The Kala Trilogy: An Urban Fantasy Box Set

by Teagan Kearney

  Forked Lighting let Serkan run—there was nothing wrong in letting the prey think it was getting away. The wolves who left early hadn’t set off because they couldn’t control the compulsion to hunt and feed on living flesh, but to set up a perimeter guard. If their quarry got too close to the boundary, they would head him back into the trees.

  Forked Lightning was taking no chances. Serkan would never leave this forest.

  The vampire had covered a fair distance, but the werewolves had his scent. Without fresh blood and pumped full of vervain, the trail he left was a luminous pathway through the forest to the wolves’ hypersensitive sense of smell. The pack bayed as Forked Lightning charged toward the quarry.

  At the base of tree, a dozen wolves barked up at the branches. Serkan had realized his chances on foot were limited. Other wolves paced below, tracking his passage as he leaped through the high branches.

  Forked Lightning knew that even if Serkan got to the edge of the woods, he’d have to come down from the trees. He uttered a short series of yips that sounded like laughter. He didn’t have to wait long.

  Serkan misjudged the distance and crashed with a loud thud onto the ground.

  The pack was on him surrounding him, baying with victory as he lay winded, knowing there was no second chance. Serkan crawled to his feet as Forked Lightning stalked into the circle of wolves.

  “If I defeat you, will your pack let me go?”

  The black and tan wolf facing him drew back its lips revealing razor sharp teeth, and shook its large head from side to side.

  “Oh well, it was worth a try.” And with that Serkan launched himself at Forked Lightning, his fangs out, and the two enemies grappled, rolling around as each tried to land a fatal strike.

  The weres moved backward, widening their circle, not enough to give Serkan a chance of escape, but sufficient to allow the antagonists room to fight.

  The two opponents separated, and Serkan staggered to his feet, his shirt ripped where razor-sharp claws had incised several gashes deep enough to open his chest. An interesting side effect of vervain was its ability to prevent any healing taking place until the herb left the body, and dark red blood stained a Rorschach blot on the white shirt he’d once took such pride in wearing.

  The wolf was unhurt and snapped viciously at his opponent as they circled each other.

  Serkan shuffled sideways as he sought for a weak spot in his enemy’s defense.

  Abruptly Forked Lightning leaped across the circle in a blur, hurling the vampire to the floor, but Serkan twisted to protect his front and Forked Lightning crashed into the vampire’s back.

  Serkan bucked, but Forked Lightning’s wolf hung on. The vampire master labored to rise to his knees, but the werewolf had sunk his claws deep into the muscle and soft tissue, and he crumpled under the weight.

  The wolf bent his jaw to the quivering body below him, and bit savagely. His teeth splintered a shoulder blade, and shattered the spine as he tore at a large chunk of tainted flesh, exposing the delicate covering of skin over the lungs where the vampire’s breath rapidly whistled in and out of his body. He tossed the meat aside—this hunt wasn’t for food—raised his head and howled a mournful lament to the heavens.

  The pack circled the fighters, their eyes lambent in the dark. Raising their heads, they bayed their sorrow in commiseration with their alpha.

  The wolf morphed into his human form. Forked Lightning bent close to Serkan’s ear. “How does it feel to be helpless in the face of your approaching death?”

  “I had no choice. I am compelled to follow my maker’s orders.” Serkan choked as his mouth filled with blood.

  “And what orders were they?”

  Serkan wheezed. “To hurt you in any way possible. You were becoming a serious problem for him.”

  “And who is this maker? Tell me his name because I swear on my life, I’ll make him regret he ever heard of me.”

  Serkan’s breathing slowed.

  “Tell me!” Forked Lightning hissed.

  “Angelus.”

  As memories connected with the name surfaced, the wolves threw back their heads and howled their rage at the full moon overhead. This was the second time the half-demon, half-vampire had struck them, and the primal lament of his pack forced Forked Lightning’s wolf into dominance again.

  The vampire master’s breathing was shallow and rapid.

  If left alive, he would remain weak and unable to defend himself for a day or two, but once the vervain cleared from his bloodstream—which due to blood loss might be sooner rather than later—he would heal. Then he’d feed, gain strength, and be free to resume his former life.

  The wolf snarled, plunged his muzzle into the corrupted mangled form beneath him, and drawn by its feeble uneven beat, seized the organ he sought between his jaws.

  Chapter Twenty-One: Euskadi, Western Europe, 2800 BC

  Angelus gazed out of the window from his private study. His fingers fondled the smooth silk of his robe, as a sigh of satisfaction escaped his lips. He was lord of everything as far as he could see. He admired the trimmed borders in the exquisite gardens below, breathing in the perfumed scent of flowers as gardeners harvested fruit from the heavily laden bushes. Turning back to the silver bowl on the blue-veined marble plinth in front of him, he watched his reflection form on the liquid's placid surface. "Has the female I seek come into her powers yet?"

  The water frothed, and as it settled, he gazed down on green valleys sprinkled with human settlements, snowcapped mountains and cobalt blue seas. A second wave of ripples swept across the surface and a green island, edged with white beaches emerged. The water seethed one last time—his divination attempts never gave him more than three visions—closing in on a tiny settlement dug into the hillside next to an open bay. Just before the vision faded, he spotted three human females walking by the sea. One was much older, the second appeared full grown, but was younger, and the smallest skipped along head of the other two. The younger woman, slender with long curly red brown hair, drew his attention. As if aware someone was observing her, she turned her bright green eyes up toward the sky, and the vision faded. Anticipation shivered through him as he recognized the truth of the portent—this was the one. "At last," he exulted.

  Angelus sought the eastern horizon, where he could just make out the glow of the portal he'd spent much time creating. This was where his world was closest to earth's astral plane, and he’d expended a great deal of magic to create a door between the two, and then a second entrance between the astral and earthly planes. He ordered his chariot to be brought, and whipping the horses viciously, he galloped out of the gates, heading east.

  Stepping out of his portal, he found himself high on a mountainside overlooking a valley. He studied the landscape; a yellow sun graced the world with a luminous glow and the leaves on the trees glistened as they trembled in the light breeze. Fragrant summer scents from the valley below perfumed the air, and the sky was the same scintillating blue as his eyes. A sudden wave of envy swept over him. Yes, he had his palace, his slaves, and almost everything he desired, but it wasn’t enough. He blew out a breath. Soon everything he yearned for would be his, and he would be more formidable even than Anavar. He would have power here and on the hellish planets.

  The female lived in the North, accordingly he must head that way. He walked without stopping and as evening drew in, he came upon a village. Smoke rose from the cooking fires as women prepared the evening meal, older boys herded goats, their mewling cries filling the air, while men talked in groups. Young children played tag games while toddlers squatted in the earth outside the mud and daub huts they called home. His opulent clothing marked him as different, and a group of youngsters gaped at him, while a few ran into the nearby woods.

  Thoughts of finding a willing female to spend the night with vanished as the chatter around him grew louder. He surveyed the growing crowd with suspicion as several made the sign of protection against evil. He'd heard rumors of a priesthood whose aim was t
o banish demons from the earth, but as far as he was aware, they'd achieved no success. But should these humans gain such knowledge, their numbers might make the goal achievable.

  The crowd parted and a man and two women marched towards him. The man held an oaken staff, and all three wore robes of white. The man shouted, "Demon!" as he raised his staff.

  Angelus sensed the magic build as the three priests began to chant their invocation. Almost too surprised to respond, he threw up a protective ward at the last second as they flung a flaming spear at him. Sparks flew as the lance pierced his barrier, and large cracks appeared and spread, weakening his warding.

  Once more, the priests’ voices rose as they invoked their hex.

  Angelus bolted into the forest before they summoned enough force to strike him again. Individually, he was sure he could defeat them, but their combined strength had threatened his purpose, and that was something he wouldn’t risk. So, the rumors were true. Once he finished his business here, he would report back to Anavar—this had to be stopped. Humans were a vital resource for demons, and to be restricted from accessing the earthly plane would cause a crisis in the lower worlds. His need to locate this woman was increasingly urgent. The strength he'd gain would consolidate his position, and protect him from future change.

  As he continued northward, he avoided humans, sleeping in caves, or on the forest floor when he wanted to rest, throwing up a ward to protect him from any wild animal that came too close. He was coming closer to his goal. He could sense her now. It was only matter of time till she became his.

  One night, after he'd taken shelter from a sudden storm in a cave, a beautiful young woman appeared at the entrance.

  "Can I come in?" Her gaze held him.

  He nodded, but she stayed where she was.

  "Say the words."

  Her eyes were dark pools, full of hidden promise.

  "Enter my humble abode, dear lady of the night."

  No sooner had he lowered his warding when the woman was by his side. She came near and sniffed his neck. "Such warmth. How unusual."

  Angelus felt her breath on his cheek, heard the snick of her fangs descending, and a sigh of anticipation as she leaned toward him.

  His fingers squeezed her throat the second before her fangs pierced his skin.

  Unable to break away, she watched with horror as a sulfurous yellow leached into the blue of his eyes revealing his true nature. She scrabbled at the iron hand constricting her airways.

  "The heart, isn't it? I must remove the heart to kill you. Or is it the head?"

  "Please, please," she wheezed. "I have information. I can help you."

  He snorted. "Oh, I don't think so. This gives me far more pleasure than whatever trivial piece of knowledge you think is important."

  "The Druids…" she panted now, her breath whistling in and out of her open mouth in tiny gasps, and her eyes wide with fright.

  He loosened his grip a fraction, and her breathing eased. "What of these priests?" He remembered his humiliation at ceding victory to them.

  "Let me breathe and I'll tell you."

  He removed his hand, and stared in fascination as the livid bruising from his grip faded. "I see you have some advantages to life as a xortdan," he said. "Talk before I change my mind."

  She shuffled backward, putting distance between them.

  "Don't bother trying to escape, sweet lady, or you will regret it, I promise you. Tell me about the priests."

  "The Druids and the Bandrui are creating a potent spell to banish every demon from this world."

  His eyebrows rose in astonishment. "Do they possess that degree of power?"

  "Their abilities are growing, and yes, they've been working on this for a long time, and believe they are near to success."

  "And how do you know this, my pretty vampire?"

  "We have ways of finding out what we want to know. Besides, when they focus on your kind, they leave mine alone."

  "And when is this to take place?"

  "The next full moon."

  He'd noticed how light the nights were growing. He glanced out of the cave.

  "Three days," she said.

  He'd never find the one he sought in time.

  "If you swear to spare me, I can offer you a solution." She swallowed. "I can make you a vampire, and thus you can escape the expulsion."

  They stared at each other. She, hesitant and frightened; he, cold and calculating. "Will it work?" he asked.

  She shrugged. "I've never turned a demon. It may be your blood is too potent, but it might succeed. You're aware of our curse?"

  "That without human blood you die?"

  A glimmer of amusement showed in the lift of her mouth. "And if you get none, you go mad and die." She wouldn't tell him that animals sufficed in an emergency. The less he knew, the better. Compelled by the maker’s bond to serve her, she’d be unique and powerful among her kind. "We are stronger and faster than humans, but we cannot walk in the sun."

  His lip curled. These creatures were no match even for the lowest of demons, but the idea of draining the life from humans to survive appealed. If it helped him escape the proposed banishment, he would give it a try. If he had to sleep during the day and wake at night, he would pay the price. When he had the woman, and his full talents were restored, he would reverse this change.

  "How do you perform this turning’?"

  "First, I drink your blood, then you drink mine."

  "I think it better if I drink yours first." He seized her wrist and dragged her toward him.

  She made no sound when his teeth, already as sharp as her fangs, sliced open the skin either side of her vein. Nor did she complain when he latched on and sucked great mouthfuls of blood from her. But when his body arched and stiffened as her blood mixed with his, and he yanked her close enough to put his hands around her neck again, then she screamed and fought.

  He woke as the morning sunlight stole across the floor, up his body and over his face. The warmth felt good, because he was colder than normal. He sat up and saw the vampire. She lay with her neck twisted at an odd angle, and the bruises at her throat from his grip remained. He wondered why she hadn’t healed herself yet. Maybe because he had drained her of blood? He watched as the sunbeam moved onto her outstretched leg. Smoke rose where the sun shone on her calf, and he observed the limb disintegrate. He stood, ignored the dizziness in his head and the weakness in his limbs, and hauled her outside the cave. Within seconds nothing remained but a pile of warm ashes.

  Driven by his ambition, he left the cave, aware his body was adjusting to the effects of drinking from the xortdan. His demon heritage curtailed the full effects, but the curse fought to gain dominance, and a caustic emptiness gnawed at his guts. As twilight dropped its deepening veil across the sky, and the forest paled into shades of black, silver and gray, he stumbled across a hut. He staggered forward, and the world twisted and swirled around him as he fell to the ground.

  “Wake up.” Someone was shaking him.

  He stared into an old man's sun-weathered face, his gaze drawn to the pulse jumping in the man’s neck. The drum of the human heartbeat was loud in his ears, and saliva flooded his mouth as the call of the blood hypnotized him. He reached up as if to accept the offered help, but instead yanked the old man toward him. Ignoring the trembling cries of distress, and guided by instinct, he found the jugular, and needlelike pains pierced his gums as his fangs emerged for the first time.

  After satiating himself with the old man’s blood, he felt tremendously powerful. That was what had been wrong with him. He hadn’t understood he was suffering from blood hunger. He must make sure he always had a supply. He wondered if the craving would affect him as much on his own world. For the moment, his need would drive him to seek out human settlements, but he was familiar with austerity and would hold off the cursed hunger as long as possible. He knew he needed to control the craving before it consumed him as he had no intention of spending eternity trying to satisfy its compulsion.


  He tossed the empty husk of a body into the forest, and ransacked the humble dwelling. Discarding his own fine silks, he dressed in what clothes he could find. Although the shirt and loose pants were short on him, and the sandals too small, they’d help him pass scrutiny. Shouldering an ax he found, he left without a glance behind him.

  Passing through a crowded settlement on the banks of a wide river, he waited his turn on a rickety wooden pier for a seat on one of the coracles ferrying people from one side to the other. Too late, he spotted the priests, two women and a man, standing at the front of the queue. If he turned around and left, he would draw unwanted attention. He decided to test his gamble with the xortdan’s blood, lowered the ax, settling his grip on the handle, and readying it for use. If the ruse was unsuccessful, he would test his new abilities while they mumbled their curse. But he needn’t have worried. When his turn came, he was waved on his way. As he strode up the bank on the other side, he wondered what was required to enter this priesthood.

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Returning the Favor

  Forked lightning dialed Vanse's number. "Hey."

  "You are talking to Fabio. Vanse is unavailable. May I pass a message?"

  "Forked Lightning here. Tell your master I'm ready to complete my half of the bargain whenever he wants." He rolled his eyes at Kohana. "That's something I never thought I'd tell a vampire." His mobile wasn't even back in his pocket before it rang. "Hey, what’s up?"

  "This is Vanse. How soon can you meet?"

  "As soon as you're ready."

  "In half an hour at Tatya's house."