A Summoner's Tale: the vampire's confessor
Order of the Black Swan 3
Victoria Danann
Copyright 2013 Victoria Danann
Published by 7th House at Smashwords
Read more about this author and upcoming works at VictoriaDanann.com
Smashwords License
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Victoria is a big fan of three special readers...
Christine Holshouser
Dawn Dow
Leslie Miner
Thank you for your support of my serial saga, The Order of the Black Swan.
OTHER THANK YOU'S...
Thank you to Julie Roberts, world's best editor.
A big thank you to the A-Team: the BETA readers who work for Black Swan for free.
Ashley Logan
Christine Merritt
Elizabeth Quincy Nix
JoBeth Sexton-Harris
Leah Barbush
Liz Cabrejos
Margaret Nolan
Maya Bowen
Nelta Baldwin Mathias
Tabitha Schneider
***
Praise for A Summoner's Tale
Let me just say SQUEEEEEE!
- Reviewing in Chaos
As multiple stories are seemingly unrelated, each brings with it a new dimension that begins to form a pattern that slowly leads all players to one key game, one final showdown to succeed and emerge intact. It is the chase to the end, the multiple and variant tensions, the characters that have become your friends, your heroes and your entertainment keep you reading long past bedtime and into the night – for you need to know how it all ends. A gripping read that will please fans of the series, and is best enjoyed after reading books one and two. Completely worth the time and sleepless nights – and now I am left to wonder impatiently what will happen in the proposed book four.
- Gaele, Booked and Loaded
Another hit out of the park for Ms. Danann. A Summoner's Tale is a beautiful romantic story that remains honest with its laugh-out-loud humor and anxiety-ridden action scenes. I simply could not put this book down. ... Each time I read another book by Ms. Danann, I always say it's my favorite of hers, but really, this one is! I simply love these characters and each of their intertwining stories. A Summoner's Tale hooked me from page one.
- Jenna, Between the Bind
What can I say, other than the series has it all. Men and women you can't help but love, betrayals, romance and surprises, oh and a loyal black dog, and a pack of wolves? I was so surprised by many of the things I learned, my first instinct was to want to share it with everyone. But that is something I will not do. The series needs to be read in order and each time you read and finish a new chapter you just yearn for the next one. All the characters are amazing, strong, handsome, loyal, and married to women who are their equals.
- Linda Tonis, The Paranormal Romance Guild.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
FOREWORD
CHAPTER_1
CHAPTER_2
CHAPTER_3
CHAPTER_4
CHAPTER_5
CHAPTER_6
CHAPTER_7
CHAPTER_8
CHAPTER_9
CHAPTER_10
CHAPTER_11
CHAPTER_12
CHAPTER_13
CHAPTER_14
CHAPTER_15
CHAPTER_16
CHAPTER_17
CHAPTER_18
CHAPTER_19
CHAPTER_20
CHAPTER_21
EPILOGUE 1
EPILOGUE II
POSTSCRIPT
EXCERPT BOOK 4
- Chapter One of Moonlight: Big Bad Wolf, BLACK SWAN 4
***
PROLOGUE
This series is also a serial saga in the sense that each book begins where the previous book ended. READING IN ORDER IS STRONGLY RECOMMENDED AND ENCOURAGED in order to fully enjoy the rich complexities of this tapestry in book form.
There is a very old and secret society of paranormal investigators and protectors known as The Order of the Black Swan. In modern times, in a dimension similar to our own, they continue to operate, as they always have, to keep the human population safe. For centuries they have relied on a formula that outlines recruitment of certain second sons, in their early, post pubescent youth, who match a narrow and highly specialized psychological profile. Those who agree to forego the ordinary pleasures and freedoms of adolescence receive the best education available anywhere along with the training and discipline necessary for a possible future as active operatives in the Hunters Division. In recognition of the personal sacrifice and inherent danger, The Order bestows knighthoods on those who accept.
BOOK ONE. The elite B Team of Jefferson Unit in New York, also known as Bad Company, was devastated by the loss of one of its four members in a battle with vampire. A few days later Elora Laiken, an accidental pilgrim from another dimension, literally landed at their feet so physically damaged by the journey they weren't even sure of her species. After a lengthy recovery, they discovered that she had gained amazing speed and strength through the cross-dimension translation. She earned the trust and respect of the knights of B Team and eventually replaced the fourth member, who had been killed in the line of duty.
She was also forced to choose between three suitors: Istvan Baka, a devastatingly seductive six-hundred-year-old vampire, who worked as a consultant to neutralize an epidemic of vampire abductions, Engel Storm, the noble and stalwart leader of B Team who saved her life twice, and Rammel Hawking, the elf who persuaded her that she was destined to be his alone.
BOOK TWO. Ten months later everyone was gathered at Rammel's home in Derry, Ireland. B Team had been temporarily assigned to The Order's Headquarters office in Edinburgh, but they had been given leave for a week to celebrate an elftale handfasting for Ram and Elora, who were expecting.
Ram's younger sister, Aelsong, to Edinburgh with B Team after being recruited for her exceptional psychic skills. Shortly after arriving, Kay's fiancé, was abducted by a demon with a vendetta, who slipped her to a dimension out of reach. Their only hope to locate Katrina and retrieve her was Litha Brandywine, the witch tracker, who had fallen in love with Storm at first sight,
Storm was assigned to escort the witch, who slowly penetrated the ice that had formed around his heart when he lost Elora to Ram. Litha tracked the demon and took Katrina's place as hostage after learning that he, Deliverance, was her biological father. The story ended with all members of B Team happily married and retired from active duty.
FOREWORD
Stagsnare Dimension. Sixteen months earlier.
Thelonius M. Monq watched his computer screen. The filler in the blue bar was reversing to indicate the amount of data being wiped from his system. The assassins on the other side of the door were using an old-fashioned, titanium ramming post to gain access and the pounding was near deafening. The ancient door was solid burdoche and took a lot of punishment before it started to splinter.
Monq watched the color in the bar move all the way to the left. He smiled as the intruders broke into his lab, knowing all they would find was a black screen of death. The system, with all his personal and scientific jo
urnals, had been backed up on a microcord impressed into the Celtic weave pattern of a locket that he had sent into the unknown with his favorite student, Elora Laiken. He hoped they both fared well.
It may have been odd to feel peckish in the midst of those circumstances, but minds can react to stress in strange ways. Monq turned and reached for the jar of peanuts on the cabinet lip behind him. As he did so, one of the armed attackers pulled the trigger of an automatic weapon which riddled Monq with dozens of wounds within seconds.
One of the men jerked his ski mask off which left his sandy hair tousled in a way that might have been comical if he hadn't been wearing an infuriated expression that said he was intent on killing someone. He took two strides toward the shooter then grabbed the weapon out of his hands at the same time he pulled the knit mask away from his face.
"Mallach!" He hit the young man in the face with the stock of the gun and broke his nose. "We needed that old magman alive. We should have a public hanging for this - like in the old days." The younger man was holding his nose with the fingers of both hands, but his eyes widened and, even with the blood on his face, it was easy to see he had paled. While the commander continued to glare at Mallach, several other comrads came through the door. They had removed their masks.
Without taking his eyes away from Mallach, he spit out a command. "Report."
One of the newcomers stepped forward. "Twenty-odd Laiwynn survivors, sir. All captive."
Lft. Rothesay nodded. He flicked his attention toward the man kneeling next to Monq, who read the question in his eyes. "Dead, sir."
Rothesay's jaw clenched down tight. He swung away and charged for the door. On his way out he said, "Get Archer down here. Give him anything he needs."
Mg. Archer waited in the hallway outside Monq's former lab and watched them drag the body away. "Shame that," he said to the soldier next to him.
"Why?"
"Because he was one of a kind. If he'd lived, with funding and the freedom to do anything he wanted, he might have unlocked the secrets of the universe."
Pt. Rystrome laughed. "I don't know, Magman. That's way too deep for me. I don't need the secrets of the universe. I just want to take care of my kids and make enough money to get my wife's flute back."
Archer looked up. "Your wife plays the flute?"
Rystrome's smile died. "She did. Long time ago. They took it, you know, like everything else."
Archer nodded. "Well. I guess I'd better get to work."
While the guys who were assigned to 'give Archer whatever he needed' finished cleaning up the mess, he started taking a look around. He slowly walked around the room looking at books and curios and pictures in frames. He stopped next to the blender and pulled out a twisted mass of plastic that had, more than likely, once been a handheld remote.
He took the find to a desk, switched on the spot light, and pulled his glasses out of his jacket pocket. Without looking up, he said to no one in particular, "I need this area secured. New door, locks, guards. No one comes in here but me. Unless they outrank me, of course, and, even then, they need to log in and out. Finish up what you're doing without touching anything else and get out."
The soldiers who were mopping up blood on hands and knees exchanged a look and said, "Yes, sir."
Archer looked over at the computer displaying the black screen of death and wondered if it was truly wiped. If anybody alive could retrieve some data remnants not swept up in the harvest, it would be him.
***
CHAPTER_1
BLACK SWAN FIELD TRAINING MANUAL Section I: Chapter 1, #1
The plural of vampire is vampire.
When the initial rush of activity subsided, he had found himself all too often alone with his own thoughts; a condition that was tediously familiar since he had spent hundreds of years that way. Without the distraction of his friends' banter, since his proposed staff had left Edinburgh, he had begun to see his task not just as a job, but as a mission, one immersed in the duality of joy and gravity. Though, lately it seemed gravity was winning.
He had never considered himself to be impatient. Quite the contrary. Everything he had ever pursued in earnest, from painting to music to writing, had depended upon patience. But his awareness of the enormity of the burden he had accepted had grown over the past months and he had turned to brooding about the time that was passing.
Every day that nothing was accomplished was a day when more people had their humanity taken from them, another day when vampire remained imprisoned in bodies infected with the foulest disease imaginable, and, also, another day when people died.
The project was moving painfully slowly. Everyone who had originally been assigned to work with Baka was gone: married, retired, whatever. Everyone except Heaven - who had turned out to be anything but. If he was to be brutally honest with himself, he would have to admit that one of the main reasons for the slow progress was his distraction with his appointed assistant.
The large work space, intended for several people, held two people most of the time. He worked from early in the morning till late at night, challenging both the hours in the day and the fact that he was one excruciatingly short-handed task-force leader.
When Heaven was present, her moods ran the range of a shallow bell curve from disagreeable to surly to sullen. He admitted that he had provoked her on their first meeting, for reasons that were a mystery to him. Something about her had instantly put him on edge, made him feel anxious, and inclined to strike out.
Even though that feeling persisted, he had attempted to make amends so that they could work together amicably, but his attempts at accord had failed. Miserably so. She was prickly all the way to her luscious core, spurning every effort on his part to develop a rudimentary standard of civility. No matter how many times he tried.
He not only had to work with a person who detested his very presence, but, adding insult to injury, it seemed he couldn't shake an inexplicably strong attraction to her. He found himself staring at the curve of her cheek when her head was bowed over work. Or the shine of her chestnut hair when she walked in front of a window, right through a bank of sunrays. Or the way her lips pursed in silent protest and disdain whenever he gave her something to do.
It was damned aggravating to be held captive, figuratively, by a woman who detested him. To make matters worse, he seemed to have lost interest in pursuing other women, which really wasn't like him at all. After being freed of the vampire virus, he found himself in a world where sex was king. Women dressed provocatively. Women were provocative. And they were free to share sex if it suited them to do so, without needing permission outside their own conscience.
He had made the most of that window of sexual opportunity between the cure and the day Heaven walked into his war room.
For over five months, she had behaved as if simple courtesy was more than she could manage. That meant that "nice" was a goal way too distant. Baka knew it wasn't an expression of her nature in general because he'd often watched her from across the dining hall laughing and interacting with other associates and employees. No. With others her manner was open and unguarded.
A thousand times a day his eyes sought her out while he surreptitiously pretended to be doing something else. He found himself imagining having her lift her head and turn the sunshine of that smile his way or, even better, to angle her face up at him with invitation on her features while she pressed her beautifully packed curves against his body. The thought of that made him hard. Painfully so. Again.
He was staring at the clock on the wall as he did that time every day, waiting for the separation ritual to begin. At exactly fifteen after five, Heaven checked her wristwatch, closed an open folder, pushed her chair back, stood up, shoved her arms into her sweater jacket, put her purse on her shoulder and, like every other day, started to walk out of the office without so much as a passing glance angled his way. Much less a wish for goodnight. But that night was going to be different. That night his voice stopped her when she put her hand on the
door pull.
"Heaven."
"Yes?" she asked over her shoulder without looking at him directly.
"Why do you hate me so much?"
She didn't hesitate for an instant before answering, "I don't hate you. Whatever gave you such an idea?"
Before he could frame an answer to that question, she was gone. He heaved a big sigh. Fuck me.
Life had become a conflict without prospect of resolution. He perpetually struggled to concentrate when she was there because the space seemed to vibrate with a low level, but annoying irritation. When she wasn't there, he hated it even more.
Baka had been a person with a well-developed sense of morality and a well-functioning conscience before he became a vampire. During the last hundred years of life as a vampire, having survived long enough to blessedly recover his understanding of right and wrong, he had voluntarily allowed himself to be taken into custody by The Order, hoping that they would put an end to him. But they devised a far worse punishment. They decided to keep him alive on artificial sustenance so that, on occasion, he could serve as "consultant". Of course that also entailed imprisonment and many decades of a solitary life.
He could have committed suicide, but submitted to the ongoing torment because he knew he deserved whatever crucible they might devise.
A Summoner's Tale - The Vampire's Confessor (Black Swan 3) Page 1