by C. Gockel
Table of Contents
Epilogue
About the Book
Also by C. Gockel
Acknowledgments
Foreword
Invisible
Sweet Home Chicago
Away in a Manger
Dark Matter
Unexpected Visitors
Carried Away
Owning It
Crossing the Sorrows
Late Cretaceous Park
Stranger in a Strange Land
Unbinding
A Faery Dance
Soulmates
Betrayal
Return of the Prodigal Son
How to Be a Goddess
Traitors and Spies
Lunch with the Queen
The House of Chaos
The House of Odinson
Cruel Twists of the Fates
A New Life
Where Will You Be for Ragnarok?
Contact Information
Soul Marked
After The Fire Book 1
C. Gockel
C. Gockel
Copyright © 2017 C. Gockel
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, subject “Attention: Permissions,” at the email address below:
[email protected]
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Contents
About the Book
Also by C. Gockel
Acknowledgments
Foreword
1. Invisible
2. Sweet Home Chicago
3. Away in a Manger
4. Dark Matter
5. Unexpected Visitors
6. Carried Away
7. Owning It
8. Crossing the Sorrows
9. Late Cretaceous Park
10. Stranger in a Strange Land
11. Unbinding
12. A Faery Dance
13. Soulmates
14. Betrayal
15. Return of the Prodigal Son
16. How to Be a Goddess
17. Traitors and Spies
18. Lunch with the Queen
19. The House of Chaos
20. The House of Odinson
21. Cruel Twists of the Fates
22. A New Life
23. Where Will You Be for Ragnarok?
Epilogue
Also by C. Gockel
Contact Information
About the Book
Magic is real, but Tara’s life isn’t a fairy tale.
From humble beginnings, Tara’s managed to work her way into a great job researching Dark Energy, aka “magic,” in Chicago. She has a beautiful house she renovated with her own hands, and a loving extended family, but she hasn’t found her soulmate … Not that she believes in soulmates.
Lionel is a Light Elf. Despite being of dubious heritage and being born a peasant, he’s risen in the ranks to serve the Elf Queen. Like all true elves, Lionel has a soulmark to identify his soulmate … He just hasn’t found her yet.
When Lionel’s and Tara’s lives collide and Dark Elves strike, they’re forced to work together or perish. Friendship and more grows between them, but dangers loom … Tara is more important than she knows, and Lionel is more important than he wants to admit. Both of them have choices to make.
Will Lionel choose a “perfect” love over Tara? How much is Tara willing to give up for a happily ever after?
They might find that in an uncertain world, the love you struggle for is the only certain thing.
Also by C. Gockel
I Bring the Fire - an Urban Fantasy/Sci-Fi Series featuring Loki, Norse God of Mischief and Chaos
Wolves: I Bring the Fire Part I (free ebook)
Monsters: I Bring the Fire Part II
Chaos: I Bring the Fire Part III
In the Balance: I Bring the Fire Part 3.5
Fates: I Bring the Fire Part IV
The Slip: A Short Story (mostly) from Sleipnir’s Point of Smell
Warriors: I Bring the Fire Part V
Ragnarok: I Bring the Fire Part VI
The Fire Bringers: An I Bring the Fire Short Story
Atomic: a Short Story
Magic After Midnight: A Short Story
Rush: A Short Story
The Archangel Project - A Space Opera Trilogy*
Carl Sagan's Hunt for Intelligent Life in the Universe: A Short Story (free ebook)
Archangel Down
Noa's Ark
Heretic
*Not really a trilogy since there is a short story, and more to come!
Other Works
Murphy’s Star: a Sci-fi Short Story
Friendly Fire: a Sci-fi Short Story
Acknowledgments
Thank you for all your feedback Kay, Melissa, Sarah, Alex, Jayne, and Nichole. Your encouragement kept me going, your critiques made this a better story.
Foreword
Soul Marked is a standalone novel. It is based in my I Bring the Fire universe, but you need absolutely no knowledge of that universe to enjoy it.
For those of you who are familiar with I Bring the Fire, the events in this story happen between Fates and Warriors.
To all readers, new and old, thank you for following me on this journey. Enjoy!
Invisible
Wincing in the dark and dust, crushed in the small space, Tara stretches her arm. She finds the socket, inserts the plug, and hears a beep above her. Stifling a sneeze, Tara says, “I think I fixed your printer, Dr. Eisenberg.”
From across the lab comes a distracted, “Mmmm …”
She didn’t expect more. Scooting out from under the desk, she sees the doctor, back to her, sitting in front of a computer. Not turning, he says, “I love this interface for the dark energy detector you built me, Tara. I told you that you could do it!”
Tara smiles. “Thank you.” She hadn’t been so sure, but he’d convinced her to try, and she is pretty proud of the results. It’s not as special as he makes it out to be; she’d just combined low-frequency mining communication technology with dark energy detection tech. Still, putting that thing together, and designing the computer interface had been one of the more interesting things she’s gotten to do for her job. When she applied for the job for “network support specialist,” she hadn’t realized how many plugs she’d be inserting into electrical outlets.
Dr. Eisenberg’s voice rings with delight. “I can’t wait to see my first magical creature!”
It’s her turn to be noncommittal. “Mmm …” Dr. Eisenberg is new to Chicago. She’s lived here her whole life. She was here the day the world learned that humans aren’t alone in the universe. There are other realms, and some of humanity’s mythical gods and magical creatures—more scientifically known as “dark energy utilizing lifeforms”—are real. She watched the dust rise from downtown as Loki, the so-called Norse God of Mischief and Chaos, and a handful of AK-47 toting Dark Elves, turned half of Chicago’s financial district to dust. Loki vanished, the Dark Elves retreated to Eastern Europe, but visits by trolls, wyrms, and other nasties are fairly regular. Granted, the unicorns are pretty, Thor seems nice, and Odin’s people rounding up the Dark Elves and their collaborators around Chernobyl seem to be taking care of the radiation situation there, but her feelings on magical creatures are decidedly mixed.
Peering over his shoulder to check the readouts, her heart falls. Swallowing
, she bites her lip, takes a deep breath, and fesses up. “Dr. Eisenberg, I don’t think you should thank me.”
Spinning in his chair, he looks up at her through his bifocals, a frown on his lips and brows furrowing. “What do you mean?” he huffs.
The small man goes from warm to ice cold in seconds. He’s more than a little plump, and right now his cheeks are trembling with what she knows is barely suppressed rage. He can be a difficult guy to work with, but Tara hates to let him down. He gave her, a Liberal Arts major without a computer science or engineering degree, the chance to work on this project, and she’s messed up.
Swallowing, she points at the readout. “Well, this is saying that there is a very large sustained energy disruption.”
“Yes,” Dr. Eisenberg says, eyes narrowing. “What are you getting at?”
Tara gulps. “The only thing that would cause this sort of readout would have to be a wyrm, or an invading army.”
Dr. Eisenberg’s pale skin goes chalky white.
Holding up a hand, she points to the office at the end of the lab where he’s been keeping Tara’s device. It’s designed to transmit through rock and concrete, and he’s been waiting for the guys from building maintenance to install it in the basement so they can test it. “If it was working, we’d have been eaten by now.”
Dr. Eisenberg licks his lips nervously. “It’s not in my office … or in the basement,” he whispers, and then spins in his chair. “Oh my god, oh my god.”
Tara’s heart skips a beat. She puts her hand on his shoulder. “We have to be calm. Where did you—?”
A deep voice booms, “Be calm about what?”
Tara turns to find Dean Kowalski at the door.
Spinning back around in his chair, Dr. Eisenberg cries, “I put Tara’s dark energy detector device in the abandoned Washington-State L station and it’s detected a wyrm … or an army.”
Tara blinks. Well that tells her the where.
“Why is your device somewhere other than this campus?” Kowalski demands.
Dr. Eisenberg pushes his glasses up his nose. “It’s Tara’s detector, George. You never give her credit.”
Tara’s eyebrows hike. Not the time to point that out, Dr. Eisenberg.
Kowalski roars, “Eisenberg, if you were in the abandoned L stop, you were trespassing!”
“You didn’t get me authorization to put it in the basement. Now we have to warn the FBI and call 911!” Dr. Eisenberg cries, raising his arms.
“Do you realize the laws you’re breaking by putting an unsanctioned surveillance device on public property? And how much money we get from city tax dollars?”
“There isn’t any law against that!” Dr. Eisenberg snaps.
Tara looks at the computer screen and the steady yellow dark energy indicator … if it’s real, it’s a wyrm … not an army.
“Of course there is, and if there isn’t, there should be—”
Taking advantage of her invisibility, Tara slips out the door, whips out her phone, and types out a quick warning on her social media channels.
Thought I saw a wyrm at Washington/State L.
She tags @ChicagoDE—the FBI’s handle for their Dark Energy Branch in town. Tara’s message is not technically a lie, even if she “saw it” on a readout on a computer. Brow furrowing, she also tags @godofradioshack and @godofsmallengines. They tweet a lot about magic detection devices—she’s almost sure they’re government techs.
She gets a reply from @godofradioshack almost immediately.
Thanks @ChiQueen. We’re on it.
They trust her. She smiles grimly. This isn’t the first time she’s let information like this out into the wild when Kowalski had a meltdown about procedures, or proprietary technology, or just “you didn’t get my permission for that!”
Moments later, @ChicagoFBI posts a yellow alert for the L line, and Tara nods in satisfaction. Yellow alert is perfect. Red alert would have people trampling each other to get to the exit. Yellow will have them griping about a possible false alarm—which it might be—but heading for the exit anyway. Wyrms are giant, gray, venomous snake things. After you’ve seen one wyrm, you don’t want to see another.
Kowalski storms through the door, not even glancing at her as she slips her phone away. Crossing her arms, she rolls her eyes at his back. His deliberate ignorance of her existence is probably not because she’s black, or female, or doesn’t have even a Master’s degree. It’s probably all three. She sighs. She didn’t take this job because she wanted to be famous, she took this job because she likes it. The hours aren’t stressful—well, they weren’t before she started working with Dr. Eisenberg—the health insurance is great, and it seemed like the perfect job to have if you wanted to start a family. She frowns. Not that she has a family, or even a significant other.
Shaking her head, she pats her phone in her pocket. She may be invisible, but she’s an invisible person saving the world, and she’s ready for any crisis Kowalski, or magic, sends her way.
Lionel stands in the lone Light Elf outpost in the Delta of Sorrows and wishes he could make himself invisible. The night wind is gusty, and branches of the skeletal black swamp trees clack against the outpost’s wooden walls. He hears the sounds of beasts and insects in the swamp. Soldiers pass by him, scrutinizing his steward’s attire with hard eyes. Around him, he hears whispers. “A steward should not be able to open a World Gate,” someone says. Someone else replies, “The peasant who approached us on the Golden Road was his mother … Peasants shouldn’t rise to the level of steward to Her Majesty, either.”
Lionel feels his ears flush. It is unusual that a peasant as young as Lionel is magical enough to rise to the level of steward. He hates attention being brought to that … it brings up too many awkward questions. Who is your mother? And worse. Who is your father? He shifts on his feet and tries to ignore the gossip.
It’s harder to ignore the way his skin crawls to the points of his ears. The Delta of Sorrow’s waters twist magic inside out and backward. Even though he’d ridden in on a horse, and had been a good pace above the effluent, the whole trip he’d felt like his hair had been brushed the wrong way. Now he feels like the black trees, angry beasts, and dark waters around the outpost are ready to swallow the tiny piece of dry land whole. He doesn’t know how the Dark Elves can live here.
He turns at the sound of footsteps. Finding himself facing Lady Light Leaf, a member of the armed escort that brought him to the desolate place, Lionel bows.
“Steward, come with me,” she says.
Lionel falls into step as she strides toward a bare patch of land atop the tiny hillock within the compound. He can feel the flush of magic on his skin as they draw closer to it. Lady Light Leaf says, “You’ve never been to Midgard or encountered wild humans before?”
Lionel keeps his eyes focused on the muck. He has been to Midgard and met wild humans, but it’s a subject as difficult as his unconventional rise in ranks.
Taking his silence for an affirmative, Light Leaf continues, “Wild humans are not like Odin’s recruits, the Einherjar who visit the Queen’s Palace. The Einherjar don’t just get immortality when they eat Idunn’s apples, they become magical, and magic bestows nobility … before that, they’re savages.”
Lionel’s ears twitch. His experience is very limited, but that is not how he remembers all the wild humans he’s met.
“If you get caught, they’re liable to take you for a leprechaun and torture you until you lead them to your pot of gold,” she finishes.
Lionel presses his lips into a thin line. The ancient peasants in his village who’d lived in Midgard have a take on humans that is very different. “There are bad humans,” he was always told, “but they’re so small and stunted, you can’t help but want to help them! And anyway, unless you do something stupid, like become indebted to them, your elven charm makes them next to helpless.”
His brow furrows. That helplessness was before the humans started using gunpowder to make weapons.
&n
bsp; To Lady Light Leaf, he says, “Of course.”
The whisper of arrows makes Lionel look up. Elves on the northwest turret are releasing a steady volley. Beside him, Lady Light Leaf commands, “Stay down,” and jogs off.
As a peasant who spent his youth at the border of the Dark Lands, he is proficient at a bow, and a fair hand at a blade. He could help them if he was armed, but no warrior would dream of offering a weapon to a steward. His fingers reach the magical key that hangs at his wrist. Marker of his station, it can open any of the doors in the palace. But more than that, it acts as a magical reservoir, and he can use its power for feats of magic he wouldn’t be able to accomplish on his own. It is his only weapon.
There is a sound like fireworks outside the gate. Shouts ring around him and warriors rush by.
Lionel swallows, remembering his mother’s words. “Why does the queen care about Dark Elves trading for weapons with the humans? It’s Odin the All Father’s job to round up magical creatures who break the law by going to the human realm.”
“Odin’s forces are thin, Mother,” he’d replied. “If we don’t act, the Dark Elves will wage war against the queen before Odin intercedes.”
“But you’re no warrior! Why should she put your life in danger?” she’d pressed.
Lionel didn’t dare tell her that the queen’s orders had put him in danger before, danger greater than collecting Dark Elves trading for weapons with humans in Midgard. And he hadn’t tried to explain that he relishes the hard and dangerous tasks the queen gives him. No one had expected him, a peasant, to succeed as a steward. It was a matter of personal honor that he more than succeed, he had to excel. He wasn’t about to fail now.