The Awakening Box Set

by Michael Timmins

  “You mother fucker!” Clint yelled at him. “I am going to make you pay for what you’ve done!” Once again Clint was about to fix the image in his head when he was struck from behind. He was lifted off the ground and hit the window, shattering it.

  When Kat realized, there were three of them, she knew they were in trouble. The one had been a difficult fight by itself. Two more and Kat wasn’t ready to gamble with those numbers. Plus, there was Sarah. She was now one of them, and that made her an unknown in this scenario. Kat took a second to look over at Sarah. Sarah was looking at her, tears streaming down her face.

  ‘Save him, please’ she mouthed to Kat. Kat grimaced. That wasn’t going to be easy. Clint was spoiling for a fight, and she couldn’t blame him. She had to do something quick. Clint was about to shift, and once he did, she would have a difficult time getting him out of this situation.

  She watched as he shouted at the Wereboar they had fought earlier. He took a step forward, putting him even with the window. Kat didn’t give it a second thought. She was moving. In the second it took for her to close the distance between her and Clint, she shifted to tiger form and slammed into him. They both went flying through the window.

  Twisting around in midair, Kat grabbed Clint to her and got her legs under her as they landed three stories down. Kat managed to stay upright, cradling Clint in her arms as they landed. He would have survived the fall on his own, but she needed him conscious, and unharmed. They needed to get away.

  Clint scrambled out of her arms to right himself, his fury evident.

  “What the fuck are you doing? I am going to kill that thing!” In a second, he changed into his wolf form and was about to move back to the hospital.

  Kat scampered around him and made to block his way.

  “Get out of my way. I don’t want to hurt you.” His look said differently.

  “Clint, listen to me. There are three of them. The two of us had a difficult time with the one.”

  He ignored her and moved around her.

  “You will not survive this fight. And when you are gone, there will be no one to save Sarah.”

  That stopped him.

  She moved back around in front of him, painfully aware they were drawing a crowd of onlookers.

  “I believe this calling we are both receiving will take us to a place where we will get answers, answers on how to save Sarah. But, if you go up there now, he will kill you, and Sarah will be his forever.”

  She watched him. He stared up at the window they had busted out. She could see his shoulders relax and knew she convinced him.

  He looked down at her. “Very well, but if the answers are not there, I am coming back, with, or without you, and ending this one way or another.”

  She nodded up to him. “Understood. Now we seem to have drawn a crowd… again.” She sighed, though it came out mostly as a purr. “Let us get out of here before the police show up, or the boars come down here.”

  He gave her a curt nod. “Which way?”

  “Follow me. We will hit my hotel room and get my car. We will head west and discover our calling.”

  PART TWO

  Prologue

  Calin sat perched on his horse and watched Adonia inform the local Druid about the end of the war. An Elder, he was one from the early days of the Druid order. Stick-like in appearance, the Elder’s arms were thin, the skin drooping like wax trailing down the side of a candle.

  Being too old to join in the fighting, he hadn’t left the village. The Elder’s grey hair cascaded to his lower back, a shear wall of hair, a gray waterfall frozen in time. His greying beard rushed to try and catch it, a contest to see which would reach the man’s feet first. Calin’s gaze left Adonia and the Elder to survey the village. This was the fifth village they visited in the past several weeks and Calin, frankly, cared little for it.

  The village topped a short rise, and by the appearance, housed no more than forty or so families. The town’s center, where they currently waited, with the soft wind blowing and the ringing of steel on steel from the blacksmith’s forge were the only sounds to be heard.

  The blacksmith shop with its open walls breathed out the billowing smoke of the smelting fires, escaping like the angry breath of some fabled dragon. The definitive smell of burning metal accosted Calin’s nose causing him to sniff involuntarily. A single room was all that housed the smithy’s workshop, yet beyond it was an expansive living area.

  As Calin scanned the area, the blacksmith’s apprentice stepped out and wiped his soot covered hands across his leathered apron. He dragged the back of his slightly less blackened hand across his brow, wiping his stringy hair from his forehead. The movement left a black streak, a smeared trail like some snake made of ash.

  The apprentice was a hearty appearing lad in his early teens. The constant exposure to the smoke and oils common of his craft left his bare arms the color of dusk. Muscles stood out, well defined and sizable, even at rest. A lot of strength was needed to work the bellows and pound the hammer, and blacksmiths acquired those muscles early.

  The apprentice eyed him and Adonia, and after a moment, the boy’s eyes widened. Their presence and appearance must have registered with the stories he heard around the village about the Lycans who had led the army against Kestrel.

  Calin nodded to the boy in acknowledgement and confirmation. The boy rushed inside after nodding back, presumably to inform his master there were two Lycans in their village. Calin’s presumption was confirmed promptly enough as the master also stepped outside.

  The resemblance was uncanny. The man was the apprentice’s father, as the older man appeared to be a larger, and more muscular version of the younger one. Calin nodded once to the older man before continuing his scan of the village.

  By now, other villagers made their way outside their places of work and living. Noticing the local innkeeper step out from his establishment, Calin examined the inn. A quaint affair, the large common room where the locals could come and share an ale, could be seen through the open windows. The leather flaps had been flipped up to allow the warm light of the sun, a rare occurrence this late in the year, to pour into the room. Regardless, smoke poured out of the stone chimney, billowy, white clouds escaping into the otherwise cloudless sky. The fires were lit and burning strong within, enough to ward off the chill, which would creep up later this afternoon as the sun raced for an early exit.

  The innkeeper, stooped and balding, his back arched from age and the constant bending over to wipe tables clean, belied his height. The towel he repeatedly used for such cleaning was tucked into his belt at his side. His apron, which could have easily been held up from the man’s rotund belly, was discolored, like a child’s first attempt at painting. Given its peculiar roundness, his belly was odd for a man so tall. If he had been a woman, Calin would have guessed he was almost ready to give birth.

  A couple of patrons crowded behind the man as they tried to listen to the conversation between Adonia and the Elder. The patrons whispered back and forth to each other. The inn keeper, with a frown and a rolling of his eyes, shooed them back inside. With one final glance over his shoulder, he disappeared back inside the inn.

  A group of younglings watched from beneath the storage hut. A round building, it was built upon stilts to keep it high off the ground, a wooden tortoise, designed to prevent rodent infestation. It was barely elevated enough for the tallest of the kids, a boy, about ten, to stand up straight. The children peered at him with wide eyes and open mouths -the wild excitement of youth. When he acknowledged their presence, they scattered like minnows in a puddle- dozens of directions, which eventually took them nowhere.

  A short time ago he would have smiled ruefully at their behavior. These days, a smile was something he no longer felt capable of.

  Calin found he cared about little these days, especially with the loss of Sylvanis. She wouldn’t wish for him to drag himself through the dark miasma of despair, but he had little choice in the matter.

  Altho
ugh Sylvanis and he had never been anything other than friends, if you could call it that, she had been their leader, and he, her Captain. Their relationship had never been romantic, and yet, he had loved her so fiercely, her loss created a hole he struggled to climb out of.

  With the war ended, and Kestrel’s army destroyed, there was little for him to do these days. Katherine, Adonia, and he had spent a large amount of time at the Calendar following the events which saw both Druidesses dead. At first, they tried everything in their power to negate the spell Kestrel had cast. All attempts to remove the etchings in the rock were thwarted by the power of the spell. Nor could her body be moved, or damaged in any way.

  In the end, nothing they did had any effect on the spell, or Kestrel. The decision was made to wall the room up and bury the stairs. They told no one about the spell, except a few of the Druid Elders. The army, of course, knew of Sylvanis’ and Kestrel’s demise, but they knew nothing of the circumstances surrounding their deaths. The three of them decided to keep it that way.

  The other problem they had to deal with was the Weres. They were still active in Kestrel’s army, although it was resolving itself on its own.

  Upon the death of Por and Answi, their Weres instantly reverted to normal humans. Which left Syndor’s and Renwick’s Weres. Syndor’s Weres reverted to human form shortly after the war was finished which indicated Syndor was dead. How his death had come about, no one knew. The only other possible explanation would be Syndor had performed the Sundering, but it defied all reason. Syndor willingly ‘detaching’ himself from his Weres was unlikely. No. The only logical explanation was he was dead.

  The Sundering. They had forced Renwick to do so with his Weres. They still held him in custody in hopes he would be able to tell them where, if any, offspring he had, lived.

  While he had been somewhat willing to go through the Sundering, he had yet to inform them of any children he had. Though he was unaware of the spells cast by Kestrel and Sylvanis, he was still wary enough to suspect their reasons for finding his kin.

  They had located a few prominent children of Por and Answi. However, those two had been known to rape women whenever their desire arose, which was often, so there were others they would never know about. All they could do was to try and give Sylvanis a better chance of defeating Kestrel upon her return. One or two less Weres to battle could be all she needed. It was all they could do. Well, it wasn’t ALL they could do. But, Calin wasn’t ready for the other, though he knew it needed to be done.

  Adonia was finishing up with the Elder and peered back in his direction. Her face softened as she watched him. She knew how much he was hurting, but she also knew enough not to ask. After a moment of searching his face, she turned back to the Elder and bade him farewell. Striding back to him, her steps brisk and firm, she mounted up.

  “It’s late, but I don’t believe it’s too late for us to make it to the next village by nightfall, if we hurry,” she suggested.

  She was not in her hybrid form today. During the war, she was almost always in that form, but now with it ended, her days were filled with the monotony of being human.

  Adonia was a beautiful woman, striking features framed by flowing reddish-brown hair which always seemed more brown than red, but when caught by the sun, as it did on this day, it burned with the color of fire.

  Bright green eyes questioned him. It was odd to see them that color. They were amber in her shifted form that he was used to seeing them that way. A strong nose dominated her face, but not so much as to detract from her beauty. If anything, it gave her a regal quality, to match her demeanor. Most people deferred to Adonia. Adonia deferred to him.

  “Very well, let us continue,” he replied, his voice hollow even to his own ears.

  Again, she peered at him, searching. He knew she wanted him to tell her he was fine, but he chose not to give voice to the lie.

  They had four more villages in this direction to visit then they were to meet back up with Katherine and Shain, Connor’s eldest son. Although Shain was not a lycanthrope, he had tried to fill Connor’s place and help to inform the populace of the end of the war. It was tedious work; travelling from one village to another to inform them of what most knew.

  Word of the end of the war had travelled fast. But, Calin felt it was important for them to get the word out, regardless of what people knew, or thought they knew. In some villages, misinformation had reached them; Kestrel’s army had won, while in others, the lycanthropes had killed everyone.

  Eventually, the true version would reach everyone, but Calin didn’t feel it should wait. The people needed to hear Kestrel’s reign of terror was no more, and Sylvanis died to keep them safe. If only he could tell them of the real sacrifice Sylvanis had made, but the agreement was to keep Kestrel’s spell and Sylvanis’ counter-spell a secret.

  Their horses trotted along a dirt road, hard packed with occasional tufts of grass marring the path like sprouts of hair on an otherwise bald head. The road, like a dark brown eel, meandering through the soft flowing hills of greenish-gray grass and the occasional farmer’s field. Calin’s mind drifted to the question plaguing him since Sylvanis’ death.

  The Sundering. The separation from your Weres. It was a logical decision to make with the war ended. But, Adonia and Katherine disagreed with him, and honestly, he couldn’t blame them. To give up your Weres was a difficult thing to do. Although they would never admit it aloud, there was a certain pleasure to being in control of other people; to never being alone, because you always had a sense someone else’s presence. But, Calin believed it was the right thing to do.

  The only reason any of them had Weres following them was because of the war, and now, the war was over. Those people deserved to return to their lives, without having someone who could command them to do anything they wished. None of them would abuse this power, but the temptation to use it was immense. No. The others needed to be convinced to undergo the Sundering. For now, though, he would leave off trying to convince them and he would go through the motions of living, though for him, his life ended the moment Sylvanis drove the knife into her own heart.

  They had done their best to remove any descendants of Kestrel’s Weres, but Calin felt sure they would never find them all. There were too many variables and possibilities of where they could be. When Sylvanis rose again, he was sure she would face the full spectrum of Weres and so, Calin believed, their duty was to ensure she had everyone she needed to meet the threat, which meant doing something Calin wasn’t ready to do. He didn’t think he would ever be ready.

  Chapter 1

  Watching from the hospital window, Taylor saw the tiger and wolf circle, pacing in what appeared to be a stand-off. At long last, they ran off into the distant thicket of trees. After a minute, Taylor turned to survey the room they had burst into a short time ago.

  Blain and Joseph stood around a hospital bed which held an attractive woman. Auburn hair draped her somewhat long face, like twin curtains framing a beautiful window. Tears fell from her eyes freely as she stared at Blain. Her senses would tell her Blain was the one who infected her, and she watched him with sharp eyes that never left his form, her lips quivered, and she shook slightly.

  Taylor couldn’t blame her for being scared. Blain scared the shit out of him. The man was brutal and sadistic. If he had a moral compass, it was broken beyond repair.

  “They’ve left,” Taylor mumbled from the window.

  Grunting, Blain acknowledged Taylor’s observation. It didn’t surprise him in the least the tiger and the wolf would run away. Blain had almost killed the both alone, so with two others like him, they wouldn’t have stood a chance.

  “Shouldn’t we go after them, Blain?” Joseph’s guttural boar voice broke the near silence. “The Lady won’t appreciate you losing them…again.”

  Taylor couldn’t help but marvel at Joseph’s audacity. He continued to push Blain, regardless of how many times the other beat the living crap out of him.

  Blain chose to
ignore Joseph’s insolence and continued to stare at the woman, and she at him. After a moment, he smiled in the strange seeming way he did in his boar form.

  “We don’t need to go after him, do we, darlin’? He will come back for you, won’t he?”

  The woman glanced away, wiped tears from her eyes and refused to answer. It was answer enough.

  “Stand up, darlin’,” Blain commanded.

  The woman glared as she fought every movement her body forced her to make as she got off the bed and faced him. A hospital gown hung loosely from her shoulders. Blain, of course, could not resist.

  “Turn around,” he insisted with a leer.

  The woman slowly rotated herself but grabbed her gown and brought it across her backside to protect it from view.

  “Tsk, tsk, little lady, don’t go hiding the goodies. Move your hand away. Now.”

  The woman let her hand and her head drop. The open back of the gown parted, revealing a shapely butt and thighs. She had a nicely formed body. Taylor couldn’t help but admire her form, while feeling ashamed for gawking at something he had no permission to see.

  “We should get out of here, Blain,” Taylor told him as Blain continued to visually violate the woman. Sadly, Taylor knew this would be the least violated the woman would likely feel in the coming days.

  Tearing his eyes away from the woman’s body, Blain eyeballed Taylor, knowing there was more than the man’s desire to leave this place prompting his statement.

  Taylor was pathetic in Blain’s eyes. Only wishing to leave so Blain would stop harassing the woman, and to prevent any more casualties when authorities showed up, which wouldn’t be long, by Blain’s estimation. They had eliminated those who had been unfortunate to be in the hallway when they entered this floor, shifting to their Were forms as they exited the elevator, followed by screams of terror. Despite Taylor’s reasons, Blain couldn’t argue with the logic of it. Not that he minded killing a few more people, but the Lady insisted they needed to remain as low profile as they were able. They couldn’t afford a full-scale response from the authorities, especially here in the States.