Bloodline World Seven Book Bundle: 7 Books from the Bloodline Awakened Series and Scarlet Dragon Saga

by J. P. Rice

  “What?” he responded in a sour tone.

  I announced, “I’m coming in, okay?”

  “It’s your house.” He was becoming a sharp-tongued smart-ass, just like his guardian.

  I opened the door and said, “Get ready to go. We’re going to see someone up in Tionesta.”

  “What’s that?” he asked, sitting on my bed with the laptop next to him. I’d rescued Dante from the Red Cavern of demons. They were about to kill him until I offered to raise him myself. For some reason, the demons went for it.

  Dante looked like a typical goblin. He had an oversized, bald head, gray skin and twiggy arms and legs. Prominent black eyebrows sat above his icy blue eyes and big, pink nose.

  “It’s a place about two hours away, I think. So let’s go. You can bring the car charger so you can play on that laptop too.” Dante was still a little shy, which I totally understood. Most people’s eyes bulged when they saw him, so I carefully chose where to take him in public. Pittsburgh was more accepting of the supernatural world, but there were still a lot of skeptics.

  I left him alone and went downstairs. I grabbed Colossus’ collar and leash as I thought about the phone call. The tan cocker spaniel with white fur covering his forehead had finally recovered from his nasty cigar burns. Rescuing this little guy from a gruesome fate was one of my better achievements.

  The call had come from the friend of a Shawnee man who didn’t use a phone. Apparently, the man knew about the kidnapping of a Native American God or high spirit. It sounded right up my alley and I asked for directions immediately. I needed something to keep my mind from thinking about Burn.

  I got the dog and the kid into the Maxima and headed toward Tionesta.

  Tionesta was Native American for ‘home of the wolves.’ Located in rural Forest County, the population was right around four hundred. The region contained some hallowed hunting grounds and was a haven for outdoor fanatics.

  The land had a strong Native American influence. Even Viking remnants had been found there. It made sense that supernatural beings would dwell there. The guy on the phone hadn’t given me any details about the case, so it could be anything.

  We turned into a gravel driveway that had to be a mile long. It wound through a big field with a forest surrounding the green grass. A few minutes later, the house appeared.

  As we pulled up, the house came into focus. It was a small, dull red, two-story house. As I got a closer look, it appeared the once vibrant exterior had dulled from the elements over the years.

  A clothesline in the front yard had red dresses and men’s pants pinned to it. The clothes were swinging in the breeze. A blazing fire pit sat off to the side of the house, with an animal I couldn’t recognize roasting on a spit, just above the flames. Behind the house, there was a barren winter cornfield.

  I parked about twenty feet from the house. “Let’s go,” I said to Dante as I slammed his laptop shut.

  “Hey. I was in the middle of a game.”

  “Too bad. Time to go,” I told him, and he reluctantly unhooked his seatbelt and opened the door.

  I hooked the leash to Colossus’ collar and jumped out of the car. A big man approached us, and my pulse heightened. I was nervous about how he would treat Dante. He looked at the three of us without batting an eyelash and nodded his head with a stiff smile. Relief rushed through me because most people’s eyes nearly popped out of their heads when they saw Dante for the first time. Instead, his smile widened.

  Black Hoof stood a little shorter than me. His long hair, tied back in a ponytail, exposed a lean, strong face with a defined jaw. I guessed he was about forty. His strong chin, dark eyes and a heavy five-o’clock shadow created a grim appearance that clashed with his warm, welcoming smile. He wore a tight necklace made of blue and red beads that merged into the neckline of his tan leather vest and black undershirt. Matching leather pants covered his legs and disappeared into old hiking boots that came to the bottom of his calf.

  The man bowed slightly and shook my hand. He had a nice firm grip. “Welcome, friends. My name is Catahecassa. It is Shawnee for Black Hoof. I took the name in honor of a great warrior. I also go by Clyde. Some people find that easier.”

  I introduced myself, “I’m Mike. Is it all right if I call you Black Hoof?”

  “I would like that very much.” He walked up to Dante and kneeled down on one knee. He extended an open hand. “And what is your name, young man?”

  Dante eyeballed him suspiciously. “I’m Dante.”

  “You look like a warrior. Would you like a Shawnee warrior name?” Black Hoof’s face looked like he was always in deep thought or constantly contemplating something.

  Dante smirked and nodded. Black Hoof said, “Tecumseh. That will be your warrior name.” He leaned down and rubbed his thumb against the soggy earth. Using a steady thumb, he wiped a wide streak of mud under each of Dante’s eyes. “Tecumseh will be your name. It means panther passing across. Just as you will pass across on your own journey of life. You’re a little panther who will one day grow strong and wise.”

  Dante smiled. He hardly ever smiled. As a new parent, I was taking notes from the master. Colossus nestled up against Black Hoof’s leg. The man scratched right behind my dog’s ears as if he knew the canine’s favorite spot.

  “His name is Colossus. So what did you want to see me about?” I figured it was time to get down to business.

  He rose up from his knee. He walked up to the fire and grabbed a torch that was resting against the gray stones of the pit. He lit the torch and looked at me. “We should walk and talk.” He gestured toward the woods off to the left of his house.

  We followed Black Hoof into the woods, which got dimmer by the step. Walking along a narrow dirt path in a single file line, I kept peeking back for Dante. Instead of worrying constantly, I slowed down and let him in front of me so I could keep an eye on the kid.

  Black Hoof didn’t look back, but spoke loud enough for me to hear. “Do you know anything about the Shawnee?”

  I felt embarrassed that I hadn’t done a little studying before jumping in the car. “Not much at all. Sorry.”

  He kept walking as he talked, “Don’t be. The reason most people don’t know about them is because they were never highly populated. The latest census showed that there are only fourteen thousand in America right now. There’s only four groups and three of them are located in Oklahoma. So even though they originated here, they are better known in the southwest.”

  “Why Oklahoma?” I wanted to know.

  Black Hoof slowed down and raised his voice, “The Shawnee originally dwelled in Western Pennsylvania until around the 1660s. They Iroquois chased them out. The Shawnee returned in the 1730s only to be pushed westward by the Europeans. They went from Missouri to Kansas before the majority of the Shawnee settled in Oklahoma.”

  “Okay.” It all made perfect sense now.

  Black Hoof continued, “The Shawnee are the only tribe that believed we were created by a woman. Kokumthena. It means Our Grandmother. She’s also known as Great Spirit. We believe that she created the world. So naturally, she’s the only one who can end it.”

  I ducked under a low-hanging branch and continued on the dirt path as we plunged deeper into the misty woods.

  Our guide went on with the story, “Bear with me for just a few moments longer. Cyclone Woman is a spirit, but that spirit is housed within an ageless human body. She once had a sister named Four Winds. When Four Winds died about fifty years ago, Cyclone Woman inherited all of her powers. The combination makes her the ultimate weather spirit who also controls the winds. Her long braids can cause tornadoes and she controls the thunderbirds.”

  I wondered where my good man was going with all this. Being in the back, I didn’t have to constantly look down at the path so I just continued to listen to Black Hoof.

  “Cyclone Woman is missing.”

  Oh shit. Now we were getting somewhere.

  “If she dies and somebody can tap into her
spirit, he or she will inherit the control of the weather of Northeast America. And that isn’t the worst part.”

  “Well what is worse than that?” I had to know.

  Black Hoof stopped and turned around. “Kokumthena loves Cyclone Woman like a daughter. This disappearance could draw Kokumthena out into the open. And as I said, if she dies, the entire world might go with her.”

  A chilling thought. We approached a natural oval opening at the base of a hill. Shaped like an eyeball, Black Hoof gestured for us to follow him in. He trail blazed ahead of us with the burning torch. As soon as we entered, I heard a steady stream of water.

  We walked through an underground labyrinth, following the flickering firelight ahead. We passed several offshoots stemming from the main path. Or I assumed this was the main path. As we ventured further into the earth, I hoped Black Hoof knew exactly where he was going.

  Black Hoof turned right, and we both had to duck to follow the new tunnel. Hunched over, I walked awkwardly for another forty feet and our leader stopped. He moved to the side and pointed at a circular opening with a rectangular stone slab next to it.

  Black Hoof said, “This is where Cyclone Woman lives. She hasn’t been around for four days now. At first, I thought she might be visiting her sister, Whirlwind. However, she would have told me about it considering I see her every day.”

  “Why do you see her every day?” I wondered if my new friend had supernatural abilities.

  “I feed her. I was approached in a dream by the Great Grandmother many years ago. Her spirit awakened me from the dream and led me to this spot right here.” He pointed to the opening. “The Great Grandmother told me that this was the home of Cyclone Woman. She told me these were dangerous times and that Cyclone Woman needed to remain hidden.”

  Okay, so he was more of a shepherd.

  He traced his hand over the stone covering. “The Great Grandmother gave me the important job of feeding Cyclone Woman. Three times a day I come here and leave her food. Sometimes she talks to me and sometimes she does not. But I can always tell that she is there.”

  Black Hoof shoved the torch in first and then poked his head through the opening. He came back out, and said, “You won’t be able to fit in there, but you can look. I don’t see anything that would tell me who has done this, but maybe your eyes can.”

  He handed me the torch and I squeezed by Dante and Black Hoof, my back scraping against the dirty wall. I put my hand into the hole and followed with my upper body. My shoulders were too wide to squeeze in, but I could put my head in and look at the room. Illuminated by the dancing fire in my right hand, the small room screamed of stark simplicity.

  The single room was about ten feet wide and ten feet deep. It rivaled a prison cell for spaciousness. There were carvings on the walls whose significance I didn’t understand.

  Smashed into the corner of the room, I saw a stuffed hemp mattress with feathers spilling out the side. Several red candles were lying on their sides. A trail of wax indicated that someone had knocked the candles over while they were lit. The scene clearly screamed of a struggle. I noticed some little figures that appeared to be talismans in the far corner of the room. Other than that, I couldn’t find any solid clues to form a suspect list.

  I pulled my head out of the hot cave. “Do you have any idea of who might want to cause harm to her?”

  Black Hoof responded, “No one that I know of. As I said, this might be part of a greater plot to get to the Great Grandmother. However, just having control of Cyclone Woman can put a person in control of the weather and winds. It doesn’t sound like much, but the destruction could be apocalyptic.”

  I agreed, “Natural disasters have often been featured in many doomsday scenarios. One of my friends says, ‘if you control the weather, you can control the world.’ I hate to say it, but this plot seems to converge with the end of days theme.”

  “I am just a simple man who lives off the land. I came to you because my friend told me that you could get to the bottom of this,” Black Hoof explained.

  I asked, “Have you talked to anyone else about this?”

  “I have not. You and my friend Terry that you talked to are the only ones. I haven’t any idea of who to talk to other than you.”

  I told him, “I have connections that might prove beneficial. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll do my best to get to the bottom of this. You haven’t seen any suspicious characters around here, have you?”

  “I have not. I try to be very careful when I take meals to her and you saw how difficult the underground pathway was.”

  He had a great point. I didn’t remember how to get out of there. “Are there any other clues you’ve noticed? Even maybe tire tracks in the mud or anything like that. I just need a crumb to go on.”

  He shook his head, tightlipped. “That is the problem. I’ve seen nothing out of the ordinary except for the slab covering the tunnel being shoved to the side and the inside of Cyclone Woman’s cave.”

  An idea struck me. “Dante. Why don’t you climb in there and see if you can find anything that might have been left behind?”

  The inquisitive boy grabbed the torch out of my hand and burrowed right into the cave.

  In the dark, I asked, “Is there any other information that might help?”

  “Only what I’ve told you. Anyone familiar with Native American mythology, especially the Shawnee, know of her power. It could be a wolf, or a wolf wrapped in sheep’s clothing. There is only one other conclusion I can think of.” He let the last words linger.

  “What is that?” I needed to know.

  Black Hoof explained, “That she fell in love with someone and left with this person. That is what I want to believe. I want to believe that she is safe and not in harm’s way. But common sense tells me the chance of that is slim.”

  Dante popped out of the cave and passed the torch back to Black Hoof. Dusting his pants off, the kid said, “I found this in there.”

  He handed me a small scrap of paper. It looked like a piece of a Manila folder with foreign writing on it. I held it closer to the torch Black Hoof was holding and tried to decipher the language. It was definitely Asian, but nothing I was familiar with.

  I showed it to Black Hoof, and he shrugged his shoulders. Shaking his head, the man said, “I am not familiar with those symbols.”

  “Neither am I. That doesn’t look like anything Cyclone Woman would make, right?”

  Black Hoof confirmed, “No. It does not.”

  I stuffed the clue into my back pocket and planned to ask Felix about it. Considering he was half-Japanese, he was the only connection that came to mind who could help with this. “Good job, buddy.” I patted Dante on top of his head.

  He squirmed away. “Stop it.” The little demon was transitioning into an embarrassed human kid, not wanting his father to touch him.

  We walked back to Black Hoof’s house, and he convinced us to stay for a meal and meet his family. He made us feel so welcome that I felt like I’d known them for years. His wife and two daughters prepared a delicious meal for us featuring a hearty soup made with charred venison offal. That was the mystery meat roasting on the spit earlier. The side of spicy jalapeño cornbread was my favorite though.

  A few hours later, feeling like part of the family and not wanting to leave, I dragged Dante and Colossus back to my apartment. I’d talked to Felix on the ride home and planned to meet up with him in a few hours to decipher the writing on the clue.

  Chapter 3

  Felix and I trekked through a thick forest en route to an old wizard’s dwelling. We were well outside Pittsburgh. My friend had been secretive and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was taking me out to the woods to kill me. We plunged further into the olivaceous abyss hoping that Felix’s friend could translate the writing on the clue Dante had found in Cyclone Woman’s cave.

  Speaking of my little man, Alayna had been at my house earlier and I’d convinced her to watch him while I worked on the clue.


  Felix and I had come to an understanding on the drive over. I had promised not to talk about his leg injury that had forced him to leave our last mission. In reciprocation, the mage agreed not to tell anyone that Merlin wasn’t my ancestor. Out of embarrassment, Felix was the only person I’d told about my not so magical bloodline.

  Despite our vast differences, we’d become good friends. He was short and stocky. People considered me tall at six-three. The Japanese-American had a dark look with brown eyes, black hair and rich skin. I was pale with blond hair and blue eyes. I cared little about my appearance.

  In contrast, I could smell the mango gel in Felix’s hair. He was dressed down for this trip, which surprised me. Normally he was the type of guy to iron his t-shirts, refresh his cologne ever few hours and make sure his thick eyebrows were straight. The flamboyant mage also used the selfie camera on his cell phone as a mirror to check himself out. The mage thought that nobody had noticed it, but I’d caught him in the act a couple of times.

  Felix also loved the media and used them to promote himself around Pittsburgh. Good. I didn’t want to talk to the reporters.

  We approached the trunk of the most enormous tree I’d ever seen. I stretched my arms out, and it was wider than my wingspan. The trunk was shaped more like a square than a circle. The branches of the trees above were so thick that they cast the forest into a dusky darkness. Wondering why we had stopped, I looked around for something obvious. Nothing.

  Felix pulled a knife from his pocket and opened the blade. His eyes widened into a crazy look as he approached me. “We’re here.”

  He turned toward the trunk of the tree and jammed the knife into the bark. He dug the blade in and worked it back and forth. The mage twisted the blade.

  A secret door built into the tree trunk cracked open. The mage pulled it open. As he pulled, the door croaked like a frog and exposed the dark inside of a hollowed out tree trunk.

  Steps to a ladder were nailed to the wall on the far side of the opening, but that was all I could see in the dark. I asked, “Can you tell me what the fuck is going on here?”