by Petra Landon
Copyright © 2018 Petra Landon
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the express written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Design by Biserka
Proofreading by Pinpoint Editing
First Kindle Edition, March 2018
Visit the author’s website for excerpts and other works in progress.
www.PetraLandon.com
THE RAINMAKER
This one is for my parents –
their excitement, encouragement, support and pride
at my attempts to swim in unchartered waters.
SAGA OF THE CHOSEN
The Rainmakeris not a standalone story. It continues the saga of the Chosen fromThe Prophecy. There is a Glossary at the end of the book for readers who’d like a quick reminder of the main cast of characters and Chosen factions from the story so far. This is by no means exhaustive and is merely intended as a quick reference to help jog memories.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
01 : Pieces on the chessboard start to move
02 : The Lair hosts a celebration
03 : Tasia finds herself a target of Pack gossip
04 : The Lombardi Vampires come to town
05 : The Alpha makes an overture and Roman makes the wrong call
06 : Tasia takes a leap of faith and a Wizard secret stuns the team
07 : Bianchi weaves a tangled web
08 : The local Chosen Alliance comes to the party
09 : The First Wizard opens up about the past
10 : A deadly conspiracy is hatched
11 : Tasia’s nightmare plays out in technicolor
12 : The Pack grapples with the fallout from the assault
13 : The Alpha reclaims his Pack and Tasia gains acceptance
14 : A Guardian is hunted
15 : A confrontation at Wizard Headquarters
16 : Tasia gets a hint of the Alpha’s tangled past
17 : A rescue and a night in the woods
18 : Tasia goes up against Blutsaugers
19 : Lady Bethesda drops a bombshell
20 : The Rainmaker
Acknowledgements
Also by Petra Landon
Glossary
Chapter 1
Pieces on the chessboard start to move
Men at some time are masters of their fates:
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
- Julius Caesar
A house, suburb of Chicago
The elegant lady perusing the document glanced up at the knock on the door. This is what she had been waiting for.
“Come in.” She allowed no trace of her impatience to seep into her voice.
A palely handsome man walked in to greet her.
“My Lady.” There was deference in his voice. “I hope your trip was successful.”
“Yes, Rafaelo” she responded imperturbably.
The man directed a searching glance at her. Had the Lady been informed about Belize, Rafaelo wondered. She seemed unperturbed. Since the Lady had never evinced much interest in the girl before, perhaps Monseigneur had kept the news from her.
News of the turmoil in Venice had reached his ears. The nest’s grapevine was abuzz about Belize. By all accounts, Monseigneur was furious at the incompetence of his Pure Bloods. And rightly so. Heads had rolled, literally and figuratively. Rafaelo couldn’t help but wonder at the rumors that Monseigneur’s intended had been stolen from under his very nose again. That would make it the second time Monseigneur had been thwarted in his choice of bride. The Master of the Lombardi Family, not a very understanding man at the best of times, must be livid. Rafaelo was glad he wasn’t the Pure Blood responsible for either mishap, the one now or the one a quarter century earlier. Monseigneur’s punishments were notorious for the terror they instilled in his Pure Bloods. The Lady he now served at the Master’s orders was a lot more willing to forgive small missteps.
“Make arrangements for a trip to San Diego, Rafaelo” the Lady directed authoritatively. “It is time to retrieve the object.”
Rafaelo knew what object she referred to. He had, after all, had a hand in creating the artifact. Unfortunately, he knew that its retrieval might have to wait. There was a minor snag.
“Sienna McAlister is not in San Diego, My Lady” he said.
“Not in San Diego.” She looked puzzled. “Then, where is she?”
“She’s in San Francisco at the local Lair.”
This time he had succeeded in surprising the lady.
“The Shifter Lair?” Her eyebrows arched up in astonishment.
“Yes.” Rafaelo’s response was succinct. Her astonishment was well justified. Rafaelo had been just as bewildered and mystified by the news. This strange alliance between the Shifters and Wizards confused him no end. The Spell Casters had always looked down on the Wyrs. Rafaelo knew the Wizards considered the Wyrs only one step up from the Undead. Yet suddenly, the Spell Casters seemed to be inexplicably courting an alliance with the Wyrs. And to his great astonishment, the Wyrs seemed responsive. To add fuel to the fire, the Wyrs at the center of this strange courtship were led by an Alpha Protector who made no bones about his very strong dislike for Spell Casters. Something weird was brewing here that made Rafaelo very curious.
“My Pure Bloods are keeping tabs on her” he explained. “She does not venture out of the Lair by herself.”
“What is Esmeralda up to, I wonder.” The Lady was thoughtful, leaning back in her chair to give the matter her full consideration. An invitation to a Pack Lair was rare enough for anyone not Pack, let alone a Wizard. How had the First Wizard managed such a feat? Could there be more to Esmeralda’s alliance with Faoladh, she wondered. Faoladh was more than the Wyr Representative to the Council of Chosen. He was the Wyr his Shifters looked up to as the foremost Alpha of them all. Respected widely throughout the Chosen diaspora, no Shifter, not even a powerful Alpha Protector, would dare deny a request from Faoladh. Had the First Wizard requested Faoladh’s assistance to guard Sienna, the Lady pondered. If so, that certainly spoke volumes for the First Wizard’s faith in her Guardians, she mused with a touch of glee.
“Any rumblings from the GCW on this?” she asked Rafaelo. The Lady had her own sources amongst the Guardians who kept her remarkably well-informed on the latest from San Diego. But since she had been out of the country for a week, her information was a little out of date. The Vampire, she knew, had his own sources of information and gossip in their world.
“Plenty of rumblings, My Lady” Rafaelo confirmed gleefully. Nothing like watching the turmoil in the world of elite Wizards, he mused. The Guardians were as elite as they got. “Jason LaRue, the Guardian assigned to liase with the Shifters, has also chosen to make the Lair his temporary residence. That is not going down well with his fellow Guardians.”
“Hmm” she murmured thoughtfully. This was interesting. Infinitely interesting. There was something more going on here, something more than safeguarding Sienna. What was Esmeralda cooking up, she couldn’t help but wonder. Whatever it was, it certainly had Faoladh’s support. This the Lady was confident of — the Shifters had not invited a Guardian into their Lair without being taken kicking and screaming to the well. While she’d ignored the early reports of Esmeralda cozying up to Faoladh, now the Lady wondered if there wasn’t
a bigger game afoot. Faoladh was a canny operator, and deserved to be watched more carefully. She wondered if Faoladh was testing her faith. If so, she’d give him a sign that she was watching from the shadows, waiting for him to make his move.
Perhaps, it was time to test this alliance between Faoladh and the First Wizard. An uneasy partnership, it would be easy to rip apart. It might even force the elusive knight out of the shadows. The Lady was content to let the minor skirmishes play out now, as long as the Knight Protector revealed where his true allegiance lay before the real battle commenced. That was why she was biding her time. Once she had retrieved her artifact and forced the knight to show his hand, she would make her move.
“The Alpha that leads the Pack in San Francisco?” she prompted.
“Raoul Merceau.”
“Yes, Merceau.” She had heard of him — a Shifter fast gaining a reputation as a formidable Alpha Protector at an unusually young age.
“You say that his dislike of Wizards is well known, Rafaelo?”
This bit from Rafaelo had rather surprised her. It made absolutely no sense for Faoladh to handpick a Shifter, with a reputation for despising Wizards, to lead an investigation into a long dead Guardian. Unless, Faoladh was playing a devious game, she mused. She wouldn’t put it past Faoladh to put a younger upstart Alpha, dogging his heels, publicly through his paces. That would certainly kill two birds with one stone.
“Yes” Rafaelo assented. That the Alpha had Wizard heritage on his mother’s side was less well known. A heritage the Alpha had turned his back on to build himself a formidable reputation as a Wyr not to be messed with.
The Lady pondered the matter shrewdly. If the Alpha was sheltering two Wizards at Faoladh’s behest, then manipulating him to release Sienna into her custody shouldn’t be too difficult. But first, they’d need to dig more into this Alpha. It would help her decide which buttons to push to bring him to heel.
“What do we have on his mother’s family?” she asked.
“Nothing yet, My Lady, but I hope to have something for you soon. My Pure Bloods are on it.”
“Also dig into why he dislikes Wizards so much. It might be time to test his allegiances.”
“My Lady?” Rafaelo looked puzzled. He was all for teaching the Alpha a lesson for messing with their business in Chicago, though he had a bad feeling that it would take something spectacular to teach this particular Shifter a lesson. This one was as smart as they came. In Chicago, the Beast Lord had outsmarted the Vampires adroitly, by whipping up and holding together an unlikely coalition to stare them down. The feat had won Rafaelo’s grudging respect, but it had made him more cautious.
“Let’s see if we can make it unpalatable for him to host Wizards in his Lair” she directed imperiously.
“Understood, My Lady” the Vampire responded enthusiastically. This should be fun. This was the kind of thing he enjoyed.
“You have news of the other matter?” she asked.
“The old man died a week ago. His son has been crowned the new chief of their people.”
“I see.” She was not noticeably perturbed by the demise of her one-time husband. “Any fallout from the circumstances of his death?”
“No inquiries have been made yet, My Lady.”
“Good. Get me the information on the Alpha as soon as you can.”
“Unless you have need of me, My Lady, I’ll head to San Francisco tomorrow to dig some more, while my Pure Bloods check up on the Alpha’s background.”
“Go, Rafaelo. And let me know when you have news for me.”
Nagalok, Himachal Pradesh, India
“Dini.”
Nandini blinked awake from her silent contemplation of the beautiful vista before her. The mountains in the distance rose majestically, their snow-capped ridges glistening silvery white in the sun. This view never failed to soothe Nandini. But today, even the beauty of the mountains could not calm the turmoil in her heart. A turmoil that her brother shared, even though he’d never allow it to be revealed to the world. But she knew better.
Nandini patted the bench beside her in silent invitation. Her twin joined her on it, a small wooden bench set amidst the garden that their Ayah, Sita Amma, lovingly tended.
“I’m fine, Mahen” she assured him, responding to his silent question. “Don’t worry about me. What about you — how does it feel to lead the Kabila?”
“I’m learning every day” he answered in his quiet way.
She looked him over, affection shimmering in her eyes. Mahen was strong, a core of determination and resilience running through him. A man of few words in the mold of their father, he was thoughtful and deliberate in his decisions.
“I get good advice from the elders, and I had a very good teacher.”
“The best” she agreed soberly.
It had been a week since they’d cremated their father. Mahen had been allowed no time to grieve the father who had brought them up single-handedly after their mother’s death. Instead, he had been grappling to deal with the Kabila he now led as their king. They were twins, but Mahen was the older by ten minutes — he had been designated as the hereditary heir to their Kabila from birth. All his life, he had followed their father like a shadow, watching and learning how to handle the matters of the Kabila he would one day lead. That day had come a lot sooner than either of them had ever imagined. She, on the other hand, had enjoyed a more normal childhood. Relieved from the burden of expectations, Nandini had been freer to make her own choices in life.
“I need a favor, Dini” he said abruptly.
Nandini glanced at the only person in the world she knew as well as she did herself. He looked very like their father - a big man with an angular face and a shock of thick dark hair that sprung forth from a widow’s peak. His only inheritance from his American mother was the color of his eyes, an unusual indigo that looked almost black so dark was the blue in it. She shared the unusual eyes with her brother, as well as a strong, unshakeable bond that only twins could claim. He was a man of few words, shackled by his responsibilities and determined to put the welfare of his Kabila over his own. She preferred to live her life amongst the humans.
“Of course” she assented promptly.
“Do you remember what Papa said that last night?” The indigo eyes were very sober.
Nandini nodded. That night would be forever etched in her memory. There had been the bad news about her father, the desperate dash to make it home in time to be with him, and finally, the long night spent in vigil by his bedside with Mahen and Sita Amma.
“Something about Ma being alive” she said slowly. So much had happened since that night that Nandini had not had the time to process everything. Papa had been confused and in bad shape, and a part of her had believed it was a dying man’s delirium talking that night.
“Dini, he left something for us with Sita Amma” her brother said gravely. “A letter and some documents. Ma did not die like everyone said she did.”
“But all those stories they told us about her” she protested, bewildered by his words. “We visit her grave in Shimla, for God’s sake, Mahen. How could she still be alive?”
“I don’t know, Dini. All I know is what Papa said in the letter. She left us when we were young. Just walked away from us.”
“Walked away” she exclaimed. “What do you mean, walked away?”
“I’m confused too, Dini” he said gently. “Papa’s letter makes it clear that he did not go after her. Instead, he crafted the story of her death for us, you and me. No one except Sita Amma and a few of the elders know the truth. Everyone else believes in the same story we did.”
“I don’t understand any of this” Nandini reiterated. “How could Ma have just walked away from us?”
Her brother put his arm around her to hold her close. “I know, Dini” he soothed softly. She was always the one to wear her heart on her sleeve, this sister of his. Where he was grave, sober, and too mature for his years, Dini was a ray of sunshine, with a friendly word for
anyone whose path she crossed.
Mahen wished that he could hide this from her, just handle the matter himself and save her from the heartache. But he couldn’t. She deserved to know the truth. And, he had too many responsibilities here to abandon right now. He would need her assistance to dig into a past that seemed to have come to their doorstep again.
“Two months ago, some men began asking about Ma in the village. The villagers reported the inquiries to Papa. I don’t know what tipped him off, but that is when he wrote the letter he left for us. For some reason, he suspected that Ma might be in danger. That last trip to Shimla was about this. He went to meet with someone he thought might know Ma’s current whereabouts, so he could get a message to her — this I got from Sita Amma. He came back from Shimla in very bad shape. You know the rest.”
He held her tighter in his arms as he prepared to give her the bad news.
“Doctor Uncle just gave me the news, Dini. Papa did not die of natural causes. He was stabbed in Shimla.”
“Stabbed.” Nandini was stunned, not just by the act of violence against her father but also that it had proved fatal. Their people were descended from the First Ones, the Magicks the Chosen referred to as the Ancients. Powerful magic pulsed in their veins. Killing one of their brethren was a difficult feat. Killing their king, a Chosen with dollops of power, was near impossible. He had died young for a powerful First One. But while Nandini had known at a subconscious level that his death had not been natural, murder was not something she had ever considered.
“His body was able to heal from the knife wound, but it didn’t recover from the poison released in him” Mahen continued.
“Poison” Nandini whispered. This had been cold-blooded murder, she realized.
“He might not have been aware of the poison in him until it was too late for him to heal himself, Dini.”