The Falk Clan Complete Series

by C. D. Gorri

  His scales were a brilliant red on his back and lightened to orangey-gold on his chest. They were as bright as his flame colored hair when he walked as man. He had three horns spiraling out from the crown of his serpentine head.

  On two feet, he wielded a knife better than anyone Callius had ever seen. On four feet, he did something few had ever managed. He manipulated the weather. Callius had seen him create lightning storms with just the beat of his wings.

  They’d been through much together. Waging war for a tyrant for five-hundred years had taken its toll on them both. Callius was certain Edric was as sick of death as he was. Perhaps more so since their last battle. But it was over now.

  Of all his brothers, he was closest to Edric. If anyone understood what Callius wanted, it would be him. Through their telepathic connection he could not only hear their voices, but he could also feel their feelings.

  I do not know where my wings shall take me, but this I do know, we four brothers are now the Falk Clan. Together we shall be equals. I will find us a castle. One where we can come and go and share the fruits of our labor. What say you? Callius felt the approval in their hearts as he spoke in their minds.

  Aye, a castle is a thing we all need. But what of a companion, Callius? Shall you find a mate as well? One who is worthy of the diamond rose?

  Yes, Edric, I will find both my mate and castle. We shall have a home. All of us. I shall present a worthy female with the diamond rose and she will be mine.

  You do that, brother, find a mate and a castle, but I will go explore. Do not expect me home so quickly. Alexsander, the youngest, was never one to shy away from his real feelings.

  As a boy, he always yelled the loudest and fought the hardest. Callius suspected it was the only way he felt that he was heard. He looked at him now. A man. A Dragon. No longer a boy.

  Alexsander’s translucent-white scales made it almost impossible to find him as he spun and dipped in and out of the surrounding clouds. His youngest brother had felt the cage around them much more keenly than the rest. He saw his adolescence behind stone walls.

  As do I. Like Alexsander, I wish to visit the places I have only glimpsed at in the last five hundred years. I’ve sent you the accounts and coordinates. You’ve only to use the cellular phone to look them up.

  Nikolai’s green Dragon was the closest in size to Callius’. His genius brother spent the past five-hundred years buried inside of books and computers. A tomb of information.

  That was what he called his work room. He fattened the coffers of their jailer and managed to whittle out a slice for the brothers as well. Chief Dragomir allowed them their small personal ventures. What was a few million to a Dragon anyway? Now, Nikolai wanted to stretch his wings. Callius would not stand in his way.

  And I too would like some time, brother. Edric’s voice was solemn. Unexpected, true, but he deserved his liberty. They all did.

  Callius’ golden Dragon eyes landed on each of his brothers. He opened his long snout, row upon row of razor-sharp teeth glistened against the black of his scales, then he loosed a roar of blue and red flame against the whited-out sky.

  He would miss them. They were his flesh, his blood, and his constant companions these five-hundred years. But he understood.

  Agreed. Take care, my brothers. As eldest, this is my pledge to you, I will find us a castle and claim my mate! Then I will send for you.

  Choose wisely, brother. The diamond rose is special.

  Farewell and much luck to you on your quest!

  Yes! May you be successful!

  Somewhere over the vast Atlantic Ocean, the brothers parted ways. It was bittersweet as all partings were. Only the idea that, one day, they would live in a castle of their own kept Callius on a steady course. His purpose grew stronger with every passing moment.

  An idea of Castle Falk began taking shape in his mind’s eye. Not an old stone mausoleum like the one he came from. No, he wanted something new and modern. A haven where they could protect their own and come and go as they pleased. No master, all equals. Yes, it would be a fine thing indeed.

  But first things first, he reminded himself.

  Find a mate and claim her.

  CHAPTER 1

  “Dammit,” Fred struggled with the three cases of booze she lugged up the cellar stairs to the main floor of The Thirsty Dog.

  Being a Werewolf definitely had its perks! Increased strength, sense of smell, and enhanced vision to name a few, but none of them helped her as she banged her elbow on the door frame while exiting the musty old basement. If anything, she only hit it harder. Ouch!

  It wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t see over the cases of long necks, was it? What could she do about her height? Not a damn thing!

  Fred often joked about being vertically challenged. She was short. Period. Especially for a Wolf. At five-foot five-inches tall, she was the runt of the Pack. Not a bad height for a normal, but next to her six-foot plus Packmates, she was seriously lacking.

  Her weight was fine. She maintained a solid buck forty. She was as fit and muscular as any Wolf in Maccon City. And that was without exercising at one of those twenty-four-hour gyms that were all the rage.

  Fred got enough exercise between her two jobs and full moon runs with the Pack. She had no extra time for running on treadmills and Zumba classes.

  Not that she was complaining. That was how she liked it. Keep moving, stay busy, no worries. Something her older brother used to say.

  “Fred! Let’s go! We got customers!” Mike, the seventy-five-year old Wolf who owned the place, yelled at her from across the bar.

  He was tall, well over six-foot. Long, lean, and muscular without a single gray hair on his head. He looked more like forty than seventy-five, but that was the same with most Wolves.

  Fred didn’t care about his looks. He was a good boss. Better than most, and that counted for everything! He paid her on time and treated her with courtesy and respect. Heck, he’d given her her first job in town! She owed Mike.

  “I’m coming already! Hold your horses!”

  The roar of the crowd from the main room of the bar was like a smack in the face as Fred rounded the corner. Ugh! She wished she had remembered to put her ear plugs in.

  Her Werewolf hearing was super-sensitive. Most of the time it didn’t bother her, but tonight she had one hell of a headache.

  Cheer up, girl! Noisy means crowded. Big crowds meant big tips. And she seriously needed the money.

  Saturday nights in Maccon City tended to be slower in the winter. But even with snow on the ground everyone seemed to be out tonight! Tt was Valentine’s Day after all.

  Cheesy paper-Cupids with bows and arrows decorated the doors. Red streamers and glittery heart-shaped confetti covered every inch of the place.

  Mike even had buckets by the front door filled with long-stem roses. The bouncers gave one to every woman who walked in. Happy Valentine’s Day!

  The fact that the town served as the headquarters for the Macconwood Werewolf Pack accounted for most of the supernatural customers. Pretty much every Wolf in North America made their way to Maccon City at one time or another.

  Werewolves liked paying their respects to their leader and this was his hometown. There were always a couple of Wolves she didn’t know in the bar. Heck, Fred had been a visitor herself only six years ago.

  She liked the Jersey Shore town so much that she stayed. Finally taking her brother’s advice to “put down roots”. Damn, she missed him.

  She’d been shiftless for so long. No direction. No family. No home. Loneliness was becoming too familiar, but just lately she was thinking about getting a degree in counseling, buying a place, settling down. But that was never gonna happen! Not now.

  Fred usually worked two jobs at a time. She used to work one day a week at a local realtor’s office, but it wasn’t her speed. Meanwhile, she was doing 12-hour days, six days a week at The Thirsty Dog until she found another gig. That was just to make ends meet.

  She didn�
��t mind hard work. Of course, she wanted to finish her degree and get a “real job” someday, but that was in the future. For now, she was happy she finally found a place to fit in.

  Of course, that happiness was fleeting. That was before the latest in a long line of disastrous relationships blew up in her face. Ugh. She really hated men.

  She shook her head in an attempt to get back in touch with reality. These musings of hers were doing no one any good. Fred took a deep breath. She needed to get back to work and in truth, she did like this job.

  The Thirsty Dog was a cool place. A real favorite with the locals. Werewolves and normals alike. Mike prided himself on the fact that he served two types of crowd, and no, not the obvious two. He offered a place for sophisticated palates to try some truly unique liquors and for others, who were not so discerning, to just hang out.

  Serious drinkers could quench their refined thirsts with his unique collection of locally distilled liquors, wines, and craft beers. Younger, party crowds could find entertainment of all kinds on the premises. The place had pool tables, virtual gaming stations, multiple dart-boards, a punching bag, a DJ booth, a stage for bands, and a newly finished dance floor. Werewolves certainly loved to play.

  The lights were always dim, the bathrooms were impeccably clean, Fred would know, and the black leather stools looked damn fine next to the polished pine wood bar. Just last year, Mike ripped the ceilings open to reveal the steel beams that held the place together.

  He said it gave the place an edgy, industrial look. A large mirror lined the back wall behind the bar. That’s where he showcased an assortment of high-end liquor, with a focus on local breweries and distilleries, lined the shelves.

  Fred’s absolute favorite was produced by Mason Lane. He was another local Werewolf. The founder and owner of a successful line of artisan distilled whiskey right out of Maccon City. She’d only seen him once or twice. The dude liked his privacy.

  He called his whiskey Bite. And it certainly had one. Fred couldn’t keep it on the shelves! Top quality, organic ingredients, non-GMO, crafted by artisans. Liquid gold.

  Werewolves preferred high quality food and drink. Especially older Wolves. Their heightened senses made the super-processed foods of today difficult to swallow. Fred had to admit that once she began to eat organic foods, she could actually taste the chemicals in regular food. She couldn’t even begin to justify the consumption of meat from animals kept in pens and fed GMO corn, grain, and who knew what else. Not to mention the amount of insecticides on non-organic produce.

  Mason Lane had it right when he created his label. It was the cleanest, finest whiskey Fred ever tasted and she pushed it at the bar for that reason alone. It was simply better. Especially to the Wolves in the area, though to be fair, normals loved it just as much.

  A flood of just turned twenty-one-year-olds let the cold night air in as they crammed into the bar. Fred guessed their ages from the “I’m 21 today! Buy me a drink!” sash that one of the girls wore over her clothing.

  Not that there was much clothing. Black lycra, red lipstick, a few Valentine’s Day flashing necklaces and not much else. She grinned at Mike then nodded at them. He clapped his hands and grinned. He was seeing dollar signs and an opportunity to keep the Wolves in the bar entertained. Wolves loved to play!

  Fred rolled her eyes at the guys who were already sniffing around the cloud of hairspray, perfume, and ew, was that KY jelly? TMI, girlfriend! Her Packmates were down to party, the guys especially tended to be players of the highest order. Werewolves had loads of energy and needed to blow off steam regularly, but they were honest about it. Fred respected that. They treated their women right and only messed around with those that knew the deal.

  It was dangerous for a Werewolf to get in too deep. Protective instincts took over and before you knew it, bam, you were married and mated! Not that Fred needed to worry about that. She never dated other Werewolves.

  But these ladies were more than happy to get all that masculine attention. And, really, it wasn’t all their fault. Normals tended to be naturally receptive to the virility of Werewolves. They had natural charisma. Their physical attributes were simply a bonus. Not too many ugly, flabby Wolves walking around. Especially in Maccon City.

  Fred rolled her eyes. She certainly didn’t mind the fact that she had toned abs and clear skin as a supernatural bonus, but she never flaunted the way her male counterparts did. The hams! But boys will be boys, playas gonna play and all that. Werewolves were no exception.

  On the bright side, hot young girls meant tons of men looking for a no-strings hook-up. Those men usually paid for the drinks. They also left large tips to attentive bartenders. So, yeah, Fred thought, come on in and get your drink on, ladies and gents!

  “Hey, girl! How ‘bout a round of Bite-Bombs and ooh could you put extra cinnamon heart candy in them like last time? Thanks!” an especially cute blonde called out.

  “You got it!” Fred smiled as she started mixing shots for the young women. She smiled even bigger as a gentleman in a suit grabbed the tab and dropped a crisp fifty in her tip jar.

  The guy was a regular. He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows at Fred. She just laughed and wiped the bar clean. He was a good guy. Came in every week with his work pals. She watched him turn his attentions back to the flirtatious young woman who ordered the drinks.

  Good luck, buddy! She could hardly remember when she was that young and optimistic about love. What was it they said? Once bitten, twice shy. Well, that was, Winifred. No. New. Men. Period. Not even on Valentine’s Day!

  CHAPTER 2

  Fred filled order after order of cutesy named Valentine’s Day drinks. She would never admit it, but she wished, for just one moment, that she was one of the girls on the receiving end of one of these Shotz-Thru-the-Heart or Kiss-Me-Nows. Those were the days, when she could just have some fun. Not worry about what came next. Back when she still believed in true love and happily-ever-afters.

  Not anymore. She was still reeling from her latest relationship disaster. Her live-in boyfriend, Josh, literally skipped out on her. No note, no phone call, not even a text. He was just gone. Poof. Like magic. Only it wasn’t magic. It was a con. One she should have seen coming. You should have known better, Fred.

  Not only did he disappear without a trace, he also stole every cent she’d saved the last few years. He emptied their joint bank account, packed up, and took off. He even took her new memory foam pillows. The jerk.

  Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, her new landlord paid her a visit. And not a friendly one. Turns out her rat bastard of an ex hadn’t paid their rent in three months! It was a good thing the full moon was two weeks away, otherwise her Wolf would’ve hunted down Josh and tore him to shreds. She still might.

  This would have never happened if she hadn’t been so desperate for a normal life. She let herself be persuaded by his not-so-subtle hints that he move-in with her. He was a smooth-talker, she’d give him that! But it was all a lie.

  “Hey baby, my lease is up and I’m always at your place anyway, why don’t I move in? I love waking up to you. It’ll be great! Making love every night and we could even ride into town to work together.”

  Except he never did. While she worked two jobs, he had none. He convinced her it was temporary. When weeks turned into months, he told her not to worry, he would take care of the house while he looked for a job.

  He’d shop, cook, clean, do the laundry. So, it made sense to open a new checking account with him. She could transfer her paychecks and he’d sort out everything. He’d pay the rent and the bills. She wouldn’t have to worry about it.

  Yeah. Right. She should have gotten the hint that everything wasn’t hunky-dory when she found herself doing laundry at two o’clock in the morning most nights while he was nowhere to be seen. Ugh, Fred you are so dumb!

  If Mr. Ingles, her former landlord, was still alive he would have understood why she was late with the rent. As it was, her late landlord’s distant nephew inheri
ted the property and took control immediately. He wasn’t interested in listening to anything she had to say. He wanted her back rent and he wanted her our out. Period.

  Of course, Fred figured, his end goal was to sell the old building for a mint. It was, after all, prime beach-front property. Her time working in a realtor’s office taught her the land alone was worth millions.

  The home itself had character and style, though it was a little weather worn. The paint was peeling, and the shutters were broken in places. The roof needed repairs if not replacing, and some of the windows were rusted shut from the salt in the air.

  It would take a fortune to get the building back in shape. But what she wouldn’t give to see it the way it looked back in its hay day. Mr. Ingles had framed pictures of the place back in the early sixties all over his section of the house. It was glorious. Fred wished she could afford it. The house was perfect!

  She loved waking up to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. The smells of the beach and the sea tantalized her enhanced senses. It was beautiful. Even in winter. There was nothing quite like snow falling on the ocean. She begged her new landlord, Mr. Kaepernick, to reconsider, but his answer was a big, fat, resounding, “No!”

  “Pack up and get out or I’ll have the Sheriff’s department pay you a visit. And you better pay me what you owe before you go moving any furniture.”

  To think she sent the creep a condolence basket when his uncle passed. She even baked the cookies herself. And she hated to cook! Now, he was going to kick her out without a leg to stand on and hardly any warning. And he was threatening to go to the cops! Just great!

  “I’m so going to kill Josh!” she kept her voice low, but her boss still heard her. She felt him move towards her and new she was in for a mild scolding. Ugh. Werewolves!

  “Stop talking to yourself, Fred, and get the lead out! The bar is crowded with thirsty customers. Kill Josh on your own time,” Mike stalked towards her and grabbed a case of cold longnecks from the top of the pile she had forgotten about behind her.