Tales from the Oriceran Universe: Fans Write For The Fans: Volume 1 (Oriceran Fans Write For the Fans)
Page 6
Becks’ father asked the question that was on my mind. “Does the medallion trigger anyone’s latent abilities? In other words, should we be concerned that Becks might suddenly gain a magical ability as well?”
“To the best of my knowledge, it only works on those it chooses in my direct line. Nothing says otherwise.” Nana’s reply seemed to reassure him. Beck’s mom appeared to be relieved as well.
I wasn’t so sure, though, and Sam seemed to share my uncertainty. I resolved to talk to him about it later.
Nana asked, “Kids, do any of you have any more to add to the story? No? Then I think we’re all set here.”
Becks’ parents stood and got ready to leave. They made sure to thank Nana and my parents, wished me well as they said goodbye, and collected Becks on their way to the door.
Nana had pulled Sam aside and was talking quietly. My parents looked as confused as I felt. We talked quietly for a while before they hugged me, told me to get some rest, and left to take care of some household chores. When Nana and Sam finished talking, he came over to me and wrapped me in a hug.
“I’m glad you’re okay, Sin. You scared me today.”
I rested my head against his chest. “I was terrified, Sam. Thank you for talking me through it. I’m not sure I’d have survived otherwise. Thanks for carrying me out of there as well.”
He chuckled. “Just don’t make a habit of it, okay? I’m used to your ‘large and in charge’ attitude and don’t want it to change.”
“Hey, now!” I swatted him before lifting my head, a look of mock innocence on my face. “How else is a girl gonna get a guy to carry her around?”
We laughed and he squeezed me a little tighter. “I’m onto your tricks now, Sin. Next time I’ll make Becks carry you.”
“That would be a sight! I can hear the comments from other people now.”
Sam shook his head in mock sorrow and let me go. “Devious wench. You’d make sure they knew, wouldn’t you?”
“Better believe it, Sam.”
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me in for a quick one-armed hug. “Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch. Your nana invited me.”
“Okay. See you then, Sam. Get some rest too.”
He left, leaving just Nana and me in the room.
“We have much to talk about in the morning. For tonight, rest and finish recovering because starting tomorrow, you’ll be diving headlong into your magical education. The next few months are going to be intense and will consume most of your waking hours.”
She hugged me, and as she left, she said, “Welcome to your Oriceran heritage.”
FINIS
Author Notes
Thanks for reading White Mountains Manifestation. I hope you enjoyed it.
When we were asked if there was interest in doing an Oriceran Fans Write anthology, I was quick to join the resounding “yes!” that was the collective answer from the fans. Urban Fantasy is one of my favorite genres to read, and the Oriceran universe sparked my imagination. Funny story about that…
WMM was well along in the writing process when a brainstorming post in the Oriceran Fans Write Facebook group generated several other great ideas. While I was happy to see so many, I’d planned to write one story.
What’s that quote about “the best-laid plans of mice and men?”
Months later, when WMM was about two-thirds written, an idea from that brainstorming session suddenly sprang to life in my head and screamed at me until I started writing it. It then proceeded to completely upstage this story, becoming the first of the pair to achieve both ‘words complete’ and ‘submitted’ statuses. <
Many thanks to Martha Carr, Michael Anderle, and all the talented authors who brought this universe to brilliant life, helped it grow, and then opened the gates to let others add to the magic.
Reader feedback is always welcome. Feel free to drop me an email or connect with me in the Oriceran Fans or Oriceran Fans Write groups on Facebook. Other published work can be found here.
Magia est aeternum.
Tracey Byrnes
Black Magic Mafia
By Tim Bischoff
When black magic and organized crime combine to create designer drugs, it's a recipe for tragedy.
The local sheriff’s office is outgunned and outmanned, leaving the community vulnerable.
Is there anyone the sheriff can call for help?
Jed is unique. Born of legend and trained in war, but these days bounties pay the bills.
When people in his community start to suffer, there will be a reckoning!
Dedication
This story is dedicated to my family.
Prologue
The officer looked around the room, aghast. Several teenagers had perished, and the scene seemed unnatural.
They were in the chairs and lying across the couches, and a couple of them were stretched out on the floor, blissful smiles forever frozen on their faces. No violence was visible to explain what had happened.
One of the first things that came to his mind was a group suicide pact, but he recognized several of the kids. They were all from town, and he knew them well enough that he was able to dismiss that thought. Although many of them could be moody, like most teenagers, none of these kids had ever been in serious trouble or shown any signs that might indicate a tendency toward something as radical as suicide.
Earlier that day, half a dozen parents had come in to report that their kids had not been home in well over twenty-four hours. Alerts had gone out on the teens who were missing, and Dispatch had sent him to this abandoned house after an anonymous tip.
His gut told him that something very unusual had happened here. Even though this was a small rural town in Kentucky, magic sometimes appeared here. Oriceran and its inhabitants had been public knowledge for some time now, but you could never predict how things like that would affect people. As a sheriff’s deputy who spent most of his time out in the woods, he saw some strange things. Usually, you just chalked them up to exhaustion or working too many double shifts, but this deputy had long suspected there were things out in the woods that were not easily understood. He was just a guy trying to do his job, and this was way above his pay grade. Folks much higher in the command structure would run this investigation. They were in for a hell of a shock, that was for sure. He was glad he wouldn’t have to try to figure this one out.
Chapter One
I was sitting at the bar nursing my drink when three men walked through the door. They looked as out of place here as a working girl in the front pew at Sunday morning Mass. Nobody comes into a redneck bar like the 5th Wheel in a suit and tie, but it wasn’t just their sense of fashion that set off my warning bells. I could sense the stink of darkness on them. It permeated the air around them like a cloud.
Stacey, the bartender and owner, saw the expression on my face and knew something was up. She had also noted the strangers, who had no business being in her place. Of course, she knew a few things about me that most others didn’t since she had Oriceran blood in her family. She is a looker with an attitude she can back up. A lot of men have learned the hard way to leave her be unless she requests attention.
I like to keep it on the down-low, being a class five bounty hunter. I am not entirely human either and have been around for more than a few centuries. My mother was a Cherokee who became friendly with a Sasquatch once upon a time, if you know what I mean.
Now that magic is more openly accepted, I don’t have to hide my heritage. I got my mother's height out of the deal, which sucks since I’m only about five foot eight. So much for being the son of a bigfoot.
The upside of all this is having a seriously long lifespan, but since I’ve never met any of my father’s people, I don’t know much about that. Fast healing I can attest to, from everything I have encountered so far. I can move silently and unseen through the woods when I want to
like a Wood Elf, and when I concentrate, I can feel animals’ intention and emotion, and sometimes that of the land. So far, no bounty has ever escaped me on my home territory. If something flees into the woods, regardless of species, I can always find it, but the city is a whole different story.
“Jed, I don’t like the feeling I am getting from that group that just walked in. They stand out in too many wrong ways,” Stacey said.
“They stink of rot and darkness,” I replied.
“Keep an eye on them. I’ll let the boys know to stay clear of them,” she replied with a smile.
I nodded and said, “I will try to keep the damage down to a minimum if the worst happens.”
The boss and his two stooges had taken a table in the back of the bar. My intuition screamed that they belonged to one of the dark families, maybe out of Lexington, meaning they were a combination of dark wizards and Cornbread Mafia—something that had taken on a whole new meaning in the years after old Johnny Boone had been taken down as the leader of the original Cornbread Mafia. These dark families were mixing magic, Oriceran plants, and drugs to raise fast money, with no thought to the destruction it would bring into this rural area. They probably figured there was no one around who could stand up to them.
The boss looked like a real douche. He had a slick-looking goatee with the mustache ends curled way up, and he carried a gentleman’s walking cane. I was sure he thought he was everyone’s better.
Ignoring the hired help but not losing sight of them, I addressed Mr. Big Shot curtly.
“Howdy, fellas. The boss lady was thinking you might be lost and needing directions. Anywhere I can help you boys get to?”
The boss bristled, and his two watchdogs obviously wanted to teach me some manners. Mr. Big Shot quickly got himself under control, however, and said to me lazily, “I am John Fowler,” as if he expected that to mean something.
It did, but I wasn’t about to let on that I knew him as “Baron.”
“My associates and I just happened to stop by this fine establishment for some libations before moving on. I assure you, our time here will be short.”
“See to it that it is, and make sure your associates don’t do anything stupid. I know what they are and I can handle anything they throw at me,” I shot back at him.
It is the unknown that causes most jackoffs to pause, because they’re not sure who has the upper hand. Fowler’s eyes focused on the door behind me before they darted back to me.
“I believe it is time for us to leave. I require nothing from you.” His words dripped contempt. I quickly glanced over my shoulder but missed whoever it was Fowler had seen at the door. “I am sure our paths will cross in the future. What did you say that your name was again?” he asked as they headed out of the bar.
“I didn’t. My name is Jedidiah Woods, Baron.”
Chapter Two
Sometimes the fastest way to stop trouble is to spot it before it starts.
Stacey looked at me with raised eyebrows as the trio headed out the door. “Not sure what they were up to here, but at least they are gone now,” she said.
That damn woman could speak volumes and hardly say a word. “Yeah, but I know we ain’t seen the last of them. Not sure why they were here, but something is up.”
“Nothing you can do about it now, Jed. Just wait and see what comes around. You know I don’t like you starting trouble in here. You can finish it when someone else starts it, but that’s all.”
I knew there was no arguing with her. She was more than just a rocking body with legs that didn’t stop. Her family was a long line of Celtic witches. Unless I wanted some pain-in-the-ass hex on me, it wasn’t smart to push Stacey too far in her own place.
The rest of the night went pretty much like most weekends: I drank a lot and busted a few heads when they didn’t play by Stacey’s rules. I liked this side job; it let me see Stacey when my day job didn’t interfere. The regulars were all great, even if the younger ones liked to brawl too much. They were mostly okay, though, as long as they kept it outside and didn’t involve weapons. That was just a small-town Saturday night. Hell, we still closed at midnight.
It was early Sunday morning, and my head was aching when I slowly sat up on the cot. I might heal fast from physical damage, but it still took time for booze to exit my system.
Can’t say I cared for the view as the night before slowly came back to me. I usually kept to myself and just enjoyed the music, but last night’s heavy drinking had taken its toll.
I often crashed at the sheriff’s office a couple of blocks from the bar. I have a good working relationship with the officers there and try to lend them a hand whenever they needed help. To keep things legal, they put me on the payroll as a reserve deputy. My cabin was way back in the woods, and I wasn’t about to drive home after drinking all night. Stacey even had a few of the local wives on the payroll who took turns picking up their husbands and friends to see that they got home safely. We watch out for each other around here, as people should, but you don’t see it much elsewhere anymore.
I had just grabbed a cup of what passed for coffee in the officer’s kitchenette when I heard the radio call. There was panic in the deputy’s voice.
“Dispatch, come in! We need everyone over here at the abandoned house on Dry Fork Road. Multiple fatalities, no apparent violence. We are going to need the coroner and forensics. Get me some help fast. The crime scene is insane!”
“Well, Woods, it sounds like you might be useful on this one,” I heard Sheriff Head say behind me.
I turned around and looked at Richard. We were not drinking buddies, but we could work together most of the time. I think he liked to bust my balls every so often because I had my bounty hunter license. Bounty hunters were given a great deal of leeway in pursuit of our objectives, which he didn’t like.
“Something stinks like a dead skunk in the sun for seven days,” I replied.
Trying to enforce the law had become much more difficult in a rural county with magic out in the open, so I understood his stress. Usually, if he were giving me too much grief, I would use the shortened version of Richard. Never could fathom why his folks would have named him that, given that last name of his. Of course, it could have been worse. His brother’s name was Peter. At least he could stick with Richard. Guess it helped make him as tough as he was for the job he performed.
“I’ll meet you over there. Going to cut through the woods and check the outside approach to see if I can pick up anything unusual. Maybe I’ll see if my partner is around to lend me a hand,” I said with a mischievous smile.
“Dammit, Jed, keep that cat under control around the crime scene! Last time she just about gave old Doc Gant a heart attack sneaking up behind her and squalling like a woman screaming. The damn thing has a wicked sense of humor.”
I just shrugged as I headed out the door. There was nothing that I could do to control Elowehi. She did whatever the hell she wanted.
Chapter Three
Elowehi was my companion, my partner, and most of all, my friend. Her name meant “quiet” in Cherokee. We had bonded in a way most people would never understand. Elowehi had a terrible sense of humor and didn’t like most humans, so she would do her best to scare and irritate them, just like the sheriff had mentioned.
We didn’t communicate with words, but more in mental images, emotions, and intent. I could feel Elo’s presence close as I headed across the fields toward the tree line. She was in the shadows, and I got a sense of fulfillment that her morning hunt had been successful. She was unseen, silent death in the woods.
I mentally conveyed feelings of happiness and pride toward her, along with the intent that I would like her to help me with something important. Like I said to the sheriff, she was independent, and unless I was in trouble, I only got her help if she wanted to do so. Most felines had the same attitude no matter what their size. Elo was much more than just an ordinary cat. She was a bobcat and a very large one at that.
While I could
tell she was irritated with me as usual, she sent back that she was willing to help. I guess my sense of urgency’d had some effect on her. She appeared out of thin air beside me, and we headed to the abandoned house.
Slowing down about a hundred yards out, I asked Elo to check the area to see if she noticed anything out of place in the surrounding woods. I followed a spiral search pattern inward toward the house.
It was one of those rundown houses that so often becomes a meeting place where kids hang out doing things they shouldn’t. The roof and walls were still solid, but the paint was weather-faded and the openings were all boarded over, except where kids had pulled them off to make an opening. I didn’t spot anything unusual as I made my way to the back, where Deputy Boone was standing guard over the scene. Doc Gant, the local coroner, was pulling up out front, and I could see the sheriff’s Bronco already parked, so he must have entered the scene already.
“Hey, Bill. I heard it was a rough one,” I called to the deputy. He just looked at me and nodded. I could see in his eyes that he would have trouble sleeping for a while. It was never easy when it was a kid you found, much less a bunch of them at once. I put my hand on Bill’s shoulder and just nodded back to him.
I stepped into the kitchen, noting empty beer cans and liquor bottles scattered all over the place. Nothing unusual for this type of hangout, but when I reached the entrance to the living room, I was stopped in my tracks by the scene.
All the kids had this crazy expression of what I could only describe as ecstasy on their faces. It was an eerie sight to behold. Closely scrutinizing the room, I saw more empty cans and bottles all around, and on the battered coffee table were rolling papers.