Sacrifice (The Gryphon Series Book 3)

by Stacey Rourke

  Illustrated by Robert Immings

  There, nestled in a bed of orange and purple wildflowers, lay a baby gryphon. Its wide yellow eyes blinked into the bright sunlight.

  -excerpt from Ascension

  Illustrated by Robert Immings

  Two lions bookended me. One a symphony of ebony that flipped his head and roared into the darkening sky. The other was as white as a freshly fallen snow. His muzzle curled in a menacing snarl despite his beautiful appearance.

  -excerpt from Ascension

  Illustrated by Robert Immings

  All this time. All the venom within her, and all it took was being face to face with the same kind of creature that slaughtered her village to shatter her icy façade. For a brief moment the girl buried deep within the malevolent schemer appeared—and she was terrified.

  -excerpt from Ascension

  Illustrated by Robert Immings

  Bonus Read!

  The Sidekick Chronicles

  Volume II:

  A Pirate’s Tale

  Written by Stacey Rourke

  Chapter One

  Present Day

  I woke up squinting into the bright, offending sunlight, and flung my arm over my eyes to shield them. It was too late; the damage had been done. My monstrous hangover had awoken with a painful pounding that threatened to crack my skull in two. I made no attempts to stifle a groan.

  My dry eyes widened in surprise under my arm when a female voice groaned in response. Aggravating my throbbing head, I uncovered my face and cast a curious gaze in the direction of the sound.

  One glimpse and the memory came back. I met this one at a rather seedy bar. After a fifth of Jack she looked like … her. The shoulder length brown hair was the same, even similar chestnut eyes, and a heart shaped face. Giving her a once over now, that’s where the resemblances ended. For one thing the precariously positioned bed sheet exhibited that this lass’s curves had more to offer than that certain infuriating little brunette’s did. My gaze wandered up to her face. Even in her sleep her expression was set in a hard frown.

  Poor Poppet, life just hasn’t been good to ya, has it? I mused to myself. Well join the club, we’ve got T-shirts.

  Despite all she has been through she didn’t have that hardened edge about her that my less than clothed friend did. Not yet. Her good heart still showed through in her smile, or that little smirk she wore whenever she rolled her eyes at a comment I made that she didn’t want to admit she liked. No. This girl could never be her.

  To squash this depressing line of thought, I sat up and tried a little “hair of the dog” from a brown bottle on the nightstand. I grimaced as it burned its way down my gullet. This had to be some homemade concoction, or I just drank battery acid.

  Pushing myself off the bed, I wandered into the bathroom. A yank of the pull string on the bare light bulb provided enough illumination to cause the cockroaches to scurry. Who was that tired looking lad in the mirror? Red-rimmed eyes, and sallow cheeks from drinking more meals than he’d eaten lately.

  The faucet squeaked as I cranked it on to allow a slow dribble of brownish water to run out. “Looking rough, mate.” Cupping my hands, I gathered enough water to splash on my face and attempt to rub the sleep from my eyes.

  I glanced back up at the cracked mirror, expecting some sort of improvement to my lackluster reflection. For a moment it wasn’t my eyes I saw peering back but hers looking at me just as I last saw her; with hurt and betrayal darkening her gaze and casting rightful accusation my way.

  Leaning against the basin, I stared as the image faded and my own sad reflection glared back with an equally accusing stare. “She trusted you, mate. She may have denied it and claimed otherwise, but you know the truth, don’t ya?”

  “Who are you talkin’ to?” a sleepy voice murmured from behind me. It was a testament to her character that my friend felt comfortable enough to cross the room in only the bed sheet despite the fact that her hair stuck up off her head like a frightened peacock.

  “Just meself,” I answered and gave her reflection a wink in the smudged glass. “I suppose I should scurry along and let you shower.”

  Her spine straightened and her nostrils flared in anger.

  “What do you think this is? Some one night thing? ‘Cause I am not that kind of girl!” Her neck worked as she gave me what-for. “You think you can blow me off? Un-uh! You’ve got another thing coming! I will cut you! ”

  I closed my eyes and squeezed the bridge of my nose in hopes of dulling the throbbin’ pain. It didn’t help. When I opened them again, I tipped my head down and focused my wavering gaze on her. “It was your idea, love, don’t you remember?”

  Her pupils dilated and emotion drained from her voice, leaving it a monotone echo. “It was my idea.”

  “Absolutely. You told me you would grace me with one night, but that would be it because I’m just not enough man to handle such a saucy vixen like you.”

  “That’s right, you aren’t,” she repeated with an indignant huff.

  I caught her hand and brought it to my lips. “So I thank you, m’lady, for the pleasure of your company. I hold the man that ends up with you in the highest regard. Mostly because I feel his mental health and future safety may both be in question.”

  “Huh?”

  “I said ‘He will be a truly lucky man indeed’. Now you shower and venture out to find your demented Prince Charming. And as for me … well, I have a ship to catch.”

  European coast line in the midst of the Golden Age of Piracy (1650s-1730s)

  From my loft in the crow’s nest, I peered down as the much talked about woman boarded. The entire crew fell silent, as they tried to subtly sneak glances at her. Even from my hiding place I could see the fear in their eyes and their tensing postures. The hushed whispers of one word drifted up to me … witch

  She ascended the gang plank onto our barge, her black cloak pulled up over her head. It blew and snapped behind her, revealing the crimson gown beneath it. She was—or had been—a woman of stature, there was no denying that. Her garments and poise told that tale. Frankly I didn’t see what all the fuss was about. She didn’t look scary. Father’s hours of pacing the floor instead of sleeping were all for naught. This was a lady of means needing passage to the New World and was willing to pay a right lump sum in exchange for it, not that anyone would listen to the opinion of a boy on this matter. Most likely they’d fling a mop at me and order me once more to swab the deck.

  The heels of her laced-up ankle boots clicked against the deck as she stepped aboard. The men quickly busied themselves with their work. I snorted with laughter at how out of place she looked here on the Marie Ann. What we lacked in luxury accommodations we made up for with rats and rum. She was sure to hate that.

  Her head snapped up as if she heard my chuckle—which was impossible, I’d barely made a peep. But possible or not, her gaze fixed directly on me. My blood ran cold and I cowered out of sight. With my back against the foremast, I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to calm my quaking breath. Yet even behind my closed lids the image of her blood red eyes burned bright.

  “Thomas!” my father, Captain Thaddeus Wade, shouted to his newest crew member. The boy was young, only two or three years older than me. He had been orphaned, and father found him on a street corner dirt-covered and pan handling to get by. Father had mercy and allowed the lad a place on the crew to prove himself. Ever grateful, Thomas followed each order with prompt attention.

  At my father’s call, he finished tightening the rigging and scurried to his side. “Aye, Cap’n?”

  Father puffed up his chest and gave the mysterious woman a brief nod of greeting. “Show our guest to her quarters.”

  The woman dipped into a deep curtsey. “I thank you, Captain.”

  Father’s sun-weathered face set in a deep scowl as Thomas led the woman away. “Red eyes, Klaus. That be the devil’s work there. Nothin’ good will come of this.”

  Klaus Turner, his first mate, slapped
a hand on my father’s broad shoulder. “Ah, ya worry too much, Cap’n! It’s a simple job. We deliver her safely and get paid enough that we both get to give up this life. We’ll retire and live out our days as fat, lazy old men! There’s nothin’ to worry about.”

  Father removed his handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his brow. “I sincerely hope you’re right about that, Klaus. I truly do.”

  Chapter Two

  Now

  The Salty Sea Dog, a fitting name for a pub on a pier frequented by sailors and fishermen, or so I thought. In no way was I expecting a club where music thumped loud enough to bore into my brain with its grating techno beat. Scantily clad girls clamored for affection from lads that thought simply flipping their collars up made them cool and mysterious. I leaned back out the door long enough to take one more glance at the sign. Yep, this was the place. Mystical or not, there truly was no accounting for taste.

  I scanned the room as I approached the bar. Through the jiggling and gyrating masses I found my target seated at a large corner booth in the back. My mouth curled in a wry smirk. The sight of him holding court like the VIP he thought himself to be was nothing short of predictable. Prestige and power is what drove the vile Klaus Turner, and I intended to use that very thing to bring him down. I found a bar stool in a prime viewing location and bellied up to the bar. This gave me a perfect vantage point to watch him until he left, then I would follow him and we’d have a little talk. Old mates, catching up … in what would undoubtedly be a violently bloody reunion. In the meantime, I had no worries of him recognizing me. Last he saw me, centuries ago, I was merely a boy. No doubt he thought me dead—if he ever thought of me at all.

  Time had been good to him, not baring its mark on his face by even a day. His hair was shorter and cut in a neat style fitting for someone eternally stuck in their thirties. His wardrobe had been updated from the sword and feathered hat of bilge rat to a trendy mock turtleneck and black leather jacket. To be honest, I preferred the elegance of the former.

  His crew milled around him, laughing and tipping back their drinks. I wondered how often the good Captain had to recruit. No doubt they lacked the staying power Klaus held. Stoically Klaus watched, sipping his water with amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes.

  The bartender, who bore a striking resemblance to a Buddha statuette, wiped the bar off in front of me and set down a napkin. “What can I get you?” he yelled over the music.

  “Rum would be heaven, mate. And keep the shots coming until the bottle’s empty or I fall off this stool. Whatever happens first.”

  “Celebrating or looking to forget?” the bartender asked as he poured my first shot.

  “Both.” I slammed it back and welcomed the liquid warmth that burned down my gullet.

  ***

  “Quite frankly, mate, I don’t know how we arrived here. I was minding me own business when you stomped over, threatening unnecessary violence.” The amount of slurring in my speech was a bit shocking even to me. Despite the rather dire circumstance, I couldn’t stifle a chuckle. The big, burly lad holding me up by my shirt collar didn’t seem to appreciate my laughter.

  “You called my lady a moose!” he yelled with such force that spittle bubbled on his lips.

  “I did? Which one is your lady?”

  He jerked his tattooed scalp in the direction of his beloved.

  “That’s your girl?”

  Pierced nostrils flared as he nodded.

  “My deepest apologies, sir.” I hiccupped. “But you see, alcohol supposedly makes people more attractive and she does in fact seem like a lovely member of the bovine family.”

  His balled up fist arched back in a violent rebuttal. If I could focus I could take control of his mind and stop this inevitable pummeling. Unfortunately, the ability to focus on anything at all went out the window about six shots ago. I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the strike … that never came.

  Instead the smell of burning hair assaulted my nostrils and the Neanderthal released me. Stumbling back on to my bar stool, I caught myself on the bar before I tumbled to the floor. Maybe it was my foggy head, but the sight before me made no sense at all. It appeared a shapely redhead was making that enormous man whimper like a frightened child.

  “You’ll have to excuse my friend,” she murmured, with her hand clamped on his wrist. “He’s hell bent on a path of self-destruction, one which I plan to snap him out of. I apologize for any harm he may’ve caused. I do hope you can overlook his indiscretions.”

  His face turned from red to purple as he vehemently nodded.

  “Good. Then we can part unlikely friends.” With a cold smile she released her hold. I squinted at the red welted handprint that marred his wrist as he grabbed his gal by the hoof and hustled her out of the club.

  The redhead slid up to the bar beside me and scooted my remaining rum out of reach. “Do you remember me?” she asked over her shoulder.

  Leaning back, I studied her through squinted eyes. “Aye, you were at the bird and lion’s wedding. Did you follow me here?”

  She turned toward me and rested one elbow on the bar. “The name’s Terin, and yes, I did.”

  I graced her with my best leer. It would have come across far more seductive if I could see her as more than a blurry blob. “Desperate move, chasing a lad clear across the country, ya saucy strumpett. But if you were that impressed with the goods I could fancy a tumble.”

  One auburn brow raised but she didn’t so much as crack a smile. “By all means. Let’s have a ‘tumble’. Then I’ll run right back to Gainesboro and tell the girl you’re in love with what an inadequate lover you are when you’re drunk. I’m sure she’ll be impressed.”

  “A simple no would’ve sufficed.” I steadied myself against the bar and attempted to reach around her for my rum. With one knuckle she scooted it further away. “Besides, I’m not in love with anyone except the sea. Clearly you have me mistaken for someone else.”

  Flames burned in the irises of her eyes as she focused on me with a steely stare. “Really? So you aren’t the guy that just betrayed the Conduit of the Gryphon? The Counsel was mistaken?”

  One word of that broke through my drunken stupor above all others. “You work for the Counsel?”

  “I do.”

  Spinning on my stool I leaned my back against the bar. “Did she survive?”

  Terin ran her tongue across her bottom lip as she nodded. “She did. That tip you gave saved her life.”

  I ground my teeth together at the painful memories that came flooding back. “It was the least I could do.” A thought occurred to me, which made me contemplate the redhead in a different light. “Did they order you here to kill me?”

  She folded her arms on the bar and leaned in. “If I wanted you dead we wouldn’t be talking right now. I’m here because the Counsel needs you, Rowan. Celeste needs you.”

  Chapter Three

  Then

  Keeping to the shadows, I ran. With purposely light steps I moved with the swell of the ship over the waves. Time and again I glanced over my shoulder, not seeing anyone but feeling certain I was being followed. At the door of father’s cabin, I rapped with a quiet—but incessant—urgency. He answered dressed in his bed clothes, his brown satin robe knotted to cover them. The lines etched in his weathered face deepened as he peered down at me.

  “Boy, ya’r gasping and sweatin’.” He clasped a hand on to my shoulder. “Havin’ trouble getting your sea legs this time, are ya?”

  A noise behind me snapped my head around. Grabbing Father’s hand I pushed past him into the room and tugged him along behind me. “Hide, Papa! You must hide!”

  Father glanced out the door behind me as if the answer to what plagued me could be found there. Seeing nothing, he shut the door. “Hide from what, boy? I have an entire crew here that will fight to the death for me. There’s no sea faring beast I need to hide from thanks to them!”

  I shook my head so fast and hard I thought it would snap right off
my neck. “No, Papa! I heard whispers! They’re coming for you! All of them! They plan to take the ship!”

  Father squatted down in front of me and firmly grasped my forearms. “A mutiny? Careful to utter these words, Rowan. That’s a strong accusation to make.”

  I wanted to be brave and strong for him; a true pirate, never fazed or rattled by anything. Moving and evolving with each passing day, just like the sea that held such appeal to us. Yet, youth betrayed me and tears welled in my eyes. “I heard whispers. Turner was talking to that woman. They made some sort of deal, his end is to deliver her to her destination. In exchange she will grant him dominion over the sea.”

  Papa’s chin fell to his chest as he chuckled softly. When he glanced up, his concern had all but vanished. “Such powers are not hers to give, son. They must have known you were outside and …”

  His words were cut off by thundering footsteps and shouts echoing down the galley. He rose in shock and stared at the door with wide eyes as the ruckus neared and grew louder.

  “They’re coming, Papa!” I tried to push him toward the large portholes on the far wall. If we climbed out that way we may be able to make it to the dingy before the villainous crew caught up with us. “They’re coming for you, now!”

  Instead of budging under my puny insistence, Father rushed to lock the door, then caught my wrist and dragged me to the bureau beside his bed. With steady hands he pulled it open and pushed his hanging garments aside. A forceful shove to the back wall of the bureau made it swing out and revealed a small, narrow passage behind it. I looked to father questioningly.

  “You must go, Rowan. Hide.” I tried to object but father talked over me. He cupped my face in his hands and wiped away my streaming tears with his thumbs. “If they find you they will slice you ear to ear just for being my boy. Stay hidden until you can see shore. Then you jump overboard and swim for it. You’re a smart lad, and a strong swimmer. You can do this.”