by Eric Asher
“Good,” Park said, nodding. “Good. Casper, get Ward some more glasses and a place to work.”
“I’ll help while I can,” Ward said. “But you need to know, once this war intensifies again, I’m heading to the front lines. I’ll be in Falias with Morrigan and the others.”
“I just hope it’s with Damian at our side,” Casper said.
And not with a blade in our backs. Ward didn’t voice that dark thought. There was enough shit to deal with that he didn’t need to air that kind of concern. If they managed to pull Damian back, and that was still an unlikely outcome, would he even be himself anymore?
Ward shuddered at the thought of a necromancer more powerful than Leviticus Aureus unleashed upon on the world.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Warded Ways faded behind Happy. He blinked in the growing sunrise, the sky fiery above the shadowed tin roof. This was a place of death, and an odd sort of rebirth. There were few places he’d traveled where the earth itself felt so conflicted as to what it was.
He slowly stood upright, his haunches thinning and stretching until he’d retaken his human form once more. There were bears in the area, and the last thing he needed was to have Zola blow him into oblivion after mistaking him for one.
Shiawase strode past the outhouse and up the gentle hill. Zola’s old car sat beneath the towering oak tree. A breeze picked up, and a few random thuds told him the walnuts were falling, crashing through leaves and branches until they met a little aluminum shed with a clang.
Voices rose and fell in the early morning light as he made his way past the short staircase and onto the porch. He thought of simply walking through the walls to join whoever was inside, as he knew at least one of them was Vicky. Only she and Sam had that familiar hum of magic. He felt the kind of peace he’d only known when returning home after a long journey.
The screen door squeaked when he pulled on it, the springs groaning as if the rust would finish eating through them at any moment. The wooden door behind it swung open with ease as the conversation fell silent inside.
“Happy?” Vicky said, hopping up from the couch as he walked inside.
“Hello, my not so little ghost.”
He didn’t get more than three steps before she threw her arms around him. “It feels like you’ve been gone forever. And you know I’m not a ghost anymore.”
“And you know my name is not Happy.”
“Yeah, well, you’re stuck with it.”
A furry snow-white face glanced up from a comic book and acknowledged him with a nod. Happy smiled at Luna as the death bat went back to reading an aged issue of Avengers.
Luna exchanged a glance with Zola. “I washed my hands. I’m not getting any cheese dust on it.”
Zola narrowed her eyes but offered Happy a broad smile when Luna vanished back into the book. “Shiawase, tell me you have good news.”
He undid the small leather and wood clasp on the pouch at his belt and pulled out the small collection of swirls and runes Ward had written down. He unfolded it and handed it to Zola. “Ward says to use the knot from the mosaic, but only the part that matches this drawing.”
“The mosaic is a map and the knot?” Zola said, frowning at the scribbles Ward had drawn out on the aged parchment. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
Shiawase nodded. “It makes a great deal of sense to me. There are patterns in the world, patterns that repeat at the smallest and grandest levels of existence. You find the swirl of water in a drain to match that of the greatest galaxies mankind has found with their telescopes. There are always patterns within patterns, my friend.”
Zola scoffed. “Sounds a bit too much like an argument for destiny, if you ask me. And if there’s one thing Ah’ve come to doubt in this world, it’s fate.”
“We all have a calling,” Shiawase said. “Should we choose to listen.”
“Stuff it before Ah vomit,” Zola muttered. She turned Ward’s illustration and held it out over the photos on the coffee table. Nothing seemed to line up until Luna took the parchment from her hand and walked it to the far right end of the table.
“It’s here.” Luna pointed to an intersection that looked like a towering gateway in the old mosaic. “Look in the middle.” She laid the parchment down for emphasis.
“Well, shit,” Zola said, rubbing her chin. She leaned forward, the charms in her braids clinking together as they swung free of her cloak. “Shit.”
A shiver ran down Zola’s spine as Shiawase pulled a thin golden oval from the pouch at his side and laid it on top of the drawing. It fit perfectly into the pattern, each line on the coin completing the knots and runes Ward had drawn, and that pattern itself fit perfectly between the gates shown in the mosaic.
“Gates formed from the horns of a fire demon,” Zola said, dragging her fingers across the photos.
“Pretty big coincidence there,” Luna said. “Might almost think it was meant to be. Not that I’d think that of course, but you can see where someone else might think that.”
Zola laughed and arched an eyebrow at Luna. “Hanging around these misfits isn’t doing anything good for your attitude, girl.”
“We’re the best kind of influence,” Vicky said as a truck rumbled nearby.
Shiawase turned toward the door. “Are you expecting someone?”
Zola nodded. “And her timing couldn’t be better.”
A door slammed, and in the blink of an eye, someone was knocking on the front door. When it opened, a tall vampire stood there, dark circles under her eyes framed by a savage hairstyle. She looked thinner than usual, worn, but there was a fire there that Shiawase had grown fond of in the years he’d known her.
Sam nodded at him. Vicky reached out and squeezed the vampire’s forearm.
“What is this?” Sam asked, glancing around the room.
Zola picked up the Ryō coin from the mosaic. She flipped the coin between her fingers before she met Sam’s gaze. “Load up. We’re heading to Greenville.”
“Greenville?” Sam asked.
Zola nodded. “This is the coin we’ll need to re-anchor the blood knot.”
“A small part of a larger whole,” Shiawase said. “The other artifacts are significantly more powerful, but this coin is from my past. It is how we will be bonded with the blood knot.”
“What?” Sam and Vicky said together.
“No,” Vicky said, pushing past Sam. “Happy, no.” When he didn’t meet her eyes, she tried again. “Shiawase.”
“It is my choice,” Shiawase said, looking into her eyes. “Use me as the anchor, and I shall live as long as either of you do.”
“Could this kill him?” Vicky asked, looking at Zola. “Tell me.”
Zola nodded. “It is possible.”
“I have been dead a long, long time. But if this … life can save you and Samantha, I would give it without hesitation.”
Shiawase wasn’t sure what had happened as he was suddenly being crushed from two sides. Sam with her arms around his shoulders and Vicky with her arms around his chest.
“He’s not dead yet.” Zola’s voice was steel. “Pull yourselves together.”
A long, wet sniff sounded from the couch beside Zola. The death bat fought back tears that welled up in her huge black eyes.
“Oh my god,” Zola muttered.
“It’s beautiful!” Luna wailed.
“He’s only going to die if we fuck it up. So don’t fuck it up!”
Sam gave him one more massive squeeze before blipping over to the couch. She leaned over the photos of the mosaic and Ward’s scribbles. “What do we need to do?”
Zola picked up the Key of the Dead. “First things first, we get to the Burning Lands. Then Shiawase is going to need a new tattoo.”
Shiawase frowned at the blade. “What?”
Zola grinned.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“The Unseelie were turned away in Gorias.”
Nudd looked down from his throne on the dais and studied the dark-to
uched vampire. “I am aware.”
“And your reckless gambit with the Eldritch creatures has collapsed as well.”
Nudd leaned forward and stared into the shadows of the dark-touched’s helmet until the vampire broke eye contact.
“The masters are not pleased.” After a pause, the vampire added, “My … king.”
“One would not expect them to be if they believed the breadth of my plan to be that of a mere distraction.”
“My king?”
Nudd leaned back into the throne. “Some plans are best left secret. You should know that, given how well your own masters kept you reined in against your instincts.”
“As you say.”
“All you need know is my suspicions were correct. They’re gathering artifacts of power. They mean to awaken the Titan. It’s the only thing that makes sense. But they’ve retrieved the wrong artifacts. I suspect they’ll realize it soon enough, and when they do, they’ll go hunting for the coins.”
“And we will intercept them? Ambush them, my king?”
A slow smile crawled across Nudd’s lips. “Oh no, we’ll let them finish the task. They have no idea what they’ll unleash upon the commoners.”
“The masters will not be happy with further delays. They have already expressed dissatisfaction with the current situation.”
Nudd’s calm façade cracked, and he roared at the vampire. “Then tell them to release the harbingers into my control! You want to see what Morrigan and the Unseelie court are capable of? Give them an enemy that will cut them to the core.”
The vampire’s head tilted to the side as if contemplating Nudd’s words. “I will speak with them. And I take my leave.”
Nudd unsheathed a blade from his calf as the vampire departed, the metal edge scraping against the armor of his gauntlet. He studied the pommel, two circles enclosing an intricate line of runes. It was the most pristine Key of the Dead he’d ever encountered. Far better preserved than the half-broken slag he’d left in the care of Damian Valdis Vesik.
The necromancer had proven himself a worthy foe, on one hand, and a fool on the other. But Nudd had learned things from watching him. Learned the Key of the Dead could be used in ways its creators never intended.
To call his gambit with the Eldritch reckless wasn’t wrong exactly, but what the dark-touched vampire didn’t understand was that the gambit had barely begun. Nudd had tested the power of the new undine queen, and now knew she’d taken the crown in earnest. The wolves were still a threat, and indeed the reaper appeared to remain loyal, which was truly a surprise.
Every drop of blood spilt returned with knowledge of what waited inside their enemy’s ranks. And that’s all war was, when you boiled it down. You needed knowledge of the cracks in their armor, and a way to apply pressure until it snapped.
Nudd slid the dagger back into its sheath and laced his fingers together. The time for games would be over soon, and the rule of Faerie would be restored to its destined glory.
He’d bury allies and enemies both before the end of the war. The only true victor in the coming days would be chaos, but out of that chaos he’d forge a new world. He’d done it before, and this time it would stand for millennia.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Zola spun Tessrian’s bloodstone between her fingers. Such a small thing to hold the prison she knew existed inside it. Green and red blended together as if the earth itself had bled out onto a brilliant emerald rock.
She clenched her fist around the stone and slid it into her cloak.
Shiawase stirred from his seat on the floor, legs tucked beneath him as he unfurled and stretched. “Graybeard is there.”
Zola nodded. “Thank you for checking on that. Ah might have been a bit put out if we’d driven down to Greenville and he wasn’t there. No trouble?”
Shiawase shook his head. “None. It is odd to reach out like that without Damian. I think I’d grown accustomed to letting his power lead the way.”
“He’s always been gifted with communication,” Zola said.
Sam snorted a laugh beside her as she zipped up a backpack.
Zola raised an eyebrow. “Gifted with communication with the dead.”
“Eh, I’ll give you that.”
“You’re dead, too,” Shiawase said.
“I …” Sam narrowed her eyes. “I’m not as dead as you.”
Zola laughed and patted Sam’s knee.
“I almost forgot,” Sam said, opening her backpack and holding up a plastic bag filled to bursting with dried meat. “It’s all death jerky. Frank thought you might be running low.”
Zola grinned at Sam and took the bag. “Ah swear he’s getting better with every batch. There’s an industry out there for this kind of thing, you know? Maybe when this is all over, you and Frank could settle down, start a business.”
Sam smiled. “Maybe. Of course, I don’t think I’ll ever get him away from Death’s Door. He loves that shop.”
“It’s where he started a new life,” Zola said. “Now that Ah’ll always understand.”
Something trilled underneath the couch and Sam’s back straightened. A moment later, she was down on the ground, wiggling her fingers at the shadow. Jasper slowly rolled out into her hands, the big gray furball quiet as she hoisted him up and sat back down on the couch, keeping him on her lap.
“Thought I heard you down there.”
“He’s been … quiet,” Vicky said as she walked into the room from loading the car. “I think he misses Damian.”
Jasper gave two high-pitched squeaks.
“I doubt that,” Sam said. “You can only spend so much time around my brother before he drives you insane or turns you into a vampire. You’re just worried, aren’t you, furball?”
Jasper trilled and leaned into Sam’s scratching.
“Did you reach Graybeard?” Vicky asked, turning to Shiawase.
He nodded. “Still in Greenville. They’re waiting for us.”
Zola gnawed on a strip of Frank’s death jerky while she closed the bag up. “Then it’s time. We make for Greenville, and the Burning Lands.”
“I’m coming with you,” Luna said, stretching her wings and yawning. “I want to see the place the dark-touched have lived for so long. Maybe kill a few while we’re there.”
“I think most of them are here now,” Vicky said. “The Ghost Pack used to run into them pretty regularly in the Burning Lands until the Seal got screwed up.”
“Damian fixed that, didn’t he?” Sam said, looking between Zola and Vicky.
Zola shrugged. “Well enough, Ah suppose. Of course, he was able to pull Graybeard out of the Burning Lands through the Seal, so his repair skills may be about as good as his plumbing skills.”
“Oh …” Sam said. “That’s a terrifying thought. Remember when he dropped the pump for the well into the bottom of the well, and you had to climb down to get it?”
“No,” Zola muttered. “Ah’d completely forgotten that. If he hadn’t run away so fast Ah would’ve crammed that boy down that hole faster than he could blink.”
“Probably why he ran,” Sam said, smiling.
“Ha, probably Sam, probably.” Zola took a deep breath and stood up and spoke to the room as a whole. “If you’re coming with us, get in the car.”
Note from Eric R. Asher
Thank you for spending time with the misfits! I’m blown away by the fantastic reader response to this series, and am so grateful to you all. The next book of misadventures is called The Book of the Sails, and it’s available soon (or maybe now because I’m lazy about updating these things).
If you’d like an email when each new book releases, sign up for my mailing list. Emails only go out about once per month and your information is closely guarded by hungry cu siths.
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The Book of the Sails
The Vesik Series, book #14
By Eric R. Asher
Also by Eric R. Asher
Keep track of Eric’s new releases by receiving an email on release day. It’s fast and easy to sign up for Eric’s mailing list, and you’ll also get an ebook copy of the subscriber exclusive anthology, Whispers of War.
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The Steamborn Trilogy:
Steamborn
Steamforged
Steamsworn
The Vesik Series:
(Recommended for Ages 17+)
Days Gone Bad
Wolves and the River of Stone
Winter’s Demon
This Broken World
Destroyer Rising
Rattle the Bones
Witch Queen’s War
Forgotten Ghosts
The Book of the Ghost
The Book of the Claw
The Book of the Sea
The Book of the Staff
The Book of the Rune
The Book of the Sails*
The Book of the Wing*
The Book of the Blade*
The Book of the Fang*
The Book of the Reaper*
The Vesik Series Box Sets
Box Set One (Books 1-3)
Box Set Two (Books 4-6)
Box Set Three (Books 7-8)
Box Set Four: The Books of the Dead Part 1 (Coming in 2020)*
Box Set Five: The Books of the Dead Part 2 (Coming in 2020)*
Mason Dixon – Monster Hunter:
Episode One
Episode Two
Episode Three
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About the Author
Eric is a former bookseller, cellist, and comic seller currently living in Saint Louis, Missouri. A lifelong enthusiast of books, music, toys, and games, he discovered a love for the written word after being dragged to the library by his parents at a young age. When he is not writing, you can usually find him reading, gaming, or buried beneath a small avalanche of Transformers. For more about Eric, see: www.ericrasher.com
