by Sean Stone
“She brought this on herself by killing James,” Clara told the warlocks. The Coven was positioning themselves around the Thirteen for a fight.
“She’s one of us, we can’t let you have her,” Alanis said.
“James was one of you too. And she murdered him!” Dean shouted, tears in his eyes.
Julian looked at the others and then back at Dean. “Kristen has ever been… misguided. An annoyance even,” he said. “Cut off the head or destroy the heart or she’ll just come back.”
“Julian, please,” Kristen begged. But it was too late. The warlocks were gone.
Of all the things that Clara had seen and heard one of the most difficult to forget was the screams of Kristen Dagmar as Dean hacked her to pieces.
“Nicely done,” Golama said, smiling. “And thank you for your roles in the fall of my troublesome brother.”
Clara nodded warily, expecting an attack. “I’m sorry about your other siblings,” she said.
He shrugged. “The one responsible has paid the price. Let us hope that we never encounter one another again,” he said and then vanished in a puff of smoke.
Chapter 40
“Do you want me to come with you?” asked Dean, as Clara stepped out of the car.
“More than anything,” she admitted. “But I have to do this alone.”
“Alright. I’ll be waiting right here,” he promised. She gave him a smile and then walked toward the Home Office.
Her heart was beating at about three-hundred beats per minute. She could hardly breath comfortably but she had to do this otherwise more soldiers would come for them. Clara had been elected the leader in Cedarstone. Months ago when she’d brought all the leaders of the town to the table to arrange a truce she’d never imagined that she would be in charge and she’d certainly never imagined that the other leaders would suggest it. They had willingly nominated her to represent the town. She’d saved them all and not one of them denied it. Clara didn’t feel like she’d saved them, everyone else had done the work, she’d just struck the killing blow.
It had been Jacob who’d suggested that she be in charge. He’d taken over the Clan from Richie who’d left town having rid it of soldiers. The others had agreed without question. Of course, there was only three of them now. Jacob led the Clan, Arthur led the Coven, and Michael led the Cult who had decided to stay in Cedarstone. They’d all agreed that the only people they’d be fighting from now on would be enemies of the town.
With the election came the job of getting the Home Secretary to back off. Michael had assured Clara that wiping out Eloise’s army was all it really took. Now the Home Secretary needed to see a face, though. She needed to see who had beaten her and she needed to realise that she would not win a war. The best advice had come from Jacob. He’d told her to act like Eloise.
“Act like you own the place and nobody will say you don’t. Be like Eloise,” he’d said. And everyone had agreed.
Thus Clara was given a makeover. Her jeans and t-shirt had been traded in for a fitted navy suit. Her trainers had been replaced with a pair of executive stilettos and her long blond hair had been wrapped up in a neat back-beehive. She looked like a younger Eloise. And according to Dean, a sexier one.
“Keep it short and sweet. Say your piece and leave. Don’t get into a debate with her,” Arthur had said before she’d left. Clara was trying to keep all the advice she’d been given in mind. If she messed it up then the last few months of fighting were going to stretch on for years.
As Clara approached the building two security guards came forwards. A wave of her hand made them forget they’d seen her and they returned to their posts. She walked in and strode meaningfully down several corridors, casting spells on various people she encountered until finally she found the right office.
“Can I help you?” a young lady asked. She was sitting at a desk outside the Home Secretary’s office. She was undoubtedly the assistant.
“Is the Home Secretary with anyone?” Clara asked in her most professional voice.
“Uhm, no, but…” Clara waved her hadn’t and the lady slumped in her chair, asleep. Another wave of her hand and the door flew open. Clara made her entrance as dramatic as possible. A strong wind followed her into the room. The papers on the desk flew around in a hurricane. The skeletal woman behind the desk looked up, her dark-rimmed eyes wide and terrified. Her grey hair flapped about her head wildly. The door slammed shut and the wind vanished.
“We need to talk,” Clara said firmly. She kept her chin raised as Jacob had coached her to.
“I… who are you?” the older woman asked. It was almost convincing.
“Don’t pretend you haven’t seen a file on me,” said Clara, stepping forward so her shadow fell over the grey-haired woman.
“Miss Winters,” she admitted, pursing her lips.
“Everyone you sent into my town is dead. If you send more people they will die too. Whatever Eloise Cultrum told you was a lie. My people want only to be left alone. We want to remain a secret and have no designs on exposing ourselves. Your actions have resulted in the loss of a lot of people I cared about and it is taking a good deal of restraint not to retaliate further. If you do anything to endanger my people again you will be starting a war you cannot possibly win. Leave us alone and we will leave you alone. Do I make myself clear?”
“Miss Winters…”
“Do I make myself clear?” Clara repeated more firmly. A light breeze moved some of the articles on the desk.
“Absolutely,” the woman said quickly. “My office has no further plans that concern your… people.”
“See that it stays that way. You saw easily it was for me to get to you.” Clara turned and when she reached the door she stopped. “I’ll handle all matters regarding the running of Cedarstone from now on. You have my permission to collect your dead. Get them out of my town by the end of the day.”
Clara strode from the office purposefully. That was that. Clara smiled as she got back into her car. It was time to go home. It was time to rest. Cedarstone was finally at peace.
THE END
Author’s Note
Well, that’s that. The Cedarstone Chronicles have come to an end. I really hope that I did justice to the series and ended it in a satisfying way. I spent a lot of time stressing over how to bring everything to a close. Too often the last book of a series, or the last season of a tv show, is the least satisfying. The one you end up wishing had never happened. I really hope that isn’t the case here.
Thank you for reading right through to the end, I hope this means that you liked the books. This was my first series and I had a lot of fun writing it. A part of me is sad to have closed the door on this series and its characters. Some of the characters in this series are the best characters I’ve ever come up with. In my opinion at least. Nickolas and James were my favourites.
Not all of the characters are gone, though. Some of them moved on to my other series. Clara, Dean and Kegan all appear in Arcane Inc. The series starts roughly 2 years after The Cedarstone Chronicles and it follows a warlock named Eddie Lancaster, who had a brief cameo in this book. Other characters appear in Arcane Inc. but I don’t want to give anything away.
The Cedarstone Chronicles are finished. The story is told. However, for those of you who would like just a little bit more, I have written a very small epilogue at the end of this book.
Thanks for reading and I hope you pick up my next series too.
Sean Stone
November 2017
Epilogue
Julian awoke suddenly. Sitting upright in bed, the silk sheets crumpled around his waist, he was sure he’d heard a crash. His impulse was never wrong. He sat perfectly still and listened. There was somebody downstairs in his living room. He stood up and pulled his dressing gown around him tightly. Then he teleported to the living room.
He saw it straight away. The urn had been knocked over and was lying on its side on the wooden floor. That wasn’t it, though.
Julian had taken the urn after Kristen had died. All of the remaining warlocks had wanted the ashes of their master, but Julian had won the right to keep the urn. This wasn’t the doing of any of them. None of them would disrespect Nick by knocking his urn over and spilling his ashes. They would’ve taken the whole thing. This was the work of a different kind of thief. Somebody who had come for just one thing that happened to be inside the urn. The Ambrotos Dagger. Julian would find whoever had taken the Dagger and they would die screaming.
He knelt down to clean up the ashes, but as he lifted up the urn he saw that there were no ashes. Not on the floor, nor in the urn. Why would anybody take the ashes and the Dagger, but not the urn? It made no sense. Unless…
Julian stood up slowly and turned. As he turned he saw the figure standing in the corner of the room. The Dagger was clutched in their hand. “Step into the light,” Julian ordered.
The figure took one step forward so the moonlight shone through the window onto their face.
“My God,” Julian gasped as Nick smiled at him. “They said you died.”
“I did,” Nick said softly. “But I am too powerful to stay dead. I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed some clothes.”
Julian saw that Nick was indeed wearing some of the clothes from the laundry room. “Of course not. What’s mine is yours.”
“Thank you, Julian.” Nick tucked the dagger into his boot.
“Apophis is no more. We avenged you.”
“I am most welcome.”
“What are you going to do now? I heard Olivia died, will you bring her back again?” Julian asked tentatively. As much as he loved Nick he did not want to endure that quest again.
Nick shook his head. “That chapter of my life is over. Love… It really wasn’t worth it. I look back on all those centuries and think about all the deeds that Olivia reprimanded me for and I wonder. How would she react if she knew the truth? How would she react if she knew that all that time I had been holding back because of her? All those years I denied my true impulses. Well she’s gone now as is our love. And I’m free to really let loose. Free to do whatever I desire.”
“What do you desire?” asked Julian.
Nick smiled again. “I’m not sure yet.” He made for the door. “Do me a favour?” he asked, looking back.
“Anything.”
“Don’t let anyone know I’m alive. I’d like my existence to be a secret. At least for now.”
Julian nodded once. Nick’s secret was safe with him.
“Oh, and one more thing. Tell those back in Cedarstone to separate whatever remains of Apophis. You never can be too sure if someone’s really dead.”
“I’ll get the message to them,” Julian said. “Do you really not know what you’re going to do now?” It was so unlike Nick not to have a plan.
“I really don’t. But you can be sure that whatever I do, it’s going to get messy.” Nick gave him a crafty wink and then vanished
Also by Sean Stone
The Cedarstone Chronicles
Cursed
The Cult of Osiris
The Ancients
Reunion
Abomination
Arcane Inc.
Warlock for Hire
Warlock Wanted
Dark Warlock
Warlock At War
Short Story Collections
Horrors from Cedarstone
Horrors from Cedarstone II
Horrors from Cedarstone III
Keep up-to-date by visiting seanstonewriter.com
Warlock for Hire
The lights in the hall dimmed and the cheesy spiritual music began to play. I’ve been to a few psychic medium acts and you’d be surprised by how many of them start this way. Or maybe you wouldn’t, who knows? I was surprised the first time I attended one of these shows. The music always sounds like it would be more at home being part of the ghost train at Brighton Pier. What surprises me more is the fact that nobody ever gets up and leaves; I almost did the first time I heard it, but I was working and had to stay. I suppose once you’ve invested money in the ticket — which is always overpriced considering more than fifty percent of the time you’re going to end up doing more work than the medium — it’s a little harder to walk out, you want your money’s worth. I can understand that, after all, half the reason I come to these shows is to make money. The other half… Well you’ll find out soon enough.
A woman with curly blonde hair and a thick pair of plastic glasses walked onto the stage. Who ever was responsible for sound effects didn’t turn the music down until she was already talking. Amateur. It wasn’t just that that gave her away as an amateur; it was also the cheap hall she’d rented and the fact that her name was unrecognisable. Sally Wenshaw — I’d never heard of her. Then again I haven’t heard of a lot of people. As soon as I heard Sally speak I instantly detested her. It was nothing she said, just her profession in general. I can’t stand these people that claim to have psychic abilities and then use blatant trickery to swindle people out of money. It’s as much the customers fault as it is hers in my opinion. Anyone who falls for this crap is an idiot. You might be offended by that comment. Maybe you’ve fallen for a fraudulent psychic or medium’s act before. Well I stand by what I said. If you’re offended by being called an idiot then you should probably stop reading because I am most probably going to call you an idiot again. Or worse. Who knows? Anyway, back to the point. What was I saying? Ah, yes, mediums. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that all mediums and psychics are frauds. There are real ones. But they are hard to find. Mediums aren’t. Communing with the dead is easy enough for someone with the power — I have the power, you might see me use it some time. Psychics on the other hand are very rare. Trust me on this, people search the world for seers —that’s what they’re generally known as, not psychics — and most people are not successful. Seers are very useful things, they can see the future, the past, things in distant places. So you can understand why a person might want to get their hands on one. I knew a seer once, they died. Hit by a bus. They didn’t see it coming, not in either sense. That wasn’t a joke, it really happened. Anyway, I’ve digressed again. I’m probably going to do that a lot, so you’ll need patience, but trust me it’s worth it because you are about to be treated to a real cracker of a story. I should know — I’m in it.
So, who am I? Eddie Lancaster, director of Arcane Incorporated. Sounds mysterious and important eh? That’s the point. And no, it’s not really a company, more of a one man show, but Arcane Inc just has a better ring to it. Don’t you think? I’m basically a warlock for hire. Need something supernatural? Come to me. Now, I know what you’re thinking. Warlocks are bad right? Wrong. Well, no they are bad. Most anyway. But I’m a different kind of warlock. A unique kind of warlock. A one of a kind kind of warlock. I’m what you’d call a natural warlock. Ordinary warlocks are sorcerers who steal magic from other sorcerers. In order to steal said magic they must kill said sorcerer. So you can understand why warlocks are naturally associated with badness. I, however, do not kill. I was born with the ability to just take power from a sorcerer. No killing, no hurting. Just a clean old swipe. I don’t just go around swiping power either, that would also be wrong. Plus it’s a little harder than a simple swipe. I only take it with consent. Except with bad people, evil people. If we cross paths I take their magic. For my own protection. You’re probably wondering now, when does somebody give me consent to take their magic? Well I could tell you, but I’ll be able to show you if you wait until later. For now, back to Sally.
She stood front centre of the stage, eyes closed, one hand pushed to her forehead. The classic medium pose. “I’m getting something,” she said, a hint of northern in her accent. “It’s a letter.” It’s always a letter. “An a.” She opened her eyes and looked around the audience. I once knew a medium who literally went through the alphabet in order until she found somebody to invite on stage. Surprisingly she got all the way to “s” before someone stood up. This time was
different. As she’d instructed, all the people with an “a” anywhere in their name stood up. She said that earlier when I was waffling about warlocks.
My name is actually Edward so I stood up with the other half of the room. Things would get pretty awkward if I was called up though.
“Now, bear with me whilst I try to get another letter,” Sally said and resumed the pose. I really hoped she wasn’t going to drag this whole thing out. The show was only billed as being forty minutes long. Not that they usually ran full length when I attended. “I’m getting a… ooh, it’s another a,” she said, and all but one man sat back down. “You must be Aaron,” she said gesturing for the man to come up on stage. The audience applauded. They actually applauded. Of course his name was Aaron, how many other names have two fucking “a’s” in them? Actually Alan does. So does Adrian. Alright I take that back, there are some other names with two “a’s”, but not many.
Aaron made his way onto the stage and stood before Sally. He was a short man, barely a foot taller than she was and he had a greasy sort of pervert look about him. You know the one I mean. Don’t deny it, you do.
