Terran Realm Vol 1-6

by Dee, Bonnie

  Mark read the passage she underlined with her finger. His gasp told her he understood her dread. He pulled her into his arms and enfolded her within his male strength. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together. You and I. Donovan and Brenna. Terrans and humans.”

  “I love you,” she whispered against his lips before she stole a kiss.

  Reluctantly breaking away from his mouth and arms, she turned to close the Book and tucked it under her arm. Donovan would believe her interpretation, but many of the other Elders on the Council would take some persuading. The light show the Book emitted and the new passages written before their very eyes detailing the coming of the Talisman—and of End Times—would go much further than her words.

  Too bad it wasn’t like the early days when Donovan, Brenna, Mark and she had single-handedly rescued KOTE from Destroyer spies.

  “We’ll be fine, Claire.” Mark took her hand in his. “The Talisman will save the day—just like Donovan saved KOTE back in ’89.”

  “I hope so, sweetie.” She squeezed his hand as he led the way to the elevator. “I sure hope so.”

  * * * *

  Monday, 8:00 a.m. (PST), Council of Elders, KOTE Headquarters.

  The ceremonial gong announcing the beginning of the meeting rang sonorously, echoing throughout the large assembly room. Donovan Callahan sat in his chair at a table on a raised dais overlooking the large oval room. He waited for silence to settle over the ornate Council Chamber as row after row of Elders, various Terran advisors, and liaisons from many of the world’s preternatural species—fae, vampires, shifters, wizards, witches, elementals, and dragons—settled into their seats. Eventually the many voices quieted, but still a discordant hum pulsed through the chamber, reverberating off the curved walls; it was an overflow of elemental magick presenting as white noise, anxious leakage from the powerful men and women of the Council.

  Claire, sitting to his right, shoved the latest U.S. Geological Survey reports of the earthquake in southwestern Indiana in front of him. Mark Winbolt, his friend and strong right-hand, sat to her right. Donovan’s wife Brenna sat to his left, her calming hand stroking his thigh under the table.

  The Book of Sorhineth, removed from its locked room several floors beneath the Council Chamber, lay open in front of them, emitting a rainbow of light from the page that foretold the current coming of the four Talisman—Earth, Air, Fire and Water. The tale of today’s quake still was writing itself, just as his arrival as the Spirit Talisman had been automatically written into the Book so many years ago.

  He took a deep breath, no use putting the news off any longer. Already several of the Council in the front rows stared in openmouthed awe at the Book’s light display and ghostly inscription.

  “This meeting has been called because of the massive earthquake in the Wabash Valley Fault system. Those of you who are Earth Keepers know this quake is an anomaly—some might even say an impossible occurrence. Many of you may not be aware the quake was heading for the stratospheric numbers of 9.0 or greater on the Richter scale, but was, thank the gods, stopped at under 6.0.”

  “Impossible,” shouted an Earth Keeper from the back of the Chamber. “We don’t have a quake team in Indiana. Who dissipated that much energy?”

  Another man, Sam Krannert, in the front of the room turned and glared at the speaker. Pointing at the table in front of Donovan, he shouted, “Look at the Book, Stronsky! The Earth Talisman has arrived. Only a Talisman can wield that kind of power.”

  The room burst with voices clamoring to be heard. A potent mix of emotions beat at Donovan’s senses, tore into his very soul—anger, rage, fear, excitement, dread. “Please … please…” He took a breath and used his inner spirit to enhance his voice and said once more, “PLEASE TAKE YOUR SEATS AND BE QUIET!”

  The room went silent with only the sound of labored breathing breaking the stillness. Another man, Ben Miller, stood and sought recognition.

  “Yes, Ben?”

  “My son, Darcy … he was in the area, supervising a dig. Have you heard—” The man’s words trailed off into a choking sob.

  “We have heard from him.” Donovan hoped his suspicions about the Millers did not show on his face. Darcy was trouble for sure. Donovan feared Ben was not much better. But neither Mark nor he could prove their fears that the Millers were Destroyer spies. “He was given advance warning by the Earth Keeper on the dig, Lily Redfern. He flew the humans out of the area on the KOTE helicopter and took them to the staging area near New Madrid, Missouri. He did his job, Ben, under horrific conditions.”

  Donovan omitted to say Darcy didn’t do what any normal Protector would have done—gone back for Lily. Now the woman was out there alone—possibly near death from the expenditure of her life essence to stop the quake. Donovan had no sympathy for either Miller. While he could not prove they were traitors, his soul knew it to be true.

  Shakily, Ben dropped into his chair, tears streaming down his face. The woman next to him patted his back and handed him a tissue.

  “Was Krannert correct? Has the Earth Talisman arisen?” Assad, the shifter liaison from Clan Najwa, asked.

  “Yes, Assad. She has arrived. Lily Redfern is the Earth Talisman. She and her Protector Carr Madoc, using an astral projection connection between them, single-handedly reduced the quake to a level that stopped the eastern half of the North American continent from separating from the western.”

  The room buzzed at the knowledge. Words like “Armageddon,” “Apocalypse,” and “end of the world” shot around the room.

  Donovan used his powerful spirit voice once more. “Silence, please. One at a time.”

  Another member stood. “What’s the damage? Both the news media and the blogosphere are giving conflicting reports.”

  “The damage is immense,” Donovan said consulting the report Claire had prepared. “Our New Madrid station is reporting a major,” he hesitated and took a deep breath, “major loss of lives within a hundred-mile radius of the epicenter. Property damage and infrastructure is incalculable. There has been a massive rerouting of the Ohio River. The Mississippi River is above flood stage with all the water and debris shifting from the Ohio.”

  He paused. The now almost deathly silence told him every man and woman in the room visualized the enormity of the damage. They had all at one time or another seen it on a much smaller scale, but no one in the room, not even the oldest Terrans, had ever seen such destruction on this level—not even in China where large earthquakes and their aftermath had killed millions.

  “The Earth Keepers at the New Madrid station are reporting small secondary quakes in their region from the enormous energy output from the Wabash Valley Fault system,” he said. “They are under a Code Red emergency and all available Earth Keepers in a two-hundred-mile radius are converging on New Madrid to help calm what could become an even worse catastrophe.”

  “A quake in the Wabash Valley is statistically improbable,” shouted Krannert, an experienced Earth Keeper who’d helped lessen the impact of the Loma Prieta quake.

  “I agree,” Donovan said. “Protector Carr Madoc has relayed to me personally that Lily told him the quake in Indiana was artificially induced. Someone, ladies and gentlemen, initiated that quake.”

  His piercing gaze singled out Ben Miller. The man’s total lack of emotion was far different than his earlier histrionics over the fate of his son. He knew something. Yes, the Millers definitely bore watching. “We must be vigilant. The Book predicts with the coming of the first Talisman in the 21st century other natural and unnatural disasters will come quickly on the heels of her arrival.”

  “What do we need to do?” Assad asked.

  “Until further notice, KOTE is on the highest alert—a Code Talisman is now in effect. Please follow the disaster plan outlined in the Council Protocols. Alert all preternatural brothers and sisters across the planet to keep a lookout for anything out of the ordinary. We feel the Destroyers are using technology to add to their own destructive elemental abil
ities.” He paused. “As we all know too well, an unbalanced Earth will let loose forces of nature which could lead…” He trailed off. He didn’t need to explain the dire consequences.

  While he let the audience assimilate the situation, using his Spirit essence, he singled out two or three other Council members who bore watching. He made note of them on a pad and pushed it to Mark, who read it and frowned.

  Donovan continued, “KOTE’s emergency response system will be manned 24/7. We’ve already notified response teams in ‘hot spots’ such as the areas along the Ring of Fire, all the volcanic and quake-prone areas of Earth, the coasts, and the poles, to be on the alert for sabotage and natural events that seem more violent than usual.”

  “Do you really think the Destroyers are behind this?” a woman asked. “Couldn’t it have been a natural phenomenon? After all, the Talisman had to have been under a lot of pressure and stress. She could have misinterpreted the data.”

  “I’m not ruling anything out,” Donovan said with a sigh. “Yet, even though we’ve proven Raymond Brody did not have a doomsday machine, it does not mean other Destroyers affiliated with his cause might not have something else we know nothing about.”

  “What are you going to do?” Ben Miller asked.

  “I’ll be rendezvousing with Lily Redfern’s Protector in the Missouri staging area and assisting him in finding her.”

  “Is she hurt? Dying?” Miller asked.

  What was Miller thinking? He seemed too interested, almost excited. “We don’t think so—if she is, then the gods help us all.”

  Silence swept the room like a chill wind—no one wanted to think what might happen if the all-powerful Earth Talisman had gone down in the first wave of disasters predicted by the Book.

  Chapter Four

  Monday, 12 Noon (EST) Algernon Brody’s Estate, Finger Lakes Region of New York

  Sitting in his luxurious home theater, Algernon Brody watched CNN’s streaming video and commentary concerning the massive quake. His aide, Trent Steed, sat in the chair next to him, moving restlessly and casting frequent sideways glances. “Stop fidgeting, Trent. It’s irritating.”

  “Yes, sir … but…” His aide swallowed, went silent, and stared at the horrors parading across the large LED flat screen.

  “But what?” Brody turned his steely gaze on his usually so calm and controlled—subservient—press liaison.

  “We’ve killed hundreds of thousands of humans. Possibly millions.”

  “Collateral damage.” His voice was a deep growl, imbued with a touch of fear-inducing power. It was always good to keep your underlings afraid of you—and well, under you. His lips twisted into an amused smile. “My businesses—and those of my business associates—will make billions repairing and rebuilding after the quake.”

  “Yes, sir.” Trent’s too handsome face turned slightly green; his gaze fixed on the television images.

  Chuckling slightly, Brody turned his attention back to the aerial views of the destruction his Portable Pulse Generator, or PPG as his scientists called it, had evoked. The PPG’s electromagnetic waves had targeted the rods his men had placed underground in central Indiana, not too far from his late and not-too-lamented son Raymond’s Center for Human Wellbeing.

  The end results, while not as extensive as his scientists had predicted, were more than satisfying—and more than enough to put the fear of the gods into humans and Terrans alike.

  Turning up the volume on the television he listened to the latest report.

  The destruction from the earthquake that struck the Wabash and Ohio River Valleys earlier today at approximately 10:30 a.m., Eastern Standard Time, is colossal. Hundreds of thousands of lives have been lost. Just as many are missing. Millions are without power and shelter. The primary path of destruction reaches from Cairo, Illinois to Cincinnati, Ohio along the Ohio River and at least two hundred miles north and south of that line, well into the states of Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky and parts of northern Missouri.

  It has been reported that shaking from the quake, measuring anywhere between 5.5 to 6.2 on the Richter scale, could be felt as far away as Las Vegas, Nevada and Portland, Maine. Chicago reported that the John Hancock Building swayed more than the safe range built into the structure and had to be evacuated until engineers could assess the integrity of the building.

  Geologists still do not understand how the formerly stable Wabash Valley Fault system could produce a quake of this magnitude, nor why the destruction was not more widespread than computer simulations initially predicted.

  Keepers of the Environment, a nonprofit organization that monitors and protects the environment, said its scientists stationed in New Madrid, Missouri stated the Missouri fault system was quite capable of such a magnitude quake, but are flummoxed at the current events.

  The vastly more dangerous and unstable New Madrid Fault system is currently experiencing minor temblors in the region bordering the Mississippi River. The Mississippi itself is overflowing its banks due to the massive influx of water and debris from the Ohio…

  Muting the volume, Brody almost giggled. “That’ll keep KOTE busy and out of my hair for a while. Bet the Earth and Water Keepers are working overtime to contain the fallout.” He turned to Trent who was now an even paler shade of green. “Trent, do you want to be excused? Or do you want to do the job I pay you for?”

  “I’m, uh, fine, sir.” His aide swallowed and turned watery blue eyes toward him. “What is it you want me to do?”

  “A press release. Something along the lines of ‘Businessman/Philanthropist Algernon Brody has announced a ten million dollar donation to establish the Raymond Brody Relief Fund for the survivors of the Wabash Valley Quake. Mr. Brody is the father of Raymond Brody, the charismatic leader of the Center for Human Wellbeing who died two days ago within hours of announcing his presidential candidacy.’ Add something along the lines of my deep concern goes out to the victims and their families, and that Raymond would have wanted me to do this for the country that both he and I love so well. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll have your secretary contact your banker to set this up, shall I?”

  “Sure. And tell them to use Raymond’s monies from the Caymanian account we found when going through the Center’s finances. No need to dip into my private funds. And send my wife to me.”

  Trent turned red and avoided looking him in the eye. “Uh, yes, sir … your wife, sir… I think Autumn is napping. Ray’s funeral was only this morning.”

  “She was his stepmother, Trent, not his mother. I’m sure the funeral did not affect her at all. Get her. Now!”

  “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” Trent, his eyes turned toward the floor, backed out of the room, closing the door gently behind him.

  Brody sighed. If the man wasn’t so good at his job, he’d get rid of him. He didn’t suffer fools—or anyone who stood in the way of what he wanted. Not his son. Not his wife’s father, his former best friend. And least of all a pathetic employee such as Trent Steed.

  Rubbing his hard, pulsing cock through the dark dress pants he’d worn to Raymond’s funeral, he watched the nonstop, orgasmic-inducing scenes of destruction flowing across the screen. He’d thought it appropriate to set the quake off at the same time he buried his screw-up son. Raymond had great ideas—such as the implants in his followers to garner a devoted constituency to place a Brody in the presidency.

  But his son’s greatest idea had been this one—setting off natural disasters, allowing the Brody family to take a leadership role in bringing the citizens of the United States—and the world—through the fear and chaos to safety. And, of course, profiting from it all.

  Yeah, Raymond had had grand ideas but no follow-through. What a fuckup. Then the ungrateful brat had to go and turn traitor. Just the thought of the little pissant announcing his candidacy for the presidency in an attempt to steal Algernon’s thunder, boiled his blood.

  “Algernon?”

  His wife’s soft, husky—frightened—voice wrappe
d around his already steely erection and threatened to send him over the edge into a premature orgasm. He used his herculean self-control to throttle his libido down a notch or two. He wanted the first climax today to be after he played with her a bit. He wanted to fill her with his cum. It was time to father another child. This go-round he’d rule his heir with a firmer hand. Raymond’s mother had coddled the bastard too much. He wouldn’t make the mistake of letting his next child be ruined for greatness. After all, he’d have a powerful legacy to leave his heir.

  He observed Autumn silently for a few seconds, knowing how nervous it made her. A fledgling Air Keeper, she presented a calm and ethereal facade, but inside, he knew, she was terrified of him. And rightly so. He had worked hard to instill that fear, to nurture it. He craved her dread and fed upon it.

  She was far younger than he, younger even than his son. In Terran years, Algernon was reaching his prime—ninety years old. With good health and the advances his laboratories were making, he might even well surpass the one-hundred-fifty-year mark. Autumn was an adolescent in Terran years, only twenty. It was a good age for a wife. He could train her untapped powers so she would never gain full knowledge of her abilities or how to use them. He could groom her to be the perfect helpmate and submissive sexual partner.

  Two years ago, when he’d first seen the titian-haired beauty, she’d just entered her adolescence, the time when Terrans began to age more slowly than humans. Prior to that time, being the daughter of one of his oldest friends and a fellow Destroyer, she’d been of little or no interest to him. But then he’d seen her blossom into womanhood—and he’d wanted. So he took.

  Killing his first wife, and after that his best friend and his best friend’s wife, had been of no import, just slight obstacles in reaching his goal. Autumn, an orphan, became his ward, and just six months ago, his bride.