one that made her appear to always be on the verge of pouting. Her body was ripe, her sweater and jeans tight over lush curves.

  She was so innocent to the dangers of this world, so unprepared to deal with any danger. Why did her Clan let her live away from them? They must know how exposed she left herself, what a tempting target she made. Her father had been a fool to let her leave the safety of his house.

  Her phone rang. She took it from her pants pocket. Her side of the conversation was loud in the still evening. “Hello? Dad, hi.”

  After several moments her laughter rang out, light and airy and free. Tension eased from him, the bunched muscles in his back loosening. Her face was animated, enjoyment evident as she talked with her father. She confused him, but in this one thing they were the same – absolute loyalty to their Clan.

  Then she groaned. “I’m going to be grading papers. I told you Mrs. Wajkowski’s appendix burst, right? Well, the substitute they brought in is overwhelmed and I volunteered to help her out.”

  She would never refuse anything her family asked of her, so she tried to get them to rescind their invitations when she didn’t like the request. What now was her father asking of her?

  She rubbed the back of her neck, the motion causing her chest to thrust out, bringing the neckline of her sweater a fraction lower. “No, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Nick yet, and I’m sure he’s a very nice guy.”

  Now the reason for the invitation became clear. Her father often tried to match her with suitable mates, though without success thus far. They were too forward in their attentions. None crossed the line with her, but one had frightened her with his disregard for her words and the way he towered over her. That man would never go near her again.

  “Can’t any of the brothers fill out the poker game? Make it all precinct guys?” she asked, but her defeated tone told him she would be going to her father’s home tonight. She snorted at something her father said, saying in return, “Are you trying to tell me you happened to schedule all four on the Friday night shift and not a soul said anything to you?”

  Whatever her father said caused her to roll her eyes, but she responded as expected. “Okay, Dad, I’ll be over a little later. I have a few things to do first, so you’ll have to survive a little while without me.” A beat of time. “I’m always cute, and no, I’m not changing into a skirt.” A few more moments of her father speaking, then with exasperation on her features, she said, “Love you Dad, buh-bye.”

  She hung up the phone, a long sigh escaping. She stood up and stretched her arms, the movement lifting the sweater so the silky skin of her stomach was visible and the material bunched in such a way that it showed a generous expanse of breast.

  He ran his palm over his mouth, the bite of fang on flesh hard enough to draw a thin line of blood.

  She lowered her arms and leaned on the railing, her gaze coming to meet his.

  Discomposure thrilled through him, alighting down his spine. Could she see him? Time hung for a moment, his puff of visible breath going still in the air as though it too waited for the answer.

  She gave a final sigh and entered her apartment to get ready for her journey.

  Relief and an odd disappointment skittered through his mind before sense reasserted itself. Of course she could not see him. No one as unobservant as she could ever hope to glimpse one of his kind.

  The odd ache in his chest was back. The ache that started the night he realized he had only one more week with her, and it was time to get back to his life, his responsibilities, his Clan. Three months he had sworn to watch over her, and now he was free to never again take up this sentry, never again place her safety before his Clan, never again look upon her face.

  Never see her again…

  She finished her preparations and left her apartment.

  He would now need to follow her to her father’s house. It was harder to hide there, more chance of discovery, but there was no choice. She would not be allowed to leave his protection as long as he watched, not even to exchange it for the protection of her family. They were human guardians, yes, but he trusted her to no one else.

  He watched the front entrance for her exit. It took only moments before she emerged from the building and went toward the side street where her car waited for her.

  The wind changed. With the shift the smell assailed him. Decomposition, death, rotting flesh and decay.

  Zombies.

  Larissa…

  This hard pit in his stomach, this weakness in his limbs, this ice in his veins that threatened to stop his heart – this was unknown. Never, not even as a fledgling warrior, had he been so powerless.

  Rage, though, rage was a familiar companion, and the rage he welcomed, let it engulf these other sensations and bury them deep. A white and blinding wave overwhelmed all in its path and directed itself at those that would hurt what was his to protect.

  They dare come after her?

  They dare?

  A bellow clawed its way from his throat. He ran the length of the roof and with a snap of his wings, he plummeted toward his enemies.

  *

  Her brothers were going to kill her. No way around it, she was a marked woman.

  Subtle Dad wasn’t. Sad thing was, her father wasn’t the hairiest matchmaker she had ever seen. That honor belonged to her third-grade teacher, Mrs. Donovan, who had tried to match up every single father in her class with her unmarried daughter. Even her widowed father hadn’t been able to escape the madness.

  But Dad could scheme with the best of them. Would he really force all her brothers to work the despised Friday night shift so he could set up his daughter on a blind date?

  Why yes, yes he would.

  Larissa gave a loud exhale as she left the safety of her building and marched forth to yet another set-up. The coffee shop across the street was still open and Larissa faltered, a hot chocolate calling her name. No, better not. If she didn’t hurry, her brothers would come to carry her bodily to wherever this Nick was, not unlike the traditional virgin sacrifice.

  They really hated working the Friday night shifts.

  Not that she wanted to go. It had been tough to leave the little haven of her apartment tonight. The night was crystal clear with a moon so bright and big she might have had a chance of touching it. The air was crisp and fragrant with the scent of the dampened oak leaves carpeting all the once-green, grassy areas.

  And there was the presence of her phantom companion. It had to be her family’s paranoia about her living alone catching up to her, but these last couple months she had been living with a constant presence. Maybe if the feeling scared her she would be more wary, but she was comfortable with this companion. It was protective in its watchfulness, a dark energy against those who would hurt her while it wrapped her in safety. She felt safer these last months than she had even when she had lived at home.

  A snort of laughter spilled out as she imagined Dad’s indignant expression if she ever told him that. Maybe a hint or two she should rethink the whole coming-back-home-to-live thing.

  Enough with the flights of fancy. There were plans to make. Okay, poker. Another set-up sure, but maybe Nick would be nice. He couldn’t be worse than Anthony, he of the love ob
session with his abs, who pulled up his shirt four separate times to try to convince her to touch the muscle mass. Or there was Ben, who took her to the steak and seafood restaurant and ate and drank everything in sight while she ordered salad, then proceeded to split the check with her.

  And then there was Leonard.

  Yeah, Dad didn’t do too well with choosing Leonard.

  Still, he hadn’t been so horrific, and she was a tad ashamed of the momentary glee that rushed through hers the next day when Dad told her Leonard’s car had been mysteriously crushed.

  Besides, if it worked out with Nick, she would be spared her brothers’ accusing glares during Saturday dinner when she told them that, once again, there had been no spark and no chance for further romance.

  So, reframe this whole set-up situation. She didn’t want to go over to Dad’s, but there was always a chance it could turn out to be a real blessing.

  Larissa breathed in the autumn night air, taking in great lungfuls as she moved toward her car. There were no better nights than these, when the leaves were changing colors and the bite in the air made every breath a pleasure-pain mix.

  And then her breath stopped, frozen in her chest as every muscle in her body froze when a roar sounded through the empty streets, the unholy sound moving ever closer.

  Chapter Three

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  Larissa’s mouth went dry, her palms dampening in spite of the chilled night. She looked up to find the source of that inhuman sound.

  What was that? This was a protected area – humans-only. The magical wards had been recast only last month with the specific purpose to fend off any non-human race or species.

  The low hum of voices brought her attention back down to the street. Three bodies moved toward her. Probably male, judging by the taller height and broader shoulders, but she couldn’t be sure. They wore hoods to hide their faces, and their jackets hid any shape of the upper torso. She had seen similar groupings many times at the high school she taught at. Still, they seemed… – wrong. Their bodies were at odd angles, their steps uneven, more akin to a series of lurches rather than the awkward gaits of adolescents or the surer steps of adult males.