Entwined Realms Volume One

by Danielle Monsch

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because, if they had nothing to hide, they’d be part of the world among all the other creatures. Hell, you can even find necromancer clubs in certain areas.”

  Which was disturbing, but considering how vampires had been romanticized and fetishized in the Human Realm before the collision, the fact those clubs existed wasn’t as shocking as it should have been. “Maybe they’re afraid. It can’t be easy to enter the world when you’ve always shunned it before.”

  “Well, yeah, or maybe they are as evil as the necromancers but don’t have that dark, sexy-charm swagger to cover their deviousness.”

  Deviousness. There was no word she could think of less right to describe Terak. No, he wasn’t telling her everything, but it seemed to come from a place of protection, not slyness.

  Then again, she could be fooling herself.

  “Olivia, have you ever left the city?”

  “Why, are you thinking of taking a long weekend or something? Your dad would flip.”

  “No, it’s just…” Larissa looked down at the picture again. “I’m starting to think about what I don’t know. It never occurred to me before, but the attack has me thinking about things.”

  The bell rang, and Olivia stood. “I have class next period, so I’ve got to get going. If you need to talk, I’ll be free tonight.”

  Larissa shook her head. “I’m fine. Really.”

  Olivia looked dubious, but nodded. “If you change your mind, give me a call.”

  When she left, Larissa stared at the drawing in the book, at the large wings and sharp claws. The picture was terrifying, yet it was not nearly as impressive as seeing the creatures in moving flesh.

  Emulating Olivia, she stroked the snarling face on the picture. Terrifying, yes, but she couldn’t quite remember ever feeling so warm as when she had been enfolded in Terak’s wings.

  Larissa looked out the window. Was a gargoyle nearby, watching her? The sun was shining, a light wind whipping the occasional leaf past the glass. How could a gargoyle exist on a day like today? They belonged to the night, to full moons and dark clouds and the wind howling through trees.

  They certainly didn’t get involved with people like her, boring people with a too-stifling family and a regular job. She had no money problems, no social life… hell, she hadn’t even had a steady boyfriend yet. Growing up, the brothers had scared off anyone who they didn’t think was good enough for their baby sister, and then Dad took over with the matchmaking. Her big weekend plans involved playing cards with her family.

  How sad was that?

  How could someone like her attract the attention of necromancers? Or gargoyles?

  Stubborn gargoyles who don’t listen to reason and take over your life even though they may be next in line for the Ultimate Evil award.

  Why couldn’t she have been saved by an elf?

  Chapter Eight

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  When going back to your childhood home, there is that one perfect moment. It’s the moment where, as you grab the door knob and start turning, memories jumble across your mind like the spill of photographs from a box, quick and cluttered and all of them so damned good you wish you could crawl inside one.

  “Baby sister! Get your ass in here, you’re letting the cold air in.”

  And then a male member of the family opens his mouth and reminds you why you moved out.

  “Bite me there, Steven. How can you pretend to be this big, bad cop if two seconds in the wind has you whining?”

  Her third oldest brother came over from the couch and enveloped her in a hug, which he used to maneuver her out of the doorway and then closed the door with his foot. “So, you missed Friday night, huh?”

  Leave it to Steven to bulldoze over any pleasantries and get straight to what concerned him.

  “I do have a life outside of this house.”

  “You were tutoring a student.”

  After he let go, she shrugged out of her coat and hung it in the closet. Larissa said, “Teaching is not a job, it’s my life’s calling. I read that on a greeting card somewhere.”

  She walked toward the kitchen, the hub of activity in their house, with Steven following. “Your life’s calling is condemning us to the crap shifts.”

  “Don’t blame me. I don’t set your schedule.”

  “You’re right, the chief does.”

  “Do I hear you complaining out there again, boy?” came the call from the kitchen.

  Larissa stepped into the kitchen to see her father at the stove and her other brothers Gary, Michael, and Christopher sitting at the black granite island. She crossed the wood floor and gave her father a kiss on the cheek. “Hi Daddy.”

  “Pumpkin.” Going grey dark-brown hair and a non-ironic mustache on a slightly chubby but still very handsome face, Jack Miller was in his element, stirring a pot of simmering chili and surrounded by his kids. “How was work?”

  “Went fine. You didn’t tell me we were having chili, I would have made some salsa and cornbread.”

  “I had Michael bring some. You can set the table.”

  The brothers jumped up and began their respective chores. Before her stomach had the chance to start growling, the table was set and everyone dug into their food, her dad on one end, her on the other, and two brothers on each side.

  “So, baby sis, your television still on the fritz?” asked Gary, youngest of all the boys and the one who tortured her most while they were growing up.

  Larissa sighed. “I haven’t had a chance to bring it in to the shop yet.”

  “How did you manage to break this one?” asked Steven.

  Jack snorted before taking a long drink from his bottle of beer. “Why is it I have four boys but whenever anything broke around here, it was always the fault of my baby girl?”

  She couldn’t help it she had a black thumb, only instead of killing plants, she killed all their electronics. Four rambunctious older brothers, but when something broke in the house, all eyes turned to her. “I had to do something to stand out from the pack. At least I never almost burned the house down, or snuck boys in by having them climb in the third-story window.”

  This time Michael snorted. The oldest, Michael was the only one who inherited their father’s coloring of dark brown hair and eyes while she and the other brothers favored their mom. He also inherited their father’s stubborn streak and overdeveloped sense of responsibility, leading to the nickname Dad Two while they were growing up. “No boy would ever have dared climb through your window, Ris. Remember when you hit puberty? Dad started to clean his guns on the front porch.”

  “Hell yes, I did. You look like your mother, who was only the most beautiful woman to ever be born. I saw her for the first time when she was sixteen and I was seventeen and I remember exactly what I wished I could be doing to her. No way any little punk was going to think those things about my daughter.”

  “Dad!” Larissa protested.

  “Well, it’s true.”

  Any parent could embarrass their kids during the teenage years, but only a true virtuoso could embarrass them into their twenties and beyond.

  She opened her mouth to force out some sort of retort – what, she didn’t know – but her dad’s focus wasn’t on her. He was looking to the left of her, where a picture of Lauren Miller hung on the wall, frozen forever in the prime of her life.

  Guilt, thick and familiar, churned through her body and soured every cell it enveloped. Even after all these years her father’s love for her mother was undimmed. It was the stuff of fairy tales, but because of her the fairy tale was cut short.

  Her, and the Great Collision.

  And now she was going to stir up bad memories, talk about things they avoided in this house. Gods knew she didn’t want to hurt him, but she couldn’t think of who else to talk to.

  Larissa kept her head down and mouth full for the rest of the meal, letting the brothers talk. The meal was winding down; spoons clinked against flatware and a good portion of
the side dishes were gone. It was now or never to start asking questions.

  She wiped her damp palms against the legs of her jeans and began. “Dad, do you know what would happen if the city was ever attacked?”

  Her father paused in bringing the cornbread to his mouth. “What do you mean?”

  “Attacked. Like by a group of wizards, or some magical creature, or whatever.”

  Jack waved his spoon in the air, dismissing the possibility without words. “We’ve got wards to protect us.”

  If only you knew the folly of that statement. “But what if the wards failed?”

  “They wouldn’t. Believe me, we go through a lot every year to get them renewed.”

  Had she really been this complacent that she never thought to think beyond these answers before? Why did it take getting attacked to ask these questions? A five-year-old wouldn’t accept these types of simplistic answers, but she had, all of her life. “Isn’t there a back-up plan?”

  The lines bracketing Jack’s mouth went from charming to hardened as his lips thinned. “Baby girl, what’s this about?”

  Her father’s tone roughened, taking on that edge that said to anyone who knew Jack Miller they should back off.

  Dad hated talking about anything to do with the New Realms, and Larissa hated to bring this up to him. In any other situation, she’d be shutting her mouth right now.

  But the wards had failed, and there was a secret group of protectors of the city. Would this info be a surprise to Dad, or was withholding this information another of the ways Jack Miller protected his family, most specifically her? Larissa’s hands went up in supplication and she continued. “I’m curious. I got asked in class today about it and I realized I had no idea what the answer was. I figured it was something I should probably know.”

  “Well, there’s nothing to worry about. The wards have held for over twenty years. They’re not going to fail.”

  Her father dug into what was left of his chili, his signal that this discussion was at an end. Larissa rubbed the back of her neck. “Are there any exceptions to who can get past the wards or when?”

  The spoon dropped from Jack’s hand, a loud clank resounding through the room, and the tension from the brothers was now palpable as they looked between her and Dad. “Larissa Joy, where is this coming from?”

  His anger kindled a similar blaze in her. She wasn’t being unfair in her questions, and he needed to stop treating her as though she were eight. “I’m asking reasonable questions and you aren’t giving me any answers. Wards are magical barriers. So what happens if the wizard who set them is incompetent, or has been blackmailed or bought off? And magic is dispelled all the time. But you sit there and act like none of these are a possibility, that I shouldn’t concern myself over it.”

  Her dad gripped the edge of the table with one hand, the knuckles white. “It’s several wizards casting several layers of spells that takes months out of every year to renew and strengthen. It’s not someone showing up and waving a wand. And in my house I’ll be shown respect, young lady.”

  “Then don’t treat my questions as annoyances. You’re the chief of police, Dad. You need to have some back-up plans in place, unless you want to find yourself in the middle of another disaster and have more people die…” Her voice trailed off as her brain caught up to her words. “Dad, I’m sorry.”

  Jack Miller took a deep breath. He pushed himself away from the table and stood. He was every day his age at this moment, older than Larissa had ever seen him. Without a word he left the dining room.

  Awkward silence hung over the table for a beat of time, then by wordless agreement Gary, Steven, and Christopher got up and left to follow their father, leaving her alone with Michael.

  Michael’s eyes were narrowed on her, the deep brown burning with laser intensity. “Michael-”

  “What was that about, Ris?”

  The words hit her ear, but the vibration was wrong, unexpected. This wasn’t Michael chiding her about upsetting Dad, at least not completely. Michael was in cop-mode, and he was never in cop-mode with her.

  Does he know about Friday?

  Her fingers went icy. No. He can’t. Dad doesn’t know.

  Because if Dad knew, he would have been on her doorstep dragging her out of the apartment. No way around that. Dad didn’t know, and he was the guy in charge.

  So why was Michael looking at her as he would a suspect at the station?

  It wasn’t until right now, when the half-formed thought of telling Michael was discarded, that she realized she was even thinking of it. She deflected. “I went a little far, Michael, but I’m teaching the Great Collision and it came up and it’s a valid point. The question stuck with me.”

  “Are you sure that’s it? Anything else bothering you?”

  His eyes didn’t lose their laser focus, and she really needed to leave and think things through. “I’m-” she licked her lips, buying herself a few seconds. “I’m sorry I upset Dad. I think I need to go home. Things have somehow derailed, and me leaving is a good idea.”

  He placed his hands on the table, readying himself to get up. “I’ll drive you.”

  She placed her hand over his, stopping him. “That’s silly, Michael. My car is here, I haven’t drunk any alcohol. A little fresh air and I’ll be fine.”

  Michael looked dubious but didn’t stop her as she grabbed up her coat and bag. She opened the door, slinging her purse over her shoulder, “Tell Dad I’ll give him a call tomorrow and I love him.” Without waiting for an answer, she went outside.

  This was more complicated by the minute. Dad didn’t know anything but Michael might? Impossible.

  Impossible.

  Just as impossible as a gargoyle protector.

  Just as impossible as zombies coming after her.

  Just as impossible as necromancers waiting for the chance to grab her again.

  Instead of taking her usual back-alley shortcut home, Larissa kept to the well-travelled streets.

  Chapter Nine

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  Once again, Terak was on the roof of the opposite building and watched the little human through her glass doors. This time, though, she was aware of him, or aware someone was watching her. She kept pacing to the window, looking out, retreating into her home, only to repeat the process moments later.

  After doing this several times, her head snapped up and her spine straightened, as though she had come to a decision. She again began to move toward the windows, but this time, instead of stopping there, she continued to the glass doors that led to her balcony and opened them. Stepping out onto the balcony, she waved her arms in wide arcs through the air.

  He neither saw nor sensed any threat to her. Uncertainty kept him still, a sensation unknown to him before she entered his life.

  After several moments of waving she brought her arms down and around herself, hugging her body against the cold. Her lips tightened, and she went back inside.

  She could not wish his company, could she? She fought hard against any guards, so why would she seek him out?

  But she kept looking out the window, her attention never leaving the balcony for more than a few minutes.

  Standing, he snapped his wings in preparation, leaping in the air and gliding the short distance to her.

  She heard his landing. Within moments she scrambled from her inner rooms toward the balcony door. Her eyes widened when she saw him. “It’s you.”

  Did she not wish to see him again? They had parted on as pleasant of terms as possible considering the circumstances of their initial meeting. His shoulders went back as he braced himself. “Does this upset you?”

  “Oh.” She shook her head, the action appearing as a way to clear her mind than a motion of the negative. “I’m sorry, that sounded so rude. I didn’t mean anything by that. I wasn’t expecting you though.”

  “Why?”

  She motioned at him. “You are the leader. I never expected you would be on guard duty.”

  Her words we
re intelligent, as under any other circumstances he would not be. Still, best she not know that. “A leader who views himself above any task is setting a poor example for his people.”

  The nod she gave was little more than humoring him, if the flattened twist of her mouth was honest in revealing her true thoughts. Still, she did not question him any further, and that was the outcome he desired. She asked instead, “Does this mean I’m going to see you often?”

  Yes, but she did not need to know the truth at this time. “In the beginning only a handful of warriors will watch you as I search for information. I will be among them.”

  “Oh,” she muttered, though he doubted she meant the word to be audible. She licked her lips, a nervous gesture. She looked around her apartment. “I’m sorry. I’m forgetting my manners. Would you like something to drink or eat? I mean, I don’t know what gargoyles eat…”

  The words trailed off and she was studying him again, her eyes stopping and lingering on the expanse of his chest, bare as his kind rarely wore shirts. The hint of a blush swept her cheeks, the color of springtime roses, which suited her pale hair and sky eyes.

  “Water would be fine. As long as the glass is not delicate, I will be able to use it.”

  Relief washed over her features as her gaze met his again. “Not a problem. Please sit.”

  She motioned to the lone couch and walked into the adjoining kitchen area. Her apartment was small enough that the kitchen was readily visible from the living area, her graceful movements always in his view.

  She brought the water, handing it to him. After drinking a sip, he put the cup down. “Your hospitality is gracious, so please forgive me when I ask if there was a reason you invited me in?”

  Chagrin danced across her features before a smile crossed her lips. He easily saw her as a little girl, caught in her naughtiness by her father but trying to charm him from giving any deserved punishment. “I wanted to talk. I needed to ask some more questions.”