by J M Guillen
It seemed like the only way in. Fortunately, the building had been constructed off by itself, not jammed wall to mismatched wall with the latest coffee bistro or bookstore.
And that meant…
“Agility check, Liz.” Wriggling sideways, I squirmed between the building corner and the fence meant to keep all the evil trespassers from making a complete circuit of the building. It was cute to think a chain-link fence would really be much of a deterrent.
I nailed the agility check and emerged into a weed-strewn empty lot. From there, it was a few short steps to the loading dock.
“Fine,” I grumped as I pulled a couple burrs from my socks. “Let’s see this trick. It ought to be a good one.”
I trudged to the loading doors. Once there, I located the keypad, discreetly placed to the side of a sign giving loading dock hours: 8:00 am to 5:00 pm, Monday to Friday.
“My ass,” I grumbled. With a sigh, I tapped in the code Simon had spent so much time digging up. “1… 2… 3… 4.”
How original.
Aside from the tiny light at the bottom changing from red to green, nothing happened.
“Come on.” I punched the numbers again but nothing.
What if I have the wrong code? I repressed a growl and looked around for something, anything at all.
Hey, where did that fence go?
It was nowhere in sight. Neither was the garden of weeds I’d tromped through.
So where did I get the burrs on my socks? I shook my head to dislodge the thought and turned back toward the loading dock—and came face to face with a revolving door.
“Jeez.” I frowned at it. “About time.”
I pushed my way inside.
3
Warm air blasted down as I entered the building, and I heaved a sigh of relief, eyes fluttering shut for an instant. An elegant and lush theme met my gaze when I opened them again. Gold-flecked blue tiles shone underfoot, their rich expanse interrupted here and there with dark marble columns. Palm fronds exploded out of tall vases at their bases, islands of green that guided my vision to a massive onyx and gold reception desk.
A gentle smile crossed the lips of the most model-perfect receptionist I’d ever seen. Her golden hair, captured in a loose chignon, looked at once professional and careless, though it would have taken me an hour to get my sable locks to do that. Her eyes matched the deep-blue of the lapis lazuli floor tiles as if they’d been chosen just for that purpose. Her nails, slightly pink, were neither too short nor too long as she placed the handset of a phone back into its cradle.
“May I help you?” Even her voice was perfect, a blend of girlish excitement and womanly huskiness.
I cleared my throat and tried not to clomp as I made my way to her desk. “I hope so.”
She smiled again, neutrally helpful. “Do you have an appointment or are you a walk-in?”
“Walk-in,” I smoothly bamboozled.
Her smile broadened, though I gathered no more or less meaning from it.
“This way, please.” She gestured to the right as she came around the side of her desk. I followed her tiny heel-clicks through a side door that blended in so perfectly, I’d barely seen it even as we neared.
Dense gray carpet cushioned our footfalls as the perfect secretary ushered me into a small waiting room. Straight-backed chairs, well cushioned but still uncomfortable, lined the edges, interrupted at the corners by coffee tables covered with outdated magazines and slender brochures.
I took a seat and turned to the blonde expectantly.
“Please wait here,” she uttered in that magnificent voice. “It will only be a few moments before someone will be with you. May I offer you anything to drink while you wait? Water or coffee?” She tilted her head and raised her brows a fraction.
She’s got to be a robot, I mused even as I shook my head in negation. She’s unreal.
“If you need anything, just ask,” she added as she slipped out the door. It closed with a gentle click.
I sighed, then settled back and absently picked up a brochure.
The title, WHAT CAN SADHANA DO FOR YOU? all but screamed at me. A picture of a young woman on the run from shadowy figures adorned the front.
Help me find my father, I hope. I stood up and made my way to the door the woman had just closed. I internally counted to ten and then cracked the door.
Clear.
I slipped outside and edged my way down the hallway.
Time to find out what Sadhana’s all about.
###
The magic of the fae. A shaman gone mad. Eldritch darkness, heralding the end of all things.
Tommy Maple is the Herald of Autumn, a fae who can scarcely contain his bestial hunter's nature. Doomed to forever wander the earth, he finds small comfort in the company of mortal women, using glamour and haunting eyes to enchant and seduce. Wherever he wanders, hungry hounds ghost alongside him and the frigid wind of the hallows follows in his wake.
He hunts the creatures that linger in shadows, protecting mankind from the weirding and the nameless.
But when the Herald awakens to the taunting of a mysterious, half-mad shaman, he is immediately thrown into a perilous and harrowing battle for his very existence. As he matches wit against horror from another age, the Herald learns sinister truths of an ancient abomination and of the relentless darkness that lurks behind the world.
Most importantly, he learns of the end of all things.
The Herald of Autumn
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Books in the Paean of Sundered Dreams
The Dossiers of Asset 108 series:
Rationality Zero
The Primary Protocol
Aberrant Vectors
Cascading Error: Critical
Judicar’s Oath series:
On the Matter of the Red Hand
Concerning Catacombs and the Restless Dead (Coming soon!)
Echoes of the Untold Age series:
The Herald of Autumn
The Harrowing of Twilight
Other works:
Handmaiden’s Fury
Slave of the Sky Captain
The Wormwood Event
An Oath of Wintersteel
Wind Slinger
About the Author
JM Guillen was just an average Joe working at a Necromancy factory in 2010. One day, while enjoying a grilled cheese sandwich on break, a horrible and completely improbable accident happened!
Oh no!
JM Guillen just so happened to be struck by the emanations of a scarlet star that came into a strange and terrible alignment. He immediately began scrawling forsaken and unpronounceable names into a tome, names granted him by the power within the star.
This book, the Liber Noctiis, drove him irrevocably mad and gifted with uncanny, unearthly power. Today he spends his time creating books of fell power and summoning inhuman beings best left alone. His goal of absolute world domination is almost within his grasp.
Soon, nothing will stop him.
Occasionally, he writes fiction.
You can join his newsletter at his website.
This is a work of wonderful fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
Except when not.
Rationality Zero
Copyright of JM Guillen. - © 2018, second edition. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction of part or all of the contents in any form is limited.
The Primary Protocol
Copyright of JM Guillen. - © 2018, second edition. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction of part or all of the contents in any form is limited.
Aberrant Vectors
Copyright of JM Guillen. - © 2018, second edition. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction of part
or all of the contents in any form is limited.
Cascading Error: Critical
Copyright of JM Guillen. - © 2018, second edition. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction of part or all of the contents in any form is limited.
Wind Slinger
Copyright of JM Guillen. - © 2018. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction of part or all of the contents in any form is limited. Do not make me sick the Eyeless Lamenters upon you.
An Irrational Worlds book
Printed in the United States of America, where they make freedom.