The Caelian Cycle Boxed Set

by Donnielle Tyner

  “The vote already began.” Miles’s voice dropped to a growl that caused a shiver to spread from my head to my extremities.

  “Why didn’t you bring this proof before the vote?”

  “I was hoping the council would see through Miles’s smoke and mirrors without it.”

  “Show me,” Marianna demanded, her neutral expression gone, replaced with need. I didn’t understand it, but as Mrs. LaMotte walked forward everything clicked into place.

  No. No. No.

  “Here’s proof that Sadie’s mother is none other than Lucinda Moreau.” Gasps followed by a short silence before the room erupted with noise.

  “Silence!” Marianna turned her angry gaze to Mrs. LaMotte after reviewing the paperwork.

  “How did you get my nieces’ DNA for a test?”

  Mrs. LaMotte turned to look at me. I shook my head no, knowing full and well what would happen if she answered Marianna.

  “Because I was there when she birthed Sadie. My real name is Cecile Lamour. Lucinda asked me to take Sadie to the orphanage and to watch over her. I tried to get her to go to a hospital, to do anything else, but Lu was stubborn to a fault.” She paused and looked at me again. “Just like her daughter. I recommend that Sadie go with her great-aunt, Moreau council leader Marianna.”

  “Guards. Detain her for questioning!” Marianna shouted.

  Mrs. LaMotte stood still and hung her head as the guards secured her wrists.

  “NO!” I screamed. “Don’t take her away. We have proof that she didn’t kidnap me. It was at my mother’s request that I be taken away.”

  “She can present her evidence at trial.” Marianna looked at me with new eyes, taking in every feature as if she were trying to find her niece mirrored in my expression. Her face relaxed into a warm smile. I didn’t return it.

  “Due to new evidence, we will have to postpone this hearing until tomorrow.”

  Tears poured down my cheeks as the crowd disintegrated around me until it was only Kian and me in the middle of the room with Lacy and Luca waiting by the door. Kian wrapped his arms around me, slow and unsure as if he were afraid that I would run. I stiffened under his touch, but didn’t push him away. Nothing had gone as I had expected. Kian was keeping a big secret from me. Miles almost got the majority vote. Mrs. LaMotte was arrested. Now I could end up moving to Atlanta with the Moreau family.

  I swallowed, trying to dislodge the fear in my throat.

  What would tomorrow bring?

  Chapter 1

  Chasing a criminal wasn’t how I wanted to spend my Friday night.

  Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed my job. Investigating and bringing in Caelian scum made me feel as if I was making a difference in the world. That Kian Lane could be more than the discarded son of the great Laura Lane. Granted, being a bounty detective wasn’t exactly what I had dreamed of being when I grew up, but it was miles better than what my parents had wanted for me.

  My eyes strained to see the man I was chasing. Every few feet his shadowy form would come into focus under a random street lamp. He was gaining ground. My arms pumped faster as I pushed my body toward its limit, amplifying my Talent’s constant buzz. Any other night the chase would have given me a high beyond anything I could consume, but that night my mind was elsewhere.

  I groaned as Celeste’s face flashed behind my eyes. Our first date should have started 30 minutes ago, but sometimes duty called. From the urgent foot-falls from the man I was chasing echoing throughout the deserted street, I wouldn’t make it back in time. Celeste was going to be pissed. She had warned me after she agreed to a date that I would regret ever talking to her if I stood her up. Celeste was a woman of her word. I had seen her own personal brand of revenge firsthand when she had busted out the headlights of her cheating ex-boyfriend in front of the Baptist church across from my office.

  She had looked like an avenging goddess and now her sights were going to be set on me. I didn’t know whether to be turned on or to cup my balls protectively. My muscles tightened from that stray thought causing me to misstep and nearly kiss the ground. I mentally cursed myself for asking her out in the first place, as varied scenarios of how she would exact her revenge flashed across my mind, each one worse than the last. Yeah, she’s not getting anywhere near my junk.

  The rhythmic slapping of shoe against pavement grew louder as I advanced upon my mark, shaking me from my reverie. With renewed determination, I pushed aside all thought of Celeste and focused on the chase. My own foot-falls added another melody to the symphony of gasping breaths, the scratching friction of cloth, and the taunting insults that all made up the hunt.

  I lived for these moments.

  When the mark ran—and they more or less always did—the world fell away, leaving nothing but the chase and the clarity of mind that superseded every ounce of anger, regret, and other bullshit that typically clouded my mind. But this hunt was different. With all distractions out of mind, the clarity took hold, but instead of peace, the rage I kept tightly locked away was thrashing against its cage, threatening to boil over and trying to consume me.

  A rumbling groan tore through my throat as the perp took a sharp corner down a darkened alley. His long hair, an unnatural shade of salmon, caught the light of the occasional apartment window and gave away his position. A dumpster flew over the perp’s head on a direct course to crash into me. Shit! I had forgotten this guy had a telekinetic Talent. As luck would have it, my own Talent would keep that hunk of metal from crushing me to a Kian-sized pancake. This was courtesy of the meteorite that had crashed during the great world war, dispensing a mist that changed the DNA of all who came in contact with it. Which resulted in giving those who came in contact Talents and alien pigmentation.

  Fire burned throughout my body as my mind registered the oncoming attack. Unlike most Talents, mine was always active, allowing constant access to the exceptional strength and stamina which made me a helluva good fighter—nearly unbeatable. I waited until the dumpster whistled a few feet closer before catching and tossing it to the side.

  My lips curled in satisfaction as the mark let loose a stream of imaginative curses.

  I pumped my arms faster. My Talent burned beneath my skin as if it were feeding off the anger rolling like ocean waves in my mind. The blistering surge of raw power accelerated outward from my core, filling every inch of my body. The strain of my Talent felt as if would break through the thin barrier of cells at any moment. The sensation hurt like hell, but I wasn’t going to let this guy give me the slip again.

  If Gordon ever found out. My fists clenched tighter at the thought of my boss and mentor discovering my mistake of letting the mark get the jump on me. Knowing him, he would want to tag along on all my bounties. Again.

  The rhythmic thumping of the perp’s steps lost its steady tempo as he tripped, giving me the opening I needed. The man lay on his back, no longer bothering to try to escape. His eyes were closed and his chest was pumping as he struggled to control his breathing.

  “Roll over on your…” The mark’s eyes snapped open and locked with mine. Memories of a different set of eyes the exact same color of seafoam green clouded my vision and I choked. I watched as the mark stood up and crossed his thick arms over his chest, pulling his shirt so tight it looked like it would rip if he decided to flex. He turned to run again, but I shook my head in an attempt to clear those eyes haunting my thoughts and condemning me to a life of pure hell.

  “You won’t get very far.” My voice sounded steady although my heart was beating in my chest double-time. “You haven’t caught your breath and I’ve hardly broken a sweat. I will outlast you.”

  I reached into my pocket, finding the cool metal of my communicator, and pressed the button to send my current GPS coordinates to my mentor.

  His eerie eyes locked onto mine and narrowed. I had to fight my body not to physically react. It was uncanny how much this man looked like the boy. What if he’s a relative? My back straightened as every muscle in my body clenched i
n anticipation and panic whirred inside my head so loud I thought that the mark could actually hear it.

  The man’s lips twisted into a sinister smile. “Oh, I don’t think you’ll be doing anything.” His deep voice shook me out of my muscle-locking panic. It was nothing like the squeaking pre-pubescent one that belonged to the face I saw every time I closed my eyes.

  Now that I was freed from my shock, the similarities I had thought I saw were picked apart by my rational brain. His hair had a deeper red tint than the original salmon that I thought I had seen and his eyes, although eerily close in color, had a thick black ring around the iris. His nose was too big. Jaw too cut and square.

  He wasn’t a relative.

  Relief flooded my body, releasing all the tension I was holding. Unfortunately, in those few moments of panic I hadn’t seen that my mentor, Robert Gordon, had flashed behind the mark. His knowing eyes watched me with a swirling mixture of frustration and pity.

  The mark’s eyes widened as he took in my relaxed pose. His eyes shifted back and forth as he stared at me, weighing his options.

  “I wouldn’t run. You won’t get far,” I reminded him.

  He didn’t take my advice.

  The man turned on the ball of his foot and took exactly two steps before Gordon maneuvered him to the ground. An ear stinging scrape broke through the silence of the night as everything within a 20-foot radius of the downed-man rose into the air.

  “Tranq him,” Gordon growled as he manhandled the man into a face-down position and slapped a pair of cuffs on his wrists.

  Debris flew at me from all sides as I crouched down next to the man and removed a pre-made syringe from the pack attached to my belt. A growl escaped my throat as I flattened my chest to the ground while a large piece of scrap metal flew over my head. That was too close.

  I pressed up into a seated position next to the mark’s head.

  “Damian Solas, you are being detained by order of the Caelian Council. I, Kian Lane, have been hired to apprehend and deliver you to the Council for your upcoming trial for crimes against norms. If you continue to resist, I will inject a mixture of drugs that will put you to sleep for an undetermined amount of time.”

  The whirlwind above us picked up speed. They always resist. A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I plunged the needle into Damian’s neck. A few seconds later, debris rained down on us from above.

  “Ya can’t call me for ev’ry mark with green eyes and pink hair.” Gordon barked in his deep, southern voice. He stood, placing his hands on his lower back and arching it. The crack of his joints releasing echoed down the alley.

  “It was nothing.”

  “Like hell. I was standin’ right in front of ya fer two minutes before ya noticed me. It doesn’t take a smart man to see when another is locked up from fear.” Gordon lit a cigarette, inhaling and releasing the smoke into a ring before continuing. “Yer not going to make it in this business if ya can’t suck it up.”

  “How am I supposed to forget?”

  “Forget? Hells bells, son, ya need to stop lettin’ yer cases get to ya. We’re hired men. We pick up Caelian criminals. We fetch stuff fer the families. We spy on people. We find lost things and hell, we may even find a missin’ person if we’re lucky, but ya gotta separate yer morals from yer job, boy.”

  Gordon sucked in another deep inhalation from his cigarette. The cherry flashed bright, highlighting the deep wrinkles in Gordon’s leathery face and matching the exact color of his bright orange eyes. A few strands of his thinning navy and silver hair fluttered in the breeze as he kept his steady gaze on me.

  When he was in his early 20’s, Gordon had made a name for himself in the Caelian world. He had been a professional boxer before a torn rotator cuff had put him out of the business for good. Until recently, he had kept that boxer physique. Now his face was sunken in with deep purple bags under his eyes that were highlighted by the sickly grey tone of his skin. Although he was paunchy around the middle, the rest of him was unnaturally stick thin. The wideness of his shoulders, which used to be stacked with muscles, were slumped into a slight hump.

  This past year hadn’t been good to Gordon, but the old man wouldn’t tell a soul what was wrong even though we all knew something was going on. He was an island unto himself.

  Robert Gordon was a legend in the bounty detective world. The man was downright amoral when it came to the job. It didn’t matter what he was hired to do, he got it done without his scruples getting in the way and always finished the case. That was the main reason why I had accepted the job as his apprentice when he offered it to me. Training under Gordon would allow me to learn a trade that could keep me fed instead of having to join up with a Caelian family and in the process, maybe learn from the greatest BD of our time.

  I had no clue what accepting that job would get me into.

  “I don’t think I could ever be like you.”

  “Then you’ll never be better than a mediocre detective.” Gordon flicked his cigarette as a racking cough shook his entire body. I wanted to reach out and help, but knew from past experience that it would be painful for me if I tried.

  “There has to be a way to be successful without accepting jobs that make me feel like the scum of the earth.”

  “That’s the religion yer daddy’s been pushin’ on ya talkin’.”

  “Maybe, or maybe it’s because I’m not numb to all the wrong in this world.”

  “Naiveté. That’s what it’s called. Just wait until ya lived in the real world fer a while. Ya only been on yer own fer a year now. Reality will catch up to ya, boy.”

  “I’ve seen enough of the real world to know that I want it to be better than what it is.”

  Gordon laughed with a zeal that exploded out of his mouth, shaking his entire body in the process. He bent at the waist and hugged himself before another coughing fit took hold. “That’s somethin’. Maybe yer in the wrong business if what yer lookin’ fer is to change the world.”

  Heaviness weighed down on my shoulders. Between the endorphin high of chasing and capturing my mark to the nauseating low of knowing that deep down I hated my life, I was done. It didn’t help that throughout the chase flashing memories of seafoam green eyes and the utter revulsion at what I had done in order to complete that job overloaded my senses.

  With all this self-loathing, I needed the world to be numb for a moment.

  More than anything, I needed a stiff drink.

  “Can you take him in, Gordon?”

  “Sure, but I’ma take half the cut.”

  I shrugged my shoulders and turned my back on the man who had taken me in after my world had shifted on its axis for the second time in my 18 years of life.

  He couldn’t help me.

  I was beginning to think that no one could.

  Chapter 2

  Frank’s is a Caelian dive bar located on the edge of downtown where the skyscrapers start to shrink to reasonable sized office towers. It centers between the sophisticated uptown just one street north, where exclusive nightclubs and restaurants glitter with their twinkling lights and classy atmosphere, and the seedy business district where Gordon’s Bounty Detective services is located.

  Gordon and I acquire most of our investigation cases at Frank’s. Not many Caelians or upper-class norms who seek our type of services would brave lowering themselves by coming to our office, but Frank’s is the safe middle ground where the two worlds converge. The difference one street can make in a metropolis is incredible, like how an invisible line can separate countries.

  Frank’s was packed. I sat nursing my third whiskey and coke in Gordon’s reserved booth tucked in the darkest corner of the club, thankful for the dim lighting and the bouncer situated between the bar and the booth. A small group of Caelians were lingering close by, probably waiting for Gordon to arrive since no one approached me. My gaze flitted between a familiar-looking norm in a dark suit leaning casually against the bar, staring at me, and Celeste who looked like an angel wrapped in a devil’
s dress pressed against some norm man I had never seen before. Her hand would stroke his arm while her attentive, adoring smile focused on the man as she drank in every word he said. It would have been a convincing act if I hadn’t caught her eyes drifting toward me twice.

  No, make that three times. The awareness of being caught broke her composure for a brief moment, and her eyes widened before they narrowed in anger. Her beautiful face twisted into a scowl. Good thing my truck isn’t parked outside. There was no way I could afford new lights and a paint job if she got hold of it.

  “Would you like another drink, Kian?” Junior, Frank’s son, asked as he cleared off two empty glasses. Amused, I turned to face my friend. Junior was about a year older than me, and since Gordon had taken me in we’d hung out a few times, but not enough to make us close.

  Junior was a carbon copy of his dad, both about half a foot taller than my almost 6-foot frame with skin so dark I often wondered if the shade was a product of their Caelian DNA. Frank and his son both had strong, angular facial features with full lips that would look more at home in those high fashion magazines than some dive bar near uptown. Both father and son had robin’s egg blue hair that contrasted with their dark skin. Together with their strong features, father and son looked more alien than the majority of Caelians I had met. Frank kept his hair military short while Junior kept shoulder length dreads. Other than the obvious age difference, it was their eyes that really set them apart. Frank’s eyes were the same color blue as his hair, but Junior’s deep coral eyes were a gift from his mother.

  “Tell your cousin to keep them coming,” I rumbled, a little rougher than I had intended. Although my gaze was now focused on the man at the bar, I saw Junior flinch at the menacing tone.

  “Hey man, you’re a cool guy and I have mad respect for you. So … I’m going to give you a heads up. My dad called Gordon.”

  Well that caught my attention. I shifted my body with a measured, intimidating precision toward Junior, placing one arm against the back of the booth seat, causing the vinyl to squeak in protest. Junior stared at me, his gaze unwavering while he took a step back.