by Donna Grant
CONSTANTINE A HISTORY PART 3
THE DARK KINGS
Donna Grant
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Constantine: A History Part 3
© 2018 by DL Grant, LLC
Excerpt from Dark Alpha’s Demand copyright © 2016 by Donna Grant
Cover design © 2018 by
www.CharityHendry.com
ISBN 13: 978-1942017356
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce or transmit this book, or a portion thereof, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author. This book may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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Dear Reader,
I began these shorts exploring Con’s past mostly because I wanted to know more about him. And I knew you would, as well. I mean, really, who can resist Con, right?
The Dragon Kings have come quite a long way since they first appeared in the Dark Warrior books and then the first novella to spin off the series – DARK CRAVING. I could never have guessed how far the world would come or just how deeply readers would love the Kings. I am forever grateful to each of you for the passion, devotion, and support you have shown these characters and me.
And you didn’t stop with the dragons. You eagerly welcomed the Reapers – and my favorite – Death aka Erith. The Dragon Kings are just getting started, my lovelies. There is a ton more coming from V’s book to Con’s – and beyond. (Yeah, beyond. Get ready!!)
The Reapers are also just gearing up. They have their own enemy to fight. And just wait until DARK ALPHA’S HUNGER. You’re not going to be expecting any of it. Then there’s…well, I think I have to wait on sharing that bit of info. Trust me, though, you’re going to like it. A lot.
I love the Dragon Kings. I honestly don’t believe there will be another series I love more than this one. The world keeps expanding and changing, while thrilling and shocking me with every turn. I hope that I get to continue writing in this world for many, many years to come.
The Reapers have been tremendous fun to write. I love how their world interconnects with the Kings, and I have a feeling that it will be happening more and more. Can you imagine the Dragon Kings, Rhi, the Reapers, and Death all standing together to face an enemy?
Yeah. Gives me chills, too.
In the first two Con short stories (Part 1 and Part 2) we discovered the gifts Death had given Con. They aren’t just meaningless gifts either. They represent a certain period in each of their lives, but more importantly, they embody something significant and vital to Constantine.
The cufflinks grounded him. They reminded him who he was and what his brethren needed of him and from him. It focused him so he could see the path for the Dragon Kings more clearly.
The pocket watch was a reminder that time moved differently for immortals. However, this piece actually held magic. What can it do? Erith told him exactly what it was meant for. And Con is smart enough to have figured it out. Has he used it? Well, that’s anyone’s guess, but my bet is that he has.
Yet, these gifts also had meaning to Erith. She saw Con as no one else did. She also knew the burdens a leader bears. She understood the loneliness, the worry…the fear. Erith also recognized that Constantine was a true alpha. The kind who needed to figure things out for himself.
With a little help, of course.
By digging for the gold and crafting the cufflinks, Erith ensured that a piece of her always remained with Con. It might have rooted him, but it also had a profound effect on her. By making and giving a gift that she had never done before, it prompted Death to take a look at her own life and where she and the Reapers were headed.
She also realized that she had a friend in Con. He might not know who she was, but their friendship was forged and fused as resilient and enduring as a weapon.
Then there was the pocket watch. Their talk of time gave her a glimpse into Con’s daily life. She had seen the cautious steps he took to keep his Kings safe, and she wanted to point him in another direction. She also wanted to grant him a kind of power that few should know about and even fewer should be allowed to use. Yet, she didn’t hesitate to share it with the King of Dragon Kings because she knew Con wouldn’t abuse it.
So will Erith leave Con another gift this time?
Let’s dive into the third short story looking into Con’s past and find out. It’s time, my keen dragon followers, to discover another part of our beloved King of Golds!
xoxox,
DG
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CONSTANTINE: A HISTORY PART 3
THANK YOU
DARK ALPHA’S DEMAND
THE DARK WORLD
STAY UP-TO-DATE
ABOUT DONNA GRANT
CONNECT WITH DONNA GRANT
PRAISE FOR DONNA GRANT
The 2nd of September,
human year 1924
Dreagan
Two decades into the twentieth century (by human calculations – if only they knew the truth…) and the mortals are reproducing at an astounding rate. It was something we took note of soon after they arrived on this realm, but nothing slows them down.
Not famine, not weather, not plagues.
They are as resilient as they are invasive. And, though I hate to admit it, I have to admire them. Well, some of them. There are a select few humans who I would happily call friend. The great thinkers, the ones who see much more than the other narrow-minded imbeciles of their species. The artists whose minds see all possibilities and eagerly, hungrily look for the strange or peculiar in the normal world.
Those, I believe, might be able to coexist with us. Unfortunately, they are too few and too far between.
I have come to accept that our world as we once knew it is gone. Possibly forever. The magic is fading, something I thought would never occur. But I knew the moment I ordered the dragons sent away and the Kings to take to their mountains to hide that we gave up.
None of my brethren would say it to my face. Except maybe Ulrik.
If he were still at Dreagan.
Regardless, I know the truth. We conceded the Earth to the mortals. But what else was I to do? Go back on my oath to protect the humans? Or allow more dragons to be killed by them? After all these millions of years, I can admit that I made the wrong decision. But at the time, it seemed the only solution.
The slim hold we have now is barely clinging. Our realm, our home was taken. It doesn’t matter who did what first or even how it ended. What matters is that the humans got what they wanted.
I often dream of what might have happened had we turned them away that fateful day. Instead of feeling sorry for them that they were homeless and without magic, I should have ordered them back to whence they came.
But more would have come. I realize that now. No matter how I look at it, we would have ended up exactly as we are. It might have been another King of Kings who allowed them entry, but the outcome would have been the same.
How we proceed is the real hope.
And problem.
Every King wants their dragons returned. Every one of us dreams of the life we had before the humans. And we all pray that we will have it once more.
Will we? I have no idea. I fear what will become of us if we cannot bring the dragons home. We all cleave to that possibility, which keeps us moving forward. But what happens when we dis
cover that the dragons cannot return? Or worse, that they’re dead.
I wake up in a cold sweat from nightmares where just that scenario plays out. It’s why I choose not to sleep much. Instead, I do whatever it is I must do to keep the Kings together. We’re a family. We are all we have left. And if we lose that, we lose everything.
I have already lost so very much.
Con closed his eyes as he thought about the one he’d once loved. It was too painful to think of her. To know what they’d had together.
He opened his eyes and turned his thoughts back to the Dragon Kings.
How much more can be taken from us before we fight back? Before we do as Ulrik did and strike at the humans? My friend was right to attack them. Ulrik saw what I refused to. He didn’t care about oaths or keeping peace. He foresaw our destruction.
And I punished him for it. I had no choice. No matter that I agreed with him, no matter that I might have wanted to join him. As King of Dragon Kings, I must always think of everyone and I have to set an example for the others.
If only Ulrik would have stopped when I asked. If only the humans hadn’t betrayed us. If only….
I should probably burn these journals. If any of the other Kings ever found and read them they would see that I don’t hold the answers, that I never know what the right course is. I’ve made so many mistakes, but my brethren are counting on me. I cannot let them down.
I will not let them down.
Constantine, King of Golds
King of Dragon Kings
Con slowly set aside his pen. He looked over the page for a long moment before closing the journal. It was the last page of this one. Each time he finished a journal, he hoped he wouldn’t need to get another one. But he had to tell someone the thoughts that plagued him.
If he couldn’t burden anyone else, the only option was the journals. At one time he thought it was just the need to jot down his thoughts. Now he knew better. Now he knew the truth.
Every secret, every thought and decision that he kept to himself slowly ate away at him. By releasing it onto the page, he freed his soul.
And his conscience.
He stood and grabbed the book. Then he walked to the shelves of other journals and slid it into place. He tried to turn away, but each time he came to the spot, his gaze lowered to the wall next to the bookshelves.
Several moments passed as he fought to turn around, to forget what was there and return to his duties. But, like every other occasion, he lost the battle. Con squatted down and placed his hand on the wall. His magic kept it hidden, but with a touch, the secret door slid open and revealed his secret.
Each of the journals within was red. And each filled with words that he could never say, and shouldn’t even think. They were thoughts and dreams of something...of someone. They were plans for a future. They were unreserved truth.
And heartbreaking reality.
It had been a thousand years since he had reached for the top one to write in it. Each day he conquered the loneliness and what he lost without delving into the red journals, was a triumph.
He might not be able to resist looking at them, but he hadn’t written in them. It was the small victories that mattered.
Con stood and watched the door close, melding into the wall to become invisible once more. He turned on his heel and walked to the windows. The land was drenched in darkness without a single shred of moonlight because of the new moon.
Dozens of dragons flew around Dreagan. If Con tried really hard, he could almost believe nothing had changed, that the dragons still ruled. But reality constantly intruded upon his thoughts.
He glanced at his bed, but instead of going to it, he returned to his desk and looked over the plans for expanding distribution of their whisky. Just as he had hoped and planned, the marketing of Dreagan scotch hit a chord with mortals. They loved the whisky and couldn’t get enough. The steeper price only made them want it even more.
Once he read through all the legal papers from Vaughn, Con signed them and set them aside for the morning. Then he unrolled the architectural plans for enlarging all the buildings as well as a new warehouse and oak casks to store and mature.
If they were going to keep up with the orders pouring in, then they would have to grow rapidly. Just as Iris had once urged him, he was preparing to open a portion of Dreagan up to the public. Their curiosity was staggering.
But he could control what they saw and what they didn’t.
On the plans was an additional building that he’d added. Right now it was blank space, but if his observation of the mortals proved anything, once they liked something, they would pay money hand over fist to get what they wanted. Con had plans to sell special bottles of whisky in the space. Their own private shop. And who knew what would happen in latter years.
Iris. Was it just happenstance that she had come into his life and urged him to find a way to open Dreagan to the public? Or was something more at work? He knew she wasn’t just any woman, but he had long given up looking for her.
Same with Heather. If it wasn’t for the cufflinks from her and the pocket watch from Iris, he would have forgotten both of them. Perhaps that is why they had given him the gifts – so he would remember them.
He could no longer remember what Heather looked like, but he did recall feeling as if she were a friend. That wasn’t something he was used to at all.
The only thing he remembered about Iris was her smile. He’d known from the very beginning that she lied to him about who she was. Perhaps the fact she was such a mystery was why he continued to talk to her. What he did know was that she understood everything he had gone through. He’d heard it in her words, saw it in her eyes.
He could have held her on Dreagan. He could have forced her to tell him her real name, but he hadn’t. Partly because it had been nice having someone to talk to, but mainly because he had felt no maliciousness from her.
Two women hundreds of years a part, but both left lasting impressions. He wished he could still have them as friends.
He was surrounded by others at all times, but more alone than ever before.
And it wasn’t going to get any easier.
So much had changed.
And yet so little had changed.
Con waited for the train to come to a stop before he exited the first class compartment in Inverness. Kendrick was already in the city to meet with an hotelier that wanted to add their scotch to sell to anyone visiting the hotel.
There was no need for Con to be there, but he made the trip anyway. He trusted Kendrick completely. Con’s arrival was simply to observe everyone’s thoughts and reactions to Dreagan whisky. And he liked watching Kendrick negotiate such contracts.
Kendrick had a way of coming into a room appearing a wee bit nervous and anxious. It was done on purpose. It set his opponents thinking they not only had the upper hand but could bargain for whatever they wanted. Kendrick allowed them that sense of confidence long enough to determine what their main objective was and what they were truly after.
Then, in a blink, Kendrick dropped the act and revealed the true mastermind that he was. Con never tired of seeing the shock, dismay, and even fear on their faces. Some might think Kendrick’s tactics were underhanded, but the Kings learned long ago that mortals never played fair in anything – especially business.
Con didn’t want to cheat the mortals out of anything, but he would do whatever was necessary to ensure that Dreagan whisky continued to build its reputation as the superior scotch. Their techniques continued to develop their brand into one that was exclusive for those who had the money and means to pay for it.
It was a few hours before the meeting, which allowed Con to walk the streets. His steps took him toward the indoor Victorian Market. He paused on Academy Street alongside the original 1870 entrance that consisted of three round arches. The top center arch had a bull’s head while the other two had rams’ heads.
Con made his way inside and i
mmediately raised his eyes, as he always did. The ornate Victorian cast-iron and wooden domed roof was splendid to behold. He might not particularly enjoy humans, but some of their art and architecture was magnificent.
He slowly strolled by the individual shops, many boasting wares that couldn’t be purchased anywhere else in Inverness. Con had, on many occasions, purchased items at the market.
A double take made him pause and look over his shoulder at a dragon statue. He started forward just as he was turning his head back around. He caught a glimpse of the top of a hat before him. Instinct had him grabbing the woman so he didn’t run into her as he sought to come to a halt.
“My apologies,” he said.
She laughed and lifted her face to him. Dark brown eyes met his as she smiled. “It is I who should apologize. I wasn’t watching where I was going. There is just so much to see.”
Con stared at her a full minute in silence. She was pretty, the kind of face that stopped men in their tracks. Her voice wasn’t Scottish, but he couldn’t place where she came from. There was something about her that pulled at a memory. Iris kept coming to mind, but this woman had different colored eyes. Yet…Iris wasn’t human. Of that he was certain.
When the woman raised a dark brow in question, he cleared his throat. “I must ask your forgiveness again. For a moment, you reminded me of someone.”
“Do I?” she asked with a grin. “I hope it isn’t someone you dislike.”
Con found himself smiling. “No’ at all.”
“Good.” She adjusted her peacock blue hat that matched one of the main colors in her plaid wool sport skirt.
He watched as she moved her clutch from one arm to the next. Her off-white shirt complimented the dark locks he saw peeking from beneath the cap that were cut short, as was the fashion.
She stuck out her hand. “I’m Willow.”