So I decided to take a break and do something else. I.e. give you the first chapter of Firebird 5 that I’ve been promising. This was supposed to come last Friday but I kind of forgot. It’s a week late, but better than nothing.

As always, the typical warning applies.

Reading the following may inspire bouts of rage as you shake your fist at the author while demanding the rest. (She will not listen.) Also, since this hasn’t made it through all rounds of edits, I do not guarantee the inclusion of its entirety in the final version. Some things may or may not change based on feedback.

Read at your own risk.

Chapter One

Elena – Tsavitee Planet

Cold was the first thing Elena noticed upon being spat out of the vortex of chaos and madness she’d been swept into. That and fear. A deep seated terror she’d felt rarely in her short life. The last time being the day Uncle Jin found her cowering in the corner of a dank, dingy room. Covered in grime and other things as she struggled not to faint from malnutrition and hunger. 

This situation felt like that one. The looming sense of impending doom. The bleak understanding that she’d wandered into a situation far outside the control of her young body.

Elena swallowed the whimper that tried to rise, forcing it down with the rest of her emotions. She ignored the voice at the back of her mind that whispered of the atrocities the tsavitee had committed. The things they’d done to the forty three. Her mother. Aunt Kira and Uncle Jin. Even the other children Aunt Kira occasionally brought to Aunt Selene.

Elena shook her head, determinedly dismissing those thoughts. She couldn’t allow them to influence her. Aunt Kira had given her a mission. The first one that really mattered. Survive at all costs.

She would. She had to.

But first she needed information and a plan. Cowering in a corner wouldn’t save her this time. As Aunt Kira would say—all it would buy her was a death on her knees.

Of course, she’d never say that in front of Elena. She’d wait until she thought Elena wasn’t listening and say it later. But only to Uncle Jin. And only to complain about someone she considered an idiot. Someone who might have survived if they’d only shown a little backbone. A hint of tenacity in this frightful universe. A place where you sometimes had to do crazy things and take impossible chances to make it through another day.

Aunt Kira had always tried her hardest to protect Elena from harsh reality. She’d gone out of her way to safeguard Elena’s childhood and not expose Elena prematurely to grim truths.

But Elena knew. She’d always known.

This universe was filled with wondrous things. Beauty and light and everything perfect. But it also held darkness. Horrid people who did terrible things in the name of greed. Those individuals always seemed like they went out of their way to hurt others. Like they got off on it or something.

People like that disgusted Elena. They made her want to do violent, awful things right back.

She sometimes wondered what kind of person she would have been if not for her aunts and uncle. An angry one, she suspected. A girl with a massive chip on her shoulder who might have become exactly like the monsters.

Thank goodness for Uncle Jin. She didn’t think she would have liked that person

Elena took stock of her surroundings, finding herself alone. At least for now.

She was in a medium sized room built from black stone. A pattern had been carved into the floor and ceilings, the same power that had summoned her still crackling along the lines.

It was a rune of some kind. Similar to the ones Elena had seen on Ta Sa’Riel, the home planet of the Tuann. Her mother’s people. And Aunt Kira’s.

She looked beyond the rune. Toward the smooth walls that awaited her on the opposite side of the room. There were no doors. At least not from what she could see. Only endless opaque black glass that reflected the wane and pinched looking features that held little in common with that of her parents.

Elena was told she most resembled her maternal grandmother. A woman she’d never met.

Unlike her aunts’, Elena’s ears were un-docked. They were as pointy as any Tuann’s. If you wanted to get picky about it, you could say the slant was a tiny bit less severe considering her status as only half Tuann. But they’d fool pretty much anyone.

Elena had always liked the vivid amber color of her eyes. The shade pairing well with the gold in her curly hair.

Add in her pert nose, pointed chin and the cupid’s bow of her lips and she looked insufferably adorable.

It was why people had a tendency to underestimate her. They saw her exterior and never looked deeper. Something she often used to her advantage to escape trouble. Aunt Selene and Aunt Kira to a lesser extent were the only people immune to her charms.

“This place feels weird,” Elena muttered under her breath, registering a slightly uncomfortable and prickly sensation that was both similar yet completely different than any Mea’Ave Elena had previously experienced.

This felt sharper. More biting. Dangerous almost. Like there was something waiting to strike. One wrong move and it’d be goodbye Elena. Her psyche would be shredded to pieces. No, thank you. That didn’t sound like fun to her. Not even a little bit.

Gradually, Elena became conscious of a cold weight wrapped securely around her bicep. The memory of what happened directly before she ripped from her aunt’s side and sent to this place came back to her.

“Uncle Jin!”

Elena stuck a hand into the neck of her shirt, searching until her fingers brushed against the scaled surface of Uncle Jin’s avatar. Relief like she’d never felt before swept through her as she stilled.

Her immobility lasted only a second before she tugged her shirt’s collar away from her body, needing the visual reassurance of his presence.

“You came,” Elena whispered in a clogged voice.

She wasn’t alone. He was in this with her.

The ruby colored eyes of the avatar were closed, giving the impression that its owner was sleeping. Created to resemble a lu-ong, a creature that looked like a cross between an eastern dragon and its avian cousin, the avatar was impressively small and delicate looking. It’s body slightly translucent. The blush color of its scales reminded Elena of Morganite. It even had the whiskers and mane-like crest that the lu-ong were known for.

Elena didn’t try to remove Uncle Jin from his hiding spot. If there were cameras in this room, it was best to leave him where he was. A secret only she knew.

With that thought in mind, she released the shirt. Her gaze darted around the room as she pressed the neck against her chest for a moment before forcing herself to drop her hand nonchalantly. Mustn’t tip off anybody watching. If Uncle Jin was unconscious and not faking it for reasons only her silly uncle would understand, it was important she protect him. At least until he was himself again.

Play it cool, Elena advised herself in her head. Nothing to see here. Just Super Agent Elena reporting for duty.

The sound of stone sliding against the floor made Elena jump. She froze as a humanoid male entered the room via an opening in the wall that hadn’t been there seconds before.

He stopped abruptly, staring at Elena in shock with his strange silvery eyes.

Mantis. He had to be. She recognized those overly long limbs that made him look like a walking stick.

Confusion and anger replaced the mantis’s surprise. “You’re not the person I was expecting.”  

Elena gulped as he started toward her, backing away before she could stop herself.

Hold your ground, Elena ordered herself, stiffening her legs and sneering right back at the tsavitee.

She was brave. She was courageous. A mantis wasn’t enough to make her cower.

His knowing chuckle a second later made her question that decision. The series of staccato triggered the primitive side of Elena’s brain. The one responsible for survival.

Before Elena could react, a slash of darkness and light sundered the room. A figure was deposited in their midst. Right on top of the archaic runes Elena had landed on seconds earlier.

The person rose, sweeping a glance across the room.

The woman’s features were as familiar to Elena as her own. They should be. After all, the woman was her egg donor.

Elise’s indifferent gaze caught and lingered on the mantis as he frowned at her, looking from her to the rune in confusion.

“Iffli.”

According to Elena’s studies, that word roughly translated to half-breed. Or waste. Sometimes mutt.

The tsavitee were fans of words with a multitude of meanings. This one conveyed their utmost disdain toward the person they were applying the insult to. Often used to make the object feel like the lowest form of life.

Elena wasn’t a fan of it being used in conjunction with Elise. She might no longer consider the other woman her mother—more like an egg donor—but that didn’t mean she was okay seeing her being insulted.

“You’re not due back for months. What are you doing here?” the mantis rasped in a voice that sounded like dry branches rattling against each other.

Emotion moved in Elise’s eyes as she looked Elena over. There and gone in a split second.

The mantis reached for Elise’s shoulder. “Did you not hear me?”

His hand disintegrated. It happened so fast that Elena didn’t register what had happened. Not until his agonized scream ripped through the room.

Elena jumped as fear crawled up her throat.

Elise’s gaze was dispassionate, her expression emotionless as she watched the mantis cower in front of her. “I can’t tell if you’re brave or arrogant.”

Elena shook with the need to flee.

This wasn’t her mother. It couldn’t be. This person was someone else. A monster that wore her mother’s face and spoke in her voice.

Elena was forgotten as Elise advanced on the mantis.

He backed away, moaning.

“There is a price to pay when you make mistakes,” Elise informed him gently.

Fear twisted his features. “Please!”

“I’m afraid it’s much too late for that, dahna,” Elise said, using a tsavitee term that meant unfortunate one.

Elena’s shriek was lost amid the mantis’s screams. She forgot her earlier resolve, retreating to wedge herself in the furthest corner of the room. She crouched and hid her face against her lap. She didn’t want to see.

Auntie was wrong. So very wrong. Elise was no hero.

Elena tried to tune everything out as she rocked back and forth, covering her ears and humming to herself to drown out the sounds.

She was okay. She wasn’t here. This didn’t matter.

A soft touch on her shoulder a long time later made Elena realize how silent the room had gone. It had been for a long time.

“Let me get a look at you.”

The hand on Elena’s shoulder slid up to her jaw, forcing her to lift her head to focus on the woman squatting in front of her.

Specks of blood dotted Elise’s face, the bright splashes of purple and silver almost obscene against the elegant features of her egg donor. Thick eyebrows and high cheekbones lent drama to her features, turning them into something divine.

Her mother was a beautiful woman. No wonder her dad had fallen for the psycho. Elena was a little depressed that she hadn’t inherited some of that beauty.

The sight beyond her egg donor made her swallow convulsively before she snapped her gaze back to Elise.

That had been blood dripping from the ceiling. Along with other matter she tried not to think too hard about.

Elena widened her eyes, desperately focusing on her egg donor. Don’t see. Don’t you dare look again.

“You’re okay,” Elise whispered.

No, Elena was not okay. She was so far from it she might as well have been in another galaxy.

“What are you doing?” Elena flailed as Elise patted her clothes, working her way over to the bicep where Uncle Jin clung. “Stop!”

Elise easily quelled Elena’s struggles, dragging the neckline of her shirt over so she could see the sleeping spawn. Relief showed on her face. “Well done, Jin.”

Elena yanked herself out of Elise’s grip, slapping her shirt over the lu-ong and holding it in place in case her egg donor tried anything.

Elise’s lips tugged up in a smile that reminded Elena of her Aunt Kira’s. It held a similar level of self-deprecation. Acknowledging her faults with a wryness that made you want to smile along with her.

“We don’t have much time, little light. There are two things you must always remember.” Elise’s gaze roved Elena’s features with a yearning that Elena might have believed if not for the way the other had pretended she didn’t exist when they were on Ta Sa’Riel. “The first—your Aunt Kira has never made a promise she hasn’t kept. She will come for you. She’ll tear the universe apart if that’s what it takes.”

Elena scoffed. “As if I need you to tell me that.”

She’d read the old mission reports. She knew what her aunt was capable of and how much she’d suffered when she thought the egg donor and the Curs had died. There was nothing and no one who would stand in Aunt Kira’s way when it came to the people she cared about.

Sooner or later, Aunt Kira would come for her. Mercy on anyone who tried to stop her.

The only problem was that the universe was vast. It might take Auntie longer than she could afford.

The smile that lit Elise’s face made Elena stop and stare. It was like watching a ray of sunlight pierce a bank of storm clouds. The severity in her features vanishing for a brief moment.

This must be what had drawn Elena’s father and aunt to the other all those years ago.

Elise’s face softened as she cupped Elena’s cheek. Love overflowed from her gaze. “Of course, you don’t.”

Elena struggled to ignore the tacky feeling she suspected was blood.

“I love you and your father more than anything in this world.”

There was such pain and agony in those words that Elena found herself swayed for a brief moment. She forgot the crimes this woman had committed and the cruel manner with which she’d killed the mantis.

All she saw was the mother she’d dreamed about every night since Uncle Jin and Aunt Kira started telling her the stories.

Elise’s features lost their gentleness, smoothing into lines of detachment and disinterest as a door formed behind her. She rose, imparting one last piece of advice. “From this moment forward, you’re not to believe a single word out of my mouth or trust me in any way.”

What did that even mean?

Elena was still wondering as Elise withdrew to face the tsavitee general who stepped inside the room.

“Lothos, you’re late,” Elise said lightly.

The genera didn’t look up from his study of the mantis’s body, taking in the slaughter with impassive yellow eyes.

Like most of his kind, the general was tall with skin as black as the void of space. Red, glowing symbols were etched into the left side of his torso, arms and face. Only a few appearing on the right side of his body. His immense rack of horns showed his age spanned centuries and that he was among the highest echelon of the tsavitee ranks.

He treated Elena’s existence like air. So unimportant it didn’t bear acknowledgment as he focused on Elise. “You were not supposed to return in this manner. Your presence suggests your mission did not go as planned.”

Elise’s lip curled. “Blame your contact for that. He was useless. Not even able to arrange a proper distraction. He tipped off not only the Phoenix but the Tuann as well. Because of that, I was compromised. It was either abandon the planet or face capture.”

“Our masters won’t be pleased to know you’ve once again failed in your assignment.”

Elise’s scoff was scathing. “They should have let me do things my way. Targeting anyone in Kira’s vicinity was bound to alert her to our presence. You know the lengths she’ll go to protect her own.”

The general looked unmoved. “That is why we suggested you kill her.”

Elena’s small sound of protest attracted the general’s intimidating stare.

Elena fought the urge to duck her head and hunch in on herself. Auntie always said when up against a bigger predator you couldn’t show weakness. You had to bluff so they didn’t relegate you to being food and attack.

Elise made a restless move, somehow making it seem like an accident as she blocked his line of sight. “We had an agreement. Touch the Phoenix and this alliance is over.”

Lothos made a noncommittal sound as he moved his attention back to Elise. “This reflects poorly on your record. They will punish you.”

“Nothing I haven’t faced before.”

“Where is my nephew?” Lothos made a show of looking around the room. “I do not see him with you.”

“You’ll have to talk to him about that the next time you see him. I broke him out of the prison where he was being held. He is the one who decided to return to their custody.”

Lothos pinned Elise with a penetrating stare. “That’s difficult to believe. Aeron knows the stakes.”

Elise’s shrug was careless. “I created the opportunity as you requested. His subsequent decisions are his own responsibility.”

“Aeron is of vital importance to our cause. My other brothers won’t look kindly on his continued absence. You want them on your side.”

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t know.”

That response seemed to satisfy Lothos as his attention shifted to Elena. “Who’s this?”

“She’s nothing. Nobody important.”

Heat flooded the back of Elena’s neck as embarrassment and something worse filled her.

She’d spent years yearning for the woman in front of her. Nights and days dreaming about their first meeting.

And this was how her egg donor described her. As nothing.

Elena felt her heart breaking. Cracking into tiny little pieces as her girlhood dreams shattered around her. It was one thing to refer to Elise as the egg donor in her head. Another entirely to hear her mother dismiss her so casually.

Elena kept the pain those words caused off her face. Survive. That was the only thing she needed to do. Just survive.

Lothos’s gaze remained locked on Elise’s face, his expression considering. “Then it won’t matter if we dispose of her.”

“I considered that,” Elise admitted. As if it wasn’t her child’s fate up for debate. “But she was seen in Kira’s company on more than one occasion. She has ties to the Phoenix that we might be able to exploit.”

“You want me to protect her.” Lothos’s face left no doubt as to how much he disliked that suggestion.

“You know how Kira is. She won’t abandon a child she feels responsible for. She’ll come for her. You can use that opportunity for your plan.”

Lothos looked like he was considering. “It would be better to give her to the masters. They can vent their anger on her instead of you.”

Elena’s stomach curdled. Her breathing stuttered for a brief second before she caught herself, forcing it resume a normal cadence.

She knew how bad that would be for her. She’d overheard Aunt Kira and Uncle Jin talking one night. They were two of the strongest people Elena knew. Anything that could put that amount of pain and fear in their voices was better off avoided at all costs.

“I disagree. We need the Phoenix’s cooperation. If the child is harmed, she will not bargain,” Elise said. “I can take anything the masters throw at me. The child can’t say the same. She’s far too weak to survive their anger.”

Lothos narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re not trying to hide something from me, are you?”

“Of course not,” Elise answered lightly. “I learned my lesson the last time.”

The moment dragged as Lothos stared. Suspicion forming behind in his eyes.

Elena found herself holding her breath. What would she do if he realized Elise was lying? Fight? She’d die.

But maybe that would be better. Being ripped apart at the seams didn’t sound like a bucket list item.

No. Survive. Those were Auntie’s orders. Survive at all costs. No matter who you had to sacrifice or what you had to do.

Easier said than done.

An eternity later, Lothos seemed to come to a decision. “Very well. I’ll believe you. For now.”

Elise’s face remained apathetic. As if it didn’t matter to her whether or not Lothos believed her.

Lothos’s gaze shifted to Elena. “Does she understand our language?”

“Of course not. She’s Tuann. You know their kind. Only ever interested in their own matters.”

Lothos’s frown sent another jolt of adrenaline through Elena system. “Are you sure?”

Shit. He knew.

And Aunt Selene would have sent her to time out for using that word.

Elena fought the desire to flee, trying not to react outwardly in any way.

Pretend. Pretend.

Of course, a Tuann wouldn’t know the tsavitee language. They would have no reason to. They hadn’t fought in a war against them. Even if they had, Elena doubted most would have taken the time to understand their enemy.

A human might have. A Haldeel scholar definitely would have. But not a Tuann who were the very definition of arrogance.

If not for Elise’s disguised warning, Elena would have already given herself away.

She couldn’t help but be upset about that oversight. Only a few minutes in and she’d already endangered her cover. She needed to be better than this.

“If she knows a little, it’s probably due to the Phoenix’s influence. She was obsessed with studying the tsavitee and everything about them,” Elise answered, sounding bored.

The comment offered a way for Elena to “learn” the tsavitee language faster than if she was newly exposed to it.

A door appeared in the same place it had earlier. A second general stepped inside, pausing at the sight of the dead mantis before continuing.

Possessing a smaller stature than Lothos, the newcomer still towered over Elise by nearly two feet. His horns weren’t as impressive or as well developed as Lothos’s either, placing him lower than the other general in the hierarchy. His face was impassive as he stopped a few feet away, clasping his hands behind his back as he waited to be acknowledged.

“Speak,” Lothos ordered.

“The masters are aware of her return and have asked for her presence.”

Elise’s chin lifted. There was a note of fear before it was gone.

“I can’t protect you from this,” Lothos informed her.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

Lothos sighed. “Do what you can to appease them and hurry back.”

Elise sauntered toward the door. “You don’t have to tell me that.”

Her hands moved briefly. A bare flutter of movement that was hardly noticeable. Only someone who’d grown up learning the self-developed sign language of the forty three would have recognized the motions as something other than a nervous tick.

It was a message. A brief one.

“Beware.”

That’s all Elena got before the wall reformed.

“She’s hiding something,” the second general announced in tsavitee.

“Probably.”

“What do you want to do?”

“For now, we’ll wait.”

“The girl?”

Elena allowed fear to form on her face. She didn’t have Aunt Kira’s training in hiding her emotions. They’d expect a scared little girl so that’s exactly what she’d give them.

The fact she really was terrified made the deception easier.

“Throw her to the pits,” he said after a long moment of consideration. “We’ll see if she survives long enough to be worth protecting.”

The post Sneak Peak appeared first on T.A. White.

Nightfall’s Prophet

Available May 16

Chapter One

I felt ridiculous. The problem was that I was pretty sure I looked it too. My arms pumping, my chin lifted as if it could make me even a tiny bit faster. I power walked like my life depended on it down the sidewalk to the cute downtown where my niece’s ballet recital was taking place.

Fifteen minutes late and counting.

I hated being late. Loathed it, really.

Unfortunately, pelting through the streets at a mad dash wasn’t likely to fix my tardiness. Rather, it would only serve to draw unnecessary attention and leave me out of breath and sweaty upon arrival.

I rounded the corner, feeling a wave of relief at the sight of my destination up ahead.

Almost there.

If I’d known beforehand how stinking far this place was, I would have chanced parallel parking my precious, a burnt umber Jaguar F-Type that I’d nicknamed Gwyneth, instead of circling the block a few times looking for a garage.

As I hurried, the phone in my back pocket buzzed. The unexpected vibration made me miss a step. Cursing under my breath, I fished it out to take a glance at the screen.

Thomas. My sire. Definitely not going to answer that.

The man must have some kind of radar that only went off when I was doing something I shouldn’t be. How else could I explain his impeccable timing?

Strictly speaking, maintaining contact with your mortal family was frowned upon in vampire society. To the point where most vampire sires preferred to stage their yearlings’ deaths to make a clean break. After which, further contact was forbidden.

As cruel as it sounded, they had their reasons. Most yearlings were considered highly dangerous in the first decade or so after their transition. Our history was littered with stories of yearlings returning home only to slaughter their nearest and dearest the first time they got a little peckish.

Imagine having to spend eternity knowing you’d chowed down on Mom, Dad, and your baby sister or brother. Some vampires were so overcome with guilt they never recovered. A few, unable to handle what they’d done, sought the oblivion of true death afterward.

That’s why it was considered safer for both sides if the yearling simply disappeared from their former family’s life.

Maybe that was the reason those with fewer family ties were preferred when it came to the transition. It was just one less thing binding them to the mortal world.

Had my transition been normal, I’m sure that would have been my fate too. Instead, I’d woken up in a morgue, having no idea what had happened to me or why I suddenly had fangs. I’d been left to figure it out as I went. With no master to guide me, there was nothing to stop me from resuming as much of my former life as I could. Good decision or bad—I’d returned home to my family.

Now that I was wiser, I still wasn’t quite ready to give them up. Not unless I absolutely had to.

It was a choice Thomas and others frowned upon. And also, the reason I had kept secret the fact I was meeting them tonight.

With a grimace, I hit ignore and stuffed the phone into my back pocket. Thomas was just going to have to lecture me later. I was already late enough as it was.

I had almost reached the building when the presence of another on the street caught my attention. Half cast in shadow, the man stood eerily still as he stared at the doors of the auditorium. The absence of life in his face made it easy to mistake him for a statue.

He simply waited. Not moving. Not blinking. I don’t think he was even breathing. 

“Connor, you’re not supposed to be here.” I thought I’d made that quite clear when I’d slipped out of the mansion without informing anyone of where I was going.

Life brought a hint of animation to Connor’s face as his chest started to rise and fall again.

If I was feeling poetic, I’d use words like moonlight and starlight to describe the man. From his white blond hair that looked almost silver to his pale skin that carried a certain luminescence to it, it was hard to believe he’d ever been human. His features were a little too perfect. His bright blue eyes stood out even more against his otherwise monochromatic coloring.

Connor’s gaze tracked me as I reached for the door handle. “We’re partners, aren’t we? Partners follow each other.”

I paused to stare at him. “You maybe should have run that statement through your brain filter a few more times before you let it into the open.”

Maybe then he would have sounded a little less like a stalker.

Not that it would have made much difference in this conversation. Connor was being obtuse. Deliberately so. As much as he pretended ignorance, I knew he was highly observant. It was how he’d survived so long in situations that would have quickly ended any other.

“This has to do with family,” I explained.

My family. The one I could feel getting more and more distant. I needed this night to go well.

“We’re family too.”

 This was the problem with Connor. His sincerity. As ruthless and smart as any other vampire, he also possessed an innocence that made it impossible to sustain the barriers I normally encased my cold shriveled heart in.

“Damn it.” I had no defenses against him. “Fine. You can come.”

If there had been a trace of triumph in his expression, a speck of smugness to signify manipulation, I could have denied him. But there wasn’t.

And that was why he got away with things others couldn’t.

His sincerity disarmed me. If he ever weaponized it, I was toast.

 “Not a word about vampires though.”

“I understand.”

Did he? Because the bright excitement in his eyes didn’t make me think so.

I yanked open the door and stalked inside. “I’m going to regret this.”

But likely not as much as Connor when he realized letting him come meant watching seven-year-olds who hadn’t quite mastered the use of their limbs dance.

We slipped inside the auditorium as quietly as possible, careful not to create a disturbance that would detract from the performance. I scanned the rows for two empty seats. Hopefully somewhere inconspicuous that would allow me to pretend we’d been here the whole time.

I never got the chance to make a move as a person toward the front third of the auditorium turned. She lifted a hand, summoning us with an imperious wave.

There went my idea of blending into the background.

The thought of disobeying the invitation didn’t occur to me. Vampires were scary; my sister was scarier.

“Into the breach we go,” I muttered before trudging forward with all the enthusiasm of an inmate approaching their execution.

It might have been my imagination, but I could have sworn I felt the irate gazes of disgruntled parents burning into the back of my head as we slipped down the aisle. It was hard not to feel self-conscious with everyone staring at us as a line of tiny ballerina’s walked across the stage and started lifting and lowering their arms out of sync.

I sped up, reaching the row Jenna had claimed. The man I’d always considered my father sat on the end. His face brightened at the sight of me and he started to scoot back. He paused as his gaze caught on Connor at my side, something flashing across his face.

“Dad?” I asked in confusion.

The distracted look on his face faded to be replaced by the same smile he’d had at my arrival. This time a little less bright and a touch smaller but still genuine.

“Sorry. Yes. Of course.” He finished making room for Connor and I to slip by. 

Going first, I bent over so I wouldn’t block the view of those behind us. Connor was graceful as he navigated the obstacle course of legs, chairs, and belongings.

I, on the other hand, nearly face planted when my foot got caught in the strap of Jenna’s purse, forcing me to grab the back of the row in front of us or fall. The couple seated there turned to shoot me a dirty look. I shot them a conciliatory smile, pretending not to hear the whispered “rude” from the woman as she faced front again. 

A blast of chill came from Connor as he eyed the woman’s neck with a calculating stare.

Knowing how protective he could be—and how brutally efficient his retaliation—I slapped his arm in warning. His gaze didn’t move from the woman’s neck. I pinched the back of his hand, my nails digging into his skin when he didn’t react.

It was only when I was in danger of drawing blood that he finally moved his attention from the woman to me.

I gave him a warning look. He was going to behave. Or else. I didn’t know what that or else was, but I’d figure it out.

His lips twitched the faintest bit as he drew his hand out of my grip to pat mine in comfort.

I scowled, not believing his promises for a second. Connor might look amiable and even a little introverted, but he was a stubborn bastard. It wasn’t like the stubbornness of others either. Those who spoke loudly and fiercely. It was quieter. The kind that it took you a while to notice.

You could give him all the orders in the world, but if he didn’t want to do something, he wouldn’t. Most of the time, he wouldn’t even argue with you. Your advice would go in one ear and out the other while he went about doing things the way he wanted.

Knowing it was useless to pursue the matter, I collapsed into the seat next to Jenna. Connor did the same on my opposite side, managing to make the movement as graceful as everything else he did.

Jenna wasted no time leaning toward me. “You’re late.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I underestimated how long it would take me to walk through the house my realtor wanted to show me.”

It was a lie, but telling Jenna that a group of kobolds had gotten a touch stabby and had to be taught a lesson in why vampires, even baby ones, weren’t to be messed with wasn’t an option.

Connor looked at me out of the corner of his eye, the ends of his mouth rising in a micro expression.

He was happy.

Because I’d lied? Or because he knew the truth when Jenna didn’t?

“You found a house?”

I shook my head. “No. Not yet.”

Probably not ever with the way the housing market was. Inventory was at an all-time low with anything that was even remotely reasonably price being snatched up in an instant.

“Mom didn’t come?” I asked, glancing down the row of chairs to find Connor had taken the last empty seat. The rest were filled, making me wonder if perhaps my mother was going to show up in a few minutes and have nowhere to sit.

Jenna’s expression was strained. “I didn’t invite her.”

I stared at Jenna for a beat, a little impressed. That wasn’t like her. The woman who tended to give way to keep the peace. Maybe she really was being honest when she said she wanted to be a better sister.

Over the past few months, she’d made every attempt to repair the fractures in our relationship, starting with her offer to help me search for my bio dad. An offer I hadn’t needed to take her up on since he’d come looking for me.

Since we’d reconnected, she’d been careful not to push too hard, respecting the boundaries I set. The ones I’d formed to protect her and the rest of my family from the dangerous world I found myself part of.

“I’m sure she wasn’t pleased about that,” I muttered.

Jenna’s frustrated laugh made me think that was an understatement.

The woman in front of us twisted in her seat. “Do you mind? Some of us are trying to watch the program.” 

Jenna’s smile was contrite. “I apologize, Vicky. We’ll try to be quiet.”

The woman shot her a disdainful glower before sneering at me. “I shouldn’t be surprised that Linda’s family is as ill-mannered as her. Arriving late. Gossiping during the performance. This isn’t a social gathering.”

I inhaled sharply, feeling a little light headed from anger. I’d heard just about enough out of her. I could let go the nastiness earlier because it was my fault. I’d created a disturbance, however unintentional, with my late arrival. When you made mistakes, you took your lumps. The end.

Bringing my niece’s name into matters was a no go. You didn’t touch my family. Not ever.

Jenna had apologized. Continuing to harp on matters was pure pettiness.

My dad leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Ma’am, my daughter already apologized once. I suggest you face front and pay attention to the rest of the recital before matters escalate any further.”

The words sounded polite, but everybody could hear what he really meant. If Vicky didn’t take him up on his offer, he would be happy to accompany her on her road to hell.

It was rare for Dad to lose his temper, but when he did it was always memorable.

Uncertainty and insult fought for dominance in the woman’s expression.

Before either could win, the man seated next to her grabbed her shoulder and forced her to face front. “Enough. You’re embarrassing me.”

“Richard!” The woman protested, sounding like she didn’t understand why he was upset.

Jenna and I traded identical looks before dissolving into silent giggles that caused our shoulders to shake. Dad sent us a chiding glance. The kind that all parents had perfected on their children. He lifted a finger to his mouth to shush us.

Jenna and I nodded quickly, the occasional snort giggle breaking through our attempt at seriousness. We were careful not to look at each other. The moment we did, the jig would be up. There’d be no fighting back our laughter then.

I bit my lip, rolling it between my teeth to keep my snickers to myself as I stared at the stage.

Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Don’t you do it. Otherwise, Vicky might turn around and fuss at us again.

The thought nearly set off another chain of giggles. Only catching Connor staring at me brought me back to reality.

“What?” I mouthed.

“You and your father are similar.”

Connor’s voice was a bare thread of sound that was undetectable to human ears.

“Of course,” I responded, using the same volume. “He’s the one who raised me, after all. He taught me everything I know.”

We might not have shared DNA, but there was more to a parent/child relationship than just genetics. He’d been there every step of the way during my transition from childhood to adulthood. Guiding me where I needed it. Providing a safe harbor in those moments when I found myself lost and unsure.

He was my hero. He was the reason I had a habit of rescuing misfits. He never could stand when people were bullies. I couldn’t either. Our temperaments were similar. Dad seemed mild mannered until he wasn’t. Particularly when the people he loved the most were in jeopardy of being trampled on.

Connor’s face was thoughtful as he studied my father.

I left him to it, settling in to watch the recital. It was every bit as painful as I’d thought it would be. A good number of the ballerinas seemed to have forgotten the steps. They looked to the others, following along a beat behind everyone else.

There was one particular cutie who got bored halfway through and found something interesting on the side of the stage to examine. The teacher motioned at her to return to the line, but the child remained intent on her new toy.

It was adorable. A few in the crowd laughed as one of the parents got up and approached the edge of the stage to try to help the teacher.

In the middle of the group, my niece twirled. She was one of the few who’d actually remembered the steps. Although her movements contained more enthusiasm than skill, she was having fun. Her smile was as big as her face.

My phone vibrated three more times during the course of the rest of the performance. I ignored it each time, intent on not letting my sire ruin this rare evening out.

“You should answer that,” Connor advised. “The longer you wait, the pushier he’ll get.”

At that moment, his phone let out a merry jingle, causing those nearby to give us more dirty looks.

I refrained from laughing, raising my eyebrows at him instead. “What’s that you were saying?”

Connor’s expression was grumpy as he stared straight ahead.

“I think that’s you,” Jenna whispered when he didn’t move to answer the phone.

Reluctantly, Connor reached into his pocket. I caught the word “Sire” on the screen before he hit the button to silence his ringer.

“Come now, avoiding him will only make him pushier,” I teased, a little too happy that the shoe was on the other foot.

Connor pretended not to hear my dig as applause broke out around us. I grinned, rising with the rest and clapping to the end of the performance. My niece beamed from her place in the middle of the pack. It might have been bias on my part. but I thought she was the best one out there.

I let out a sharp whistle of appreciation.

The sound attracted Linda’s attention. If possible, she beamed even harder. Her smile so wide it nearly split her face.

If I needed a reminder of why I’d sat through an hour of torture surrounded by snotty parents, this was it. She looked like I’d handed her the sun, the stars and everything in between.

Moments like this were why I’d never be able to fully walk away from my family. It was true they drove me crazy. Feelings on both sides had been hurt. Some of it was my fault. Some of it theirs.  But they were worth the effort.

One day these moments and these people would be gone. I needed to make the time we still had count.

Linda darted for the edge of the stage before anyone could stop her. She hopped down and raced in our direction, leaving her teacher staring at her in consternation. Her fellow dancers milled around in confusion, a few looking like they wanted to follow.

The teacher clapped to get their attention. Like little guppies, they grouped around her and let her shepherd them toward the wings.

Linda reached our row, her face alight with excitement. “Aunt Aileen, you came!”

“I told you I would.”

Whatever my failings, I at least tried to keep my promises. Even if I was late.

Linda scooted past her grandfather and mother, pretending not to see my sister lean down to give her a hug. Jenna frowned at me as her daughter wiggled away from her arms.

I stuck my tongue out at her. “It’s because she likes me better.”

Jenna’s glare was fulminating.

“I’m so glad you got to see the recital, Aunt Aileen. I was worried work would keep you late. I know how important your job is.” Linda barely paused to draw breath, already launching into the next round before I could respond. “What did you think of my dance? Ms. Dinkle said I’m one of the best in my class. She said my arabesque’s and jete’s are advanced for my age, but that my pirouette needs work. It’s really hard.”

My eyes began to glaze over with the influx of information. I pretended to understand all of her words as I nodded at appropriate intervals.

I owed Jenna an apology. If this was what she’d been dealing with as a single mother all these years, she was beyond impressive.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure how she was still sane. Were all kids like this?

From Linda’s exuberance, you’d never know that a few months ago she’d been sick enough for a hospital stay. One where words like cancer had been bandied about. Doctors were stunned when she made a miraculous recovery.

No one but Thomas, Liam and I knew it was because of my sire. Evidently, a powerful vampire’s blood acted like a panacea for most human ailments. Cancer included.

I owed Thomas. He’d saved Linda when I couldn’t. There was no getting around that.

It was a debt I had to remember.

“Alright, miss.” Jenna’s perfectly timed interruption coincided with Linda’s need for breath. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be down here. Why don’t you return to the stage before Ms. Dinkle takes back all the nice things she’s said about you? Your aunt will be here when you’re done.”

“Mom, you can’t take back complements already given.” Linda’s scowl was adorable. “Everyone knows that.”

Jenna made a face at her daughter. “Oh, they do, do they?”

“But you’re right. I shouldn’t miss Ms. Dinkle’s after performance review.” Linda waved at me. “See you later, Aunt Aileen.” She slipped through the narrow gap between the seats before stopping in front of her grandpa for a hug. “Are we still going to the pancake house afterward, Grandpa?”

Dad enfolded Linda in a bear hug, pressing his cheek on the top of her head in the process. “I have to reward my best granddaughter somehow, don’t I?”

“I’m your only granddaughter, silly.”

“I thought you were joining the rest of your class,” Jenna said.

Linda danced away from my dad. “I’m going. I’m going.”

Jenna shook her head as Linda wove between adults in the aisle, her figure quickly disappearing into the crowd.

“I swear, I don’t know where she gets it from,” Jenna said with a shake of her head. “She gets more stubborn every day.”

I lifted my eyebrows at Jenna. “Really? You don’t know?”

Did she not remember who had raised us? Our mother was the queen of stubborn. The empress of the sharp retort, and a woman who could silence her children with a single glance.

Jenna gave me a dry look. “Ah, right. I forgot she has you as an aunt.”

I made a face back at her as we moved into the aisle and toward the exit.

My father ignored our antics to hold a hand out to Connor. “My name’s Patrick. I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself earlier.”

Connor stared at my dad’s hand with puzzlement before reaching out to shake it. “You may call me Connor.”

Jenna leaned against my shoulder as she dropped her voice to a whisper. “Is he the reason you didn’t agree to move in with me until you found a new place?”

I could have warned her that it was pointless to whisper and that Connor had probably heard every word out of her mouth, but where was the fun in that?

“Of course not. We’re strictly platonic.”

Jenna wiggled her eyebrows at me. “Does that mean you’re still dating tall, dark, and delicious? His name was Liam, right?”

Somehow the word “dating” when used in conjunction to Liam seemed like a tepid description for what we were doing.

“Yes.” I shrugged her arm off my shoulder as we reached the exit. “What’s with all the questions about my dating life?”

Jenna’s expression was innocent. “I’m your sister. This is the type of thing sisters discuss.”

I fixed her with a hard look that said she wasn’t fooling me.

“By the way, where is Liam?” Jenna made a show of looking around. “I was hoping he’d come with you so I could play twenty questions with him.”

Note to self—don’t let Jenna within spitting distance of my vampire boyfriend. He’d have way too much fun with anything she asked him.

“He was busy tonight,” I said evasively.

In truth, I hadn’t asked him.

I didn’t know if he would have said yes. Although he’d met Jenna and my dad multiple times, it hadn’t been as my official boyfriend. There was also Liam’s history with his mortal family and the complicated feelings the topic brought him.

“How do you know my daughter?” Dad was asking Connor.

“I’m her brother.”

The resulting silence made me wish we were still talking about my love life as my dad and Jenna went very quiet.

“Brother-in-arms,” I was quick to clarify with an awkward laugh, seeing the question in their eyes. “Not a blood related brother.”

Connor’s expression was a little stiff at my denial.

“Right, Connor?” I nudged him with an elbow.

He’d better back me up on this. There would be hell to pay if he didn’t.

Reluctantly, Connor nodded. “Aileen saved my life. I owe her more than I can ever repay.”

My relief was short lived as Dad contemplated the two of us with a serious expression and a gaze that saw right through me.

He knew—or at least suspected—there was more to the story. That I was hiding something important.

I held my breath, waiting for the hammer to fall. Dad had always had a knack for detecting my lies.

 “No combat, huh? I guess all those assurances you gave me and your mother were bullshit.”

My mind went blank.

I’d forgotten I’d told my parents that I never left the FOB—Forward Operating Base—during deployment. One of my bigger lies now exposed while covering for another lie.

Dad was quick to let me off the hook, the amused glint in his eye telling me he’d known the truth all along. “You’re home safe now. That’s all we can ask for.”

“Connor’s not just my friend. He’s my business partner too,” I blurted out.

 “Is he now? Then I guess it’s good you two have history,” Dad said.

Jenna coughed under her breath. “Coward.”

Without looking, I swatted her arm with the back of my hand. “Shush, you.”

Her laugh came as Linda burst out of the crowd.

In the short time since we hadn’t seen her, my niece had shed her tutu and was now wearing a thin jacket and pants over her ballet outfit. Her hair was still in its tight bun, and glitter covered her face.

She slid to a stop in front of Connor, looking up at him like he was the eighth world wonder.

“Who are you?” Linda asked in a hushed voice that made me wonder if seven-year-olds were capable of falling in love at first sight.

Connor’s face held a trace of gentleness. “My name is Connor. I am Aileen’s brother.”

Linda nodded, accepting his words the way only a child would. Without question or hesitation.

She held her arms out to Connor. “Will you pick me up? My legs hurt.”

“Linda!” Jenna gasped. “Don’t be rude. You’re too big for that.”

Her protest came too late. Connor had already leaned down, carefully closing his arms around Linda as if she was a fragile treasure. He straightened, lifting her as easily as a feather.

From her new vantage, Linda looked around with excitement at being so high up.

“Are you sure?” Jenna asked hesitantly. “You don’t have to.”

The look Jenna shot her daughter held both embarrassment over her daughter’s behavior and a warning that she’d better straighten up—or else.

Connor acted like he hadn’t heard as he glanced at my dad. “You mentioned pancakes?”

Dad took his time studying him. “I did, didn’t I?”

Dad winked at Linda. She giggled, burying her face in Connor’s neck.

“We wouldn’t want to disappoint, would we?” Dad asked Linda.

“No!”

Dad offered his arms to me and Jenna. “Shall we, girls?”

With a smirk, I hooked one arm with his before looking at Jenna in expectation.

She stared at us for a moment before releasing a growl that sounded cute when compared to the terrifying snarls of a werewolf.

“You’re going to spoil her,” Jenna chided.

Linda started bouncing in Connor’s arms. “We’re off to see the pancakes, the wonderful, wonderful pancakes of ours.”

“A little spoiling never hurt anyone,” Dad whispered back.

Jenna shot him a displeased look. “You’re not the one who has to deal with her later.”

I leaned around dad. “That’s the perk of being a grandpa and aunt.”

We got to wind the kids up and reap all the fun before abandoning them to their parents who would have to deal with the consequences.

I pumped my fist in the air. “Pancakes!”

Linda squealed and did the same. “Pancakes!”

Dad and Connor looked at each other in consensus.

“Oh no,” Jenna moaned.

The men smirked then pumped their fists in the air. “Pancakes!”

The post Nightfall’s Prophet Excerpt appeared first on T.A. White.

Slime. Or so close to it that the description fit. It was everywhere. In my hair. Covering my body. Oozing from my shoes with every step. I grimaced as my skin pulled and a patch started to itch. The only thing worse than slime was slime as it hardened.

I held my bike at arm’s length, with as few fingers as possible, to prevent the slime from adhering to it. Bad enough that it was going to take me hours to get this stuff off me. At least I could stand in a shower to loosen it up. No way was I subjecting my bike to the same treatment. Bikes were expensive. Good bikes even more so. Mine may not have been top of the line, but I had no intention of letting a hundred-dollar job destroy it. If it meant I had to walk four miles home rather than risk getting this stuff all over my bike seat, then so be it.

This was the last time I accepted a run for a kappa. I didn’t turn down paying work often, but I think I had finally found my line in the sand. The damn thing had thought it was funny when its pet covered me in this sticky gunk after I startled it.

A creature straight out of Japanese folklore, the kappa was about the size of a child and had made the sewers under the city its home. It wasn’t on my normal route so I’d never dealt with one before—much less known how easy it would be to freak out its pet, which was the size of a small truck and had teeth as long as my arm. Evidently, that over-sized worm had a thing about phones. The sight of which sent it into a sliming, vomiting tizzy.

Normally, Tom, a gnome and my arch nemesis at Hermes Courier Service, was the one responsible for running messages for the kappa and others in the Fey community, but since his involvement in trying to fix the vampire selection he had been MIA. That left the rest of the Hermes couriers to pick up his slack.

No more. Jerry could find someone else to deal with the kappas. I was done. Those aquatic pranksters could go pick on someone else from now on. I didn’t need the headache.

I turned the corner onto my street and frowned. Something was different.

It took me a moment before I realized what it was. The lights. Someone had gotten all of the street lamps working, making the small stretch almost seem like a legitimate neighborhood for once. It was a nice change since all the lights had been out since I moved in several years ago. The city got around to replacing them every once in a while, but they were always broken again before the night was through, leaving the street in shadows until the next time the city’s budget accommodated new bulbs or someone’s parents complained.

It was almost more surprising that they were still working. It might be the wee hours of the morning, but college kids never slept. At least in my experience. Most nights someone would have knocked them out by now.

A street without light didn’t really bother me. As a vampire, my night vision was better than anything technology could create. Even on a moonless, cloudy night, I could see as clearly as I had during the day when I’d been human.

The only sound in the night was the whirring of my bicycle wheels as I headed for my apartment building. An old duplex just outside of campus, it had seen better days. The new lights cast sharp shadows on my home, giving it an almost sinister look and highlighting the fact that it was one step above a slum. It looked like it had been built around the turn of the nineteenth century, but not in a cute, ‘look at how historical this is’ way. It was more of a ‘please don’t fall down on my head’.

The stoops tilted at odd angles and drooped forward like a drunken sailor on shore leave. All of the windows were slightly off kilter, a side effect of settling that had never been mitigated.

My place was a second-floor walk-up. I was ninety percent sure the wooden stairs on the outside of the building leading up to my apartment weren’t up to code. They always shook and trembled like they were in the midst of an earthquake when anything bigger than a cat stepped onto them. One of these days they were going to collapse. Knowing my luck, I’d be standing on them at the time.

The postage stamp parking lot was looking a little rougher than usual. The weeds that had grown through the numerous cracks were gone. The pavement itself looked like someone had taken a jackhammer to it and huge chunks were now missing or had been pulverized into a million pieces. The only untouched spot surrounded the black Escalade sitting on the far side. Maybe someone had finally decided to demolish the old lot.

The urge to stop and make sure the vehicle remained unmarked was brief. I waved it away almost as soon as it occurred. Though I was technically the owner, I had not decided whether to accept it. There were strings attached to anything vampire related, and since it was a gift from my sire, the man who turned me into what I am today and then subsequently abandoned me, I was pretty determined to steer clear of those strings. It didn’t matter if he didn’t remember changing me because of some curse. His problems had destroyed the life I’d planned. A fifty-thousand-dollar SUV wasn’t going to make up for that.

I continued past the Escalade toward the stairs that would take me to my apartment and the wonderfully hot shower waiting for me there.

Stepping onto the rickety stairs, I froze as a figure moved at the top of the landing.

“Caroline.”

Her jaw had a pugnacious tilt to it that practically dared me to give her grief. At odds with the defiance in her expression was the uncertainty and hint of fear hiding in her eyes. It was that uncertainty and fear that kept my first reaction locked inside. It had been months since I’d last seen her. Months since her life had been upended when she was kidnapped by a demon and bitten by a werewolf. She’d cut me out of her life after that. Turns out lying, even by omission, pretty much kills a relationship—especially when the part of your life you tried to keep secret tears her life apart. We hadn’t been on good turns before the unveiling of my new condition and that had worsened when Caroline found herself donning a coat of fur every month.

Besides the lack of the black rimmed glasses she’d worn since we were kids, Caroline looked normal. Maybe with more of a glow than usual, but anyone looking at her would never guess she was werewolf. She was the typical girl next door. Pretty, with wavy blond hair and blue eyes.

After a moment of hesitation, I continued up the steps.

Her expression turned uncertain before her mask slid into place and she watched me with a cool sense of poise.

“Aileen, I’ve been waiting for hours.”

I paused my ascent as I processed that statement. “I’m sorry. I had a job to finish before I could quit for the night. Had I known you were waiting, I would have perhaps expedited things.”

Her expression flickered. She seemed to just take note of the state of me, her nose crinkling. “What happened to you?”

“Kappa’s pet. We had a bit of a disagreement over a phone. I lost.”

“That’s a myth from Japanese folklore, right?” she asked.

I made a sound of agreement as I gained the top of the stairs and set my bike down on the narrow landing. Caroline stepped to the side, giving me room. Her eyes were searching as they examined my face. I kept my expression neutral. It hurt when she cut me out and refused to talk to me. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a small, petty part of me that held onto a heaping dose of anger. The rest of me understood.

She’d just been trying to do an old friend a favor, no knowing all the shit that friend was going through, and that simple act of kindness destroyed life as she knew it. That kindness had reached back to destroy everything she thought she knew. I understood. I’d faced some of the same anger and played a similar blame game when I’d been turned. I didn’t blame her for her reaction, but it had still hurt to be told my best friend since childhood didn’t want to speak to me.

“I forgot you worked nights,” Caroline said, her voice stilted.

I nodded and looked at my door and then back to her. Did I invite her in? Send her on her way? I hated this awkwardness between us.

I decided to be direct. Caroline had never been good with subtext. I doubted that had changed now that she was a werewolf. At least, I assumed she was a werewolf. I didn’t really know since Brax had stopped providing me with updates when she made it clear she wanted nothing to do with me. As the alpha of the wolves, Brax’s loyalty was to them first. It meant he did what was best for her, my feelings be damned. It was the right call, but it still stung.

“What are you doing here?”

She fiddled with a rubber band on her wrist, snapping it against her skin three times before her hands dropped to her side. Caroline had never been fidgety. Now, she looked like she was sitting on a rocket blaster of energy and barely keeping it contained.

She took a deep breath, her eyes coming up to meet mine before wandering away again as she looked anywhere but at me. Another difference from the old Caroline who could stare down even hardened criminals.

“I need your help.” Her shoulders slumped as if a great weight had been added to them.

I studied her for a long moment. Caroline had never been one to ask for help, even when she so clearly needed it. It was a trait both of us shared. I fished my keys out of my pocket and turned to my door.

“Aileen, please. I have nowhere else to go.”

I unlocked the door and stepped inside, holding it open. “Come in. I have a feeling that whatever this is, I’m going to need alcohol.”

“You don’t want to know what I need first?”

I snorted, the sound containing little in the way of humor. “You’ve only ever had to ask. You know that.”

Her eyes softened as they held mine for the first time since I’d stepped onto the landing. She gave a small nod, stepping past me and into my home.

While the outside might suggest a drug dealer lived here—or a college student without much money—the inside was a different story. It said I cared. Sourced from garage sales and thrift stores, the furniture looked well-loved and cozy. It invited you to sit down and put your feet up after a hard day’s work. It was bright and cheery and everything my life was not. It’d never be featured in a magazine—unless that magazine was Thrifter’s Anonymous—but it suited my personality, which was as tattered and cobbled together as the place I called home.

“Can vampires even drink alcohol?” Caroline asked.

I propped my bike against the wall, tossed my keys onto my kitchen table—really just a catch-all table—and headed to the kitchen.

“This vampire does,” I said, pulling open the fridge and reaching for a bottle of red wine. Real wine. Not the stuff I hid my blood in to prevent nosey family members from figuring out my secret.

I took another look at the bottle. At least I thought it was the real stuff. I tilted the top towards me. Yup. It was unopened. Should be safe enough.

I pulled the bottle from the fridge, grabbed some wine glasses from the upper cabinets and fished around in one of the drawers for the bottle opener. I came up empty. Those damn pixies had better not be fucking with me again. We had a deal. They didn’t play pranks on me, and I didn’t figure out a way to evict them from my apartment.

Ah, found it. The opener had been wedged at the very back under a pair of tongs and a mallet, neither of which I knew I owned.

Popping the cork off the bottle, I poured both of us a generous glass. I had a feeling I was going to need it for this conversation.

“So, what brings you to my part of the city. I thought for sure Brax would have you sequestered in some remote part of the wilderness for a few more months.”

Caroline accepted the glass I handed her and took two big gulps of the wine. I watched her chug it before taking a small sip of mine.

“You’re closer than you think,” Caroline said when she had finished draining the wine. She held her glass out for more. So, it was going to be that kind of conversation. I set mine down and retrieved the bottle, pouring her an even larger portion than I had last time. “He has a piece of property down in Kentucky. Over one hundred acres of untouched land that his pack has owned for several decades. It’s where they send their pups.”

“Pups?”

“It’s what they call the newly bitten.” This time she sipped her wine.

“Ah, the vampires call the newly fanged yearlings.” I started to lean against the cabinets at my back before straightening at the last minute when I remembered what I was covered in.

“Sounds better than pups. As if we’re children needing to be told what to do.”

Sounded familiar.

“They expected me to stay there a year. Longer if I couldn’t control my wolf.” She set the glass down hard. I winced as the glass stem cracked, not all the way. Just enough that I suspected it would be going into the garbage once she was done. “I have a life. I have a career—one I worked my ass off for. Do you have any idea what it’s like to deal with an entirely male teaching staff? The comments? The snide jabs at my gender or intelligence?”

I took another sip of my wine. “I may have some idea.”

Being in the military meant getting used to being one of the few females in any unit I joined. For combat camera, whose specialty oftentimes demanded we go out on patrol with the infantry, it meant even less women. During a mission outside the wire, it was relatively normal to be the only American female around. Sometimes for weeks.

Caroline’s shoulders relaxed and her lips loosened, some of the anger that had been brewing sliding away. “I imagine you would. I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to get back, to remind myself that everything wasn’t about this.” She waved her hand in the air as if to indicate everything. I could only assume she meant the supernatural detour her life had taken.

“How did Brax and Sondra feel about that?” 

Caroline’s face darkened at the mention of the woman who’d turned her. At the time Sondra was being controlled by a demon, but that didn’t change the fact that Caroline’s entire existence had been upturned as a result. I’d guess that even though Brax had made Sondra Caroline’s mentor the relationship was off to a rocky start. I didn’t blame Caroline. My own relationship with my sire could be categorized as nonexistent—not for lack of trying on his part.

“They don’t know.”

I blinked. Then I blinked again.

Caroline’s expression was set.

“Wait. What do you mean they don’t know?” I set my glass of wine down hard, barely flinching at the sound of a crack.

Caroline drummed her fingers against the chipped counter and looked away. “I may not have had permission to leave.”

My mouth dropped open. The sound that escaped was closer to sputtering then actual words. “Explain.”

“I found a way off the farm and then stole a car.”

“Please stop explaining.”

Caroline watched me as I ran through all of the awful scenarios that could result from what she’d just revealed. It didn’t really surprise me she had stolen a car. We’d done that a time or two in our misspent youth, and Caroline had never been one to let pesky details like ownership get in the way when she needed something.

“What did you do with the car?” I asked. I hadn’t seen it when I came in.

“I ditched it on the other side of the city and then caught a ride here.”

Smart. This way she wasn’t leading them directly to my doorstep once they figured out she had stolen a car.

Brax and the wolves were not going to take this well. If there was one thing my experiences have taught me, it was that they took one of the newly turned bucking the system very personally.

“We need to call Brax and explain,” I told her, heading for my phone.

“No, you said you’d help!”

“I am helping. He’s going to show up looking for you, angry and ready to blow my house down. It’s best to take care of this now. Manage expectations and head it off before it gets blown out of proportion. We’ll just tell him you don’t want to stay on the farm and get him to work with us.”

“That won’t work,” Caroline snapped.

“Did you already try?”

Her expression made it clear she had.

“Perhaps it’ll go over better coming from me.” Caroline wasn’t good at arguing with people. She was too autocratic and given Brax was an alpha, unused to doing as other people ordered, that probably hadn’t gone over well.

She huffed. “I’m not as bad at communicating as you make it sound.”

I arched one eyebrow. Did she not remember the time when we got detention in high school because she pissed off the chemistry teacher while trying to convince him to let us perform an advanced experiment? Caroline was a great liar. Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but when it comes to persuasion or the truth, it’s better when she isn’t involved.

“I’ve somehow managed to stumble through the last few years without you,” she said.

What lingered in the air was the thought that she would probably have continued to be just fine if I hadn’t involved her in my problems.

“Caroline, I understand your frustration and the instinct to hide. Believe me, I went through many of the same things when I was first turned. Hiding just makes things worse. It’s better to meet this head on. Eventually, he’ll catch up to you, and you’ll lose all leverage. It’s best to be proactive so you can control the agenda.”

“I said no!” Caroline shouted, her voice deepening by several decibels and carrying distinct notes of a growl. Her eyes flashed amber and for just a minute I saw a weird overlay of a wolf’s head through one of my eyes.

I went very still, my instincts telling me this was no longer my friend but a predator seconds from ripping out my throat.

“Okay, Caroline. If that’s what you want,” I soothed.

Jeweled wings fluttered in my periphery and one of my pixie roommates landed on the far end of the counter, watching Caroline with thoughtful eyes. Inara had wings of iridescent green and yellow that had a spidery network of veins made of every color green imaginable. When she fluttered her wings, it looked like a tree rustling in the wind.

Caroline’s growls continued as she remained focused on me, not noticing the pixie.

“I need you to calm down, Caroline. This isn’t helping matters.” I took a step back and made myself look away from her eyes. Meeting a wolf’s eyes in the wild meant you were challenging their dominance. Werewolves should have some of the same instincts. Right?

The growl grew in volume, and she took a small step forward. A burnt umber light, tangled with inky blackness, coalesced around her. It was only visible with my left eye, the one the sorcerer had taken from me so he could use it as an ingredient in a spell. Ever since it grew back, I could see things. At first I thought I was crazy, before I realized what I was seeing was magic. Or something close to it.

She took another step forward. A blur of green and yellow darted toward her eyes.

“Bad dog.” Inara fluttered around Caroline’s head, evading the swats aimed her way.

The growling stopped and the light faded bit by bit. The pixie’s distraction worked.

Caroline looked shaken and upset. “Aileen.”

“It’s fine. I had more than one episode myself when I was first turned. I even almost chowed down on Jenna once.”

“I’m so sorry. You’ve got to know I would never hurt you.”

My smile was sad. “That’s just it. You don’t know what you’re capable of anymore. It’s like being a teenager only about a thousand times worse. You’ve got all these hormones and new urges running roughshod through your body, only it won’t just be shouting matches when you lose it. People will get hurt. Best case, you change them into what you are. Worst case, they die.”

“How did you do this? Alone? Without help?”

I lifted one shoulder. “Very carefully. I had some help in the beginning, but every day is an exercise in self-restraint. You’ll get there; it’ll just take time.”

She nodded even though she didn’t look convinced. The loss of control seemed to have taken the wind out of her sails. “I know you’re probably right, but please don’t call him just yet.”

I hesitated, knowing the best thing would be to take care of this while we had the chance. It would have taken her hours to drive from Kentucky. Longer if she had to walk out of the farm. If they hadn’t already, they would learn of her disappearing act very shortly, and it wouldn’t take much of a leap to guess she’d head here.

She didn’t say anything else, just looked at me as if her entire world was falling down around her. She was begging me for a respite, even if it was for just a few hours. I knew that feeling. I knew it intimately.

I sighed, the sound heavy and resigned. “How ’bout you go get a shower. You can have my bed for the night; I’ll sleep out here on the couch.”

She started to turn and then looked me over. “Shouldn’t you get a shower first? I can’t imagine it’s comfortable covered in whatever that is.”

I looked down at myself and grimaced. No, it wasn’t. I was afraid to move for fear of getting more of it all over my kitchen.

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Just maybe don’t take all night.”

She looked unsure but accepted the offer. “Thank you, Aileen.”

I nodded. I doubt she’d be thanking me when Brax broke down my door in the middle of the day to drag her away with me lying dead to the world on the couch.

Inara landed next to my hand on the counter as we watched Caroline head for my room to get a change of clothes for the night. “You look and smell disgusting.”

I drained my glass of wine. “I do try.”

Inara waited until the water had turned on before she said, “It was a mistake to let her stay here.”

“I know.”

“They sequester their pups for a reason. A newly turned wolf is stronger than normal and has little control of the change.” She flicked a look my way. “She could probably tear apart a baby vamp very easily.”

“Great.”

Inara wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know or suspect.

“I’ll call him when I wake. That should give her time to calm down.” And for me to think of an excuse for why I hadn’t called him sooner.

“And if she flips out again?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

I collected Caroline’s glass and deposited it in the sink. While Inara kept an eye on the hallway, I opened the fridge and pulled out another bottle of wine, this time one created for me and my needs. Anybody taking a sip out of it would find themselves in for an unpleasant surprise.

I tilted it over my glass, watching the dark red liquid collect in the bottom. The smell of death and rot reached me, and I curled a lip. Ever since I’d tapped Liam’s vein earlier in the year, my stored blood hasn’t tasted quite the same—the flavors lackluster and nasty, like a powdered protein shake and not the good kind. Whereas before I couldn’t get enough of it, now I could barely stomach gulping it down. Worse, I could feel the difference between it and live blood. Now that I’d had the premium, grade A stuff from tall, dark and handsome, I could tell how inadequate it was in meeting my needs, barely abating the hunger these days.

I turned to find Inara regarding me with a dour look. “What?”

“I forgot. Your friend isn’t the only one with troubles.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice was defensive despite my best efforts.

For such a small being, Inara could throw skepticism better than anyone I knew. Including my mother. She shook her head and leapt off the encounter. “This should end well. It’s like the blind leading the blind.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I called after her retreating figure. I grumbled into my glass, “I’m perfectly fine with bagged blood.”

Finishing a sip, I held the glass away from me and grimaced. It was like drinking that fermented stuff that was the newest fad. The kombucha or whatever. I’d tried it once as a human and had sworn never to step near the nasty drink ever again.

“Inara is just looking out for you,” a tiny voice said near my ear.

I started and then turned my head, careful not to disrupt the pixie’s perch. I’d done that once; it had not ended well. Lowen sat on my shoulder, having found one small spot unmarred by the gunk covering me. His tiny little feet kicked back and forth as he looked up at me. His purple and blue wings glittered as the light caught them. Unlike Inara, who was pale with a slight green tinge, his skin was a burnished copper. He wore tiny trousers that ended at his knees and a sleeveless white tunic.

“I’m pretty sure Inara only tolerates me,” I told him.

He leaned back on his hands and peered up at me. “True, but she doesn’t want you to die. We’d have to find a new home then.”

“You could always just remain to torment the next inhabitants.”

His face was thoughtful before he gave a noncommittal shrug. “There’s something odd about your friend.”

I snorted. “Yeah, she was just turned into a werewolf after learning there’s a whole supernatural world out there. Anybody is bound to be a little off after that.”

He shook his head, his large eyes looking reserved. “No, it’s more than that. Something’s wrong with her. You should be careful not to get torn apart.”With that he took off, leaving me to stare after him in frustration.

The post Moonlight’s Ambassador Excerpt appeared first on T.A. White.

Liam’s bright blue eyes danced as he gave me a fierce grin, the sort of happy expression a dragon might make right before it chomped on you. It was all the warning I got before he swept my leg out from under me. I hit the mat with a grunt, surprised and startled at his speed.

When would I learn?

I sat up, frowning, even as I rubbed the offended spot on my backside. It was the exact same butt cheek on which he’d dumped me three times so far.

“What were you saying about old men?” he asked, not showing an ounce of repentance for my pain.

I grumbled as I leveraged myself to my feet again, debating the odds I’d land a worthwhile blow before this session was done. Not good, I was thinking.

In the two months since these training sessions had become a regular occurrence, I’d only landed a legitimate punch—not glancing or blocked—a handful of times. Worse, was the suspicion he was still holding back with me.

“They should know when they’ve become fossils and find a deep dark hole to crawl into,” I fired back.

His grin flashed. “When the children prove they’re good for blowing more than hot air, maybe they will.”

I couldn’t help my amused snort.

Much to my surprise, I was starting to enjoy these weekly sessions with Liam. He was growing on me—like fungus.

He knew it too and took full advantage whenever he could, pushing my boundaries just a little bit more each time, making his interest obvious.

It was an interest I returned, enjoying the flirting and banter these nights inevitably brought.

“Have you given any more thought to my proposal?” he asked as I started stretching out my kinks.

He hadn’t yet indicated the match would resume. Until he did, I was going to give my poor, abused muscles the care they deserved.

“Let me think. Being at your beck and call with a bunch of enforcers—half of whom dislike me—as my bosses. Not sure how I feel about that,” I said, wincing as a particularly tight spot protested the movement.

“Becoming part of a team and getting paid a living wage. Not really sure what the issue is,” Liam shot back.

I frowned at him. He’d gotten good at finding arguments that would have the best chance of influencing me. It demonstrated an understanding of what drove me and was slightly disconcerting, given his inclination towards manipulation.

Much as I hated to admit it, he had several valid points. The money especially, would be welcome.

“I’m still waiting for you to show me the bright side in all this,” I complained.

“Be here Friday night and I will.”

Oh. A field trip—that sounded interesting.

“Will you make it worth my while?” I asked, a playful note entering my voice.

His smirk turned seductive, his eyes half-lidded as he gave me the look a man gives a woman he’s attracted to. “Show up Friday and find out.”

I couldn’t contain my small laugh, choking it back before he took it as a sign of encouragement. Until I knew which direction I wanted to go, I found it best not to give the vampire any bright ideas. He took every opening as an invitation to push harder, displaying a distinct resemblance to a battering ram.

Avoidance and ignoring the charge between us wouldn’t work much longer. I needed to make a choice.

I frowned at him as I remembered all the reasons he and I were not a good idea—starting with the fact his loyalty to the vampires would always outweigh anything he felt toward me.

Then there was his age. He wasn’t just a few decades older than me. He was centuries. Three to four hundred years older, at least. Some of the things he’d let slip made me think he could be even older. Thinking about it was enough to make my teeth hurt.

His gaze flickered as his attention fastened on something behind me. I turned to see Eric standing at the edge of the gym, the normally reserved enforcer appearing even more intense than normal.

That was odd. Liam’s enforcers didn’t typically interrupt during our training periods.

Whatever message he brought must be important.

“We’ll end here for the night,” Liam said.

My eyes lingered on Eric for a beat longer as I tilted my head in question. Yes, whatever this was about, was very important.

Curiosity took hold. I shook my head, mentally rejecting the urge. As tempting as it was to ask questions and pry into matters that most likely didn’t concern me, that was a good way to get drawn deeper into vampire politics. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that step yet.

“And here I thought vampires were supposed to have stamina for days,” I said as I bent to grab my shoes from the edge of the mat.

Liam stepped closer and trailed a stolen touch across my shoulder. Goosebumps skated down my spine. I stilled.

“I would be glad to show you just how long my stamina can last,” he said, a seductive smile edged with sly humor taking over his face. “On the mats, of course,” he added as an afterthought.

Amusement invaded and I cocked my head, taking pleasure in the game. “Another time—perhaps when dreams become reality.”

Appreciation at the jab passed over his face as he inclined his head.

I sauntered away, saying over my shoulder, “See you Friday.”

*

I bounded up the steps of the clan’s mansion Friday night, anticipation and eagerness giving me urgency. I had a good feeling about tonight.

Drinks with Caroline had cleared my head and given me much needed perspective when it came to what I wanted out of life. I’d been stuck in survival mode for so long that sometimes I forgot the other things in life. Maybe it was time to loosen up and live again.

Liam could be the beginning of that, starting with my taking him up on his proposal of a field trip.

Afterwards, we’d see where the night led. Either way, I was tired of fighting this attraction between us.

I walked into the gym with a smile on my face. “I’ve thought about what you said and I’d like to take you up on it. You were right.”

Nathan straightened from his stretch, looking up in surprise. “What am I right about?”

I ground to a halt and frowned. “What’re you doing here? Where’s Liam?”

“He’ll be gone for a while. He asked me to take over your training in the meantime.”

Everything in me went still. “For how long?”

Nathan shrugged. “Don’t know. The mission is hush-hush. Until then, you’ve got yours truly.”

My nod was slow. Liam had left.

All the anticipation I’d felt moments before drained away, leaving behind ice.

“Something wrong?”

I was quiet.

“Nope.” I gave my head a slight shake.

Nothing. Nothing was wrong. Liam had a job. He didn’t owe me any explanations.

“What was Liam right about?” Nathan asked, his eyebrows climbing in question.

I jerked my attention back to Nathan. It took a second for me to form words. “He said my form needed work and my endurance was still lacking.”

Nathan pursed his lips, as he gave me a slightly disbelieving look. He shrugged his broad shoulders a second later. “Don’t you worry, cupcake. I’ll get you into top shape. He won’t ever complain about your endurance again.”

My smile was strained. “Sounds good.”

When he returned to stretching, my smile faded, and I rubbed my forehead. My excitement had turned to ash in my mouth. I should have known better. I was alone in this. Liam and Nathan felt a duty to help someone who’d gotten a rotten start. That was all. They were free to come and go as they pleased. It’d be best not to forget that or form attachments that wouldn’t last.

CHAPTER ONE

A bag full of donut holes, five giant chocolate bars, and three cases of Diet Coke were going to be the death of me. Not literally—we vampires were a little more difficult to kill than that—but emotionally? Financially? Definitely.

I looked up from the assortment in front of me to the customer radiating impatience.

“The sign said free snacks with purchase,” the woman explained again.

My gaze shifted from her to the sign—the bane of my current existence. I don’t know how it got out of the storage room—again—but I was going to take a pair of very sharp scissors to it as soon as I got rid of this woman.

It did indeed say, ‘free snacks with purchase’, but it wasn’t meant to be used the way the customer intended. The deal only applied to one free item, not eight. My only saving grace was the date tacked on the bottom.

“Ma’am, that deal expired at midnight.” My cheeks hurt from the polite smile I kept pinned on my face. It had been stuck there, becoming increasingly strained, for the last five minutes as we went over the same argument again and again.

The sign’s promise expired two hours ago, which was when I’d moved it to the storage room, thankful to be done with it. It had caused nothing but trouble since I’d come on shift. Whoever wrote the stupid thing made it needlessly vague. All night I’d had to explain its true meaning so customers didn’t succeed in clearing out the store of all valuable merchandise.

I was done with the whole issue. Done. And one annoying woman who didn’t know when to quit wasn’t going to force me to surrender.

“Then why is the sign still out?” she argued. “That’s false advertising.”

I kept my frustrated sigh internal, the polite smile turning even more strained. “I’m so sorry for the confusion, ma’am. We haven’t had time to take it down.”

That was a lie. I’d already taken the stupid thing down. Twice. Each time it somehow found its way back into the front of the store. At this point, I knew there was someone or something messing with me. As soon as I got rid of this customer, I planned to hunt them down and show them exactly why irritated vampires should be left alone.

The woman’s mouth pursed in a frown as she looked around the empty gas station as if to call me on the lie, her expression clearly stating she thought laziness had more to do with my predicament than anything else.

“Whether you had time or not, the fact remains that you have a sign promising me these things for free. I expect you to live up to that promise.” Her expression soured and she lifted one perfectly groomed eyebrow as if daring me to argue.

Unfortunately for her, I could outstubborn even the most persistent of customers. My sire would be only too happy to inform her of the depths to which I could sink.

The woman was a few inches shorter than me. Her youth was far behind her and the years had softened her middle and face. She compensated for that with hair styled into a sleek bob, not a strand out of place, and a perfectly made-up face, complete with foundation and blush, despite the sweats she wore.

She was a study in contradictions, not the least of which was her passion to get twenty dollars’ worth of junk food for free. It baffled me. You would think it was a supersaver deal worth hundreds of dollars, given the amount of grief she’d heaped on my head since walking into the gas station ten minutes ago.

It might have been different if I thought she couldn’t afford it, but I’d seen the car she’d driven up in—a tricked out MDX, not an inexpensive car. There was no way she couldn’t afford twenty dollars, not when she was riding in a car that could have been a down payment on a house.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t give you the reduced price. The system won’t let me,” I said, my smile stretching my cheeks. I tried to infuse it with some sympathy, a token of empathy—hard to do when I made minimum wage and didn’t have twenty dollars of my own to waste.

It was quickly becoming clear this job was not for me. When I lost my position with Hermes Courier Service, I’d known it would be difficult. I’d known things would be tight. I just hadn’t known how difficult and tight they would be.

Working at a gas station hadn’t been part of my five-year plan. It wasn’t the worst job I’d ever had, but it was definitely not where I thought I’d be at this stage of my life. It had quickly reinforced the knowledge that I wasn’t cut out for customer service. I needed a place where I could be my grumpy, antisocial self, not somewhere I had to smile on command and pretend I didn’t want to whack people on the back of the head sometimes.

Hermes had given me a certain autonomy that I very much missed. Employees were left to do a job unsupervised as long as pickups and deliveries were accomplished. Not quite the case at my current place of employment.

Despite that, I was lucky to have anything. Jobs that let you work only at night were few and far between, and since most of the spook world wouldn’t touch me with a five-foot pole given my status as a clanless vampire who’d been fired by Hermes, it meant my options limited.

I reminded myself that I needed this job. Rent was due in a week, and I was down to the last of my nest egg. If I wanted to keep a roof over my head, I couldn’t afford to alienate customers and risk getting fired.

“I want to talk to your manager,” the woman proclaimed in a ringing voice.

That’s what I was afraid of.

“Unfortunately, I’m the only one here right now,” I said in as polite a voice as I could muster.

This shift was the least busy, and as a result, the owners only staffed the gas station with one person. Me. The manager wouldn’t be here until mid-morning. That meant I was flying solo and all customer complaints went through me.

Lucky me.

The woman’s face turned cruel as a self-satisfied smirk twisted her lips. “How fortunate for me.”

I stiffened, the smile slowly falling from my face. Some instinct had me switching to the othersight of my left eye. I’d gotten better at controlling it, seeing the magic overlaying the world when I wanted, as opposed to when my eye felt like it.

Sure enough, the woman had a haze surrounding her, beautiful lights that twinkled and flared.

She definitely was not what she appeared. This was no housewife on a midnight binge or a mom desperate to get last minute supplies for a child’s party. She belonged to the same shadow world I did. A dangerous place, full of things that often posed as their more harmless counterparts.

I let my hand drop from view below the countertop and inched it toward the gun hidden by a “don’t look here” charm, even as I glanced up at the cameras pointed in our direction. Surely, she wouldn’t be so stupid as to try something in a place where normals could see and record the evidence.

There weren’t many rules in this shadow world, but one of the biggest was “don’t let the humans find out there were more things that went bump in the dark than they’d ever imagined.” It was the quickest way to earn your way onto a kill list.

Before I could do more, her hand flashed up as she threw something at me. My eye saw it as a dark blur that filled me with a sucking feeling of dread. I flinched instinctively, a shield of white flashing into existence between me and whatever it was. The dark blur struck it and boomeranged back to the woman, hitting her in the chest.

She staggered back with a grunt as the darkness slowly absorbed into her chest. She touched the spot where it had disappeared with an uneasy look on her face.

I don’t know which of us was more surprised over the turn of events. I blinked dumbly at her chest, grateful whatever she’d thrown hadn’t touched me.

Pain tightened the corners of her mouth and eyes as she glared at me over the chaos of the rebound. One of the cases of Diet Coke had exploded while the candy bars had melted into a pile of goo, escaping their wrappers to pool on the counter. The change dispenser was now on its side and the newspapers kept in a rack by the door were strewn everywhere.

“You need to go.” My voice was strong and rang with an authority I didn’t necessarily feel. “Now.”

She straightened, her back ramrod straight as she shot me a glare worthy of a grand lady from a period drama, one filled with haughty scorn and dislike.

She snatched her purse off the counter in an abrupt movement, tucking it under her arm. I watched her gather her stuff, my hand still on the gun, which was now aimed at her under the counter.

“Leave it,” I ordered when she tried to grab the donuts and the remaining intact cases of Diet Coke. My smile turned nasty. “Unless you’re planning to pay full price.”

Her expression grew livid. “You’ll get what’s coming to you, parasite.”

She lifted her gaze to the same cameras I’d glanced at earlier. Her smile turned sinister. She didn’t wait for my reply before turning and flouncing out of the gas station.

I released the breath I’d been holding and set the gun back into place. Things could have been worse. They could have been better too, but at least I was still alive.

I cast a resigned glance over the mess. I had quite a bit to clean up before dawn.

Not for the first time, I said a prayer of thanks for the charm Dahlia had given me to protect me against such unsavory encounters. I lifted the necklace with its thumb-length pendant from under my shirt.

To my left eye, it gleamed with a soft silver glow. That same glow was infused along the entirety of my own faint aura. This wasn’t the first time it had saved me from a magical attack, though it might be the last. A hairline crack ran through the middle of the stone.

I dropped it back under my shirt with a sigh. Jerry, the owner of Hermes, hadn’t been kidding when he said I’d become the number one target in town once he withdrew his protection. Over the last two months, it had become evident how many spooks had an axe to grind with vampires.

As the youngest vampire in the area, and the only one I knew of without the benefit of a clan’s protection, I was considered an easy mark. Where they wouldn’t dare challenge the vampires who were both stronger than me and possessed the full might of a clan at their back, they seemed to think killing me would settle whatever score they had, while resulting in the least amount of danger to themselves.

I’d like to say they were wrong, but they weren’t. Not entirely. As a baby vamp, I had very little personal power, except for a strange ability to see magic and a frustrating talent for finding trouble in the least likely of places. All things considered, I was significantly weaker than the weakest of spooks and all alone with no one to watch my back or avenge me should I fall. Not a good place to be when you were part of a species both envied and hated.

I sighed and looked up at the camera again. It had caught the entire confrontation on its recording. I’d have to watch it and see if the magic had shown up. Sometimes it didn’t. Magic was tricky. It didn’t always act the way you expected. If it did show up, I’d have to figure out an explanation for why an entire night’s recording was deleted.

But, first things first, I needed to deal with the dratted sign, in a way that meant it wouldn’t come back to cause me problems later.

I groped around under the counter, pulling out a box cutter before heading to the sign. It wasn’t a pair of scissors but would hopefully get the job done.

I rounded the counter and only made it a few steps before the lights flickered, the world around me darkening as if a thundercloud had invaded the postage stamp-sized store.

The dry rustle of old paper surrounded me. I realized with a start it was laughter. “Poor little vampire. Such trials you face. What’s she going to do now, I wonder?”

“Cry.”

“Surrender.”

“Bleed.”

“Die.”

Other voices echoed as they threw out their guesses.

“Perhaps we should put her out of her misery,” another voice suggested.

The theatrics were meant to be ominous, to inspire dread and fear. I remained unmoved, my expression unchanged. It seemed my tormentors had decided to make themselves known. Finally.

It was all very dramatic and might have worked had I not known an expert at this type of intimidation. The sorcerer was many things, showman included. Now there was a guy who could work a room. These punks were amateurs compared to him.

I focused, taking a look at the magic around me. Sure enough, the sign had little red prints all over it. Ones that appeared to be a cross between a small animal’s paw and a hand. That at least was vaguely creepy.

In the aisle, the shadows under the shelves deepened, becoming more dense than they should be under the fluorescent light. A normal would ascribe the shadows to a trick of the light. I knew better. Especially since I caught the impression of eyes and pointed teeth in the depths of some of those shadows.

Goblins.

I suppose it could be worse. Goblins weren’t typically considered dangerous, not unless they were part of a swarm or one of the higher goblins. These weren’t.

Thank all the gods.

I counted only five, three of whom were no bigger than my hand. Annoying but not deadly.

Sometimes it was the small wins that kept me going.

“I suggest you move along,” I told them, my smile widening to show my fangs. “My patience with your antics is fast disappearing.”

“Stupid vampire. We know you’re bluffing. You’re too weak to scare us.”

One goblin grew bold, drifting out from under the shelf and dropping some of its glamour.

The creature was no bigger than a house cat, slinking forward on all fours, its back rounded. Its skin had a dark green bordering on black tint to it.

I expected its form to be grotesque, as many folktales depicted it, but the little goblin wasn’t. It was sleek and streamlined, its face containing some human characteristics as well as something alien—something that made it all the more interesting to look at.

Its eyes were large pools of black, and sticking out of its forehead were tiny protrusions that might have been considered horns had they been a bit longer.

Like me, goblins were denizens of the night, even more susceptible to damage from the sun than a vampire.

There were many types of goblins, some powerful, some not. These looked to be minor goblins, the kind that could irritate and annoy but weren’t really dangerous.

I had to wonder if their presence here was a crime of opportunity or if someone had pointed the little assholes my way. Vampires weren’t really their preferred targets and I hadn’t done anything to draw their ire that I knew of.

“Are you sure about that?” I asked with a bravado I didn’t necessarily feel. “Because I know a couple of harpies who enjoy trying adventurous new foods. I’ve heard goblin blood is considered a delicacy among some circles.”

The goblin reared back as cries of “monster” echoed from the rest.

I leaned forward and gave them a sinister smile. “You leave me alone, and I’ll do the same for you.”

There was a dry rattling hiss as the goblins slunk away, the shadows they’d used for cover fading, until only the one who’d dropped his glamour remained.

“You’re more like your kind than you pretend.” The words were not a compliment.

“You think so?” I asked. “I don’t. Had another vampire been here, they would have killed you all without giving you the nice warning, just because you irritated them.”

I turned toward the sign. “Now me, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect peace in my place of business. I’ve got a lot of patience, but I won’t stand for you lot putting my job in jeopardy.”

I turned back to where the goblin should be, only to realize I was addressing an empty store. I sighed. Figures. At least I’d earned a little peace. That threat should keep them away for the rest of the week. After that, we would see.

I set about returning the store to its normal state of untidy orderliness. The first thing to go was the sign. I unhooked it from its stand and dragged it outside. The thin poster board was about the same height as me. It was awkward more than anything, as I carefully carried it around the side of the building.

Cutting it into small, jagged strips was harder than I’d thought. The box cutter didn’t want to slice through the thick paper, the blade dull and useless. Eventually I tossed it aside after checking to make sure there were no prying eyes or cameras watching. Finding myself alone, I grasped the sign in my hands before ripping it apart piece by piece.

Having a vampire’s strength came in handy sometimes. This was one of those times.

After reducing the sign to about twenty small pieces, I threw it in the dumpster and turned back to the interior of the station. I’d like to see them reassemble that, I thought with an evil smile.

Next, I gathered up the burst soda cans and carried them to the dumpster along with any other un-salvageable items.

I tried to save what I could, tidying the newspapers strewn about and returning the change dispenser to its normal position. A stray case of Diet Coke and a few candy bars probably wouldn’t be missed. Much more than that, and the owners might try to take some of the damaged goods out of my paycheck. I couldn’t afford the loss of income. I just had to hope and pray no one did inventory for a while.

The rest of my shift was uneventful. Only two more customers ventured inside—both human—both content to pay and go about their business without even a grunted word of greeting.

After an interminably long time, five a.m. finally rolled around.

My replacement dragged in muttering, “Good morning,” around a wide yawn.

“Tough night?” I asked Josie as another yawn cracked her jaw.

“The best kind,” she said, before making a beeline for the coffee machine.

For a gas station with ninety-nine cent coffee, its flavor wasn’t half bad. At least, that’s what I’d been told. Food and I were on a break at the moment, and beverages like coffee were one of the many things I couldn’t have.

Josie had dark circles under her eyes that said she’d probably been out partying until the early morning. Her hair was a snarled mess, barely restrained in a messy bun at the top of her head.

“Any problems?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Pretty quiet.”

By some miracle, the cameras hadn’t caught anything from my earlier encounter that might reveal the spook world. I looked mildly crazy at one point talking to myself, but that was about it.

“I don’t know how you stand that shift. I would go insane,” Josie said with a shudder.

I shrugged. “It’s not that bad. I get to catch up on my reading at least.”

Josie did a faceplant on the counter. Her words came out garbled, but I thought she said something like, “Books, bleh.”

I revised my earlier opinion regarding the dark circles being a result of partying.

“Studying not going well, I take it.”

A muffled response came along the lines of, “Studying sucks.”

Josie was in college, studying to be a nurse. She worked here for rent and spending money.

She raised her head off the counter, a crease mark on her cheek. “It’s pretty dead in here. I don’t think we’ll pick up again until closer to rush hour. You’re welcome to take off if you’d like.”

I hesitated, glancing outside and calculating how much time I had left until sunrise. It was early September and the sun wouldn’t be up until nearly seven. Plenty of time to bike home and be under the covers of my own bed before the pesky ball of fire in the sky put me out for the day.

As a baby vamp, my tolerance to the sun was a lot less than a vampire a century or so older. It meant I had to be careful, always keeping one eye on my watch. The sun probably wouldn’t kill me, not as long as I was topped up on blood. Death from sun exposure was a myth, one created after a few starved, weakened vampires caught fire after exposure. For vampires at their peak strength, it was a pesky irritant capable of giving you the worst sunburn of your life. For me, it would put me into a coma-like sleep—the kind you didn’t wake up from easily—no matter how much someone shook and slapped you.

Still, I was torn. The extra money would be nice. Summer was killing my wallet. Reduced hours of dark meant limiting my working hours, leaving me to get by on the bare minimum. I was looking forward to winter and increasing my hours and paycheck.

Accurately reading my hesitation, Josie propped her cheek on a hand and gave me a sleepy smile. “Here’s a tip. If you check out at the forty-minute mark, you still get paid for the entire hour.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “I’m not supposed to share that because they don’t want people taking advantage. Owen let me do that a few times when I was prepping for finals.”

Somehow that didn’t surprise me. The manager, Owen, had a huge crush on Josie and let her get away with things the rest of us couldn’t.

“Alright, I’ll stay until then,” I agreed.

She slapped the counter and straightened, her face brightening. “Great, now I don’t have to suffer through the next hour by myself.”

The remaining time passed quickly. Josie, it turned out, was pretty funny and made a good work buddy. She kept a running commentary on the customers who stopped to pump gas or come inside.

Before I knew it, I was clocking out and wheeling my bike from the storage room. I took a moment to look it over, not trusting the goblins had left it alone. Surprisingly, they hadn’t touched it; something I was grateful for.

As my only means of transportation, I was serious about the bike’s care and upkeep. Had they messed with it, I might actually have made good on my threat.

Or maybe not.

There was still an hour before I needed to be home. Plenty of time to bike there. The stars were beginning to fade as the sun prepared for its ascent. First light, which typically began half an hour before true sunrise, was still thirty minutes away.

The normal lethargy that plagued me during first light was still absent, but it wouldn’t be long now. It was a reminder of my limits. I could feel the sun in my chest as it lingered just under the horizon. The sensation would steadily grow stronger as sunrise approached.

Home was a second story walk-up on the outskirts of the university district. It was a plain, two story brick building composed of townhome style apartments. Mine was on the second story. I’m not sure if my place had originally been intended to be a one room apartment since the rest of the units were 2 story units, or if someone had gotten greedy for extra rent and turned the second floor into a stand-alone apartment.

When I’d first settled here, the entire complex had been little more than a slum. Since the new owner had taken over, they’d begun renovating the place, bringing everything up to code.

You’d think I’d be happy about that. Unfortunately, the new owner happened to be my sire, Thomas—a vampire I would gladly avoid for the rest of my undead life. Such was not to be, given his propensity for interference.

The cracked, unusable parking lot had been replaced and was now smooth, with sharp white lines delineating parking spots. One of them held the black Escalade my sire had given me as a gift. I still hadn’t touched it or figured out what I was going to do with it. Not that it mattered anymore, since I couldn’t even afford the gas it would take to fill it.

Gifts from vampires, I’d learned, always came with a set of strings attached to them. My sire seemed determined to get his hooks into me by any means possible, and I was just as determined to steer clear of them.

Everything to do with my sire involved hidden agendas and things not always being what they appeared. I couldn’t trust anything he did or said. I didn’t like being used, and I preferred to control my own destiny. It left me in a precarious predicament.

It didn’t help that he wasn’t afraid to use his power as my landlord to fuck with me either, as evidenced by the partially completed set of stairs to my unit.

It was not lost on me that construction on them halted right around the time I refused to use the mansion as my temporary lodging. I liked having my own place. Say what you will about the building’s condition, but I’d turned it into a home. I wasn’t willing to give that up. Not even for the opulent lodgings of the mansion.

Thomas thought by taking away my stairs he could force my hand. Not the case. As with everything in life, I adapted, and I overcame. Granted, it wasn’t easy and was growing increasingly annoying, but until my sire bored of this game, I was stuck finding new and inventive ways to access my own apartment.

I pulled a harness out of my backpack and slid into it. Once done, I shifted my backpack to my front before attaching the hooks in the back of the harness to the bike. I would have loved to leave my bike down here, but a couple of the college kids liked to play pranks. I couldn’t trust it would be here when I got back. That left me in the unenviable position of having to lug it upstairs every night.

I set one hand on the wall and began my climb, taking advantage of the easy handholds formed by the half-built stairs.“You’re just making things worse. He’ll find another way to get to you until you stop being so stubborn,” a voice said from below.

The post Dawn’s Envoy Excerpt appeared first on T.A. White.

No matter how many times I visited the Book Haven, I always had trouble believing it was a hub of supernatural knowledge. It just seemed so unassuming. A book lover’s paradise sure. With thirty two rooms crammed full of books, it was a maze that any Columbus dwelling book nerd would be overjoyed to disappear inside.

It was even popular with the out-of-town crowd since it was also one of the largest independent bookstores in the U.S. still in business. It didn’t hurt that it had that old world charm that made German Village popular with tourists and hipsters. The building started life as a saloon before at some point being taken over by word loving entrepreneurs. Since then it had grown and assimilated the neighboring general store and cinema to become the unnavigable monstrosity that it was.

I nearly tripped on the uneven brick path leading to the alleyway entrance. The path was lined by bushes and trees. Spring had come early this year and some of the plants were already beginning to bloom way ahead of schedule. Daft things didn’t realize in a day or two the weather would flip, as it always did in Ohio, and the frost would kill everything but the hardiest.

“Welcome to the Book Haven,” a man greeted me as I stepped into the tiny nook serving as the store’s entrance.

I waited as he checked out a woman and her two kids. Then I suppressed a sigh as a tall man in t-shirt and shorts stepped into the already cramped space. The guy looked like his frat days weren’t far behind him.

The greeter looked at me expectantly as the woman and her horde filed past me. I gestured to the other man and said, “You can help him first.”

“Are you sure?” the frat boy asked. He had blond hair, muscles bulging out of his body like they were trying to multiply, and towered over me by a foot.

No, I just said it because it’s the exact opposite of what I want. I fought to keep the snarkiness off my face and nodded. Why do people always ask that? I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure.

I waited, semi impatiently as the man checked out, and stepped up to the counter as soon as he left. The cashier pushed a map toward me. I glanced at it briefly and smiled. Wasn’t that cute? Not what I was here for but ok.

“I’m looking for the section on feline behavior,” I said with the politest smile I could muster.

The man paused and looked me up and down, his thin face a little skeptical at what he saw.

At five feet seven inches, I was just above average height. My grayish, blue eyes, while not a common color, were not memorable enough to stand out. If a group of people tried to describe me later, half would say my eyes were blue and the other half gray. Dark brown hair with red undertones framed a face full of angles and hard edges. The uncertain description worked in my favor as I was trying to get into somewhere I wasn’t exactly supposed to be.

I waited, hoping the code was still good from the last time I was here. Technically, I didn’t have the credentials to get into the hidden sections of the bookstore. The parts the normal public didn’t know about. The ones where people like me could find answers to their every question.

I knew I didn’t fit the profile of someone who normally requested that room. For one thing, to most of the supernatural world, my aura was too closely aligned to that of a human’s. Baby vamps barely registered on the power scale, and I was so new to the fanged ranks that I was practically in diapers.

I’d made sure to dress casually in jeans and a fitted blue t-shirt I’d gotten at a Colorado beer festival. My one nod to the slightly chilly weather was the rust colored leather jacket.

I arched one eyebrow at the man, letting him know I wasn’t pleased with the delay. He gave me a sidelong, suspicious look even as he drew a map from under the counter and handed it to me. 

Some of the tension gathering at the base of my neck leaked away.

I snatched the map and turned away, not bothering to thank him. People in this world rarely said thank you, and I didn’t want to give him one more reason to think I didn’t belong.

It worked. I couldn’t believe it, but it worked.

I headed up the rickety, wooden steps and waited on the next landing until the couple descending had passed before heading up the next set of steps.

Despite the cool factor inherent in having a bookstore in a bunch of old buildings, it was a pain in the ass maneuvering through this place. I felt like an elephant in a china shop. The place was narrow, and in many spots you had to wait until oncoming traffic passed before proceeding.

Forget trying to sit in an aisle while you read. You’d be buffeted by the continuous coming and goings of every person tramping through this place.

A chain bookstore this was not. There were no comfy chairs to sit and peruse. No fancy coffee shop connected. And it smelled faintly of unfinished wood, mold and paper.

Still, it had been in business for a long time. Even longer if you took into account the hidden face of the bookstore. The one that served people like me. Or rather, people like who I was pretending to be. Powerful, connected, dangerous.

I took a look at the map and followed the blue line through one section after another until I stood in front of a roped off staircase. It had an exit sign that said “In case of emergency.”

Got to hand it to these guys. They had a sense of humor.

I tucked the map into my back pocket and glanced both ways to make sure I wouldn’t freak any unsuspecting normal out when I disappeared down the staircase.

Coast was clear. I threw one leg over the chain and stepped onto the top stair. Or at least that was my intention.

Instead I ended up tripping and falling when my foot landed much sooner than I expected. I ended up on all fours on the other side of the chain, staring down at red carpet with gold and cream detailing.

I climbed to my feet and looked around the cavernous room. It certainly wasn’t the Book Haven, or maybe it was and the other place was just a pale imitation of this.

The ceiling towered several stories above me, so high that its depths were shrouded in shadow. Every wall was lined with row after row of book cases. So many and so high that there were ladders climbing the walls.

Unlike the normal store where the book shelves were fairly worn, thin scraps of wood only one step up from plywood, these shelves had the deep red gleam of high quality oak that had been cared for by overworked apprentices who’d no doubt spent most of their lives shining it until you could see your reflection in the wood’s depths.

It wasn’t my first time visiting this place, but I’d never been in this room.

Normally someone like me, someone low on the totem pole wouldn’t have even known this place existed, but Hermes, the courier service I worked for, had sent me on several deliveries for the hidden bookstore.

The entrance to this place changed constantly. As far as I could tell this place existed in some kind of pocket realm. That’s why I needed the map. It was the only way I could find a way inside.

The only thing I hadn’t been sure of was the code phrase. It seemed to change every time I came here. My last delivery to the caretaker was four days ago so I figured it would be good still. And I was right.

My footsteps were muted as I moved into the depths of the bookstore. It was like walking through a tomb and reminded me of some of the battlefields I’d visited with my parents as a child. It had that same quiet that seemed to shout without ever making a sound. The kind that said you were risking life and limb bringing the noise of the living into a place where only the dead should walk.

I rubbed my arms, suddenly freezing. This place hadn’t had this kind of unsettling feeling the last time I was here, or any of the times before that. It was like it knew I wasn’t supposed to be here. I pushed forward, telling myself that I was letting my imagination run away with me.

The only thing this place seemed to have in common with the human side was the maze like labyrinth that its rooms formed. The passageways twisted and turned, narrowing unexpectedly before opening up into great rooms full of books and other items.

I paused by a table with a gold shield displayed on it. There was a great oak tree embossed on the metal, the fine detailing catching and sending the light rippling along the branches.

I drew closer, wondering what type of tools the maker used to give it such a lifelike look. I reached out to touch, almost anticipating the feel of live wood under my fingers.

“I wouldn’t,” a voice said next to my ear.

I jumped and snatched my hand back, straightening from where I’d bent closer to examine the shield. I hadn’t realized I’d crossed an entire room to examine it until now.

“That thing has a habit of bespelling people. It’s quite dangerous. If it likes you, it’ll draw you into its internal world. If it doesn’t, you’ll just stand there and starve yourself to death. End result is the same either way. You die.”

A man with curly brown hair and skin the color of walnut gave me a friendly smile as if he told people about the dangers of the homicidal shield all the time.

I stepped back from the item in question, not wanting to test my luck.

The man watched me with a bland gaze. Friendly, but not too friendly, as if he had all the time in the world to wait for me to do whatever it was I was going to do.

“Do you work here?” I asked. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“Nor I you.”

There was an awkward pause. Awkward on my side at least. The silence didn’t seem to bother him in the least. It was like being watched by a cat, one that was utterly disinterested in your future or past because your actions had no bearing on its feline superiority.

“Um, I’m looking for something. Perhaps you could help me.”

The man waited.

This guy was definitely a little weird, but then I was in a supernatural library with a moving entrance. I couldn’t really expect anything less.

“I’m looking for a book.”

The man smiled, his light brown eyes warming with laughter. “Well, we are in a bookstore.”

Ah. That’s right. Stupid statement.

Looked like the guy had a sense of humor. It was a relief actually. Made him seem slightly more human, which when standing in a supernatural bookstore next to a shield that ate people was surprisingly reassuring.

I gave him a strained smile. “I’m not really sure what I’m looking for. I mean I don’t have a name or anything to give you.”

This was a lot harder than I thought. For some reason, I thought I could just waltz in, find what I was looking for and then waltz out. No interaction with other people necessary and no one would be the wiser about my visit.

That hadn’t happened and now I was awkwardly explaining myself to the man with the enigmatic gaze.

I took another step away from the shield. You could never be too careful with magical artifacts that might eat you. I meandered toward another table, taking the time to get my bravado back.

This plan would work or it wouldn’t. If it didn’t, they’d throw me out of the store. Probably ban me for life, which would affect any runs that might end here. They’d probably let my boss, Jerry, at Hermes know, in effect guaranteeing my subsequent firing.

I needed to stop thinking about everything that could go wrong. It was too late to turn back, and I didn’t have time to have a panic attack now.

I met the man’s eyes again, aware that they hadn’t budged from me during my whole internal motivational speech. That was alright. It was creepy, but who wasn’t a little creepy among the spooks.

“I’m hoping you can point me to a book that might have a rundown of who’s who on the supernatural side of things. If it has anything to say about the inner politics of the different factions that would be great too.”

“That’s a big request.”

Hence the reason I was essentially breaking into this place. I’d looked everywhere else. No one had anything that could act as a primer of the different species and factions making up this magically fucked up world. Or at least no one who was willing to deal with me, the no-power baby vamp who was marked by a sorcerer and at odds with the vampires.

“I’m aware.”

He finally looked away, his focus turning inward as he sank into thought.

“There might be something.”

Really? Hell yes. Maybe this hadn’t been such a bad plan after all.

“That’s great. Where is it? How much will it cost?”

I didn’t have much money, but perhaps I could put it on a layaway plan or something.

His lips took on a sly quirk.

I paused, not liking the way he suddenly looked like the cat who caught the canary.

“The where is simple enough, you just have to find it. As for the cost, that’s another matter. Some might say it will cost you nothing. And everything.”

Was that a riddle? It certainly sounded like it. I hated riddles. My thought patterns were too linear, and I rarely guessed the correct answer. Maybe I should start looking for this thing on my own. No way did I want to accidentally promise my first born and be stuck in a Rumpelstiltskin situation. Not that, as a vampire, I could even have a first born, let alone a second.

“What would I do with a first born?” the man asked in a bemused voice.

I narrowed my eyes at him. A mind reader. Must be pretty powerful to get through my internal defenses. I’d thought they were pretty secure after the incident with the draugr. The one that landed me in my current situation.

Guess not.

In my distraction, had I dropped some of the layers? 

The man gave no visual reaction at my reinforcing my mental defenses. Had what I done worked? I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t slam shut a door, effectively kicking the mental peeping tom out. The defenses were more organic and relied on confusion and misdirection as they created a mazelike forest in my mental landscape.

Aiden, a vampire I had met briefly during the incident, told me it was rare for someone to create a fortress based on nature. He said it like my mental forest made me rare, the kind of rare that might be referred to as a freak in ruder company. But I might have been reading into that.

“Maybe this book isn’t for me,” I said.

His smile was sweet and innocent, not the sly one of before. No way was I buying what he was selling. This had devil’s bargain written all over it. The last thing I needed was to get sucked into another situation that was well over my head. I was barely treading water as it was.

  “It’d be a pity if you walked away. The piece I have in mind would be perfect for your purposes.”

I gave him a tight smile. “Somehow I think the price is a little steeper than I want to pay.”

“Hm,” he said, his eyes blank.

I finally placed what it was about him that was making me uneasy. His expressions were only surface deep. As if someone had taken clay and begun to make the facial expression that matched the feeling but forgot to make the rest of the features reflect that feeling. His lips smiled but the skin around them stayed still, no dimples or wrinkles. The skin around his eyes and on his forehead remained smooth and unmarked.

Yeah. I didn’t know what this guy was, but he definitely wasn’t human.

Time to carefully extricate myself from this conversation and make my way towards the exit.

“The cost is not high.”

I stuffed my hands in my pockets, fingering the silver knife hidden there. “You know what they say, ‘beware things that sound too good to be true.’”

His expression registered only slight surprise, as if he was no longer making the effort to appear human.

He could definitely still read my mind, or else he was really good at reading the situation.

“I have never heard that saying before.”

I bet he hadn’t heard a lot of sayings.

“Not true,” he said. “I’ve heard this one – ‘There are more things in heaven and earth.’”

Shakespeare. Lovely. I hated reading that play in high school.

I opened my mouth to respond and stopped, studying his inquisitive expression. He seemed awfully invested in me taking whatever it was he was trying to sell. It put me even more on guard.

I wanted knowledge but not at the expense of my life.

“You’re right. You do know human expressions, but I’m afraid I’m just not interested in this amazing book of yours.” I pointed behind me as I backed up. “I think I’ll just be going now.”

I started for the door.

“But you haven’t found what you were looking for yet.”

This guy just wasn’t giving up.

I gave him a strained smile, not pausing as I headed for room’s exit.  “Thanks, but that’s life.”

His lips frowned. I say his lips because the rest of his face didn’t move. This was really starting to creep me out. I was beginning to realize why only certain people were allowed into this place. Only the powerful and dangerous could make it in and out without death stalking every move.

I tried not to think of the weapons I was carrying on me, not certain that I could fight him off if he attacked.

He started forward as I neared the door and I bolted, darting over the threshold and down one twisting hallway after another. I shot a glance behind me, cursing when I saw him keeping pace with me, not getting closer but also not falling further behind.

I had no idea where I was or how to get back to the entrance. This was bad.

I rounded the corner and stumbled over a book lying in the middle of the floor. I barely caught myself from falling.

“What are you doing here?” a querulous voice asked. The tone said the owner wouldn’t accept any half ass excuses either.

I looked up to find a pair of bright blue eyes looking out at me from a face so lined with wrinkles that it was hard to believe the owner had ever been anything but ancient. He looked like a sharpei. Even his wrinkles had wrinkles.

“I’m not talking to hear myself speak,” he snapped.

“Uh.” I glanced over my shoulder to find the other man had disappeared.

“Oh, good lord, it’s like talking to a brick wall. No, I take that back. A brick wall would have a more intelligent conversation.”

My stomach sank. I recognized him. He was the shop keeper I usually dealt with when making my deliveries. Talk about out of the pan and into the fire.

“I was just trying to find the exit,” I said. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize me. It’s not like we’d had a lot of conversations in the past. He’d barely deigned to acknowledge me on the rare occasions I stopped by. “Your other shop keeper was showing me the way.”

“Other shopkeeper? What shopkeeper? I’m the only one who carries that title.” The man’s eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. I recognize you. You work for that upstart Jerry.”

Damn. Guess he’d paid more attention than I thought.

“Yeah. You work for his little company. What was it called?” He looked around as if the name was just lingering in the air, waiting for him to see it.

“Hermes,” I said. No point denying it now. If he knew Jerry’s name, he’d eventually be able to tie it back to me.

“That’s it.” He pointed at me. “It still doesn’t explain why you’re inside the store.”

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I was looking for a book. Why else would I be here?”

His laugh was a cackle suited to any movie villain. “There are more reasons than there are stars in the galaxy. How did you even get in?”

“Same way most do.”

“Be more specific. There are a million ways to gain entrance.”

I’d really hoped to keep that part secret.

His eyebrows, two white caterpillars perching just above his sunken in eyes, rose in question as if to say ‘today’.

“I asked the cashier at The Book Haven for a map to the feline behavior department,” I admitted.

He harrumphed. “That shouldn’t have gotten you inside. The code changed about five minutes after you dropped my package off last time.”

I blinked. On one hand, his response shouldn’t have been surprising. It was only good security to change passwords and codes once an unknown entity or hired errand girl was gone. I just hadn’t expected it to be so instantaneous.

It did bring up the question of why the password had worked for me.

He shuffled over to a book case and pulled down a red leather bound book and flipped through its pages as he grumbled to himself.

He ran his finger down the page, pausing at one entry.

“Ah ha, I was right. The code changed three minutes after you left.”

He peered back up at me, his eyes a bright spot of blue amidst his wrinkles.

I shrugged, not knowing what response he wanted from me. I couldn’t change the truth.

“I don’t know what to tell you. That’s the code I used with the cashier. Maybe your system’s broken.”

“Impossible,” he snapped. “It’s never once had even a hiccup in all the years I’ve been the shopkeeper.”

Judging by his wrinkles, that’d been a long, long time.

His eyes sharpened on the book at my feet. “What’s that?” his voice deepened to nearly a growl. If I hadn’t been staring at the old man in front of me, I would have sworn his voice was that of a young man.

I looked down at the book he was trying to incinerate with his gaze. Its cover was plain leather with the title embossed in it. It was a deep brown and the pages cream colored.

I bent down and picked it up. Out loud I read the words on the spine, “A study of the unexplained. The uninitiated’s guide to the supernatural.”

“Let me see it.” He shuffled forward.

I held it out to him, but he didn’t touch it, just peered at it like it was a snake preparing to strike.

“Well, that explains that,” he murmured.

“Explains what?”

He gave me a gimlet glare. “Everything.”

He turned around and shuffled away.

Well, that wasn’t dire or anything.

“Are you going to follow me so I can show you to the exit, or are you going to stand there looking like a great lump of clay? If it’s the second, you won’t last long. Things roam these shelves looking for an easy target like you to consume.”

I looked down at the book in my arms. “What do you want me to do with the book?”

“Bring it with you,” he snapped. Under his breath, he mumbled, “It’s not like it’d stay put anyway.”

Pretending I hadn’t heard that second part, I hurried after him, book in tow. Staying off the dinner menu worked well for my long term goals. The sooner I could put this place behind me the better. I never wanted to be this deep in the bookstore again.

He was mostly silent as he led me through the maze-like stacks of books. In contrast to the wide open rooms I’d wandered through before, he led me through hallway after small hallway of claustrophobia inducing spaces.

“Tell me about the other shopkeeper,” he said abruptly. He sounded grim. Like he expected me to tell him the world was ending soon.

Seeing no harm in telling him about the creepy man I’d met, I said, “He had curly brown hair, brown eyes.”

“Not that, you half-wit. I don’t care what he looked like. Tell me what he said.”

I pulled a face behind him.

“I can see you.”

I paused, giving him a suspicious look. He hadn’t turned, so unless he had eyes in the back of his head, I doubted that. Unless he was another mind reader.

I visualized burning the book in my hands, frowning when it pulsed with warmth against my fingers. If warmth was capable of giving off a feeling, this would have felt like indignation. I put that thought aside.

The old man failed to respond to my visualization, which meant he probably was not a mind reader. Good. Those guys always unsettled me. I don’t like anybody knowing my most private thoughts. It’s like having a peeping tom with x-ray vision spying on you in your most intimate moments.

The old man stopped and fixed a cranky stare on me.

“Right.” What had the other man said? “He wanted to sell me a book.”

“What kind of book?”

I debated how much to tell him. Couldn’t hurt now. I was already in enough trouble. “A rundown of all the supernaturals and an insider’s guide to the politics between the different factions.”

He harrumphed again. “You wouldn’t need such a thing if you would simply allow a clan to claim you. They would teach you everything you need to know.”

Or only what they wanted me to know.

“Yes, yes. I’ve already been over this with the vampires. I don’t need to go over it with a grumpy bookseller too.”

He snorted. “Cocky and arrogant. What’s wrong? Afraid of losing control of your life?”

I gave his back a searching look, not liking how closely he’d guessed my motivations. Even Liam hadn’t hit the nail on the head so aptly.

Liam was a vampire I’d met last fall. The first vampire I’d met. Well, if you didn’t count the bastard who turned me. I didn’t. I tended to call him Jackass in my head. Liam was also the vampire who said he would teach me a little more about this world, and more importantly, a little more about what it meant to be vampire.

I hadn’t heard much from him since that promise, which me to breaking into a restricted bookstore trying to bluff my way towards obtaining more knowledge.

“Sure, I guess you could say that.” There was no point in denying it.

He gave me a gap toothed smile. “Good for you. Maybe you’re smarter than you look.”

We turned a corner and suddenly we were back in the cavern I started in. The man’s head swiveled as he took in the expanse of books.

He cackled. “I haven’t seen this section in a while.”

How big was this place? Never mind. I didn’t think my mind could handle the answer.

I tried to hand the book I’d been carrying to him. He waved me off and took a step back.

“What was the price you agreed to?” he asked.

“We didn’t,” I said. “He tried to tell me it was nothing and everything, but it sounded like it was too good to be true so I refused.”

Well that and he had seriously creeped me out by that point.

I tried to hand it back to the shop keeper again. He refused to take it, his old man face frowning at me.

“Keep it. You’ve already paid the price, and it wouldn’t stay with me anyway.”

My hands hung in the air, holding out the book, while I processed what he said.

“No, I haven’t paid anything or agreed to any payment.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean it hasn’t already been paid. Look, the price really is nothing.”

“And everything,” I protested. I remembered that part. It was the part that had tripped my internal alarms.

He waved my protest away. “That means nothing. No worries. The book is yours.”

“But I don’t want the damn book.”

“Too late now.” He waved his hand at the door to the human side. “Out you go.”

“Wait a minute. You can’t make me pay for something if I never agreed to the deal.” I’d learned this much from the sorcerer at least.

My phone rang before the shop keeper could respond. I glanced down and pulled it out of my pocket. It said ‘Hermes Calling.’

I looked up to find myself alone in the stacks of books. I spun around. Damn it, where’d he go?

The phone rang again.

I answered, “What?”

The person on the other end sucked in a breath. “Is that how you answer when representing the company?”

It is when they have possibly caused me to agree to a deal I had no intention of agreeing to.

“What do you want, Janice?”

“You know my name isn’t Janice,” Beatrix snapped.

I did, but she looked like a Janice so that’s what I called her. It didn’t hurt that I knew she hated it, which is why I did it.

“What do you want?”

“You need to come into the office.”

“It’s my night off. I have plans.” I glanced around the empty book cases. Or at least I had before the book keeper left me standing holding a book I didn’t pay for.

“Too bad. Jerry needs all hands on deck.”

“Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”

Even if my excursion hadn’t gone as planned, I still wanted the rest of the night to figure out what to do next.

“It can. If you want to be fired.” Beatrix’s voice was smug over the phone. She knew I wouldn’t risk that.

“Fine,” I gritted out. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Make it twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes? Are you crazy? I have to go home first and grab my shit before heading to the office. No way can I get there in twenty minutes.”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses; just get your ass here in twenty.”

There was a click and then silence. I looked at my phone screen. That harpy had hung up on me.

Guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. She had made no secret from the moment we met that she didn’t like me.

I took one last glance around the empty stacks before glancing down at the book in my hands. It looked so harmless with its leather cover and simple design, but then I think most books had that in common.

What should I do with it? Leave it behind or take it with me? The shopkeeper seemed adamant that I take it, even going so far to say that whatever its price was had already been paid.

Might as well keep it for now seeing as there was no one to hand it off to. I could always come back later to try to return it.

I headed to the exit for the normal side of the bookstore. Making the meeting was not going to be easy.

The post Midnight’s Emissary Excerpt appeared first on T.A. White.

Late. And I fucking hated being late.

Even if this job hadn’t been reliant on me delivering the goods on time, I’d still be pissed about missing the deadline.

Damn the accident on Fifth. When would people learn texting and driving just don’t mix? The resulting fender bender backed everything up for miles. If I hadn’t been on my bike, there would have been no hope of me making the destination on time.

I leaned forward and pedaled harder. Three years in the military had reinforced the habits of a lifetime. Fifteen minutes early; you’re on time. You’re on time, you’re late. And if you’re late, well, you might as well just start pushing.

These days being late carried worse consequences than muscle failure. That’s why even with my thighs burning in protest and my chest heaving, I stood and pedaled faster.

A right and then a left and I’d be there. I could make it. No reason to tarnish a perfect record.

I veered around a stopped vehicle and narrowly missed an oncoming car before jumping the curb and making the last turn. I braked hard, hopping off at the same time. No doubt I left several drivers in my wake, cursing my existence.

No time to put a lock on the bike. Not my first choice when in the Short North. Though a trendy, upscale destination just outside the Columbus downtown, bikes were still a popular target for kids and vagrants looking to make a quick buck. In high school, my boyfriend and his friends used to come down here and egg cars. Why, was anybody’s guess.

I was rushed for time so I had to pray that my beat up old bike would escape attention. I yanked the seat off the bike. Hopefully, that would delay a would-be thief long enough for me to complete my business.

Adjusting my messenger bag, I checked the name of the store against the one in my notes. Right where I was supposed to be.

Located in an old brick building off High Street, the name ‘Elements’ was etched in silver lettering complete with one of those flourish things at the end. The shop window had an attractive display of a skeleton in a top hat, holding a glass titled ‘Potions’ while sitting on a funky patterned sofa.

The brief ding of a bell announced my arrival as I stepped into a maze of touristy candles, gothic necklaces and other paraphernalia I didn’t recognize. The small aisle was narrow and overgrown with items just waiting to be knocked over. I clasped my bag tightly. It would not be a good idea to break anything in this place.

A witch owned Elements. Getting on her bad side was something I’d prefer to avoid.

I made my way over to the woman next to a cash register. A skull candle sat next to the change tray. It was actually pretty cool. I wondered how it would look in my kitchen.

The girl wore all black and her face was coated in way too much makeup. Her blond hair was plastered to her head and pin-straight with a severe part in the middle. She didn’t look up as I stopped before her.

“Delivery for Miriam,” I said.

The girl flipped another page in her magazine, not acknowledging me. I didn’t have time for this. There was less than a minute to get the package into its owner’s hands.

As the girl turned the next page, my hand darted forward, stopping the page from completing its movement.

Slowly and precisely, I said, “Delivery for Miriam.”

A pair of washed out blue eyes, rimmed in bright blue eyeliner, lifted to mine. With the disdain only the young could summon, she nodded at a door hidden behind a purple curtain embroidered with black and silver beads.

“Thanks.”

I didn’t know why I bothered. The girl had already returned to her magazine.

I moved as quickly as I could, without running, through the store. I’d learned on my first job for Hermes Courier Service that running would not be tolerated. Appearing rushed was a good way to get fired. I needed this job a lot more than it needed me so I was stuck moving at a snail’s pace when every ounce of me screamed for speed.

The curtain led to a staff room complete with fridge, microwave and laminate table. Even with the time constraint I couldn’t help blinking dumbly at the blond seated at the table calmly flipping cards.

Not what I had expected of a store owned by someone belonging to the Coven.

It was even less expected to find the proprietor playing what looked to be Solitaire.

“Miriam?”

“Yes?”

“I have a delivery for you.” I stepped forward and pulled my phone from my pocket.

With a swipe of my fingers, I pulled up the delivery verification app and held the device out to her. She rested her forefinger lightly on the screen until it beeped. Before sliding it back in my pocket, I glanced down to make sure it said confirmed. Even more important, the words still showed green. It meant I’d made it in under deadline. If I hadn’t, it would have turned red, and I’d have been screwed.

“You cut it close,” Miriam said, already turning back to her game.

Pausing in the act of pulling the package out of my bag, I grimaced. No kidding.

“Another minute and I could have solved my ingredient shortage,” Miriam said, eyeing my body with an appraising eye.

Oh. That would have been unfortunate. And probably painful.

I’d never had that as a consequence.

Hermes Courier Service was special. Its owner guaranteed satisfaction of service. Things like merchandise reaching its intended destination in one piece, and more importantly, on time. Failure resulted in a penalty clause kicking in, usually at the client’s discretion. This was normally something simple, like working as unpaid help for a predetermined length of time, but the penalty could be anything the employer wanted. The more expensive the job, the nastier the penalty.

I’d never been late so I hadn’t bothered to inquire about this job’s penalty clause. I may have also been more interested in the money.

“Right,” I eventually said, handing over the small package. It was no bigger than a deck of cards and wrapped in brown paper and tied with red twine.

As always, I had no idea what was in it.

The witch set down her cards and took the package from me. Dressed in jeans and a bright yellow shirt, Miriam was different in almost every way from the girl watching the front counter. Except the color of her hair. Miriam’s makeup was done with a light hand and flattered her large green eyes. If I met her at a bar one evening, I would have assumed she was a young professional only a couple of years out of college with a normal job, something like a graphic designer. Of the two, the girl out front seemed more likely to be a witch.

“Not all of us embrace the human’s depiction of us,” Miriam said.

I shifted back and eyed the witch warily.

Miriam looked up from her game with a sardonic lift of her eyebrow. “I didn’t read your mind, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Since that’s exactly what I was thinking, I didn’t feel much better even with her assurance.

“Your face is surprisingly open for a vampire.”

Crap. That was supposed to be a secret.

“Relax.” Miriam turned back to her game and flipped another card. “I wouldn’t be much of a witch if I couldn’t tell if someone was supernatural or not.”

While slightly more reassuring than the thought of Miriam being a mind reader, it didn’t solve the issue of her knowing I was a vampire. I wasn’t exactly in hiding but I also wasn’t ‘out’.

Miriam didn’t give me time to dwell on what I should do or if I should even do anything. “What news do you bring me, courier?”

I settled down to the second half of my job. That of acting as a verbal news source.

One of the things I’d learned since my involuntary transformation to one of the fanged was that the different species of the supernatural world didn’t play well together. It was kind of like the Hatfield’s and the McCoy’s only with many more families.

Information was a prized commodity. My job allowed me to go anywhere as long as there was a package to be delivered. This gave me unique access that Hermes clients were willing to pay for and pay well.

“Another human family was found murdered.”

“I could have learned that from the human media. Tell me something I couldn’t find out for myself.” Miriam stared down at her cards with a frown.

“There’s been talk of a task force being put together.”

Miriam snorted. “There’s always talk. Nothing ever comes from it. Everybody will want to be in charge but nobody will want to donate their people for it.”

“I don’t know. Fear does funny things. They might be willing to set aside differences to get to the bottom of the murders and disappearances.”

Everyone was spooked. I could see it in their eyes, hear it in their voices. The last time I’d seen something similar I’d been in a war zone.

It had started with disappearances at the beginning of summer. Mostly from the smaller enclaves. The ones who weren’t strong or under the protection of someone strong were the first to vanish. A few dryads from the Park of Roses gone in one night. From there the perpetrator moved on to the bigger groups. A sorcerer found smoldering in his bed. A few shifters torn apart like they were ragdolls. Shifters were strong too. Anything that could do that was not something you wanted coming after you.

It wasn’t limited to the supernatural world either. Humans were being slaughtered in their beds. Police were horrified at the grisly remains but helpless to figure out who—or what—was doing it.

The only common thread in all this was that nobody knew anything about what was doing it. Not species, gender, or name. Nothing.

I lifted one shoulder. “If a few more disappear, it might give them incentive to work together.”

Miriam propped her chin on one hand. “You’re so young.”

I mentally snorted. I hadn’t felt young for a long time. Not since I’d come back from war. And not since my entire world view had been readjusted to include things that went bump in the night.

That was rich coming from her. She didn’t look any older than I did.

“How old are you?” Miriam asked.

What could it hurt to humor the client?

“28.”

“And how long have you been a vampire?”

I pretended to think about it. It was mostly for show. I knew exactly how long it had been.

“About two years.”

Miriam turned back to her game. “Once you’ve been part of our world a little longer, you’ll see we never really change. The different species will never successfully work together. Too much bad blood between us.”

Right. I didn’t agree, but it also wasn’t my place to argue with a client.

Miriam waved a hand, dismissing me. “Ask Angela for your payment.”

Guess my job here was done.

Before turning to go, I paused. “If you move the black nine to the red ten, you can clear a spot and move a king there.”

I was through the curtain moments later, stopping only long enough to get my payment from the Goth girl, Angela.

My bike was right where I left it. Missing a seat of course, but that was easily fixed.

Pushing off, I headed home. It was just after midnight and that had been my last job. There’d been fewer deliveries to make than normal. I had hours of free time stretching before me. I’d miss the cash but it was nice to have the rest of the evening to myself.

Being a vampire had its advantages. Long life and near miraculous healing being among them. The hours? Not so much. Only being able to go out at night severely limited my free time. I’d always loved summer but found myself wishing the past few months would fly by. Having less than eight hours of dark to move around had been challenging both personally and professionally.

It’s one of the reasons I worked at Hermes. The owner might be a complete troll but at least he understood my special needs. More than I could say for most potential employers.

With fall firmly upon us, it meant lengthening nights and more time to work and play.

Now that I had a rare night off, I planned to take advantage.

Hm.

What should I do first? Most stores were closed, so that was out. It was a weeknight so my old friends would be firmly asleep. Same with my family. I could go for a bike ride. But I did that most nights, all night. I wanted to do something different. Something I never had time for.

Who was I kidding? There was nothing to do at this time of night. It was kind of sad really. A rare chance down the drain.

Might as well head to the grocery store for my shopping before heading home. Maybe I could watch a few episodes of Firefly on Netflix before dawn.

Yeah. Vampirism was really paying off for me.

The grocery store was mostly empty at this time of night. Only students and the rare frantic parent walked its fluorescent lit aisles. There were maybe five people total in the store, including the stock boy, cashier and me.

I wheeled past the produce aisle and headed for the meat section.

Not all of the myths about vampires were true. Thank God. I could still eat, which considering my life-long love affair with food was a blessing. Never to taste chocolate or the black raspberry ice cream from Graeters? Might as well kill me where I stood.

Food didn’t carry the same nutrients as it had before. Mostly it passed through my system doing nothing to help. Too much of it would make me sick, but in moderation I could still eat some of my favorites as long as I was careful.

The one exception was red meat. I could eat as much of that as my stomach could hold. I think it had to do with the blood and iron content, but I’d never had anyone to ask. All I knew was it hit the spot in a way even black raspberry ice cream couldn’t.

And the rarer the better. Yum. I think I drooled.

Two years ago I’d been returning with my unit from Afghanistan. I was a 25V, a combat camera for those in the civilian world. I, like so many of my fellow soldiers, was eager to hit the town after 362 days locked on a FOB where the closest I got to alcohol was what was in my mouthwash, and the height of entertainment was watching dust storms blow in.

That night was where my life took a serious detour from the path I’d planned for it. My night began like so many other young twenty somethings. I met a stranger. He was cute. I was horny, as fraternization is strictly forbidden while in country and I’ve never been one to break the rules. I’ve always had an irrational fear of jail, and it didn’t really matter if breaking the rules would actually lead to a jail cell. At least back then. Now, most nights I break three laws before midnight.

That’s the only excuse I have for lowering my guard for some strange man when I’m normally extremely cautious. So cautious that friends have accused me of being unreasonably paranoid when it comes to men.

Not that night, though. That night I had to be wild and carefree and in love with being home. The world was my oyster and nothing could touch me. I’d survived a year in a warzone getting shot at, after all. The states were a cake walk after that, right?

Not so much.

It was quick when it happened. I didn’t even see it coming. He’d isolated me from my friends without me even realizing it. Before I knew it, I was held tightly against him and his teeth were in my neck. Then I was discarded like so much trash. Woke up the next night lying on a gurney being wheeled to the morgue. I scared the daylights out of the attendee when I sat up in my body bag.

There were a lot of screams exchanged between the two of us before it was assumed the doctors had made a mistake in pronouncing me dead on arrival.

The authorities were called. My statement was taken and then they called my military chain of command.

Lucky for me, the captain on duty owed me big. Even luckier, he was part of this new world I suddenly found myself in. He’s the one who got me put on profile, allowing me to stay in my room during the day and ultimately processed out of the military. That last one I’m still not too happy about, but it couldn’t be helped. What good is a soldier who’s useless from the time the sun rises to the time it sets?

He even got me the job with Hermes. Not that that’s saying much, but it keeps me from having to move back in with my parents.

I pulled a tub of cottage cheese out of the display case and eyed it with uncertainty. I used to love cottage cheese, but ever since my change it tasted funny.

Shrugging, I put it in my cart. Just because I bought it didn’t mean I had to eat it. People from my old life still stopped by now and then. They’d expect me to have some health food in the fridge. It’s what the old me would have done. I was careful to show them what they wanted. It was safer for everyone that way.

The bottom of my cart barely littered with items, I headed to check out. Being in the grocery store was depressing me tonight. It reminded me of all the things I’d lost. I hated getting maudlin. What’s done was done. Truthfully, most nights being a vampire wasn’t so bad.

My sneakers squeaked against the linoleum as I wheeled my cart over to the cashier, bypassing the self-pay kiosks. The ones at this store tended to go a bit buggy after midnight. Even if they worked perfectly, I would have chosen the cashier. I needed human interaction.

I placed my groceries on the belt and wheeled my cart to the other end. The cashier’s face was bored as he slid each item over the scanner. He was a college kid, his face all sharp angles and so incredibly young.

“That’ll be $21.06.”

I handed him a twenty and a five dollar bill. He took it, hitting the cash button on the register. It beeped but didn’t open.

“What?” The cashier looked slightly more alert now. He hit the button twice more. “Come on. Not again.”

He felt along the register, the boredom now completely gone from his eyes and his motions becoming slightly more frantic when he didn’t immediately find what he was looking for.

“Oh no. No. No. No. My manager will kill me if I’ve lost the key again.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a pair of translucent wings disappear behind one of my plastic bags. Pixies. Great. I’d have to avoid this place for the next few weeks until the little bastards moved on.

Pixies were the magpies of the supernatural world. They tended to appropriate things that interested them only to discard them soon after. A lot of times when humans misplaced things, it was pixies at work. They love mischief and helping someone “lose” an item is right up their alley.

On one of my first jobs, a few managed to stow away in my carrier bag. I was new and still trying to figure this whole world out. I didn’t know to guard against the pests. Hell, I hadn’t even known what they were. They’d made life impossible in my home for nearly two months before they got bored and moved on. More than a year and half later, I still found things they’d hidden in the most random places.

I was not going to chance them hopping a ride again.

Taking pity on the cashier, I pointed to the bags. “Have you checked the bags yet? You may have placed it over there.”

The cashier rounded on me, “The key never moves. It should be right here.”

I held my hands up and motioned for him to calm down. “Hey, just trying to be helpful. Obviously the key has moved. Might as well check the area thoroughly before panicking.”

Rolling his eyes to make it obvious he was just humoring me, he rustled through the bags.

“I don’t see-” His voice trailed off and he held up the key.

He looked at me suspiciously. I shrugged.

He didn’t say anything as he unlocked the drawer and gave me my change.

I smiled and told him to have a nice day as I grabbed my bags and walked out. As soon as I was through the doors, I dumped everything on the ground and shook the bags out. I inspected every item thoroughly before putting them back in the plastic bag.

Groceries taken care of, I headed home. My apartment was a one bedroom walk up located right outside the campus district. I’m about eighty percent sure the rickety wooden staircase leading to the second floor entrance wasn’t up to code.

My place was small, and while the area wasn’t rough it also wasn’t nice. Most of my neighbors were college kids or grad students.

Things went missing around here all the time so I hoisted my bike onto my shoulder and carried it up the stairs. A porch light illuminated the steps, not that I really needed it. Vampirism came with improved night vision. I’d say I had the vision equivalent of a cat if I knew what that equivalent was.

At the top of the landing, I propped the bike against the rail and reached in my mailbox. Pulling a cinnamon spice container out, I shrugged off my bag before emptying its contents on to the wooden landing. I liberally doused everything with the cinnamon and shook it a few times over my bag.

A soft sneeze, and then something darted past me, faster than my eyes could track.

Ha. Served the little bastard right.

Pixies disliked cinnamon. It affected them much like ragweed affected humans only about three times worse. They wouldn’t linger long in an area that contained it.

It was one of the most effective, low cost methods I’d found for warding off pests. Much cheaper than a charm from a witch and just as effective.

Satisfied no other pixies lurked in my items, I dumped everything back into the bag and wheeled the bike inside, propping it inside the entryway.

My kitchen was small, just a fridge, stove and microwave, with barely any counter space. Since food was optional for me, I didn’t really need counter space any more. It only took a few minutes to pack away my groceries.

I grabbed a wine glass out of the cupboard and fished a bottle from the fridge. The dark liquid was mesmerizing as I poured it into my glass. I unconsciously licked my lips, my stomach rumbling. I was already anticipating that first sip.

The blood tasted cool and crisp as it slid down my throat. I could practically feel the tissues soaking up the liquid. In seconds, it was gone.

I set the glass down, licking my lips free of any blood. God, I’d really needed that.

A stray spot of red drew my eye to the counter. I stared at it transfixed. I must have spilled a drop.

My eyes drifted to the clock. 1:07. I didn’t have it in me to walk away from that drop, but I could wait. I had enough discipline for that. Five minutes. If I ever wanted to have full control of myself, I needed to start exercising will power. 

I could do this. No problem.

My finger tapped against the counter anxiously. I let go and crossed my arms in front of me. My eyes never strayed from that drop.

Imagine the worst craving you’ve ever had. You know, the kind you get for that last piece of pizza after a stressful day at work. You’ve been thinking about it all day and remembering how it tasted last night and imagining the hot cheese on your tongue, the springy dough as you bit into it. Now take that craving and magnify it by a factor of about ten. That might give you some idea of what it’s like to crave blood.

I’d be tempted to compare it to how a junky feels staring down their next fix, but I’ve never done drugs so I can’t be too sure of that.

Either way, blood was addicting and damn near impossible to resist. I was determined though. I was getting better at fighting temptation too. When I’d first been brought over, I would have licked that drop away almost as soon as it hit the counter. I also would have licked the entire glass in an attempt to get every speck of the life giving nectar.

These little exercises in self-restraint were torturous but oh so necessary. One day it might even save someone’s life.

And time.

The five minutes were up. I forced myself to use my finger to swipe it up rather than just licking it. My tongue darted out to catch the drop. My eyes closed in bliss. So good.

I recapped the bottle, putting it back in the fridge where it had plenty of company.

Feeling good now that I’d had a top up, I changed into a pair of pink flannel pants and a loose t-shirt before grabbing a bag of chips and settling onto the couch.

What should I watch tonight? I’d just finished a sci-fi show last night and was in the mood for something different. Drama? Nah, I needed something a little more light hearted than that.

I navigated to one of the funnier shows on my list and sat back, prepared to follow Nathan Fillion around as he solved crime while keeping up a running stream of banter with his female costar.

The post Shadow’s Messenger Excerpt appeared first on T.A. White.

“You’re lost,” her sister’s imaginary voice whispered.

“You have to have a destination to be considered lost.”

And Eva had no destination. That was a luxury for someone else, someone who hadn’t fled their home in fear for their life.

Branches creaked in the slight breeze. The forest below their canopy cool and dark, full of shadows and mystery.

The place she’d chosen as her new home was called the Hags’ Forest because of the trees which really did look like hags, their forms hunched and misshapen, gray silk-like hair spiraling from their crowns to brush against the forest floor in places.

Walking beneath them left you with the feeling of eyes on your back. A silent presence that lasted until you felt the sun on your face again.

Eva had never feared the forest or the hags as so many in her village had. To her, they were old and dear friends. They’d been a source of comfort, a place she could retreat to when the village became stifling. The hags had taken her pain and loneliness, giving only silent acceptance back.

They were her friends, watching over her while she uncovered the hidden bounties under their canopy, guiding her to the best mushrooms and berries the wildlife might have overlooked.

Hunger had struck deep this winter. The harvest in fall had been lackluster. Her family had only avoided starvation because of Eva’s foraging. A mistake on her part. She should have been less efficient. Made more mistakes. Let them feel hunger. People always feared what was different, and she’d always been the oddball, almost from her first steps.

It wasn’t natural to know what was wrong with an animal simply from looking at them. No one else felt their pain or happiness. Only Eva.

Turning down a proposal of marriage from the most powerful man in the village hadn’t helped. It had only served to highlight her differences.

Her mother always told her that things that stuck out too much were eliminated. Turns out she was right. Eva was the nail and they the hammer. She could either get in line or be crushed.

She’d chosen a third option. To be her own person. She was now paying for that hubris.

Because with hunger, came desperation. With desperation, madness.

Good people put aside their conscience when survival was on the line. They abandoned their scruples. They threw them away like they were yesterday’s trash while telling themselves it was for the best. It was the only way.

In the end, Eva had faced a decision—go, or be the sacrifice they needed for their crops. They’d intended to water the ground with her blood in the hopes of a more fertile growing season. An old practice that hadn’t been followed since Eva’s grandmother was a child.

She’d chosen life.

Now, looking into the deep, dark interior of the forest, she feared she’d only prolonged the inevitable. The hags she’d once cherished might now be witnesses to her death.

People were not meant to survive for long on their own. Eleven days Eva had wandered beneath the hags’ watchful eyes.

She did not hunger. The forest provided plenty of food. But it was only a matter of time before she made a mistake.

While the hags might not intend her harm, the beasts roving at their feet would not be so kind. Already she had evaded two using the whispers of the trees to escape before danger drew too close.

Eventually, she would tire.

Armed with only a bread knife she’d swiped from her mother’s dinner table; Eva didn’t like her chances if she encountered one of the dangerous creatures that even the men in her village feared to face on their own.

Eva tilted her face up to catch a glimpse of the sun peeking through the leaves. Ah, well, at least she’d tried. Better to die while fighting for her next breath than to go meekly to the slaughter.

“Besides, you’re not dead yet,” she told herself.

And until she was, she’d do what she could to survive.

There she went. Talking to herself again. She could practically hear her younger sister’s voice in her ear, saying, “Don’t let them see your crazy.”

Of course, her sister would never be caught dead out here. She preferred the soft comforts of the village and had never understood Eva’s fascination.

“Perhaps that’s why you’re here, and she’s there,” Eva muttered as she continued down one of the game trails she’d found that morning. She hoped eventually it would lead her to water. Something she was in desperate need of.

Her breath plumed in front of her. Spring had already touched the land, but you couldn’t tell it from the frost coating the branches and leaves.

Eva unhooked the water bladder from its spot on her small pack and held it to her lips. She hesitated. “Elis, I miss you.”

Elis’s voice was silent now. Not even a hint of criticism to keep Eva company.

Left with nothing else, she tilted the water bladder up, only the thinnest stream of liquid reaching her lips. Squeezing it did little good. It was flat and empty.

Eva hooked the bladder back on her pack, containing the rest of her pitifully small belongings. She hadn’t had much time to grab things before she fled. A change of clothes, the water bladder, and a few other odds and ends were the extent of her belongings.

She’d never had much, and now she had less.

That wasn’t a bad thing. Fewer belongings meant less to carry.

The only regret she had was leaving behind the small treasures she’d collected from the forest, a pearl tailed falcon feather, a rock the exact same shade as her faded green eyes, a piece of white bark from the hags. Things that had no meaning to anyone but her. All gone now.

Eva set off again, trying to out walk her dark thoughts. She needed to focus on the here and now. The past was gone; it wasn’t coming back.

Yes, she might die out here. She also might not. She’d prefer she didn’t.

That meant her next task was to find water and a place to stay for the night.

Preferably somewhere away from the game path.

As much as it made her travel easier, it would also be prime hunting ground for predators.

*

Hours later Eva lifted her head and sniffed. The smell of damp earth and crisp air greeted her. A stream was nearby.

The thought gave her tired legs a dose of energy.

Evening had set in, stealing the faint hint of warmth the sun had brought with it. Night came fast and early in the forest, the shadows lengthening as if they had a mind and will of their own.

It wouldn’t be long before Eva was forced to stop for the night, to find a place to hole up. It would be too dangerous to travel once it fell.

Nighttime was when the predatory beasts were most active.

The trickle of water reached Eva as she hurried forward. She stepped into view of a small creek, the water flowing over rocks. Good. Moving water was better than stagnant water. There’d be less chance of it making her sick.

Eva fell to her knees beside the creek, dipping her cupped palms into its shallow depths before bringing them to her lips.

The crisp taste of the liquid was blissful after hours of walking.

She took several sips before she unhooked her water bladder and plunged it into the water. It filled slowly and she eyed the water, thinking how nice it would be if she could rinse off some of the dirt coating her—if she could bear the cold.

The faint crackling of branches breaking underfoot reached her. Leaves rustled as something moved through the underbrush.

Eva stiffened, her hand still on the bladder under water. With the instincts of one who’d spent countless hours roaming the forest, she knew she was no longer alone.

Why hadn’t the forest warned her? Or maybe it had, and she’d been too preoccupied with her thirst to listen.

A dozen different scenarios played out in her mind in the blink of an eye. None of them good.

She stood, fumbling for the short bread knife.

She faced the underbrush, her hands shaking as she held the knife in front of her. Whatever it was, she wasn’t going to lay down and let death take her. She’d fight to survive. Just like she’d been doing all her life.

Eva remained quiet, hoping she’d imagined the sounds. She didn’t dare draw its notice if it was a beast. Doubly so if it was a man.

A long, equine nose pushed through the bushes and a pair of deep brown eyes regarded her with the same level of surprise she felt. The horse snorted, staying where it was as the two observed each other.

Eva blinked at the unexpected sight of the horse’s head appearing over the bushes. Its ears pricked forward as it stayed motionless.

She realized abruptly the horse was waiting. Its gaze somehow arrogant now that it realized how little threat she presented. Wordlessly, she stepped aside, the knife falling to her side as the mare picked her way forward, pushing through the bushes, uncaring as they left small burs in her coat.

She headed toward the stream, dipping her long, elegant neck so she could drink the water.

She was all elegant lines, a dapple grey with a mane and tail that looked like it couldn’t decide between white and grayish black. She was a beauty with more white than gray in her coat, different from the horses Eva was used to. This was a majestic creature, nothing like the stocky workhorses, accustomed to a lifetime of pulling plows. 

A leather halter looped around the mare’s nose and behind her ears. There was no bridle Eva could see.

“Are you lost, pretty girl?” she asked.

Eva looked around uneasily. There was no way the mare had come to be here on her own. Where was her owner?

The horse’s ear closest to Eva flicked at the sound of her voice, but she didn’t lift her head.

“Thirsty, huh? I know that feeling.”

The mare was well cared for, if the sheen of her coat was anything to judge by. The halter on her was high quality too. Whoever her owner was must have cared for her.

Beyond the burrs and leaves caught in her coat and mane, Eva couldn’t see any signs of abuse or neglect. Nor could she find any suggestion of malnutrition. She was a healthy weight, her muscles lean and developed.

The mare couldn’t have been lost long.

Which meant Eva needed to leave her. If her owner was looking for her, Eva didn’t want the man to find her as well.

Her fingers itched to touch and stroke, an urge she stifled. There was no point in getting attached when the mare wasn’t hers.

Eva hesitated, knowing she should leave but unable to. This might be the only time in her life she was this close to such a magnificent creature, and she couldn’t quite bring herself to pass up the opportunity.

She stepped closer, making soothing noises as she paid attention to the mare’s posture. Horses, despite what her father and the other men from the village seemed to think, had extremely expressive body language.

The horse remained relaxed as Eva neared, her ears upright and her tail still.

Eva reached out and set her palm against her coat, working out a few of the burs where she encountered them.

“Such a beautiful girl,” Eva crooned.

After getting out all the burs she could reach, Eva stepped back.

“I have to go now. I hope your owner finds you soon.”

She moved through the trees, surprised when the underbrush snapped and crackled as the mare plodded after her.

Eva held out a hand. “No, no, you have to stay.”

The horse snorted and lipped her fingers, continuing forward until her head loomed over Eva’s.

Left with no choice, Eva took a step back only for the horse to follow.

They repeated the odd dance several times before Eva gave in. There was no way to force the horse to stay put short of tying her off somewhere, which Eva refused to do. There were too many predators in the hag’s forest to chance leaving the mare defenseless.

“Lonely, huh? Me too.”

She rubbed the mare’s neck, chuckling when the mare dipped her head to lip at the end of Eva’s blond braid where it had slipped forward over her shoulder.

“Have it your way, but I’ll warn you. No funny business. We have to find a place to sleep if we want to survive the night.”

The horse snorted before stamping a foot.

Eva took that as agreement and set out, feeling much less alone than she had minutes before. It would be nice not to face the coming night on her own.

*

A stamp and soft snort reached Eva where she was curled around her pack, waking her. She lifted her head and peered into the semi darkness shrouding her shelter. She’d sought sanctuary the night before in a small depression at the base of a large tree which could be a grandmother to the smaller ones around it. Its roots framed the depression, creating a small cave for someone small enough. It was just Eva’s luck that she could slide through.

Dawn was barely a thought in the sky.

She sat up, listening to the quiet rustling that had brought her out of sleep. There were no signs of unease in the mare’s movements. Eva took that to mean it was safe to leave her temporary burrow. 

She was halfway out when movement in the bushes froze her in place. The horse flicked its tail but otherwise didn’t seem particularly bothered by their guest.

Eva silently cursed. There was likely only one person or being who wouldn’t alarm the horse. Her owner.

Eva shifted back toward her burrow. Maybe she hadn’t been spotted yet. She could try to hide and hope they passed her by.

Before she could act, a tall, thin man pushed out of the trees. His face was like a horse’s, long and thin with wise eyes. His clothes were strange, not like those of the men of her village. His hair was long, and bound back from his face in a complicated tail. He was young, not much older than Eva. His forearms were muscular.

Trateri.

Stories of the barbarians had been pouring in all winter. They seemed intent on conquering the surrounding lands and already had a monstrous reputation.

Eva sucked in a harsh breath, wishing she could turn invisible. She’d heard what they could do to people and it wasn’t pleasant. Better to have died by beast than to have happened across one of these men.

Why couldn’t she have left the mare behind?

“Caia, I’ve been looking for you all night, you daft horse.” Despite the anger those words should suggest, there was none of the emotion in his voice.

“Come on, let’s go. The warriors want to get moving.”

The mare squealed a challenge and paced in a circle.

“None of that now. Hardwick would have my head if anything happened to you.”

The man frowned, finally noticing Eva where she still crouched. Surprise and shock chased across his face as his mouth dropped open and he looked from her to the horse and back again.

Eva’s grip tightened on the knife as she braced for attack. She moved slowly out of the burrow, not wanting to be trapped with it at her back.

“You took care of Caia last night, I take it,” the man said in a tone not unlike the one he’d used on the horse.

Eva didn’t answer, watching him carefully, poised to run. She doubted she’d be able to outrun him, especially if he rode the horse. She might be able to lose him in the underbrush though.

“Are you lost?” he asked, concern in his expression.

The question pierced the haze of panic.

“I can help you if you let me.” He was careful to remain where he was, his movements slow. The same way Eva would have approached an easily spooked animal. “Where is your village? I can take you there.”

“I’m not going back,” Eva snarled. “I won’t let you take me back.”

He made a calming motion, chancing a step forward. “Alright. That’s fine. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want.”

Eva ducked her chin slightly as she considered whether she could trust that statement. People, not just men, lied all the time. Sometimes they thought it was for your own good. Sometimes they did it so they could hurt you. It was rarer when they told the truth.

Which category did he fall into?

“Ollie, have you found her yet? The warband leader is getting impatient,” a man called as he stepped into view. He was different than the first one, his bearing dangerous. A sword was attached to his belt and he carried a bow in his hands. A warrior where the first man wasn’t.

He froze upon catching sight of Eva. “That’s a woman.”

“I can see that,” Ollie said, irritation coloring his tone.

“What’s she doing out here?”

“I was getting to that before you interrupted like a tender footed daisy.”

The second man blinked dumbly at Eva before giving Ollie a befuddled look. Strangely, the interchange calmed Eva somewhat.

“We should probably return her to her village.” The second man leaned toward Ollie, his voice dropping to a semi whisper.

“She doesn’t want to go.”

The second man arched an eyebrow and glanced at Eva. “You want to come with us instead?”

Eva considered the two before regarding the horse standing placidly at her side, one ear flicking. The gray wasn’t alarmed. She trusted these men. Animals, in Eva’s experience, were excellent judges of character.

“Alright, I will,” she said, straightening.

Surprise filled both men’s expressions as they glanced at each other.

“You’re explaining this to the warband leader,” Ollie said. “Right after you explain how Caia managed to escape in the first place.”

The second man sighed and rubbed his neck. He beckoned Eva with his fingers. “Alright, you, let’s go. Our camp isn’t far but we should get back before our leader gets any more upset with us.”

Eva hesitated for one last second. Had she made the right choice?

“We won’t hurt you. I promise.” Ollie shot her look of encouragement as he took hold of the gray’s halter.

“And a Trateri is only as good as his word,” the second man said, his face serious.

Eva took a deep breath and nodded before ducking into her small burrow for the backpack. It wasn’t much, but it was all she had left of her former life.

She hoped this new one was better than the last.

The post The Wind’s Call Excerpt appeared first on T.A. White.

Pain blossomed along Shea’s left side. She sucked in a sharp breath and gritted her teeth. She could already tell from the throbbing that a bruise was forming.

The person responsible for the blow watched her expressionlessly as he dipped the tip of the short wooden staff toward the ground.

From the sidelines an irate Trenton groused, “I’ve told you again and again not to drop your guard on that side. Anyone with half a brain will take advantage of it.”

So he had.

Shea kept the grimace off her face as she ignored the pain and lifted the sword. Her opponent wasn’t one to show mercy, and she’d already been caught off guard once with a follow up attack. She wasn’t going to make that mistake again. Her thigh still smarted from the last time.

Trenton leaned against a boulder with his arms crossed, his long, lean frame appearing relaxed even as he frowned at her. Not much older than her, his arms showed muscles built over a lifetime of wielding a sword with deadly accuracy. Considered one of the best swordsmen among the Trateri, he normally worked with her during training. Not today, though, as he was still recovering from several injuries derived from a long fall onto unforgiving rock. Chirron, the healer traveling with them, had strongly advised him against any vigorous activity.

Having been on the receiving end of Chirron’s brand of care, Shea chose to listen to his advice, figuring it would be easier and less painful than risking his displeasure in the event Trenton did further damage.

That had been her reasoning anyway, but she was beginning to think that Chirron’s anger would have been preferable to Braden’s brand of training—one that was as merciless and unrelenting as the man. As one of her warlord’s favored generals, Braden wasn’t known for his soft heart. After a close call at the beginning of their journey, it seemed he’d made her his personal project and had been relentless in whipping her sword skills up to par. That or he was using it as an excuse to work some of his frustrations out on her.

Every night after their group stopped for the day, Trenton and Braden tracked her down for practice. She didn’t even bother hiding anymore, knowing they’d find her eventually and when they did it would just mean a longer and more intense workout.

Sometimes the practices were an endless round of drills. Others it was sparring with the significantly more experienced general—a man who had built his life around the art of warfare.

It had left her body a patchwork of bruises, her muscles so sore the next day that she struggled to climb into the saddle. She couldn’t even argue with their reasoning. Not when her life might someday depend on what they were drilling into her body.

She was decent with a dagger and knew several moves geared toward unarmed self-defense. That had saved her life in the past, but she’d always preferred running from conflict to actually fighting. There were so many ways to solve a problem that didn’t involve blade and blood.

That way of thinking no longer worked as effectively as it once had. Not when it meant she’d be leaving behind the very people who now held more than a few pieces of her heart. She’d formed bonds as strong as steel with those she now traveled with and trying to get all of them clear of the type of trouble that usually came looking for her was nearly impossible—especially when many of her friends were warriors who preferred to meet their opponents head on.

Add to that her status as the telroi of a powerful warlord and it meant these people were as much hers to protect as they were his. Since he had as many enemies as allies—some of whom pretended to be friends even as they waited to stab you in the back—it meant she needed every tool in her arsenal, even if those tools had to be beaten into her tired and aching body.

Knowing the reasoning behind the training didn’t make the bruises hurt any less.

“Are you ready?” Braden asked in a calm voice. Unlike most Trateri who tended towards dark hair and eyes, he was blond, his hair cut short, making his already striking features even more memorable. Authority was stamped on every line, from the strong jaw to the intense eyes that seemed to pierce right through you.

Shea gave him a sharp nod, knowing that he would come even if she wasn’t.

Her hand tightened around the hilt of her wooden practice sword. Something Trenton had magically materialized during that first practice when she’d thought she’d gotten away with leaving it behind.

She centered herself, taking up the stance, one leg in front of the other, her weight evenly distributed in a way that would enable her to move in any direction at a moment’s notice. Her arms trembled just slightly, tired from the last few days of practice as well as the strenuous journey that day.

She watched her opponent carefully, alert to any signs of attack as he took his staff in a two-handed grip, pointing one end toward her, his stance a mirror of hers.

Fighting a staff was different than defending against a sword. Braden’s blows had power and strength. The long reach of the staff meant she was constantly on the defensive, unable to return any of his strikes. Not that she could have even if he’d been carrying a sword. He was just that good.

She struggled to remember what they had told her as he advanced in a whisper of movement, the staff pivoting in his hands so that he came at her from the opposite side of what she’d guessed. She lifted the sword to meet him, parrying the staff as she stepped to the side and attempted to riposte.

There was a thunk as he easily blocked her with one part of the staff, as the opposite end whipped up to fly at her face. She ducked and stumbled away, falling out of her stance as she fought to get her blade back into a defensive position.

He granted her no mercy, advancing on her as he rained blows down, one after another. She fell into the rhythm of parry, stumble, parry, stumble, parry, as she backed up, her feet moving jerkily across the grass, trying to get enough distance between them so she could regroup. Loud meaty thunks sounded in the air as he hammered at her defenses.

Her heart beat sped up to match her breathing and sweat dripped down her temples. Her face was creased in a frown of concentration as she matched his movements, parrying his staff time and again.

“You cannot defend forever,” Braden said, his face still set in those calm lines. He was barely breathing hard. Keeping her on the defensive was evidently no more strenuous than a stroll across a meadow.

“Get distance and then reengage,” Trenton yelled from the sidelines. “Move faster!”

Shea gritted her teeth, his words prodding a nerve. She caught Braden’s staff with her sword and shoved hard, feeling satisfaction as he fell back a step. Seeing her chance, she stepped forward, swinging her sword at his torso.

The staff reversed, whipping up as he shoved the end into her stomach. Breath whooshed out of her, and she fought the instinctive reaction to curl in on herself. She lifted the sword, angling it to protect her head and shoulder. Just in time as the staff landed across it. Shea’s muscles strained as he bore down.

“That’s something, at least,” Braden said in a mild voice. The pressure from above abated as he stepped back, lowering the staff to his side. “Good job on keeping your defense up after that blow.”

Shea was too preoccupied with sucking in oxygen to appreciate the semi compliment.

The crow’s feet at the corners of Braden’s eyes deepened as he regarded her with a reserved expression. “However, your footwork was sloppy, your blows weak, and you need to work on your reaction time.”

Shea nodded as she calmed her breath.

There was a laugh off to her side that she ignored. Braden’s gaze flickered and an expression of annoyance showed briefly on his face.

Trenton ambled up. “You’re better than when you started, at least.”

She gave him a grateful smile, even if she didn’t entirely believe him.

“Barely,” Braden qualified. “There is still a lot of work to do.”

Trenton focused on something over Shea’s shoulder. The skin around his mouth tightened. Shea kept her sigh internal as she turned to see what had caught his attention.

Several pathfinders watched them. They lined the little spot of land Braden and Trenton had claimed for practice, reminding Shea of giant scavenging birds, waiting for lame prey to finally succumb to death.

“I find it unsettling when they do that,” Trenton muttered in a low voice.

“Indeed,” Braden agreed, his expression grave as he watched the others.

It wasn’t the first time the pathfinders had turned up to watch a practice session. In fact, they’d been present at all of them. Whether that was to watch Shea fall on her face or suffer a few bruises was up to debate. They never said anything. Just watched.

Not just the practices either. They were silent observers of everything the Trateri did or said. When the Trateri set up camp, when they got up in the morning, when they ate. The pathfinders never talked or interacted, even when a Trateri tried to engage them, their faces were blank and their mouths shut, never giving a response no matter the question or provocation.

It had created a certain amount of tension between the two groups, and Shea was stuck right in the middle.

“Shall we continue?” Shea asked, deciding to ignore the problem currently watching them.

Braden’s gaze was thoughtful as his eyes moved between her and the others before he gave a short nod. “This time concentrate on staying out of range of the staff until you need to strike.”

Shea jerked her chin down and settled into her stance as Trenton backed out of the way. Braden and Shea assumed their positions and resumed their practice, ignoring their unwelcome onlookers as they went over the moves again and again and again. Braden sometimes stopping her to correct her form or show her where she had gone wrong.

It was over an hour later when they stopped for the night. Shea’s arms and back begged for respite even as her legs protested their abuse.

Their audience had thinned but not disappeared in that time, boredom and the promise of food drawing several away.

Shea turned toward their small camp, Trenton crossing over to follow at her back, taking up the position of protector even though he was injured. As one of the Anateri, elite warriors who answered directly to Fallon Hawkvale, the warlord of the Trateri, he could be missing an arm and still he would try to do the job his warlord had entrusted him with—protecting Shea.

They drew near the four pathfinders who still kept watch. Shea continued on without sparing them a glance, content to ignore them.

“Traitor.” The low word reached her just as they passed.

An ugly feeling crawled up the back of her neck, even as she straightened her shoulders and continued on, ignoring them. It wasn’t the first time that word had reached her ears in the week since they’d left Birdon Leaf, and she doubted it would be the last.

While the pathfinders might not be outright hostile to the Trateri yet, the same could not be said of her. She was once one of them and thus held to a higher standard. In their eyes, she had failed. Not only them, but the rest of the Highlands as well.

They might forgive the interlopers their stupidity but the same forgiveness would never be extended Shea’s way.

Trenton spun on them, a snarl on his face. “What did you say? Repeat that to our face.”

None of the pathfinders responded, their faces blank even as their eyes burned with suppressed emotion.

Trenton took a step toward them, one hand going to the sword at his belt. The pathfinders wouldn’t stand a chance if he drew that. They were like Shea, wise in the ways of the wild, hidden places of the world. Not always the best when it came to killing their fellow man. At least not with steel and iron.

Shea stepped forward and grabbed his arm. “That’s enough.”

“They insulted you.” The Trateri took honor very seriously. As the telroi of Fallon, an insult to her was an insult to him. Something no Trateri with them would countenance.

That was all very well and good, but they were heading into the stronghold of the pathfinders, Wayfarer’s Keep, where they’d be surrounded on every side by potential enemies. Their actions now could destroy the mission before it even got under way.

“I can defend myself,” she told him.

“I’m aware of that,” he responded. “That doesn’t mean I can’t help.”

She pulled him away. As much as she appreciated the sentiment, she didn’t need anyone to fight her battles.

She said over her shoulder, “You’ve gotten awfully brave since I’ve been gone, Eric. Or have you forgotten Lasden.”

Shea gave the pathfinders a sharp smile, noting the unhappiness on Eric’s face. He didn’t like the fact that she’d recognized his voice or that she’d called him out, putting a target on him for the Trateri around her.

She couldn’t bring herself to care. She was tired of their petty games. She’d forgotten how damn annoying her fellow pathfinders could be.

“Quite right, daughter,” said a tall man, one who’d gone unnoticed until now.

Stepping away from the shadow of the boulder Trenton had leaned against earlier, he gave the group a small smile, one that said he was harmless and invited the rest to share in his amusement. That smile was a lie. It was there in the hard eyes and the way he tilted his head as if he was already considering what recompense he should extract from his men. “They should know by now you have your ways of addressing the wrongs dealt you.”

The pathfinders stiffened. They watched the man as if he was the most dangerous thing in the clearing.

Her father’s smile deepened. “And if you don’t, I sure will.”

This time the pathfinder who’d made the comment flinched. “No insult was intended, Patrick,” the pathfinder said, sufficiently cowed.

“Come on, Trenton. Fallon will be wondering where we are.” Shea walked off before Trenton could respond or before her father could say anything further.

She noted that Braden had fallen behind and briefly thought about waiting for him but decided against it. She had too much pent-up energy from the encounter and her father’s interference to stand still. He could catch up. Or not. His choice.

Trenton trailed after her, a silent shadow for once. Normally, he teased and prodded, taking pleasure in poking at Shea, but today he was quiet. Shea was too in her own head to appreciate that like she should.

The pathfinder’s words had stung, perhaps because they carried more than a small thread of truth to them. The sad fact was that by the strictest definition of the word she was a traitor. Perhaps that hadn’t been her intention in the beginning, but her decision to remain with the Trateri, to share secrets the pathfinders kept carefully concealed, were all done despite knowing it would be considered a betrayal by her former people. She didn’t regret it and would do the same if it meant saving the people she’d come to care about, the people of her heart.

She put the thoughts in a box and locked it. What was done, was done. She could handle the barely veiled hostility as long as it didn’t spill into action against Fallon and his warriors. But make no mistake, the moment they came after her friends, she’d teach them exactly what Lasden had learned all those years ago.

She was in the middle of camp in only a few steps. It was too dangerous up here to venture far from the others. It meant there was little privacy when Braden and Trenton kicked her ass every day, but it did mean help was always in reach if they should need it.

She noted small details about the camp with a quick glance. The way the pathfinders and Fallon’s people milled around, the divisions between them clearly marked. Neither one making any effort to cross the invisible lines that divided them.

Shea’s lips tightened. If this was a preview of what was to come, she was starting to think they should turn right around. An alliance between the Trateri and the pathfinders would never work if they couldn’t even share a simple camp site.

There wasn’t a lot of room for the divisions, but somehow, they’d managed it in the small clearing where they’d set up for the night. It was a simple space, not much more than a few packs on the ground with their horses grazing only feet away. Since they were moving fast and the area was dangerous, they hadn’t bothered with tents. There weren’t even campfires since no one wanted to draw the notice of any deadly beasts in the area. It meant dinner was going to be cold, probably dried meat and bread, just like every other night for the past week.

The Highlands weren’t like the Lowlands. It was rarely entirely safe to travel and less so at the moment given the upheaval that was currently taking place. Something that many were quick to lay at Shea’s feet.

Beasts had been on the rise since her sojourn in the Lowlands. They’d attacked several villages, leaving nothing alive in many instances.

She wasn’t really responsible for the attacks that were happening or the way the beast population had risen almost three times its normal amount in the last year. Not entirely at least. Unfortunately, she could see how it might seem that way since all eyes had turned to the Badlands and what waited there as the culprit. Since she was the only person to come out of that place alive, it was thought that something she’d done there might have woken old enemies and sparked the current climate.

Hence, the reason for this alliance that her father had convinced Fallon was possible. One that conveniently got Fallon and Shea to the stronghold of the pathfinders. Shea would still be half convinced all this was a ruse if not for the fact that they’d been attacked on a nearly daily basis. Whatever had stirred up the beasts in the Lowlands had done the same here as well. Only it was worse since the beast population up here was considerably greater.

A familiar pair of whiskey colored eyes were trained on her, their owner giving her a small smile that made her heart flutter in that familiar way. Just like that, some of the tension she’d been carrying fell away and a piece of her that had been tight relaxed.

She still wasn’t used to that feeling he gave her with just a small look—one that left her feeling oddly like she’d been punched in her chest. It was like his smile told her she wasn’t alone. Whatever trouble they found, they’d face it together. For someone who had spent the majority of her life going it alone, it was nice to know that someone was in her corner no matter what might come.

Her warlord wasn’t traditionally handsome, his charisma more potent than beauty ever could be. He looked like what he was, a warrior. Strong. Fierce. Dangerous. This was helped by the small scar along his jaw and the deadly grace with which he moved. Every line of his body, every feature, the intense focus he used to watch the world, all said this was not a man to be trifled with, that he wasn’t the sort you wanted as an enemy unless you had a very clear way of ending him.

“Your practice went long today.” His voice was a slow rumble as she drew near. His eyes went to Trenton beyond her, and he tipped his chin down in acknowledgment. She knew without looking that Trenton would head off to get food now that she was safe with Fallon.

“Braden thought my attacks could use work.” Her voice betrayed her grumpiness.

He chuckled as one hand touched the small of her back, giving it a brief massage of sympathy. “He says the same about mine.”

Shea craned her head back and gave him a skeptical look. Amusement tinged his eyes at her expression.

“It’s true. He’s even said something similar to Caden.”

“No,” Shea said. Both men were extremely efficient warriors. Shea had seen them practicing against each other before, it was a graceful dance as they moved with a deadly grace.

“Ask him.” Fallon tipped his head to where Caden listened to one of the Anateri, a frown on his face.

“Caden, what advice does Braden give you about your sword work?” Shea called out to him. She gave Fallon a significant look as if to say ‘there, your bluff is called.’

Caden was short, his body stocky and built for power. He was a lethal warrior, one of the best among Fallon’s Anateri. Shea thought only Trenton might be capable of challenging him. With his hair half pulled back to tame the curls they reverted to when loose and the skin beneath the half poney shaved, he looked as fierce and intimidating as his reputation suggested.

Blue eyes flicked to Shea as he rumbled, “He always harps on the slowness of my attacks.”

Shea’s head whipped around so she could glare at Braden as he joined them. If he thought Caden was slow, there was no way she would ever be able to gain his approval.

He lifted one eyebrow at her. “Just because it is a common piece of advice, doesn’t make it any less true.”

“It is also true that Braden is a stickler for the basics,” Fallon said, giving the other man a wry smile. “But that is why he is known for turning out highly disciplined warriors with strong foundations.”

Braden inclined his head at the praise before looking at the chasm between the two groups. “This division has made some uneasy.”

“I, for one, will be glad when we get to our destination,” Caden murmured as he drifted over, fixing the pathfinders with a hard stare.

From the other two men’s grunts, it sounded like they agreed. The Trateri were finding the Highlands even less hospitable than they had previously thought. Their horses were not as useful here as they were on flatter ground. The journey was taking longer because they had to find paths that the horses could traverse since they wouldn’t leave them behind. That, coupled with several beast attacks and their traveling companions hidden and overt hostility had meant that more than one temper had flared in the intervening days.

“We should be getting close now,” Shea said. “I recognize the area. It’s no more than three days ride.”

“Somehow, that’s not the relief it should be,” Braden said. “Not when our end destination means we’ll be walking into a pit of vipers.”

On that Shea agreed.

“Did your father find you?” Fallon asked in a quiet voice.

Shea looked away as she nodded. Her eyes flicked to the other two men. She would prefer to be alone if they were to discuss her father. Actually, she would prefer to leave the topic untouched, if she was being really honest.

Fallon jerked his chin in dismissal and the other two men excused themselves. “What did Patrick want?”

Shea jerked up one shoulder as she folded her arms in front of her. “Who knows? He didn’t really say much. Just took some of his men to task for something they said.”

Fallon’s face was thoughtful as he cast a glance at their reluctant companions. “And what did they say?”

Shea stilled, his mild tone not fooling her for a moment. There was a dark threat there, one that only someone who knew him really well might detect.

“Nothing of importance.” Knowing that wouldn’t stop him from trying to find out if he really wanted, she fixed him with a hard stare. “And if you’re smart, you’ll leave it at that. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. You interfering wouldn’t help matters. You’d just make them worse.”

“Aren’t you the one who is always saying that we’re partners? Partners share things,” he said in that same silky voice. It was made all the more menacing because of the utter reasonableness of it.

“Does that mean you’ll share whatever it was you were discussing with your men when I walked up?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.

“You only have to ask,” he murmured.

She let out a sigh. She hated when her words were turned back on her. Worse was that he was right. Partners, good partners, shared their troubles even when the other could do nothing to help.

“They called me a traitor,” she said, her voice barely audible. Even saying the words brought back that ugly feeling deep in her stomach.

Fallon was quiet for a long moment. “I can see how they might think that.”

Shea looked away. He wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t know.

“I would like you to consider this,” he said with a thoughtful look. “Your actions have not led to any harm being visited on them. In fact, I think it is just the opposite. I would have invaded long before now had you not been part of my life. Even with their weapons and knowledge of the terrain giving them a distinct advantage, I would have dealt them a severe blow. One, I sense they would not easily have recovered from. At least not for several generations. It is only because of my love for you, and your own actions, that they have avoided that fate.”

Shea wasn’t sure of that. She had a feeling it might have just been a matter of time before Fallon turned his sights on her homeland. He was too much the conqueror to leave a job half finished. He had a vision, and while seeing the Broken Lands united might be a worthy cause, it would take a lot of bloodshed to accomplish. Something that she had a strong objection to.

“To them you may be a traitor, but to our people you are considered a hero.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Or did you forget jumping on that golden eagle to save Mist?”

She snorted. She doubted she’d ever forget that little debacle. Trenton certainly wouldn’t. He still got a vexed look on his face whenever someone brought it up. It had admittedly not been one of her better plans, but it had ended well as she’d been able to save a child from being carried off and fed to the eagle’s young.

“So, your father came to your defense,” Fallon said, his voice thoughtful.

“Doubtful. He is willing to drag me before the council to answer to similar charges.” Shea’s voice held a tinge of bitterness. A part of her would always crave her father’s approval, and knowing he was willing to bring her up on charges of treason burned.

“I’m not so sure of that,” Fallon said, his focus turning to where her father was moving among the pathfinders.

“What makes you say that?”

“I suspect that was little more than a ruse to get me to fall in line with what he wanted. He strikes me as being very cunning.”

“You’ve got that right. I’d say he’s as adept at mind games as any of your clan elders,” Shea said. Having lived through some of those mind games, she could attest to that.

He slid a look her way. “And yet such a talent seems to have skipped a generation.”

Shea shrugged. “I’ve never been very good at thinking sideways. No point in it in my prior life. If what you’re saying is true, how would he know such a threat would motivate you in the direction he wanted.”

“That is a good question,” Fallon said, studying her father with the kind of focus he usually reserved for particularly tricky opponents.

“Is that all you’ve got? A feeling?” Shea asked.

“My feelings are rarely wrong,” he said, giving her a censorious look. “Reading people accurately is how I’ve gotten to where I am today.” He tapped her nose. “Perhaps next time you should stop to talk with him rather than avoiding him. You might learn something interesting.”

She frowned at him, before looking over to where her father stood watching the two of them with astute eyes.

“Now, point out this person who said this thing to you,” Fallon said without missing a beat, his expression bland.

A laugh escaped her, surprising her. She glanced up at him “Nice try, Warlord, but I know you better than that.”

If she revealed that person’s name, it was almost guaranteed they’d end up dead or seriously injured before the night was through. Fallon didn’t allow anyone to threaten those he considered his, even by something as simple as a few stray insults.

He gave her a disgruntled look under lowered brows. “This will only allow me to keep an eye on a potential threat.”

She snorted as she walked off. “Right, and if I believed that, I would also believe that a revenant can be reasoned with.”

He grumbled as he followed her. “You know I can just ask Trenton.”

She gave him a smug smile over her shoulder. “Too bad he didn’t see who said it.”

He frowned at her; she frowned back until her lips tilted up in a crooked smile. She slapped him on the arm. “Now, feed me before my stomach tries to crawl through my back.”

He moved before she could dodge, wrapping his arms around her and pretending to gnaw on her neck. She shrieked with laughter as she wiggled free. It was rare for him to act playful while in view of others, especially when some of their companions could be considered potential enemies.

He gave her a slight smile, his face already back to the one she termed his warlord face, an unreadable expression that he normally regarded the world from. It had intimidated more than one Lowlander into surrendering before a single blow had been struck.

She touched his wrist in thanks before they walked through camp, visiting with their people and sharing in the cold meal. It wasn’t

The post Wayfarer’s Keep Excerpt appeared first on T.A. White.

“Birdon Leaf hasn’t responded to roll call in over seven months.”

Hunched over his desk, the man squinted through a set of bifocals at a report on a disturbing trend that had been on the rise in the eastern part of the Highlands. He didn’t bother looking up as he gave his reply. “That village tends to run its pathfinder a little thin. I wouldn’t worry about it yet.”

The younger pathfinder waited at the desk, her hands fidgeting at her sides.

The man looked up, his glasses giving the impression of a bird. This was helped along by the tuffs of hair sticking up all over his head. “Was there anything else?”

“It’s just that Pathfinder Shea was assigned to that village, and her name wasn’t attached to any of the reports coming out of there for several months prior to our sending out a roll call.” She bit her lip and clasped her hands in front of her, one finger rubbing the inside of her wrist.

He frowned and his gaze went distant as if he were having an internal conversation with himself. He sighed and sat back.

The younger pathfinder rushed to add, “It could be like you said. She could be out on assignment and just hasn’t had the chance to respond.”

The older pathfinder tapped his quill on the desk and studied the younger woman from under lowered brows. She was new. Not quite trained yet and prone to panicking over the least provocation.

“It’s not like Shea to miss a roll call,” he finally said. Especially given that debacle in the Badlands. Poor kid hadn’t been entirely at fault but had suffered the cost all the same. The labels of troublemaker and bad luck had followed her until the guild banished her to the backwards of beyond.

If any other pathfinder had missed roll call like this, he would have already waved away his assistant’s concern. Seven months or longer wasn’t really that long to go without communication from some of these villages. When a single trip could take up to a year, a pathfinder had to be given some leeway in sending word back to the Keep.

Given it was Shea who’d missed roll call, a woman who never missed anything in her life, he could understand why his assistant was hovering over his desk while he tried to make heads or tails of this report. No one wanted to be responsible for losing track of Shea Halloran due to negligence.

His assistant bobbed up and down, almost quivering with excitement. “Shall I send one of our Eyes to investigate?”

He frowned, already regretting the amount of paperwork this would generate and the time he would have to waste coordinating resources. “I suppose.”

His assistant leaned forward, saying in a hushed voice, “You know she will have to be told.”

His frown became even more pronounced. A disgusted huff escaped him as he lumbered to his feet, his bones crackling as he moved, like he was some ancient machine of their ancestors that needed oiling. An apt description since he could feel every one of his years when the air held a crisp hint of the coming winter.

“I’ll be the one to inform her. Speak with the quartermaster to begin arrangements.” His face was grumpy and his voice crotchety as he moved toward the door.

“Alone?”

He gave her a gimlet glare. “Were you planning on volunteering?”

She shook her head, her eyes getting even wider despite all odds.

“I didn’t think so. It’s best not to ask stupid questions.”

She rolled her lips between her teeth and stared at him in repentance.

“Have the arrangements finished by the time I get back.”

“Of course, master.”

He sighed. These young ones made him feel so old sometimes.

The heavy wooden door creaked open as he plodded into the hallway, making his way toward the tower, his old bones already protesting the coming exertion. He passed several pathfinders, each finding better things to do given the grumpy expression on his face.

As he approached the tower, a young man with eyes the palest blue descended, whistling a jaunty tune. The sound trailed off as he noticed the old man.

“Pathfinder Whelan, it is a rare occasion to see you outside of your cave,” the younger man said referencing Whelan’s habit of isolating himself in his offices and seeing no others for long spans of time. “What brings you to the tower?”

“Pathfinder Reece, you are as nosy as you’ve ever been,” Whelan said, feeling out of sorts at the coming climb and the thought of facing her.

Reece flashed a charming smile, his eyes alert as he studied Whelan. “It is a trait that has served me well in the past.”

Whelan made his way up the steps, holding tight to the railing and cursing the coming climb. “I’m sure it will soon. I wouldn’t go too far if I were you. I’m sure she will call for you shortly.”

“Oh, why’s that?” Reece asked.

“A pathfinder has missed role call and this one has a special tie to you.”

Reece’s head tilted and then understanding dawned. “Shea.”

Whelan cackled. “That’s the one. I’ve no doubt that they’ll pull you into a special assignment before too long.”

Leaving the other pathfinder behind, Whelan continued up the long steps. For the amount of trouble this was going to generate, that girl had better be involved in something dire or he’d have her head.

Chapter one

“We’re agreed then. What says the Telroi?”

Shea tuned back into the conversation to find twelve sets of eyes on her. She blinked at them and looked around with unease as she fought the urge to shift. The Trateri favored pillows instead of chairs. It made sitting for long periods painful for those not used to it. Shea had chosen to kneel since she’d assumed this meeting wouldn’t last long. Her mistake. It was an assumption she really should have known better than to make.

“Do you have an opinion on this?” Gala asked, giving Shea an expectant look—one shared by many at the table. It was unfortunate Shea didn’t have an opinion one way or another. Mostly because she’d stopped paying attention fifteen minutes into the meeting when it became clear that she had little to contribute.

Gala was a middle-aged woman, plump and soft with curves. Her brown hair, threaded through with grey, had been bound back in a smooth bun that Shea couldn’t hope to ever replicate, even before she had chopped off all her hair in an attempt to disguise herself as a boy. Though that subterfuge had been uncovered several months prior, Shea’s hair was at that weird length where it was considered neither long nor short. It had been unruly at both lengths but at the in-between stage it was a mess of curls that refused to be tamed.

Youngest at the table by a few decades, Shea’s presence would normally not be required nor appreciated among the elders of the Trateri clans. Her status as the Telroi, beloved of Fallon Hawkvale, warlord of the Trateri and conqueror of the Lowlands, had afforded her certain responsibilities—uncomfortable and outside her normal skill set though they might be.

Daere, a woman several years older than Shea though still much younger than the rest, leaned forward from where she sat behind Shea. Since she wasn’t a clan leader, she didn’t have a seat at the table and was forced into the role of observer. In a low voice, one only meant for Shea’s ears, she said, “They’re discussing where to house the new clans that have joined us.”

Shea gave a slight nod, her face creased in a thoughtful frown. Or at least she hoped it was thoughtful. This was the third such meeting she’d been forced to attend, and she felt no more comfortable than she had at the first one.

Unfortunately, she’d also been unable to convince Daere of the uselessness of her presence. Daere was Fallon’s cousin on his father’s side and had been assigned to be Shea’s shadow. Well, technically she’d been assigned to mentor and guide Shea in her new role in Trateri society.

The woman saw Shea’s lack of social graces as a personal affront and had set about trying to integrate Shea into their way of life. She’d started with these meetings, and Shea was already trying to think of several ways to avoid Daere for the foreseeable future. It was difficult since the woman evidently had eyes in the back of her head.

Daere was a tall woman, even taller than Shea who towered over most Lowlanders. Since the Trateri people as a whole grew tall and muscular, this wasn’t unusual. Her reddish brown hair was tied back from her face, setting off her sharp features and giving her no nonsense glare an extra push as she aimed it Shea’s way, telling her without words to pay attention.

Shea turned back to the assembled elders. Though mostly women, there were a few men scattered into the mix. Shea heaved an internal sigh. She missed the days when she was a pathfinder and scout, one who wasn’t expected to comment on anything but the possible obstacles on her chosen routes.

“You want my opinion,” Shea stated, hoping someone would volunteer some information on the particulars of what had been discussed. A few stared at her with expectant expressions. Others verged closer to outright hostility at having to listen to a stranger, someone who wasn’t even Trateri.

Gala eyed her with a vexed expression and pointed at a spot on the map. “As we’ve discussed, we’d like to add the additions to this side of the camp.”

“I still say that’s a mistake. The Ember clan and the Rain clan both have blood feuds with the Earth clan,” Calvin said, his mouth turned down into a sour frown.

Shea looked at the map, grabbing one side and sliding it closer to her. She ignored the slight huff from the woman from the Lion clan—a woman whose name she had forgotten. Again.

Hm. Camp was a little cramped already. The Forest of the Giants lived up to its name. The giant soul trees that were the size of mini mountains made finding adequate space for Fallon’s army difficult. With roots the size of houses poking up out of the ground, it was a challenge keeping the camp from breaking into several spaced out settlements. It was too easy for any isolated sections to be attacked by beast or man.

It had forced the Trateri to adapt. They’d packed the smaller tents so tightly together that they were nearly on top of each other while the larger tents the Trateri were known for were left packed away. The tight quarters had left many feeling irate.

“That’s right under the Airabel village,” Shea observed. The Airabel village was built among the treetops of the giant soul trees—trees so tall and wide that it was said only giants could tend them. The Lowlanders who made this place their home rarely ventured to the ground, and then only if it was in a hunting party. They’d been more than happy to let the Trateri set up their encampment below.

“We’re aware of that,” Sharri, an elder from the Earth clan, said.

“Then you don’t care if the Ember clan and the Rain clan wake up with human waste decorating their tents,” Shea said with a neutral expression.

Twelve sets of eyes looked at each other before aiming Shea’s way. She greeted them with a pleasant expression.

“What do you mean?” Gala asked.

Shea slid the map back to the center of the table and began to lean back before catching herself at the last minute, remembering just in time that she wasn’t in a chair. Her thighs screamed in protest.

“The Airabel have no way to build latrine pits since their homes are built into the branches of the great soul trees.”

Their expressions said they had never considered how the Airabel handled waste. Shea wasn’t surprised. The Trateri had never seen a sky village built into the canopy of a tree so tall it was difficult seeing the crown of it when you were standing right next to it on the ground. They had probably never even thought of the logistics of life up there. Unlike Shea, who’d spent many visits living and learning about the Airabel during her time as a pathfinder. Then, she’d lived in one of the tree top homes, instead of camping out on the forest floor as the Trateri did.

Shea sighed. They still weren’t getting it. “They use chamber pots that they empty over the side of the village every morning. Anything below gets a nice coating of whatever they ate the previous day.”

It was why the land below the village was so lush. Flowers and other vegetation had taken advantage of the nutrient rich soil derived from generations of fertilizer.

“They can’t go there,” Calvin said, staring at the map. “We’d never hear the end of it.”

“I say put them there,” an elder whose name Shea hadn’t bothered to learn said. “They deserve what they get for waiting so long to join us. They should have been here months ago, instead of waiting to see if the Hawkvale’s plans would succeed.”

There was a murmur of agreement around the table.

Shea didn’t know the particulars of the situation or why the two clans were just joining the other five now. She did know that putting them there was a disaster in the making. If nothing else, it would lead to additional meetings such as this as the newcomers aired their grievances. Shea would like to avoid that.

“What about here?” Shea asked, pointing to a corner of the map.

Gala and the rest leaned closer, frowning thoughtfully at the spot Shea indicated.

“That’s the horse pasture,” Calvin said.

“That we don’t use,” Shea said. “There are too many dangerous plants that could kill the horses. The horse master said he planned to move them further afield where there was less danger.”

“So you’re saying the horses are more important than Ember or Rain.”

Shea fought down a sense of frustration. That wasn’t what she’d said at all.

“Not at all. Merely that they have the tools to make this spot safe for their people whereas the horses do not.”

One elder harrumphed. “I say the horses are more important than either of those clans.”

“They could see it as an insult on our part,” another cautioned.

Shea forced herself not to roll her eyes. Because putting them in a spot where shit would be dumped on them every morning was less of an insult.

She couldn’t take her sitting position any longer and shifted, easing her weight off her legs. They prickled with an angry buzzing sensation as feeling rushed back into them.

Daere aimed a disapproving stare her way. She probably thought Shea was showing weakness she couldn’t afford, but Shea shrugged off the other woman’s disapproval. If they chose to see her inability to kneel in one position for an indeterminate length of time as weakness, they would learn the exact depths of her strength should they choose to test her.

She propped her chin on her hand and listened as the elders debated the merits of the two spots. Daere gave her another frown and tilted her head as if to invite Shea to insert her opinion. Shea gave her a blank expression and feigned confusion as if she didn’t know exactly what Daere wanted. Shea wasn’t a peacemaker. If Daere wanted this fixed, she’d have to do it herself.

Daere’s lips tightened before she aimed a serene expression at the rest of the group. “How about we give them a choice?” Daere said, stepping into the blossoming argument. “Let them decide which of the two areas would fit their needs best.”

Gala and Calvin listened with attentive expressions before sharing a look with the rest of the group. They both nodded as a chorus of agreement came from the rest of the elders.

Shea kept her heartfelt thanks that the meeting was over inside. She placed her hands on the table to begin leveraging her way to her feet.

“On to the next issue,” Calvin said.

Shea froze. No. They were done. How could there be more?

Her eyes swung to Daere’s, who gave her a meaningful stare combined with the barest hint of a victorious smirk before turning her attention back to the conversation. Shea’s shoulders drooped and she settled back into place. Her chance to escape the tedium had disappeared.

 

*

 

Shea strode down the small path sandwiched between several tents as she tried to ignore the woman pacing by her side. Daere was the epitome of the perfect Trateri woman—graceful with just a hint of that ferocious fire that said she would eviscerate any who got in her way. Adorned in the abundance of jewelry preferred by those Trateri not of the warrior caste, Daere’s clothes were complex and yet simple, speaking of the highest craftsmanship.

Next to her, Shea felt like a homely usurper, wearing the pants and blouse she normally wore when on the trail. She’d had a much different plan for the day before Daere forced her into that meeting using placid smiles and artful words.

“We have time for a quick break for the midday meal and then we’ll need to meet with the blacksmiths and armorers,” Daere said as she smiled and nodded when three women greeted her in passing.

Shea stopped and turned to Daere. “What are you talking about?”

Daere was too refined to huff, but Shea was beginning to learn her expressions. The other woman was frustrated with her.

“The blacksmiths and armorers,” she said in a patient voice even as the pleasant expression on her face grew strained. “There is a dispute that you will need to mediate.”

Shea tilted her head. “I know nothing of either discipline. How do you expect me to mediate when I don’t know any of the particulars?”

This time Daere’s sigh was long suffering. “You just need to listen and then offer your best opinion.”

“But if I don’t know what I’m talking about how can my opinion matter.”

Daere’s smile dropped from her face. “I will be there to guide you.”

That’s what Shea was afraid of.

Daere gave her another smile, this one a thin stretching of lips that in no way reached her eyes. “Now, I suggest we visit the cooks’ tents to grab something to sustain us for the afternoon.”

Daere turned to set off but didn’t get far before a man called her over to look at a tool in his hand. Shea glanced at Trenton, the ever present shadow that Fallon had assigned as her guard. Trenton’s lean frame and pretty hazel eyes belied the lethal swordsman who had tried to hammer some of those same skills into Shea’s stubborn head. He had a thin face and pointed chin. Right now he seemed preoccupied with scanning their surroundings for potential threats.

Seeing both of her keepers distracted, Shea slipped away, quickly merging into a stream of people heading in the opposite direction. Daere had claimed her morning; she wasn’t getting her afternoon too.

An hour later Shea leaned back on one arm, her legs swinging over the edge of her perch. High above in a soul tree, Shea allowed herself to relax. Daere wouldn’t think to look for her up here. The Trateri weren’t big on heights, being from the grass plains to the southwest where trees weren’t common, and trees of this height were nothing but a myth.

Shea bent forward, cocking her head as she peered down. It was just a guess, but a fall from this height would probably result in her death. Not a cheery thought, but Shea counted the risk as acceptable. Solitude in the Trateri camp came at a high price—one Shea was willing to pay for an afternoon free from unwanted responsibilities.

Her perch was a knob of growth the Airabel villagers had turned into a resting place for travelers journeying to the crown. Even as high as she’d climbed, she was still only a third of the way up and Airabel was barely visible through the branches of the soul tree it called home. A hundred men standing shoulder to shoulder wouldn’t be able to surround the trunk of the tree completely. In a world filled with many odd and wondrous beings, it and its brethren were totally unique.

Fallon had marched his army halfway across the Lowlands to this Forest of the Giants after hearing the story of this place. He’d decided that he needed to see the truth of her words for himself. She still hadn’t gotten quite used to the power her words held, but that was what she got for claiming the love of the most powerful man in the Broken Lands. She needed to be careful with what words she shared in the future.

If she could take the man and leave the warlord she would, but that was as likely as the sky falling to the ground. He’d poured his heart into the Trateri people, united the clans and forged them into a unit capable of not only surviving the dangers of the Broken Lands but thriving in them. Getting him to walk away would be impossible.

Shea leaned back and sighed. She was bored. Bored and stifled. Of all complaints, she hated that one the most. It made her sound like some ungrateful child who needed to be entertained.

She would have settled for any small excuse to scout. A resupply mission. Maybe even something to do with reconnaissance. She’d even accept ferrying a letter to one of the Trateri squads on the outer perimeter of camp.

She’d tried. She’d been denied. Oh, they were polite enough—she was the telroi after all—but they made it clear in only the ways a fellow soldier could that her presence was a hindrance rather than a help. It had taken only one debacle of a mission to bring that point home.

As the telroi of the Trateri warlord, her position in this society had changed from that of a highly respected scout to someone tied to the most powerful man in the Lowlands. She still wasn’t sure what place a telroi held. Somewhere between a wife and a mistress from what she could tell.  

She couldn’t even take her complaints to Fallon. He’d snuck off into the night after their last conversation—fight really—about her place and had been gone for a month and a half visiting his strongholds throughout the Lowlands and doing who knew what.

Shea certainly didn’t—because he’d left her behind.

There was a commotion below. She leaned over the edge of her perch and frowned at the sight of two Trateri men hacking at a series of vines hanging from one of the giant, upraised roots. The vines were a deep verdant green and the smallest tracery of pale violet ran along the edges.

They really shouldn’t be doing that. The vegetation in this forest was unpredictable and deadly if handled wrong. Those could be normal vines or they could be sleeper vines, whose purpose was to hunt and capture prey before dragging it back to the carnivorous flower at the vines’ heart. The flower’s pollen would sedate the prey as it slowly digested the animal while it was still alive.

“Oy, down below,” Shea shouted. “You shouldn’t be doing that. It’s dangerous.”

The taller of the men looked up and frowned before saying something to his companion. They both went back to hacking.

Did they not hear her? It was possible. She was pretty high up.

She narrowed her eyes at them. Some of the clans tended not to recognize Shea yet. She wasn’t as well-known as Fallon and hadn’t been with him that long. She thought it more likely they had ignored her.

She debated leaving them to their fate. The old Shea wouldn’t have hesitated. She would have said their death was on their own heads if they chose to ignore her. Actions had consequences. New Shea was willing to give them a bit of reasonable doubt. These were her people if Fallon had his way. She needed to do her best by them even when it was a gigantic pain in the ass.

She grabbed the rope ladder she’d pulled up after her and tossed it over the edge, sending the secondary rope, which was anchored nearby after it. Gripping the second rope with both hands, she hooked one leg around the thick rope and slid down.

Moments later she reached on the forest floor. She released the rope and flexed her hands. They were a bit sore but she hadn’t gone so fast as to rip skin off, which was a relief. Injuries to the hands, even small ones like rope burn, hurt like hell and made even simple tasks difficult.

She turned to the men. They had given her descent a sideways glance but hadn’t paused in their task.

Shea gave them a polite smile. “As I was trying to tell you earlier, what you’re doing is dangerous. It would be better to get one of the Airabel villagers to spot you. They have a lot more experience with the flora and fauna in this forest and will know if you’re messing with something that should be left alone.”

The men shared a look before continuing with their hacking. Shea took a deep breath then released it slowly. That answered that. They’d definitely been ignoring her earlier. Should she continue to warn them or leave them to it?

She ran a hand through her hair, leaving the half tamed mess disheveled and sticking up in odd directions.

She studied the plant. It was possible it was harmless. If so, confronting them was pointless and could lead to trouble later. On the other hand, if she let them continue and they managed to disturb a sleeper vine, they might die. Then there would be all these questions and accusations about how she’d failed them.

It was so much easier when she kept her own council and didn’t care about getting along with the people she served.

“Are you really going to ignore me right now?” Shea asked. She pulled a face at her own stupid question. Of course they were.

She could try ordering them to listen, but she had a feeling that would make her feel even more stupid and ineffectual.

“Hey,” she shouted.

“What?” one of the men finally snapped.

“Did you not hear me? You’re hacking away at something that could kill you. Stop until someone can verify this is safe.”

“We got mothers. We don’t need the warlord’s bed warmer telling us how to do our job.”

Shea’s eyebrows rose. She wanted to say the sentiment shocked her, but it didn’t. She was only surprised that it had taken so long for someone to say something. It was a fact of life that people were going to assume what they wanted to.

Had she been someone different, those words might have hurt. Made her question her self-worth and position. The thing was, she’d earned her stripes through blood, sweat and tears. Her friends knew she wasn’t just some pretty face to warm the warlord’s bed. They knew what she was capable of. These men’s words said more about their little minds than it did her.

Though she did wonder why they weren’t afraid to say such things to her. Most Trateri treated her like fragile glass, fearing word of their disrespect would get back to the warlord. He was not a man you wanted to make angry. She made a note of their clothes and the crest announcing their clan allegiance that decorated their backs. She’d have to investigate which it belonged to. She didn’t think it belonged to any of the ones she knew. Perhaps one of the newcomers?

Shea disregarded the first two things she wanted to say. There were entirely too many curse words and threats in them. After a moment she disregarded the third response. It was still a little bloodthirsty.

“I know you didn’t show such blatant disrespect to someone who outranks you,” a woman’s voice barked from behind Shea.

The men snapped to attention in a way that was at complete odds with how they’d treated Shea.

Shea turned to find a shorter woman with dark brown hair pulled fiercely back from her face in several interwoven braids. Her amber eyes were flinty and fierce. There were three parallel scars across the line of her jaw. Her gaze flicked to Shea then back to the men.

“Who is your commander? Does he know the disrespect his men show their superiors?”

There was no answer.

“I’m sure Darius Lightheart or Fallon Hawkvale would be happy to personally discuss your lack with him at length.”

The men glared at the woman. Shea eyed her as well, surprised at the unexpected interference.

The woman looked familiar. Shea could have sworn she’d seen her before but she couldn’t have said where or when.

“I don’t speak just for my own amusement,” the woman said in an acerbic voice when the men failed to do more than glare. “Answer.”

“Our commander is Patrick Cloud.”

“Never heard of him,” the woman said. To Shea, “You?”

Shea shook her head. “Not familiar to me either.”

The other man looked impatient to have this over. “We’re out of Dark Cloud under clan Rain. We were told to clear these vines out to make room for sleeping quarters and storage space.”

The woman shot Shea a questioning look. Shea frowned and tilted her head in thought. Clan Rain. Wasn’t that one of the new clans? The ones discussed at the interminable meeting this morning? She looked around the area. This wasn’t either of the places they’d discussed hosting them.

It occurred to her that she should point that out. One look at the sullen faces before her convinced her to let someone else be the barer of bad news. She’d done all she planned on doing.

“We don’t have time to humor a mother hen,” the first man said. “We need this done by midafternoon so they can move some of the supplies in here before it rains again.”

The second man looked at the trees above. “This place seems to have no shortage of rain.”

A vine jerked. It was a small movement, easily missed. Shea’s gaze sharpened. Was that her imagination or did it really move? The vine looked different than the ones the Trateri had been hacking at—some of which were strewn about the ground—the violet two shades darker and edged in white.

It flicked again and then rose. The rest of the vines shifted as if disturbed by a strong breeze. Only there was no breeze. Several of the dark purple vines, thicker and a deeper color than the rest, parted the curtain. They were silent as they snaked across the ground.

“Look out,” Shea shouted.

She darted closer to the men. Both of whom were just now realizing the danger they were in. A small vine closed around the tall Trateri’s leg and jerked. He screamed as it dragged him toward the nest of vines.

His friend tried to help, hacking at the rest as they swarmed across the ground to him. Shea drew the short sword Trenton insisted she carry and rushed forward.

This was why she hated getting involved. Saving stupid people was a thankless task.

The woman darted past her, swinging a sword the length of Shea’s arm. She cut one vine in half and then reversed her slash to take care of another.

Shea let the woman and the other man fight the vines while she concentrated on the one wrapped around the captive’s leg.

She hacked at it, losing the proper form her sword instructors had tried to engrave in her body. All she cared about was getting the stupid vine to let go.

Her cuts fell in a flurry of strikes, a pale yellow substance oozing out of the wounds. It quivered and then released the man’s leg before slithering back behind the curtain of vines. The cloth the vine had touched was partially torn and bright red welts formed on the man’s leg.

Shea grabbed his shoulder and heaved, half dragging him as he crab walked backwards with her.

“Let’s go. Get out of range of the vines,” Shea shouted at the other two.

She’d only taken two steps before a vine struck, wrapping around her leg and jerking. She hit the ground with a grunt, the sword falling from her grip. Her hands scrabbled at the dirt as the vine tried to drag her back toward the flower that was beginning to peek past the curtain of green.

A whistle cut through the air, ending in a thunk. The grip around her leg loosened and she scrambled forward.

“Move your ass,” Trenton shouted as she gained her feet and raced away from the flower. She grabbed the man she’d saved and half dragged him across the forest floor to safety as Trenton, the woman and the second man worked to hold off the other vines.

Small feeler vines slithered across the ground after them but gave up the chase after a few feet.

Trenton’s face was coldly furious as he looked back at Shea. His eyes held an accusation that she had no doubt would reach Caden and Fallon’s ears when they returned from their trip. When she’d eluded Daere and Trenton, she’d known he wasn’t going to be happy when he found her. It was just her luck that he caught up to her as she was being dragged to a grisly death. He’d no doubt have some choice words for her later.

“What the hell was that?” the second man asked in a shrill voice, interrupting Trenton’s lecture before it could begin. His friend was seated on the ground, his hands hovering over the welts on his leg as he stared at the nest of vines that writhed and swarmed like a den of snakes.

Shea sighed and gave him a long suffering look. “Had you bothered to listen, I would have told you that several of these types of vines are attached to a carnivorous plant, but hey, you seem to know what you’re doing. Next time I’ll leave you to it. I’m sure your families will be very proud when they’re told their sons were eaten by a flower.”

Both men stared at Shea in shock. They seemed almost as surprised at her response as they had been that a plant had tried to kill them.

The woman snorted. “You two louts should have listened to the stories. She’s the scout who saved the Hawkvale’s life from a spinner nest and from a village of crazy lowlanders. When she tells you something, it’s best to pay attention.”

Several Trateri joined them then. There were exclamations of shock as they viewed the still writhing vines with something close to fear. It was one thing to be wary of the beasts that inhabited the Broken Lands, but a plant that could kill? The Trateri had no frame of reference for that.

“I’d leave the vines alone until you can get one of the villagers to help you safely clear the area,” Shea said. Fire should do it, but she kept that part to herself. She didn’t want to get drawn into this anymore than she was already.

Before they could ask her further questions, Shea walked away. The woman who’d interfered joined her, and Trenton trailed behind them, a grim and glowering shadow.

“Thank you for your help,” Shea said after a beat. “I’m not sure it was needed but it was appreciated regardless.”

The woman’s small grin flashed white teeth against a tan face. Her eyes crinkled with some private amusement.

“Don’t mention it. I was in a nasty mood before I happened upon you. It gave me a chance to work through some of my aggression before I took it out on the men under my command.”

Shea doubted that. The woman had seemed calm and collected when she dressed down those men. There hadn’t been an ounce of unnecessary anger or aggression.

“You seem familiar,” Shea said, saying what had been on her mind since the woman interceded.

The woman’s grin became a full-fledged smile. “I should. We’ve met before.”

Shea glanced over at her, startled. Had they? She took a closer look, trying to place the face. It was right there, but the memory wasn’t coming.

“Let me see if this jogs your mind. Revenants and pickleberry juice.”

The memory smacked her in the face. Shea’s jaw dropped.

“You’re the second command in Sawgrass. Perry’s your commander, right?”

Shea remembered now, the woman had been in the company that had taken on a huge revenant pack on Shea’s first mission as a Trateri scout. They’d have all died, despite every precaution taken and a hard battle fought, if Fallon hadn’t joined the battle at the right moment.

“Yeah. My name’s Fiona in case you don’t remember. You were just a Daisy then.”

A Daisy was an untried scout, named for the yellow ribbon sewn into the collar and edges of the green jacket that all scouts owned. The jacket had been in a pack Shea had stolen on her way out of camp and was the reason why Eamon had assumed she was assigned to his scouting party.

Needless to say, she hadn’t worn the yellow long. Only until the Trateri realized the extent of her skills and promoted her to a full scout.

“I’d forgotten the name, but I do remember the face,” Shea admitted.

“Is that normal? How those men talked to you?” Fiona asked, tilting her head back at the Trateri they’d just saved.

Shea shot a glance over her shoulder. The Trateri massed around the vines. Most kept a careful distance but some intrepid individuals poked at the vines with swords and jerked back when the vines tried to grab them.

“I’ve never had anybody be quite so blatant with their disrespect before.” Shea’s response was slow and careful. She wasn’t one to talk about such matters, especially with strangers. Lately, she’d been trying to be a little bit more open, having experienced some of the friendships with the Trateri scouts she had worked with. It was a work in progress.

“In other words, there has been disrespect.”

Trenton looked over with a frown. Shea ignored him and shrugged. Fiona could make of that what she would.

Fiona walked beside her in silence for a moment, her forehead wrinkled in thought. Shea was content to leave her to her internal musings, instead preoccupied with looking around the camp.

There wasn’t enough room in the treetop village for the entire Trateri army, though the villagers had offered hospitality to Fallon and his top officials. They’d rejected it, giving the excuse that they needed to stay close to their men.

The truth was that they didn’t trust the villagers, who had treated the Trateri horde as odd friends come to visit. The Trateri were used to at least a token resistance and were flummoxed at the lack of one upon their arrival.

Shea suspected that was because the villagers didn’t see the Trateri as a true threat. While their military prowess would guarantee them victory on the ground, it would be difficult to fight a battle where the opponent had the advantage of the high ground. Quite literally in this case.

The moment the Trateri tried to ascend to the world above, the villagers could fade into the forest, using the numerous interlocking branches that created a network of paths. The Trateri would be hard pressed to follow.

Fallon and his generals knew all this which was why they couldn’t understand why the villagers had agreed to provide him with a tithe and a few of their hunters. Had in fact seemed overjoyed to do so.

Shea suspected it was because the villagers saw in the Trateri an opportunity. In many ways the tree people of the Forest of the Giants were advanced, more so than any in the Lowlands. They’d managed to build houses that defied gravity and logic. They did this because the dangers on the ground far outweighed those of the air.

There were two worlds in this forest, that of the below and that of the above. The forest floor had its beauty, but it was filled with numerous more dangerous plants and beasts than the canopies. Because of this danger, only the best hunters ventured to the forest floor. It led to their people being isolated with little trade with the rest of the Lowlands.

The Airabel saw the relationship with the Trateri as a way to become connected with the outside world again. Their population was small and they were in danger of inbreeding. They hoped the exposure to the Trateri might lead to an influx of new blood.

Until the Trateri became a direct threat to the Airabel, they would act in good faith with Fallon. Since Shea was sort of responsible for their discovery, she hoped that continued to be the case. She’d like to avoid having their blood on her hands.

“I’m amazed these people could build that,” Fiona said gesturing to the village suspended high above them.

Shea looked up. It was impressive. Breathtaking the first, second, and third time you saw it. A feat that defied the imagination as it integrated seamlessly with the nature around it.

This place was one of Shea’s favorite to visit. She respected them and for her, that was rare. They worked with nature instead of against it and it paid off.

“Are there more places like this?” Fiona asked.

“I’m not sure. I think there are a few other villages throughout the forest, but this is the only one I’ve ever visited.”

“I was always raised to see Lowlanders as weak, ineffectual people who wasted the abundance of riches their lands provided. For the most part, that view has held true.”

Shea kept her own council. Fiona wasn’t necessarily wrong. Shea had said something similar to Eamon and Fallon once. Still, it was more complicated than that and Shea knew that you couldn’t make sweeping assumptions with any accuracy.

“And now?” she asked. “How do you see them now?”

Fiona flashed a smile. “Still ineffectual and weak. Cowards for the most part.” They walked several more steps. “But I’m beginning to realize that might not be true for all Lowlanders. That maybe there are a few exceptions.”

Shea threw her a questioning look. That sounded like it was directed a little closer to home. Fiona looked back at her with an open expression.

“We Trateri are a hard race. We think we know a person’s measure as soon as we meet them and can be slow to change our minds.”

Shea looked away, wondering where Fiona was going with this.

Fiona continued after a beat. “Once you have our loyalty, though, it’s forever. You’ve already started on that path. Don’t let a few stupid people convince you to stray from it.”

Ah, Shea saw now. Fiona was trying to comfort her, give her something to hold onto when things got rough. Shea was tempted to tell her it was unnecessary, that she’d been here before and the things said then were much worse. She hadn’t had friends like Eamon, Buck and Clark to stand up for her. She hadn’t had the support of a warlord.

She didn’t say any of that though, taking the advice in the vein it was meant. She gave Fiona a respectful nod.

“Don’t worry, I’m a lot more stubborn than I look. It would take more than a few harsh words to run me off,” she assured.

Fiona snorted. “Good. I’d expect nothing less from the warlord’s telroi.”

The two parted ways shortly after, Fiona heading to see if her commander had any need of her and Shea off to see the scout commander of the Western Wind Division. She wanted to see if she could twist the commander’s arm into sending her out on a mission. He owed her a favor or two from all the times she’d saved his ass.

The post Mist’s Edge Excerpt appeared first on T.A. White.

 “For God’s sake, woman, the village will still be there if we take an hour’s break.”

Shea rolled her eyes at the soaring mountains before her. This was the third rest stop the man had called for since setting out this morning.

“We must be half way there by now,” he continued.

Maybe if they hadn’t stopped several times already or if they had moved with a purpose, but as it stood the group had probably traveled less than two miles. Half of that nearly vertical. At this pace, it would take an extra half day to get back to Birdon Leaf.

And who would they blame for the delayed arrival?

Shea. Even though it wasn’t her needing to stop on every other hill when they felt a muscle cramp or experienced shortness of breath. Since she was the pathfinder, it was obviously her fault.

She could hear it now.

 The pathfinder sets the pace. The pathfinder chooses when to take breaks. Yada. Yada. Yada.

She hated running missions with villagers. They thought that since they’d gone on day trips outside their village barriers as children, they knew a thing or two about trail signs and the Highlands in general.

It was always, ‘We should take this route. I think this route is faster. Why is it taking so long? These mountain passes are sooo steep.’

Never mind it was her that had walked these damn routes since the time she could toddle after the adults or that the paths they suggested would take them right through a beast’s nest.

Nope. She was just a pathfinder. A female pathfinder. A female pathfinder who hadn’t grown up in the same village as them. Obviously, she knew nothing of her craft.

The man yammered on about how they couldn’t take another step. Any reasonable person could see how worn out they were. She wasn’t the one carrying the gear or the trade goods.

Whine. Whine. Whine.

That’s all she heard. Over the last several months, she’d perfected the art of tuning them out without missing pertinent information.

It was all in the pitch. Their voices tended to approach a higher frequency when they regressed to bitching about what couldn’t be changed. As if she could make the switchbacks approaching the Garylow Mountain pass any less steep or treacherous.

“We’ll take a rest once we reach the pass,” she said for what seemed like the hundredth time.

They had begged for another break since about five minutes after the last one.

She had a deadline to meet. Sleep to catch. Most importantly, she didn’t think she could last another half day with this lot.

“We’re nowhere near that pass,” the man raged.

The rest break obviously meant a lot to him.

“It’s just over that ridge,” Shea pointed above her.

Well, over that ridge and then another slight incline or two. It was just a small lie, really. If the man knew the truth, he’d probably sit down and refuse to take another step.

“That’s nearly a half mile away.” The man’s face flushed red.

Really if he had enough energy to be angry, he had enough energy to walk.

“Quarter mile at most.”

“We’re tired. We’ve been walking for days. First to the trading outpost and then back. What does an hour’s difference make?”

Shea sighed. Looked up at the blue, blue sky and the soaring pinnacles of rock then down at the loose shale and half trampled path they’d already traveled.

“You’re right, an hour’s rest won’t make much difference.” His face lit up. “However, you’ve already wasted two hours today on the last two breaks. You also wasted several hours yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. We should have been back already.”

She held up her hand when he opened his mouth.

“Now, we are getting up that pass. We need to be over it and down the mountain by nightfall. Otherwise you’re going to have to fend off nightfliers. Do you want to fend off nightfliers when you could be sleeping? Or would you rather suck it up and get over that damn ridge?”

The man paled at the mention of nightfliers, a beast about three times the size of a bat that had a disturbing tendency of picking up its food and dropping it from a high altitude. It made it easier to get to the good parts on the inside.

“We’ll wait to take the break.” He turned and headed down to the last switchback where the rest of their party waited.

“Oh, and Kent.” Shea’s voice rose just loud enough for him to hear. “Please let them know that if anybody refuses to walk, I’ll leave them here to fend for themselves. Nightfliers aren’t the only things that roam this pass come nightfall.”

He gave her a look full of loathing before heading down to his friends. Shea kept her snicker to herself. Good things never happened when they thought she was laughing at them.

Idiot. As if pathfinders would abandon their charges. If that was the case, she would have left this lot behind days ago. There were oaths preventing that kind of behavior.

What she wouldn’t give to enjoy a little quiet time relaxing on the roof of her small home right about now.

They didn’t make it back to the village until early the next morning. Shea brought up the rear as their group straggled past the wooden wall encircling the small village of Birdon Leaf.

The village was a place that time had forgotten. It looked the same as it had the day it was founded, and in fifty years or a hundred, it’d probably still be the same. Same families living in the same homes, built of wood and mud by their father’s, father’s, father. Most of the buildings in the village were single story and one room. The really well off might have a second room or a loft. Nothing changed here, and they liked it that way. Propose a new idea or way of doing something and they’d run you out of town.

They didn’t like strangers, which was fine because most times strangers didn’t like them.

They tolerated Shea because they needed the skills her guild taught to survive. Shea tolerated them because she had to.

Well, some days she didn’t.

A small group of women and children waited to welcome the men.

A large boned woman with a hefty bosom and ash blond hair just beginning to gray flung her arms around a tall man with thinning hair.

“Where have you been? We expected you back yesterday morning.” She smothered his face with kisses.

“You know we had to keep to the pathfinder’s pace. The men didn’t feel it would be right leaving her behind just because she couldn’t keep up.”

There it was. Her fault.

Anytime something went wrong it was due to the fact she was a woman. Even looking less feminine didn’t help her. A taller than average girl with a thin layer of muscles stretching over her lean frame, Shea had hazel eyes framed by round cheeks, a stubborn mouth and a strong jaw-line she’d inherited from her father. Much to her consternation.

“What the guild was thinking assigning a woman to our village, I’ll never know,” the woman said in exasperation. “And such useless trail bait. They must have sent the laziest one they had.”

Trail bait. Dirt pounder. Roamer. Hot footed. Shea had heard it all. So many words to describe one thing. Outsider.

Shea turned towards home. At least she would have a little peace and quiet for the next few days. She planned to hide out and not see or talk to anyone.

Just her and her maps. Maybe some cloud watching. And definitely some napping. Make that a lot of napping. She needed to recharge.

“Pathfinder! Pathfinder,” a young voice called after her.

Shea turned and automatically smiled at the girl with the gamine grin and boundless enthusiasm racing after her. “Aimee, I’ve told you before you can call me Shea.”

Aimee ducked her head and gave her a gap toothed smile. She was missing one of her front teeth. She must have lost it while Shea was outside the fence.

“Pathfinder Shea. You’re back.”

Shea nodded, amused at the obvious statement. Of all the villagers in this backwoods place, Aimee was her favorite. She was young enough that she didn’t fear the wilds lying just beyond the safety of the barrier. All she saw was the adventure waiting out there. She reminded Shea of the novitiates that came every year to the Wayfarer’s Keep in hopes of taking the Pathfinder’s exam and becoming an apprentice.

“Um, did you see any cool beasts this time?” Aimee burst out. “Nightfliers, maybe? You said they liked to nest in the peaks around Garylow’s pass. What about red backs?”

“Whoa, hold up. One question at a time.” Shea took a piece of paper she’d torn from her journal last night in anticipation of this moment. “Here. I saw this one diving to catch breakfast yesterday morning.”

Shea handed her a sketching of a peregrine falcon in mid dive. It was a natural animal, but to a girl raised in a village where all non-domesticated animals were considered ‘beasts,’ it would seem exotic. Shea had sketched it during one of the numerous breaks the men had taken.

“Pathfinder Shea,” a woman said from behind them, disapproval coloring her voice. “The elders wish to speak to you.”

Shea’s smile disappeared as she schooled her face to a politeness she didn’t really feel. Aimee hid the drawing in her skirts.

The woman’s eyes shifted to Shea’s companion. “Aimee, my girl, your mother’s looking for you. I suggest you get on home.”

Aimee bobbed in place, suitably chastened and followed as the woman swept away, but not before aiming a small smile in Shea’s direction.

Shea lifted a hand and waved. Aimee had become something of Shea’s shadow in the past few weeks. It was a welcome change, given how most of the villagers pretended she didn’t exist or treated her with barely concealed hostility.

Shea looked woefully towards the tightly packed dirt trail leading to her little cottage. Her muscles ached and three days of grime and dirt coated her body.

She wanted a bath, a hot meal and then to sleep for twelve hours straight. She didn’t want to deal with the grumpy, blame-wielding elders who no doubt wanted things they couldn’t or shouldn’t have. But if she didn’t deal with them now, they would just show up and nag at her until she gave them her attention. They wanted something from her. Again. Better to deal with things now so she could have an uninterrupted rest later.

Her well-deserved break would have to wait

Her steps unhurried, she turned in the opposite direction of her bed. Even moving as slowly as she reasonably could, she quickly found herself in front of the town hall. It was also a pub and gathering place, basically anything the village needed it to be.

There were only two stone structures in the entire settlement. The town hall was the first and greatest, holding the distinction of being the only building large enough to shelter the entire village in the event of an attack. There was only one entrance, a heavy wooden door that could be barred from the inside. The thin slits in the upper levels kept attackers of both the four legged and two legged variety from slipping inside.

The building was the primary reason the founding families decided to settle here and was the village’s one claim to wealth. The rest of the village, small though it was, had sprung up around it as a result.

For a place as backwards and isolated as Birdon Leaf, the town hall was a majestic building they couldn’t hope to replicate. Even without the skills to maintain it, they were lucky. Some of the larger towns didn’t have a structure this versatile that could act as both gathering place and shelter from danger.

Shea reached the doors and paused to brush the dirt from the back of her trousers and make sure her thin shirt was tucked in and her dark brown, leather jacket was lying straight.

She smoothed a stray strand of honey brown hair behind her ear and ran her hand over her sloppy bun to make sure it was holding. Loose, her hair would reach past her shoulders in a wild mess. That’s why she tied it back for the most part, but no matter how many times she tried to tame it into a sleek bun, it would look like a bird’s nest by the time she walked five feet.

It was difficult to project confidence and professionalism when she wasn’t even the master of her own appearance.

Giving up the attempt to fix her appearance as futile, she braced her feet to open the painfully, heavy wooden door. It was a struggle to move it with just one arm, but she couldn’t afford to show the villagers weakness, or she would lose what little respect she had.

A slow creak announced its opening. She slipped through when there was just enough space before letting the door bang shut behind her.

Despite the bright day outside, it was dim in the town hall. The narrow windows let in little light. Candles flickered with merry abandonment from their place on tables and in bracers.

Wooden benches were stacked around the edges of the space. During meetings they were broken out so the villagers could have a place to sit while they jaw jacked. Today, several tables dotted the area. When the hall wasn’t used for meetings, village members used it as a place to meet and drink.

A group of five huddled around one table, their voices a low rumble in the large room. The middle-aged man with his back to Shea was Zrakovi, the village leader. He lifted a mug and drank, tilting back a head of dark hair turning silver at the temples. Shea came to a stop behind him, waiting for her presence to be acknowledged.

Another man looked up and nudged the man next to him. One by one the others shot glances to where Shea waited patiently.

Zrakovi turned his head slightly. “Pathfinder.”

“Elder Zrakovi.” Shea inclined her head respectfully.

“I have a job for you.”

“I just got back from an assignment.” Technically, she was supposed to get five days off between jobs to prevent fatigue and to give her time to plan the next route.

That almost never happened.

“Well, you’re needed for this,” he said sharply.

“Oh?”

“Watch your tone, girl,” a man with reddish blond hair and blunt features said.

Shea fought against sighing and held herself still. Expressing frustration would only prolong the encounter.

Silence filled the room as she waited for the elder to get to the point.

“My son.” He stopped and cleared his throat, shifting so he could look at her. “James and one other were supposed to return this morning from a run. I need you to find him and make sure they’re alright.”

Shea crossed her arms in front of her. “If I recall correctly, they were heading for the north reaches to gather lumpyrite for trade. That area should be safe. The beasts avoid it because of the mineral’s smell. They probably just got delayed. If they’re not back by nightfall, I’ll head out to look for them tomorrow morning.”

Shea had turned to go when Elder Zrakovi’s voice pulled her back. “They didn’t go to the north reaches.”

She stopped dead. Of course they hadn’t.

The villagers were supposed to check with her when they left the village so she could make sure the areas they traveled were safe. She dropped her head slightly while she schooled her expression back to neutrality. Only when her face showed a placid blankness did she face the men.

“Where did they go?”

“Below the Bearan Fault,” Zrakovi said gruffly.

“You mean the Lowlands,” Shea said, each word pronounced very precisely.

More than one man found themselves avoiding her eyes.

She shook her head slightly. Fools. The Bearan Fault was a line of cliffs nearly two hundred miles long. It was the gateway to the Lowlands.

Lowlanders were dangerous. Crazy too. Shea’d had dealings with them in the past, but it was always with one eye on the exit and a hand on her weapons. You just never knew what they were going to do.

One time, they had set fire to her clothes. While she was still in them.

She hated Lowlanders almost more than Highlanders.

“I told you not to send anybody into the Lowlands without me there to act as guide,” Shea said, her voice as polite as she could make it given the pulse pounding at her temple.

Zrakovi slammed his hand down on the table. “I won’t have my judgment questioned by a slip of a girl barely past her majority.”

“Then how about a Pathfinder with fifteen years’ experience who told you that heading to the Lowlands at this time without proper preparation and without a guide was too dangerous.”

Slip of a girl, her ass. Shea was twenty five and had been guiding folks since she was ten years old and could finally keep up with the adults.

“You were on assignment,” a thin man with stringy hair and a beak nose on the other side of the table complained. “We didn’t know when you would be back, and the opportunity was too good to pass up. This wouldn’t have happened if we had more than one pathfinder.”

Shea’s shoulders tightened and her back became even more rigid. “You’ve been told in the past that pathfinders are rare and in high demand. Your village is too small and too new to warrant more than one.”

“Too new? We’ve lived here for more than eighty years. More like we’re being punished,” one of the men muttered.

Shea took a deep breath and bit her tongue. She had to do that a lot while she was in Birdon Leaf. Sometimes she was amazed there wasn’t a hole in it.

The simplest explanation was that there just weren’t enough pathfinders to go round and none who wanted to destroy a promising career by coming to this backcountry village.

No. Shea was the one to receive that privilege.

“What village did they go to?”

If Shea was lucky they had chosen one of the more stable villages. Though just as dangerous as the rest, they usually had a reason before they went bat shit crazy.

“Edgecomb.”

She sucked in a breath. Well, then.

Edgecomb was crazier than most. They did not like outsiders and were very easy to insult.

“We had reports earlier,” another elder said gruffly. “Mist is rolling down from the eastern border. It’ll cover this place in less than two days. They’ll be cut off.”

Mist. Damn. That complicated things.

She’d had a feeling it was coming. It was one of the reasons she pushed the men so hard going up Garylow’s pass. They were overdue.

Pointing out just how foolish these people were would be a waste of breath and cover the same ground as previous arguments. Shea decided not to address the issue. But she wanted to. Boy, did she ever.

“I’ll need four men if we hope to recover them.”

“Can’t you do it by yourself?” a man sitting next to Zrakovi asked.

“No.”

“You’re a pathfinder. Isn’t that your job?”

The rest of the men spoke over each other to voice their agreement about how this was impossible.

Shea didn’t bother listening, instead tuning them out while she went over her packing list. She’d need at least five days rations for five people, best-case scenario. Her field pack was still packed, but she’d have to replenish some of the items used on her last journey. Hopefully, she had clean underwear and socks in her cottage. Hmm. When did she last do laundry? A week ago? Two? She could live in the same clothes if she had clean socks and undergarments.

“Are you even paying attention, girl?” Elder Zrakovi asked.

Shea brought her attention back to the matter at hand. “My contract stipulates that I may request help from the local population if I think it’s necessary.” She looked each man in the eye as she continued, “If your men are still alive, I will have to rescue them, and I can’t do that alone. You will give me four able-bodied men accustomed to trail work and able to keep up on the distances we will be required to travel.”

“We may not be able to spare that many men,” Zrakovi said. “The tali will be flowering in a few days and if the mist holds off long enough, we’ll need all the people we can get to bring in the yield.”

The tali was a flowering vine that grew all through the rocks and mountains near the village and was a primary staple of the village’s diet. Its stalk could be used in weaving and cloth production, while the fruit could be dried out or eaten raw. It was used in nearly every dish they made. It only flowered twice a year and during that time every man, woman, and child helped with the harvest.

“I’m not asking, elder. If you don’t give me the men I require, I won’t be going out after your son.”

Shea knew harvesting the tali fruit was important. Without it the villagers faced the possibility of starvation, but she wasn’t about to venture into the Lowlands by herself. It would be suicide. The elders had been warned of the dangers. If they couldn’t supply the men, they could accept the consequences of ignoring sound advice.

The five conferred among themselves while Shea waited. Finally, they sat back.

“I can’t give you four,” Zrakovi said.

Shea nodded and turned to go.

“I can’t give you four,” he reiterated, raising his voice. “But I can give you two. It’s all I can spare during the harvest.”

Shea waited a beat. To be safe she needed four, but she’d known from the start the elders wouldn’t spare the manpower. The contract’s wording said she could refuse since they hadn’t provided the necessary resources.

Doing so would mean death for the two men. If they weren’t already dead.

Despite what the villagers thought of her, she didn’t make her requests to make their lives difficult. James, the elder’s son, was one of the few who didn’t try to make her feel like a hindrance. He was a decent sort who had a smile for everybody. When she needed assistance on some of her more dangerous jaunts, he would sometimes volunteer.

She needed four, but she could make do with two.

“Tell them to be at the front gate at midday.”

Relief filled the chamber. A few looks were traded back and forth, and several men nodded.

“Good.” Zrakovi turned his back on Shea and took another drink. As she turned to go, he said, “I’ll be sending a missive requesting a new pathfinder be assigned to replace you in Birdon Leaf.”

“If that’s what you feel is best.” Shea inclined her head and strode away without a backward glance.

It would be the third such request since she arrived. The first two had elicited a carefully worded refusal that politely told all parties to suck it up and figure out a way to make it work.

As soon as she was outside, she put all thoughts of the elders and their barely concealed disapproval out of her head. There was a lot to get done in two short hours. Edgecomb was a two-day journey if they traveled fast and took few breaks. Depending on who they gave her, she might be able to cut that time down even more.

That wasn’t what worried her though. Last time she had scouted the route she’d noticed several of the more dangerous beasts had nested in some of the cliffs. This wouldn’t be a problem under normal circumstances because she could detour around the nests. This time, however, the quickest route skirted right along the edge of their territory.

She spent most of the next two hours securing supplies for her journey. Since they had to carry their own packs and would be on foot, every item had to be absolutely necessary. That meant no more food than necessary and just enough water to get them to the next watering hole. It was a delicate balancing act that required Shea to draw from previous experience as well as intuition.

Her last stop was her cottage, the only other stone building in the village. In many respects, it reminded Shea of the older ruins found deep in the Highland’s heart. It just had that feel to it. The kind of feeling that said it had been forgotten by time and man.

It was small. A grown woman could barely stand inside without bumping her head. The walls were close and cramped. Nature had threaded twisting vines through its stone walls in an attempt to reclaim the structure. In spring, it looked as if a blanket patterned with pinks, purples and blues had been wrapped around it as flowers bloomed on those vines. In winter, the unpatched holes gave little protection against the cold.

Shea loved it. Even when it was colder than a witch’s tit. Despite the neglect of humans, it persevered and even managed to be beautiful while existing in symbiosis with the land around it.

Nobody knew its past purpose. Regarding it with deep suspicion, the villagers allowed it to fade from their collective memory. Pretending it didn’t exist was easy as it was located at the rear of the village, close to the wall.

They gave it to Shea when she arrived because nobody wanted to live here and because, as an outsider, she was regarded with the same level of suspicion.

Shea held up a sixth pair of socks. Did she really need them? The route they were taking was relatively clear of any water. The weather had cooled as summer loosened its grip, and fall took its place. Still, it was vital to keep feet dry during a long journey and would be much more comfortable besides.

An extra pair of socks in her bag wouldn’t really make a difference but as packing progressed those little extras really added up.

The supplies ready and her bag packed, Shea slipped her arms through the two loops and lifted it onto her back. Bending forward, she tugged on the bottom of the straps, tightening the pack until it hugged her back and wouldn’t flop around while she was running.

She grabbed one of her maps off her desk and headed out the door. As always it took a few steps to get used to having a pack’s weight, but by the time she reached the front gate she was able to ignore it to focus on other matters.

She arrived at the front gate carrying her sack of supplies, mostly food, but some odds and ends. Two men watched her approach. One had taken a seat on an overturned bucket and was using his knife to peal a piece of fruit. The years had carved crow’s feet in the corner of his eyes and grooves around his mouth. His skin was leathery, and his brown hair was pulled back away from his face.

His companion was much younger, probably a little younger than Shea, with curly reddish-blond hair that barely reached his ears. His forehead was broad over sky blue eyes that made the girls in the village swoon every time he smiled at them.

“Witt. Dane.” Shea gave a respectful nod as she stopped in front of them. “You know why you’re here?”

Witt, the elder of the two, nodded and flicked a peel off his knife. Dane smiled at her, his eyes twinkling merrily. She’d worked with both before. Witt wasn’t so bad. Just surly. But he listened when she had something to say and was handy in a fight.

Dane might be a problem. He tended to flirt his way out of work and was under the impression that he knew more than he did. Too bad she couldn’t leave him behind this time. Unfortunately, he was good with a boomer and the only man in the village able to use one. She would need that if they ran into trouble.

“Good.” She set the supply sack on the ground and withdrew some rations, handing each man his share.

“This is barely a day’s worth of food,” Dane complained, holding up the meat wrapped in loaves of bread. “It’s not enough.”

“It is,” Shea corrected him. She held out two canteens of water to him and gave Witt the other two. “You’ll have to ration your supplies. There are several pieces of fruit in that bag as well as dried meat that you can eat while on the road. We’re traveling light this trip. We can’t afford any extra weight if we want to get to Edgecomb before mist fall.”

“What route are we taking?” Witt asked.

Shea pulled out her map and unrolled it carefully on the bucket Witt had just vacated. It was made from a sturdy stock of paper and drawn with a careful hand and an eye for detail. The geography of the land was done in blue, red and black ink with several closely drawn lines signaling elevation and further spaced lines meaning flatter land. It had been treated with a kind of oil to ensure the marks didn’t fade over time. Shea could still make corrections, but the treatment meant those could be erased with a bit of spit and elbow grease. It made it handy to make notes on various trails without permanently damaging the integrity of the map.

“This trail would get us to Edgecomb quickest,” Shea said, running her finger along the path in question. “But the last time I was up that way I noticed some signs that beasts had settled close to there.”

“What kind?”

“Red backs.”

Witt nodded grimly without taking his eyes from the map.

Red backs were a beast that walked on all fours for the most part. However, when killing, they rose onto their hind legs, and would tower over the tallest man in Birdon Leaf by several arm lengths. There were always two, usually mates, and they had claws that could cleave a man’s head clear off his shoulders. They were named for the red fur on their backs. The fur on the rest of their body was usually grey. Once they moved into a territory, they usually didn’t travel out of it unless prey became scarce.

“Who cares if there are red backs?” Dane said with the food still in his hands. “You just said we have to get to Edgecomb as fast as possible. If we run into any problems, we’ll just kill them. Their pelt fetches a nice price in the Lowlands.”

“Maybe you could flirt them to death, puppy,” Witt drawled, giving Dane a dismissive glance. Shea hid a grin. “Red backs are incredibly difficult to kill. A boomer’s lead won’t penetrate their hide. You have to get close, with knives or swords, and cut them open.” Witt stood and mimed a slash in demonstration. “They’re bigger than us, faster than us and one hit will crush your chest until you’re exhaling blood.”

Dane held Witt’s gaze, his mouth set in a disgruntled line before bending and picking up his pack. Shea kept her gaze focused on the map while Dane busied himself fussing with its straps.

Witt squatted down next to her. “I’d like to say the boy is entirely wrong, but if James and Cam were taken by Edgecomb, they don’t have a lot of time.”

Shea nodded and rolled the map up before sticking it in her pack. “No, they don’t. A day or two at most.”

“How long would the detour take?”

Shea quirked her mouth and shook her head slightly. “Depending on the trail sign, anywhere from a couple hours to half a day.”

“You’re the pathfinder so we’ll follow your lead.”

Witt stood and walked to his pack where he finished arranging the last of his supplies.

“I am the pathfinder.”

All that meant was that if she made the wrong decision, she would be the one with blood on her hands. She scrubbed a hand over her face and turned to the other two as they settled their packs on their backs. The long barrel of a boomer stuck up over Dane’s head from where it was attached to his pack. Witt’s weapons consisted of two short swords on either hip.

Looked like everybody was ready.

“Pathfinder.”

Shea turned to see Elder Zrakovi watching her sourly. Taller than her by a few inches, he was a burly man whose muscle was just beginning to turn to fat with age. She knew it must bother him to have his son’s fate resting in the hands of a woman he’d done his best to get rid of since she arrived.

“I trust that, despite our differences, you’ll do your job and bring my son back.”

She nodded shortly. The gate was raised just high enough for her group to walk under it.

“Don’t screw this up,” Zrakovi said as she passed under the gate.

She raised a hand in acknowledgement and adjusted her pack one last time before lengthening her stride to catch up with the other two.

There was one thing the elders had gotten right. Shea’s presence here was a punishment. But, it wasn’t them who was being punished.

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