“Duly noted.”
They exchanged a few more pleasantries, before —thank The Infernal Gods — Micah’s face disappeared off his screen. Distrustful that Micah wasn’t still able to spy on him, Cadmus shut down the computer, pulled the plug and put a cushion on top of it for good measure.
In addition to Micah being all chummy-chummy with His Terrible Majesty, his power base among the Merciless -- mostly made up of people closer in age to Micah’s almost-30 years -- was growing as well. If this location was going to be chosen, Cadmus might as well get a head start in recruiting people to shore up his own base.
A loud crash from downstairs broke his reverie.
“Sorry, Boss. I tipped over the chair.” Billy Bob called out.
Cadmus wasn’t even going to ask how that happened.
Yes, he definitely needed to recruit new people.
Chapter Three
Lily had been gunning it for three hours straight, the last hour with her bladder clamoring for attention. She was going as fast as she dared, but even so, she knew she’d have to pull over or else it wouldn’t just be sweat and fear sticking her butt to the driver’s seat.
For the last 40 minutes or so, she’d been seeing signs for the Gardendale Medieval Faire, which had stoked her curiosity. Lily wasn’t even aware that such a thing existed anywhere, but that wasn’t saying much. If it wasn’t an interest of Rey’s, it wasn’t something she was likely to be familiar with.
Well, that was going to change. Something told her to pull off the exit leading to the Faire, which would be a good a place as any to get rid of some water, get some new water, then get back on the road. It was already dusk, and she figured she could safely put in another four or five more hours on the road before pulling off somewhere to the side to sleep. If she woke up early, she could be in San Diego while the sun was still up.
The Gardendale Medieval Faire was huge, but the entrance had exactly what she was looking for. A rest area that was populated with concession stands and people streaming in, no doubt to attend the night time events that were advertised in huge banners outside a faux, crenelated castle wall.
Lily found parking near what looked to be an office of some sort, glass paneled, with a see-through door that was seeing a lot of action, from all the costumed folks going in and out. Well, as long as that meant the facilities were also modern it wasn’t any of her business. She picked up her battered Target bag, hoping to also freshen up while she was in there doing her thing. And then she sped over to the entrance marked “The Queen’s Water Chamber” before she had a royal accident.
Minutes later, she stepped out, having used the very modern porcelain facilities, thank you very much, and even took the time to cover up the marks Rey had left on her arms and the side of her face. She’d re-arranged her hair so that it covered the marks pretty well, but she didn’t want them to be visible at all. No one had paid her any attention, which suited her just fine. And besides, everyone else in the restroom was just either coming or going.
As she was seconds away from doing, as she settled herself back behind the wheel. Her detour was less than 10 minutes, and soon she would be literally driving into the sunset. She turned her key.
Nothing.
She tried it again.
This. Couldn’t. Be. Happening.
One more time.
Dead.
She did the head-desk thing with her forehead and steering wheel, as if that would make her engine come back from the dead.
Ok. That wasn’t going to happen. She could sit and keep trying, or put on her big girl pants and just deal with it. She sat upright, and her eyes lit on that office, still open, still with people going in and out. Which meant other people inside, and phones. Either of which could help her. She thought ruefully of her phone, probably still in its watery grave at the place that was no longer home. Pull it together, Lil’, she admonished herself.
Lily made her way in, as a man dressed in a court jester outfit held the door for her with his foot, his hands occupied juggling three shiny balls. She couldn’t suppress a giggle as he made a courtly bow, still juggling, as he left.
She waited patiently as the man in front of her was caterwauling about being assigned to the overnight shift in security.
“You need to talk to Puma about that.” The woman behind the desk piled with papers spoke in a clear, calm voice. Lily liked her on sight. She was a woman in her late forties, with porcelain skin, glossy black hair styled in a no-nonsense bob. She was clearly in charge, and unlike the people Lily had observed wearing medieval gear, this woman was in a beautifully cut top and pencil skirt that her best friend would have been rapturous about.
The man grumbled a bit, and the woman firmly suggested he go find this Puma—whoever Puma was—before the overnight shift was supposed to begin. He turned, politely excusing himself as he accidentally brushed against Lily, and made his way out.
The woman looked at Lily, a smile on her face despite the weariness in her features. She thrust a hand out. “Rika Faraday. And you are?”
“Lil—Lucie Swanson.” Lily flushed, barely remembering to use her best friend’s name in time. Rika’s eyes narrowed.
“Lil’ Lucie. Are you a musical act?”
“Wha—? Oh no,” Lily nervously laughed. “I stopped to use the facilities, and my car won’t start now. I wondered if I could use your phone?” Although she didn’t know who she would call. “And maybe a suggestion for an auto repair shop?”
Rika was silent, and Lily felt the woman’s eyes homing in on the marks on her arms where Rey had gripped or struck her, the thick spackle of makeup that was probably a signpost rather than camouflage.
The door opened and closed behind Lily, the sounds of another person entering.
Rika finally spoke. But it was to address the person behind Lily. “Gabe, is there an emergency?”
“I’m just here to drop off the expense reports from Ops, ma’am.”
Gabe was wearing a vest with multiple pockets, and the back had his name and the letters OPS emblazoned on it, and he handed Rika a stack of papers to add to the piles on her desk.
“Gabe, would you go with Ms. Swanson here to check out her car, and take care of whatever it is?” To Lily, she added, “Gabe is one of the best mechanics on our staff.”
“Aw, shucks, ma’am. Thanks.” He blushed shyly, as much in reaction to seeing Lily as in receiving praise.
“Just let me know what happens before you go.” Rika called out as they left. Lily was more than happy to agree. If Gabe could fix her car, she’d give Rika whatever she wanted.
It was a short distance to the car, and she saw it from an outsider’s perspective. A collection of rust spots and dents duct-taped together, it was a wonder that it had even brought her this far. Gabe whistled when they stopped in front of it.
He was silent, though, as they lifted the hood. He shone his flashlight, did some mechanic-y things, and after a few tense minutes he looked at Lily.
It was the same look as when the doctor delivered her mother’s prognosis.
Simon sat on the massive leather sofa in the living room, frustration boiling up inside him and leaving a sour taste in his mouth. It had been a full day since the kidnapping attempt, and they still didn’t have a clue if The Dark Warlord was behind it, or just a couple of random lunatics. He tapped his sternum repeatedly, as he did when he was under stress. He’d been doing that a lot since the Waryeors woke up six months ago.
It wasn’t actually his sternum that he was tapping, but nobody except Miller knew that underneath his shirt he wore a gold medallion. It was really Miller’s influence that he wore “jewelry” hidden away, as Miller believed that the only acceptable man-jewels were the ones between his legs.
ID tags weren’t jewelry, but even those were discreetly worn by Miller under his clothes.
Jewelry or not, tapping it helped him whenever he was stressed out, or exasperated as he was right now.
With Miller out of the room
, the volume was cranked up to eleven and some old-school industrial was blasting. Music for mosh pits, which wasn’t helping Simon concentrate. Since Barric and Merek were thwarted in their search earlier, they were spoiling for a fight. There was a lot of testosterone, or whatever these Waryeors had, being let loose on each other. Col and Barric were at each other’s throats, sometimes literally if they shifted into their wolves, and Aylwyn was riling everyone up, with Merek taking the bait.
Over the last 24 hours, Tybalt had already forcibly shifted several of the Waryeors back into human form—for which Simon was thankful.
As the Vixar, Tybalt alone had the ability to do that, and in fact that was the deciding factor that proved he was the Alpha, much to Barric’s resentment.
Tybalt was outside with Miller, discussing strategy, and leaving Simon alone in the house with four agitated Waryeors, each of whom could benchpress one of him on each massive arm without breaking a sweat.
As if he needed more help feeling inadequate.
Miller had done his best to get Simon into shape, but he was definitely the “before” picture in the muscle-building ads. He already didn’t have game, but around these action figures come to life, women looked right through him. Except for the ones that zeroed in on him because they weren’t after what was in his pants but in his bank account.
In addition to the hefty trust that was left behind by his parents, Simon had made his own fortune as a cyber tech savant. The boys called it techno-wizardry, but then again, they also considered the microwave magic, and the washing machine a conjuring of the ocean into a box.
Simon had to smile at that, even as the boys were turning his leather couches and recliners into the equivalent of a bouncy house. An ottoman went flying, probably a response to Aylwyn’s latest wisecrack. The wise-acre wolf seemed to have the perfect instinct for finding his fellow shifters tender spots, and poking them.
Aylwyn’s long blond hair streamed as he easily dodged it. It thudded on the floor, lying sideways. Sighing, Simon walked over to set it upright again.
He fiercely wished he knew more about his sacred duty, which had been passed down through dozens of generations – but there was no one left alive to tell him.
His parents had been murdered, along with their secretive, isolated group – relatives and friends he only dimly remembered. The lands that they occupied, the very Medieval Faire itself, were all part of a secret legacy that was set up to watch over these Waryeors, who had only awakened six months ago. Before that, the five men existed for him only as closed sarcophagi in a converted mine shaft – and some vague memories of what his parents had told him.
They just thought they’d have more time. They should have lived to raise him to adulthood, and taught him and the other children everything they needed to know - them and the other families who called themselves the Diviners. Instead, they’d been cut down with brutal efficiency, leaving one cowering little boy – Simon - behind. The secret survivor.
He didn’t even know there were supposed to be seven wolf shifters, until they finally learned enough English to communicate that. The missing sarcophagi with their Waryeor contents was one of the remaining puzzles he was trying to solve with bits and bytes and little else.
When they’d awakened, they had told him that they were selected for this centuries-long sleep, because they were the strongest and the best from their respective armies and tribes.
Those first few hours after their awakening had been chaos. They’d all been taken by surprise when Tybalt emerged as their leader. He was able to force them all back into human form by sheer will alone.
That was proof that he was the Alpha, or Vixar of this group. Further proof was that although they were all strong, and grew even stronger with the waxing of the Moon, it was Tybalt whose strength multiplied exponentially when the Moon was at its fullest. Col was the archetypal soldier, falling in line with the established hierarchy as he was trained from birth to do. That made him the natural second.
Miller had confirmed the elite skills of each of the Waryeors, having spent time training them and getting to know them as intimately as any military boot camp instructor would. He also knew of their profound sadness, that they had to sacrifice the glory of death in battle alongside their Bredhren in order to voluntarily be enspelled by a sorceress they called The Fair One, Aurelia.
It had been a necessary sacrifice – because the Dark Warlord, as they described him, was a powerful, sadistic, mage whose armies had drowned their native land of Arengard in oceans of blood. Aurelia had managed, just barely, to put the Dark Warlord under a spell that sent him into a thousand year sleep – and the Waryeors were entrusted with finding him, and finally ending him, when he awoke.
But there had been no sign of the Dark Warlord, no matter how hard they searched. And there were no battles for the Waryeors to fight, to occupy their time. No wonder they had got all that pent up steam. And when they weren’t fighting, there was—
“Wenching!”
Merek’s yell instantly changed the energy of the room from violence to…something that Simon wasn’t a natural at.
“Yes, wenching!” Barric’s lusty deep voice echoed the plan.
“I’m always down for the shorties.” Aylwyn was also the one who was the most “down with” current vernacular, which only made Simon feel more like a social underachiever. A man who’d just woken up from a thousand year nap had more game than Simon.
When they’d awakened, Simon and Miller’s plan was to integrate them into the Medieval Faire, which Simon had founded himself years ago in preparation for the wolves.
He’d created the Medieval Faire so that the five men would feel more at home when they awoke, and so they wouldn’t stand out….as much. Waking up in a completely different time period, they would need to acclimate so they wouldn’t stand out and attract to much attention.
So far – so bad. Epic fail.
Every time they went into town, they acted like loud, aggressive, flirtatious barbarians – basically, like themselves. It was as if they had a giant spotlight pointed at them. That was bad, for all kinds of reasons.
But at least “Wenching” was less potentially destructive to Simon’s home and movie-screen-size flatscreen than Fighting. And if they stayed cooped up in the house much longer, there was liable to be bloodshed.
“Wenching it is!” he called out, but his voice was lost in their bellows and roars of enthusiasm.
Chapter Four
Lily was really struggling to hold it together, with Gabe looking apologetic and Rika discreetly edging a box of facial tissues towards her.
“So it’s not an easy fix, or even something we can handle on site. It’ll cost at least a few thou. I don’t know what the actual repair shop will charge, but the parts alone won’t be cheap.”
Rika’s face was grave, while inwardly Lily’s panic was threatening to overwhelm her, as it had when Gabe first used the word thousands out in the parking lot. Lily wasn’t even sure if she had hundreds in the crumpled bills that Lucie had stuffed into her shabby canvas purse. She didn’t even have the change that she had collected to do laundry with, as if the eight bucks in quarters was going to help.
Thousands.
Gabe’s radio squawked.
“Shit!—uh, excuse me.” Gabe flushed with embarrassment. Rika smiled. “It’s ok, Gabe, go do what you have to do. Thank you for looking at the car.”
“Yes, thank you, Gabe.” Lily said. She might be up shit creek without a paddle, but damn if she would forget her manners. That was something she tried to teach her preschoolers. Minus the reference to excrement.
“I have an idea.” Rika said. Lily looked at the HR director. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re totally short-staffed and we have tons of open positions available. We even have housing for those that work really long hours or agree to be on call around the clock, like our Ops Staff.”
She had learned from Gabe that Ops was short for Operations, and they handled
almost all of the day-to-day running of the Faire. They were like Roadies, for a massive band in an even larger venue.
“Thank you, but I’m afraid I can’t,” Lily said, surprising the older woman. The thoughts raced through her head—I’ve got to be on my way, I’ve got to put more distance between myself and Rey before he realizes I’m gone, if he hasn’t already.
“What will you do, Lucie?” There was genuine concern in Rika’s eyes, and Lily felt a momentary guilt at giving her a false name. She hated lying. What a shining example she was being for her preschoolers!
“I’ll just sleep in the car overnight, if I can keep it here, and either get a second opinion on the car in the morning, or get a bus or a train — as far as I can get for under two hundred bucks.”
“The bus would be your best option for that amount of money,” Rika said matter-of-factly. “What will you do about your car, though? You can’t just leave it here, it’s going to need to be towed, and that costs money.”
There wasn’t any judgment in Rika’s tone, which Lily was thankful for as she quietly melted down inside. There was no way to get out, then.
And maybe it was because the HR Director was so rational, so focused on problem-solving, that Lily saw the flip side of her predicament. It was hard to get out, true, but unless Rey specifically knew to come here to look for her, it would be equally hard to find her.
Fate seemed to want her to stay here at the Faire.
Just then, the door swung open, and a short, stout woman in full medieval dress including a corset that was at least three sizes too small, burst in, preceded by her booming voice.
“That girl’s just about to go home again with another allergic reaction!”
The woman paid no notice to Lily, her mottled face squarely trained on the HR Director.
“TraceyAnn, I take it you mean Luna? What happened?” Rika’s voice was evenly modulated. Lily recognized that technique. She used it every time her preschoolers tantrummed, and this TraceyAnn was definitely in the throes of an adult-sized throw down.
Col: His Destined Mate Page 4