Come Undone - A Standalone Bad Boy Romance Novel

by Gabi Moore

  “What are you going to do about all those Azuroth who came through? The last we saw of them was a column marching in the direction of the mountain pass.”

  “I guess we’ll worry about them when the time comes,” she replied. “The sisters showed us the tower has some use as a military garrison. Perhaps the sovereign was too quick to decommission the army in favor of the dragon corps. We might have to turn it into a garrison again with the sisters in charge of the post.”

  Kiley looked up with bright eyes when she heard those words. “Mother and father would’ve liked that,” she stated.

  Dion pulled the door open all the way. “Everyone follow me, this is where we leave,” he ordered and stepped into the other side.

  As before, there was a momentary flash of darkness and he found himself back in the huge library. He continued to move as the others needed space too. Dion stepped forward and turned around.

  His parents were inside the library next, followed by his Uncle Seth. After them were the security guards who had been employed by the mall. Since no one else was coming through to the other side, he expected the door would slam shut.

  But it didn’t. The door closed slowly and then locked itself with an audible click. Dion felt relived and turned back to face Adam Belial, the man who had taken him through the door to the next world where the tower was located.

  “I didn’t expect anyone through here today,” he said. “It wasn’t on the schedule, what is the meaning of- oh, hello Mr. Bach!”

  Adam faced his employer, Seth Bach. Dion’s uncle was not happy and pushed him aside as he thundered through the next door.

  Adam watched him leave and turned back to the crowd. “Now what was that all about?” he asked.

  “Mr. Bach is not having a good day,” Dion explained. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to leave with my parents.”

  “Hey, what about us?” one of the security guards called out. “We’ve spent the past three months keeping those furry things away from everyone else. When do we get paid?”

  “You’ll have to take that up with my uncle,” Dion explained and pulled his parents along with him. A few seconds later, he was through the next door and thundering down the stairs to the office where the twins had their office.

  Anders and Blaze both stood behind their counter as Dion entered their office with his parents. He stopped for a few minutes and asked them if his uncle had just come through.

  “Yes he did,” Anders, informed them. “Seemed to be in a bad mood. What happened up there?”

  “I’m sure you’ll hear about it in due time,” Dion told them. “How did he leave?”

  “The door on the wall,” Blaze said, as he pointed to a door where one had not existed the last time Dion had been in the office.

  “It’s the same one you used when you came through,” Blaze explained. “But this one has stayed in place.”

  “No it’s not,” Anders argued with his brother. “That one had red wood with a brass plate.”

  “You’re wrong as usual,” Blaze snapped at him. “It was a brass frame over green wood.”

  As they bickered and argued, Dion went to the door and opened it. Blackness again. There was only one way to be sure and he didn’t have time to run tests. He took his parents by the hand and pulled them together as he went through the entrance.

  Seconds later, after the light returned, he found himself back in the antechamber where Edward took him before he left. This was the same place and even the little Englishman was standing there in his shirt and tie.

  “My, that was quick,” he said to him. “Did you plan on going back and finishing?”

  “What are you saying?” Dion asked him. “I was there all night. I’m beat. By the way, this is my mother and father.”

  “Ah,” Edward responded. “Time dilation again. I should have known. Fine boy you have there.” He shook the hands of both of Dion’s parents.

  Dion went back to close the door and noticed something odd when he looked on the other side. Instead of darkness, light streamed into a vacant chamber. He stepped into the chamber on the other side of the door and saw metal struts holding up an aluminum structure. The clock part of the tower was visible way up in the air. There was even a service ladder, which ran up to it.

  He walked into the shaft further and looked around some more. It wasn’t the lack of any activity inside it, the tower was a shell, an artificial creation designed to have the appearance of a medieval clock tower, but it was made from cheap metal and fiberglass. He doubted it would last five years before it needed to be replaced. Of course, this mall would be around for another fifty years at least, his uncle, or whoever he sold it to, would need to replace the tower or remodel the mall. He betted on the latter option.

  Dion turned and walked back through the door into the office of the mall.

  Lilly almost knocked him over when she collided with him.

  “Dion!” she cried out, “I missed you so much!” Lilly through her arms around him.

  While his parents looked at Lilly in disbelief, Dion pulled her away and stood behind her.

  “This is my fiancé, Lilly,” he told them. “Lilly, these are my parents. I went into the tower last night to rescue them. I was successful as you can see.”

  “She wasn’t the only one who was worried,” another voice called from the opposite side of the office. Dion looked across and saw Sean and Emily.

  “We were worried about you going inside there,” Emily told him. “I know we weren’t supposed to, but we had to be here when you entered the tower. We showed up late and found Edward standing by the door. He told us you were just left a few minutes ago.”

  “Time dilation,” Edward explained again. “It happens when you cross time circles. To us, it seems Dion was gone only a few minutes. To him, it seems he was out all night. I’m sure the boy needs sleep.”

  “A little bit,” Dion said as he put one hand to his head. He would need to see a doctor later about the blow he took to it. Surely, he could make up some story how it happened. Most members of the medical profession would look at you odd if you told them about being in the middle of a fight between demoniods and sphinxes.

  “I managed to find the fifth element grandmaster,” Dion announced, “so now I have the power of the aether.”

  “Did you rescue her?” Lilly asked him. “Wasn’t she kidnapped by your uncle?”

  “It was a little more complicated than that,” he explained. Dion looked around the room. “As a matter of fact, where is my uncle? I thought he went through the door before me.”

  “He did,” Edward explained. “And I let him go. He shot past us and never said a word. I daresay he has many things on his mind right now.”

  “Dion,” his father said. “Can you take us somewhere? It has been a long time.”

  “We can go to your other brother’s house,” Dion told him. “I’ve stayed with them since you disappeared last year.”

  “Oh,” his mother commented. “We must be in Ohio.”

  Epilogue

  The porch over the mountains gave a good view of Mount Olympus. This was fine to the man who wore a silk dressing gown and sipped his coffee while reading the newspaper. He’d never accustomed to the modern smart phones and personal computers. The newspaper was enough for him and he liked to read his news after it had a few hours to settle down. He also took his morning meal alone, away from the petty troubles he had to endure later in the day.

  So it was a surprise when the servant came into the marbled patio and stood silently by the breakfast table. The older man, who sat there with his newspaper, slowly turned and looked at the servant. The man who was seated at the table had a long grey beard and stroked it when he saw him. This was unusual. What could be so important it required is attention right away?

  “Mr. Jupiter,” the servant said to him. “I have a man who wants to see you.”

  “Does he have an appointment?” the greybeard asked. He took a sip of his coffee. What could it b
e this time?

  “No, but I think you need to meet with him,” the servant replied. He’d worked for the Mountain long enough to know when to interfere with his boss’s routine. Now was such a time.

  “You know my policy,” he thundered back. “No unannounced appointments. Now get him out of here.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible,” a voice said behind the servant. “He’s already here.”

  A young man stepped from behind the servant and starred at the older man. The greybeard looked at him and nearly dropped his coffee. The eyes, it was the eyes. Only one other person on earth had those eyes. There was another one long ago, but she was gone, to his eternal shame.

  Which meant this young man had to be…?

  “Dion,” he announced. “My name is Dion. We need to talk.”

  “You are my son,” Jupiter Olympus said while his voice trembled. “I am your father.”

  “No you are not,” Dion said. “You might have some part in my conception, but my real father was the one who raised me.”

  “Doesn’t all the money I spent to make sure you were adequately cared for count?” the older man snapped back at him. “It should amount to something.”

  “Not any longer it doesn’t” Dion told him. “I’ve passed my own trials. I can show you an example later, but we need to talk. There is much you and I have to discuss.”

  The servant was gone. He understood sometimes his presence was unnecessary.

  Dion went and sat down next to the older man. The weather was good outside and was supposed to remain that way all day.

  - THE END -

  Wicked Legacy

  An Urban Fantasy

  Chapter 1

  It wasn’t dark. Not yet.

  Snow flitted down between Laova’s squinting eyes and the brilliant farewell of the sun. Lumbering snow clouds of purple and gray slung low between the mountains, and had made the short day blank and without color.

  Laova was glad—so very glad—that they’d broken just for a moment to let the light through. There had been no such luck, yesterday, and all of her party had feared in silent communion that the long night had started early, that perhaps they’d each already seen their last glimmer of sunlight.

  Today was the Short Eve, the briefest day of the year. It was a day of common unease, with the taste of fearful anticipation on the air. No one spoke of it, but every task was made a distraction, every word a changing of subject, on this day. This sunset might be the last. The sun had always returned, every year in living memory, but perhaps it would not. Not this time.

  The warmth lay thick on her face for a moment, and Laova basked within it. She was a dark-child, born in the weeks of night when the moon ruled these mountains. Her birth had come early and easily, as if the All-Mother had always intended her to come into a world of night. Few dark-children survived. Laova had. Perhaps she should embrace the darkness, then—thank it for her life.

  Laova smiled as the wind lulled, just for a spell, and the full heat of the passing sun shone on her white face and neck. Not this time.

  It was still day, maybe for the last, but for at least a few more minutes.

  It wasn’t dark. Not yet.

  ***

  They had set camp together seven times before this night, as was custom. Seven nights, seven companions. Tonight, the short tents were constructed, the fire lit, and a small supper was ready to prepare. All of their party sat about the fire, but the attention was upon the Hunt-Leader and the Initiate, the adult-to-be.

  Laova loved to hunt, and had known without doubt what she wanted when the time came to choose her future life. On the twentieth dark moon of each life, a man or woman was born, and expected to make a decision. Laova chose to become a hunter; nothing else was possible. Her life would wither without the freedom of the woods and mountains, and the feel of her spear, of her bow, in hand. So she had told the clan Chief, who had bowed her head in approval.

  Excited, Laova sat opposite Rell and tried not to fidget.

  It was full dark, now, and snow still slanted and sifted down around the oasis of heat that was their little fire. The sky overhead swelled black with sloughing clouds, not a star to be seen, nor the silver-drop face of the moon. Rell cleared her throat and began the short ritual; the Hunt was beginning.

  “Laova,” she pronounced clearly. “Tonight begins the twentieth long night of your life, and a decision is before you. Make it now. Who will you be?”

  Of course, the decision had been made months ago. She kept eye contact with Rell, although she nearly let her betraying gaze slip away across the fire, to someone who had only watched her so intently in her fantasies. A flush of heat crept up her back beneath her wools and furs, but Laova replied resolutely.

  “Laova, of the Hunters.”

  Rell smiled; as always, Laova felt a pang of gentle envy as she did so. Rell the Hunt-Leader was an older woman, this being her thirtieth-something dark moon, but she was beautiful and fierce as a mountain cat. Her smile was not warm but precise, as if the gods had carefully crafted her face for only unexpected loveliness. But more, she was crowned with shining orange tresses that ripped a hole in the dark of the night as if with the coming of dawn. Laova’s own river-bed brown locks looked quite dull in comparison.

  But as they shared a smile, Laova’s admiration turned to camaraderie, and she smiled in return.

  “Then join us, Laova,” Rell replied; a coy tease between stoic ritual and the thrill of a beginning—something new and alive—thickened in the air. “Be a Hunter with us. Track with us. Fight with us. Live with us. Die with us.”

  “I will,” Laova promised.

  “As you are born tonight a Hunter, so you will live, and so you will die.”

  “I will,” Laova agreed.

  “The clan’s life, and our life. Our life, and your life. Your place is decided, and you must live by it.”

  “I will,” Laova breathed, grinning.

  A roaring cheer went up between them, a joyful howl like the song of wolves. It echoed briefly through the night, unafraid—just this once—of what might hear. It was a fearful life they lived, aware of the harsh world whose heart they rested within. The cold, bitter, endless winter. The ravaging of bear and wolf and mountain cat. The threat of other tribes, other clans that sometimes grew desperate, dangerous, in the mad grip of the long night…

  But here and now, Laova felt again the promise of the sun, and curiously felt in her soul that still, even now, it was not dark. Not yet.

  “Time for the story,” Ghal announced gleefully.

  All of them groaned. Even solemn Rell rolled her eyes.

  “Must we?” Khara teased. She gave Laova a wink across the flames.

  “Yes,” Ghal grouched. It was good-natured grouching, however, and good-natured teasing. They all knew the way of things. Each new adulthood must begin with remembering.

  Now that attention was off of her, Laova let her eyes wander, let them fall heavily where they’d longed to go.

  He was perfect. Nemlach.

  This was his twenty-seventh long night, so he was a little older than herself. He’d never married; by some immense luck, few girl-babes had been born in the years near him, so men of the clan had sometimes been left solitary. Some had chosen to leave and marry women of other tribes; Laova was fervently relieved Nemlach had not been one of them.

  His hair was black, like the night sky over their campfire. Carved white stones woven into braids were picked out like stars, and Laova had always longed for the opportunity to examine them more closely. His hair was wild compared to his beard, which he kept short and neat. It cupped a long, dusky face, a quiet face, a face Laova had spent much time examining with both her eyes and heart.

  She knew she was young to be coveting such a fine man. He was a respected Hunter, and beloved of the Grandmother. It was said that Nemlach had been expected to submit himself to the ways of the spirits when his initiation came; instead, he’d chosen to hunt, and no one except the G
randmother could regret it. The Grandmother was their link with the gods, their shaman, and she accepted few into the House of Spirit.

  Laova was also relived at this; the Spirit-speakers could marry, but rarely did. It was unlucky.

  Some happenstance of fortune had brought him here, unattached, available, within her grasp tonight. Just the thought sent an excited shiver across her skin. And now that she was an adult, Laova was permitted to act on her feelings. If she dared.

  While she’d been gazing with embarrassing frankness at Nemlach, Ghal had situated himself and now cleared his throat.

  “We live in the shadow of greatness,” he began.

  Without warning, Nemlach’s blue eyes—clear and blue as ice—crossed the fire and met Laova’s. She was so shocked she froze, staring at him, motionless, like a deer locked eyes with a wolf. In her mind, Laova waited in agony for him to smirk or frown. He did neither; to her surprise a tiny, shy, welcome smile turned up one edge of beard, and he gave his attention back to Ghal and the Losing Story once more.

  Her heart punched at the inside of her ribcage as Laova did the same.

  “Before us, there were the Eldermen,” Ghal was continuing. This role was his because in their group, he was the oldest, at forty-two dark moons. Laova couldn’t imagine. Such years seemed so far away.

  Ghal peered at them all, the grays in his hair and beard catching the firelight. “The Eldermen—and women—were not as we are. They were powerful, masters of this world. They could turn even the long night into day. Their houses were mountains, and their villages were thick with more of their people than you could imagine. No sickness was beyond their reach to heal. Even the Summoning God of Death agreed to wait on their will, and their lives stretched outward, endless, like long summer days.

  “They understood the turns of the earth, and looked beyond to see other worlds, realms only the gods were meant to know.”

  No one present had heard this tale any less than a thousand times. It was told at this coming-of-age rite, and also at the naming of children, at the deathbed of elders, in times of crisis and times of joy. The words were worn and rehearsed, but at this part, there was always a coil of something slippery and cold in Laova’s gut. They all felt it; it betrayed them each in the stiffness of their smiles, the down-casting of their eyes.