All but Human

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All but Human Page 1

by Kris Austen Radcliffe




  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  All But Human

  Fate - Fire - Shifter - Dragon Book Five

  Kris Austen Radcliffe

  Copyright 2017 Kris Austen Radcliffe

  All rights reserved.

  Published by

  Six Talon Sign Fantasy & Futuristic Romance

  Edited by Annetta Ribken

  Copyedited by Terry Koch and Juli Lilly

  Cover designed by Lou Harper

  Series dragon design and art by Christina Rausch

  Plus a special thanks to my Proofing Crew.

  Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidences are used factitiously. All representations of real locales, programs, or services are factitious accounts of the environments and services described. Any resemblances characters, places, or events have to actual people, living or dead, business, establishments, events, or locales is entirely unintended and coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  For requests, please e-mail: [email protected].

  Third electronic edition, September 2017

  Updated and reformatted

  version 9.10.2017

  ISBN: 978-1-939730-51-0

  Contents

  All But Human

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  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

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

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  The Worlds of

  About the Author

  All But Human

  Fate - Fire - Shifter - Dragon

  Kris Austen Radcliffe

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  Fate - Fire - Shifter - Dragon

  The Series

  Games of Fate

  Flux of Skin

  Fifth of Blood

  Bonds Broken & Silent

  All But Human

  Men and Beasts

  The Burning World

  Chapter One

  “You want to climb Teddy Roosevelt’s face?” Rysa Torres nodded toward the giant granite heads looming above their spot in the South Dakota scrub. “With tourists around?”

  Dragon ran invisible but the late afternoon sun refracted through his neck and back ridges and a rainbow flickered just out of Rysa’s reach. The refraction arched—the beast moved—and a low ray of sun flared blue and red.

  Where he stood framed on one side by Mount Rushmore and the other by sun and sky, the glimmering Dragon looked as if American faeries danced along his back.

  Please come, Rysa, the beast signed in his version of American Sign Language.

  She stared at her phone, momentarily distracted by the words scrolling across the screen, but did her best to grin. The device had finally yielded the information she wanted: The inn down the road from the main tourist area under the Monument had available rooms. She tapped in a hold request.

  Even up the side of the mountain, the park smelled like sweaty tourists, hot dogs, and faint whiffs of burndust. Dmitri Pavlovich’s people may have cleared out the crazy Seraphim after the hell Vivicus put her family through, but traces of their presence still lingered not only in the air, but in the setup of the tourist-fleecing operations surrounding the Monument.

  Rysa would have been happy just to drive on by, but Ladon and Dragon were not a man and a beast who passed up a good climbing challenge. The prospect of scaling a monument surrounded by unsuspecting normals had them talking fast and flexing their muscles.

  “Easy climb,” Ladon had said when they first arrived and were standing in the viewing area off the amphitheater down the hill. “I’ll teach you new holds.” He’d crossed his arms while nodding slowly and looking very pleased with himself.

  After three months of long, sleepless conversations and the intense concentration Rysa needed to get her healing touch just right to fight his depression, he declared him
self “fixed.” He would not be responsible for her leaving her education behind. So he bundled up their new life together and drove east toward Minneapolis, stopping at every hill worth climbing.

  Ladon tested his boots on a gravel slope about ten feet away. He rolled his broad shoulders and stood at his full height, her godling in black who, she hoped, had begun to find his way again.

  The beautiful refractions around Dragon should cause wonder and laughter to bubble up from her core. The slightly salty, slightly earthy, clean scent of Ladon’s skin should fire up her ever-present horniness. The beautiful blue of the sky, the lush if sparse green of the land, the realness of the tourists should ground her in the world. But she was tired.

  A rumble-purr echoed between Dragon and the low, scraggly trees. The beast touched her cheek.

  “You two climb faster without me,” she said. They’d be up the face and sitting on Teddy’s forehead in less than an hour if she stayed down here with the tourists.

  Ladon dusted his hands and nodded over his shoulder as he walked toward her. “Come with us. It’ll be fun.”

  Rysa held up her phone. Her brother-in-law Derek said the new models whined less, and hadn’t, at least so far on their trip, given Ladon a headache. Or maybe he was just happy to be outside.

  “I reserved a room at that inn we passed.” Carefully, she formed a specific question for her future-seer: What room will we have?

  Warm blankets and a large room with a sweet smelling fireplace popped into her head. “It’s comfy,” she said.

  His lips thinned when he looked back at the mountain. He’d shaved the sides of his head but left a wide swath of hair from his forehead to the nape of his neck. He now wore his wavy black hair in a sort-of-braided, sort-of-twisted barbarian mohawk and his beard as a stubbly shadow that thickened into a goatee around his mouth.

  Ladon could tattoo rainbows and unicorns all over his face and Rysa wouldn’t care. As long as he didn’t shave his head with a steak knife again. His health always took priority over his hair style.

  Though she might frown at unicorn tattoos. The barbarian hair, though, was freakin’ sexy.

  Dragon’s refractions caught in Ladon’s gold-flecked irises and for a second he looked as if the sun itself blazed in his eyes. “Do you want me to call when we come down?”

  Her future-seer flicked out a tiny moment of what-will-be: The room dark, a low Dragon purr, Ladon’s arms wrapping around her sleepy body, a door…

  She cut off the vision. Some things, like Ladon’s attentions, were best experienced in real time. She would not cheat on the future, no matter how innocuous the cheat might seem.

  Rysa stroked his forearm, wrist to elbow. He had the most glorious skin—golden and thickly soft the way a healthy man’s skin was supposed to be. His touch calmed her world and soothed her aches, body and soul. “No.” She ended her smirk by rubbing the edges of her teeth along her bottom lip.

  Door popped back into her head, along with a sense of annoyed urgency. It probably meant that she needed to make sure the staff at the front desk didn’t hassle Ladon when he came in.

  Ladon chuckled. “You see no issues?”

  He wanted to run and play. Knowing that he would return to a loving woman only made him happier.

  Rysa stroked his arm again. “Go on. Both of you. I’ll take a shuttle to the inn.”

  Dragon rubbed against her back. Ladon smiled, and for the first time in three months she knew he’d come to bed content enough he wouldn’t ask for a healing.

  Slowly, tenderly, he drew her into his solid arms. His lips danced across hers, moving first from her bottom lip to her top, then to the tip of her nose and her forehead. “Make sure you eat, okay?”

  She’d sleep, too. She was about to start her final year of college. She needed her strength.

  After a quick hug, Rysa stepped away. “I will.”

  Door manifested uncalled in her head again, followed closely by bright, saturated blue that looked glossy and smelled slightly metallic.

  She must be more tired than she thought. After three months of training, she’d gained enough control over her seers to keep them from randomly interrupting her thoughts.

  She cut off the vision again.

  Stop it, she thought. Let me be in this moment. She’d let it play out after she returned to the tourist trails. Right now, no doors or shades of blue menaced them, so whatever it was, it could wait.

  When Ladon and Dragon returned to her after their climb, his promised hugging and kissing would tamp down her attention deficit issues and random shit like door and blue would stop. But a little extra relaxation never hurt. Maybe she’d take a long, warm bath.

  “It’s hard leaving you,” she whispered.

  Ladon drew her close for one more kiss. He stepped back and his hand rose into the air and flattened out as if he mimed pressing against a wall. He’d look ridiculous if she didn’t know he leaned into the invisible Dragon.

  She hadn’t seen him stand this tall or look this confident since…

  Rysa tipped her head to the side. He hadn’t looked this happy since ever. No threats followed them. His melancholy backed off. She had her ADHD and her anxiety under control. And now Ladon’s eyes glimmered.

  Except door twirled around inside her head like a goddamned spinning clown.

  “Off you go.” She shooed them away.

  Ladon, smiling, ran with his Dragon to climb Mount Rushmore.

  Chapter Two

  The burger from the joint inside the main gift shop sat like a rock in Rysa’s belly.

  Just on principle, she’d ignored her seers’ annoying jabs while she walked down the trails to the concrete pads of the tourist areas. Nothing about the vision intrusions screamed present. They felt more past, and strangely, future.

  Since she activated, she’d been working with a host of other Fates on her training—her Prime present-seeing mom and the trainers working in the “Customer Heuristics and Relational Logistics Environmental Services” department at Praesagio Industries—along with grandpa Andreas, the man who trained the original Draki Prime. Everyone seemed impressed by the speed with which she learned to control her seers, and at how well they’d integrated over the past three months. Her doctor father speculated that the healing ability she inherited from him caused her brain to adapt faster; her mom, though, rolled her eyes and said, “She’s smart.”

  Rysa had to admit that the positive feedback from everyone helped, though.

  She got on the list for the shuttle and ate her meal at a metal table in the center of the food court. Children yelled and parents berated teenagers to put away their phones, a scene that reminded Rysa too much of how her mind used to organize itself—lots of voices and most of them not responding to the present the way they should.

  They kept at it, still. Her seers murmured.

  When she followed the arrows to the restrooms and walked into the echo-filled hallway behind the food court, door could no longer be ignored.

  She found the blue door farther down the hall and around a bend. Glare from the fluorescent overhead light flickered. The air buzzed with the din of the tourists milling about the gift shop and food court. The stink of hot dogs gave way to an astringent pine tree smell that wafted through the cracks surrounding the blue door. The hall smelled as if, somewhere on the other side of the painted metal slab in front of her, a cleaning crew had opened a window. The breeze carried the proof of the work to her nose.

  Her present-seer outlined the bright blue door in her perception and to her eyes its edges shimmered as if dusted with electricity. The door had no window, so she couldn’t see inside. An old keypad lock bulged out over the handle, its buttons worn but still functional.

  Her future-seer flung itself against the door and each hit reverberated as if she’d smacked her head on the blue paint. It saw nothing. It had her dragon’s talon talisman to filter out the blinding torrent created by the world and yet it saw nothing.

  Her present-seer w
hipped and screamed and whipped again. It, too, saw nothing.

  But her past-seer shrieked. Three months ago, she’d been sitting in the passenger seat of a stolen sedan doing her damnedest to focus on finding her talisman. Her seers had been knots of stuck-on, blaring white noise. But she’d done what they had told her to do. She’d texted her friend, Gavin Bower.

  At that time, he’d been right here, standing in exactly the same spot she stood now and looking at exactly the same chipped, cobalt blue door.

  On the other side of the number-code-controlled lock waited row after row of the employee lockers where her friend—her normal friend with no Fate or Shifter abilities—faced off with a particularly crazy Seraphim morpher.

  Because she’d unwittingly texted him the lock code. Because, at that moment, she’d been asking her present-seer to find my talisman.

  That evil morphing son of a bitch Vivicus had stolen her talisman and she’d texted Gavin the lock code while using her hobbled seers to look for a monster.

  The bastard violated her body when he stuck his tongue down her throat and left behind a gyrating slug of himself, but she forced it out and she got back what was hers.

 

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