The Storm Sullivan Saga: The Emerald Seer Series Box Set

by Violet Patterson

“There is always a choice.” The voice emerged from the small, clear pool at the back of her cave. It was followed by a tall, thin male with glowing sapphire eyes and shimmering, almost iridescent skin stretched taut over flawless bone structure. “The Tuatha De have sent me forth with a proposition for you.”

  Morrigan wiped at her eyes, “Yes, my lord.”

  “We wish to alter your purpose, Morrigan.” The male moved toward her and offered his hand to help her up. “I am known as the Angel of Death to your people and I wish to tap you as my Priestess in this realm. Your child shall be raised here and given a destiny to fulfill. She will be instrumental in many things that must come to pass in this realm. Do you accept?”

  “What happens if I follow him instead?” Morrigan thought she knew the answer but wanted to know for sure.

  “His choice has been made. He allowed something in, something that gnaws away at his beauty from within, something that darkens his true purpose. Either way he will go down a destructive road. That cannot be helped now.” A frown crept across the beautiful male’s face. “If you follow him, your light will be extinguished as well as your child’s.”

  “Then there really is no choice, is there?” Morrigan sighed hopelessly.

  “There is always a choice. It is just a matter of your desired outcome.” The male looked toward the entrance of the cave, “He is returning. I will return for your answer.” Her visitor fell back into the shadows as her lover appeared at the mouth of the cave.

  “Morrigan?” He was wet. His long hair dripped as it hung against his still bare chest. “I – I’m sorry.” He walked toward her, hands outstretched and pulled her into his arms. His chest was cold and wet as though he’d been in the rain. “Please just come with me. Let us forget about this for a while.”

  “No. I do not think so.” Morrigan withdrew and met her lover’s eye, seeking the truth. Was there really a darkness in him? She stared into his eyes, the pools of turquoise and sea foam. There it was. In the center of his pupil Morrigan saw the small red dot whirling against the stillness. The mark of true darkness. She gasped and backed further away.

  “Why do you recoil?” He reached out to her again.

  “You must leave. I am having this child.” Morrigan turned from him but did not get far. His hands snaked out and grabbed her wrists. He turned her to face him, eyes blazing with fury. Before she could react, he dealt a staggering blow to her right cheek and threw her onto the bed.

  “You do not leave me. Nobody leaves me.” He appeared possessed. The small red dot overtook his entire pupil and was multiplying as he beat her. Everything went blurry and the last thing Morrigan saw was a pair of blood red eyes glaring at her.

  Storm

  Beep, Beep, Beep.

  Storm groaned and rolled over, right into PacMan’s back. “PacMan, you bad boy.” She halfheartedly mumbled the reprimand and attempted to push his body to no avail. “Fine. Be that way.” Slapping the snooze button to silence the alarm, Storm draped an arm over her dog and snuggled into the short soft fur, relishing the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

  Beep, Beep, Beep.

  PacMan snorted and licked Storm’s face. “Alright,alright, I’m getting up. I don’t know why you’re so put out. You get to lay around in bed all day.” Pushing off the bed, Storm reached down and flipped the alarm to off before breaking into a yawning stretch that was highlighted with a serious of soft cracks and pops as her spine realigned. For a second, Storm swore she heard a baby crying and paused at its closeness. She mentally chastised herself and shrugged. Must be the neighbors. The apartment walls were paper thin after all.

  Stepping into the shower, Storm stood for several minutes under the steaming hot water, washing away the grime from the day before and the vague discomfort following the vision she’d had. The vision. It was an ugly one and somewhat painful if truth be told. She’d made the call to the precinct from her disposable cell and hoped they nabbed the sicko in time. Part of her wanted to call Dan and Shane to ask about it but then they would wonder how she knew. Every time Storm had the same internal argument but ultimately waited for the news story. She rinsed off and stepped out, wrapping herself in a worn bath towel. PacMan sat in the doorway of the bathroom staring at her in his usual concerned way. Storm called him a worry wart because he always appeared to be frowning at her.

  “I think I talk to you too much, boy.” Storm turned from her dog and wiped off the mirror. A man’s face looked back at her. She blinked, rubbed her eyes and wiped at the mirror again but only saw her own reflection. “Yes, definitely. I am losing it.” Storm grumbled to herself and went about methodically combing the tangles from her hair before neatly plaiting it. With the towel secured tightly around her body she slipped back into the bedroom and flipped the television on to the morning news. Sifting through her wardrobe, Storm half listened to the weather and traffic. By the time the main anchor re-took the screen she’d slipped into a pair of black pin-striped pants and her least ratty white lace camisole. The story Storm had been waiting for came on just as she was slipping into her emerald green satin blouse.

  “This morning, the sole suspect in the serial rape case has been apprehended and remains in police custody.” Bob Roberts announced in the serious tone he saved for such stories. “Officials say they received information pointing them to the home of one Aaron Michaels who has been working at local restaurants for the last several years. Allegedly Mr. Michaels has been selecting victims while on shift as a server at some of the most popular restaurants in town.”

  “I think the town can feel safer now that he’s in custody, don’t you Bob?” Erin Calmes, the heavily made-up, eye candy co-anchor tilted her head toward Bob with an overly sweet smile on her too pink lips.

  “I’d say they’re sleeping together, wouldn’t you PacMan?” Storm straightened her blouse, relieved that the cops had followed her tip off and captured the sociopath. Now she could focus on the more pressing task at hand, something she’d put off for far too long. “How do I look boy?”

  PacMan trotted over and licked her hand. He nudged her leg and then hopped back on the bed. Storm reached over and scratched his ear before grabbing her boots and heading out the bedroom door. The living room and kitchen were littered with take out and empty beer bottles. She really needed to clean up but it had been a rough week. Hadn’t it? Storm was trying to remember anything from before her vision and failing miserably for some reason. She felt drained, physically and emotionally, as if a long week had taken its toll. Her home was almost never a pig sty but she supposed life had been busy this week. Again, Storm swore she heard a baby crying. Pausing, Storm tilted her head and listened only to be met by silence. Strange. It shouldn’t be so quiet. Not that she should be hearing a baby crying but there were kids in the complex and the college kids with the band and surely some of her neighbors should be going to work. As if on cue, a car started in the parking lot and then the screeching of the swings chimed in. Probably just nerves. Still, Storm tried to think back, she remembered moving in and finding Shane and Dan but then things got kind of fuzzy. Weird. How had Aunt Trin found her? She couldn’t remember that. Somehow she just knew to get dressed and be at Willow Wood by ten. Did the guys tell her? Storm’s head started to pound. She pulled some ibuprofen from the cupboard and downed them with the last drops from a bottle of water that looked safe enough. Maybe she just had too much to drink and needed a coffee to snap her back to normal.

  Storm descended the stairs carefully, hating the heeled boots and dreading the pain that would surely come after a day in them. She slipped into her Beetle and pulled out of the parking lot, waving at the kids on the swings. Whiskey Mystics was not far and their coffee and pastries were just what she needed for the drive to Willow Wood. Cassandra perked up when Storm walked in. She and her sisters ran Whiskey Mystics as a dual business, funky café for the humans and supernats but also a way-station for supernat travelers. They kept rooms in the back that could quickly be redecorated for any purpose
and Storm had occupied one for a few weeks when she first returned to town. That she remembered clearly and remained ever grateful to Cassandra and her sisters for their help. Rumor had it that an infamous gypsy mystic was currently on grounds and doing readings – for a price, of course. Storm couldn’t imagine what would have brought him to town but then again, gypsies never needed a reason to wander or squat, at least none she knew.

  “Morning, Storm.” Cassandra withdrew a butter croissant from the case and started on a white mocha without Storm saying a word. Talk about good service.

  “Morning, Cass.” Storm sidled up to the counter and withdrew her wallet.

  “Your money is no good here today, Storm.” A dark look crossed Cassandra’s face. She nodded toward the hallway that led to the back. “He’s already covered you. I’ll have your mocha ready when you’re done.”

  “Wait. What?” Confused but not willing to argue, Storm crossed the threshold to the back rooms of Whiskey Mystics. She followed the scent of incense to a beaded curtain and entered, cringing as the sound of clinking beads shattered the silence. “Hello?”

  “Why are you here, Seer?” The voice echoed around her as if in stereo. “You do not belong in this place. You have other things to do.”

  “But Cassandra told me you paid for my breakfast and sent me back-“ Storm was cut off by an odd choking sensation. It released in a moment and she inhaled sharply trying to replenish what she’d lost.

  “I did not. None of this is happening, search your conscious.”

  Everything went black as if a heavy veil were pulled over her eyes. The smell of incense was replaced by fresh baked goods and coffee laced with the scent of rising pizza dough. Storm rubbed her eyes and blinked several time. She stood facing Cassandra at the counter.

  “Storm?” Cassandra was holding out a coffee cup and wax sleeve with a croissant. “Are you alright?”

  “Um, yeah.” Disconcerted but not wanting to appear unstable, Storm pulled a ten from her wallet and laid it on the counter. “Keep the change.” She took the coffee and croissant from Cassandra and mechanically walked out of the restaurant. What just happened? Storm slid into her car and absentmindedly munched on the croissant while waiting for the coffee to cool. She attempted to rationalize what had just occurred but her head started to pound again. Storm closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose gently massaging outward with her fingertips. What was happening to her? Coffee. Yes, she still needed caffeine. Storm risked the mocha being too hot and took a long drink. It burned just a bit but the warmth spread throughout her body and forced the pain in her head to subside some. She polished off the croissant and took another drink. Okay, better. Storm backed out of the parking lot and headed for Willow Wood. By the time she reached her old family home, the headache that had threatened to ruin her day was completely gone. Pulling up to the gate, Storm wondered for a second why it was wide open. Aunt Trin never left the gate open. Shrugging, she brushed the thought off chalking it up to being expected.

  The gravel crunched under her tires as she pulled up the long drive to the garage. Storm parked and flicked off the engine. She exhaled and tried to clear her mind. It had been ten years since she left home. Little had changed. Storm looked closer. Perhaps the exterior was a bit more faded and there were new bushes flanking the front entrance. Storm rang the doorbell, hating that she felt like a stranger in her family home but before she could ponder it further, the double doors swung inward with a gentle creak, one of Aunt Trin’s favorite tricks.

  Angeline

  The earth was spinning. No, maybe she was spinning. Angeline couldn’t be sure. She tried to grope the space around her to gauge exactly where she was but that proved impossible. Somehow her arms were pinned. Everything was dark, she knew that much, but she tried to blink and focus on anything to give an idea of what was going on in the near silence around her. Then an odd creaking sound grated on her ears.

  “Angeline?” A seemingly familiar baritone rumbled through her ears and a blinding light burned her blinking eyes but soon she was moving, definitely moving, in a pair of strong arms. Gently she was placed on something soft and a hand stroked her hair lightly. She felt some strands peel away from her cheek and wonder how it had stuck there. Everything was fuzzy and she could not seem to hold a thought for long.

  “Is she alive?” Another deep voice spoke from somewhere in front of her. Angeline tried to respond but couldn’t seem to make her mouth work.

  “Barely. My gods she took a beating.” The first voice sounded farther away somehow. Angeline willed her mind to focus, to remember what happened and who was fussing over her.

  “We have to get her back to the manor, fast.” The second voice interjected. How did she recognize it? Focus, Angeline, focus. A fight. There was a huge fight that started at the hospital. That’s right, Storm. Storm Sullivan was giving birth. They all had to fly. She went with Dan and Shane to help Storm get away. But she had looked wrong, limp as a doll in Ryder’s arms. Angeline had leapt from Dan’s arms and somersaulted onto a fire sprite, grateful for her gloves as she squeezed until his throat collapsed in her hands. Angeline leapt around, dispatching anything that broke through the shifters. Then something happened. Something shocked her and caused her a moment’s hesitation. What was it? No, her mind would not go there. Why? What happened? Angeline moaned something incoherent; she knew it was her own voice because it burned her throat.

  “Ang? It’s Fred. You are going to be alright, okay. Just stay with me.” Frederick, of course! He was the first voice which meant the other must be Jordan. “Jordan, man, you have to book it. We need to get her back fast.”

  “I get it. I’m going as fast as I can but we can’t exactly get pulled over with her in the car, can we?” Jordan’s voice changed, as if through gritted teeth.

  “But this is Angeline, man. We have to –“

  “I know, I get it. I will get her there.” Jordan seemed to reach back and touch her hand. Angeline’s mind cleared a bit more. She forced her eyes to open and focus. She was in the back of the Hummer, her head in Frederick’s lap and sure enough, Jordan was in the driver’s seat. As everything came into focus she could see Frederick’s chin and normally would have giggled at looking up his nostrils but couldn’t seem to find it funny today since he had dried blood rimming one. His chin seemed slightly lopsided and she guessed it was pretty bruised. Angeline flicked her eyes to Jordan; all she could see well enough was his clenched jaw and what appeared to be a pretty decent cut over his eyebrow. Angeline tried to speak again but all she managed was another series of moans.

  “Ang, shhhh, don’t try to talk. I think your jaw is broken.” Frederick continued to stroke her hair. It felt good but not good enough to ward off the pain signals suddenly firing from almost everywhere. “Don’t try to move either; we don’t know what else is broken. How about you just blink your eyes, you know , that whole ‘one for yes and two for no’ thing, okay?”

  Angeline blinked her eyes once.

  “Do you want the short version for now?” Frederick kept stroking her hair, one particular spot, from scalp to tips. She wondered just how terrible she looked at the moment.

  Angeline blinked once.

  “Trin Sullivan got word of the attack from the other side so we flew to head them off at the hospital. You were brilliant, of course. But then you sort of stopped. That’s when they hit you. A strange look crossed your face and you fell. Jordan and I tried to keep everything off of you but things got out of control for a while. The vampires protected you as well but they had to go when the sun began to rise. Fortunately, the attackers did too because all of a sudden they just left. Everything stopped. Jordan and I shifted back, stole some clothes and searched for you. Everyone is regrouping at Willow Wood. Apparently the wood sprites staved off an attack on the manor as well.” Frederick stopped and looked down at her. “That’s the short of it, Ang.”

  No, there was more, something he didn’t want to say. Angeline saw it in his eyes. He k
new why she had hesitated during the fight. Why couldn’t see remember? What would cause her to stop fighting?

  “Ang, I think you should rest some more. You look agitated.” Frederick frowned, the lines around his mouth deepening. Of course she was agitated. She couldn’t remember something important, something that almost got her killed. Angeline groaned at him again, pain shooting through her jaw and bringing tears to her eyes. Then, Jordan squeezed her hand and a peculiar warmth spread up her arm as darkness enveloped her.

  Storm

  “Aunt Trin?” Storm hesitantly stepped into the foyer. It was largely unchanged, the same round marble table stood in the center, directly under the massive wrought iron chandelier and the two matching side tables flanked the room beneath matching antique mirrors. The flower arrangement on the table was a bit unusual, even for Aunt Trin’s tastes, but lovely nonetheless. Storm leaned in to inhale their scent and was oddly disappointed by a bland, barely floral aroma. Something felt wrong but Storm couldn’t put her finger on it. She didn’t even hear her aunt moving around. “Aunt Trin?” Why were there no groundskeepers or housekeepers working mid-morning on such a lovely day? Storm continued with caution, resting her hand near the pocket where she kept her magical mace – just a little something she’d picked up on her travels. Cringing every time her heels clicked on the floor, Storm crept along the hall toward the study. “Aunt Trin? Hello?”

  The door to the study was slightly ajar and a low light spread from the crack across the floor and wall. Storm opened the door slowly and peered inside. Everything looked essentially the same, furniture as it had always been but the curtains lining the back wall of windows were all closed. What was going on? “Aunt Trin?” Storm’s voice echoed through the room. She listened harder for sounds, anything to suggest somebody was around. Again, Storm swore she heard a baby crying but it dissipated into silence. Storm stepped into the room to find her aunt sprawled in the middle of the floor in front of the fireplace. Aunt Trin’s hair covered her face and she was awkwardly situated on her side. Storm flew to her side and rolled Aunt Trin over to her back. Brushing her auburn locks out of the way, Storm noticed a massive bruise forming around Aunt Trin’s left eye and a fairly deep gash in the middle of it. Her breath was shallow and Storm could only find a weak pulse. Even worse, a strange odor hung around Aunt Trin as if she’d been doused with something. Storm whipped out her cell and hit the speed dial for Whiskey Mystics.