The Fallen One (Sons of the Dark Mother, Book One)

by Lenore Wolfe

  At first the men exchanged some superficial stories that were kept light-hearted, stories that didn’t hold the weight of the war at hand. They just enjoyed the night and camaraderie for a bit, but eventually they got down to the inevitable business of war—and the ever-present danger that was pushing in on them and threatening to force them to take a stand unlike any stand that any of them could remember in human history—save what had happened at Atlantis.

  And that war had sunk an entire city into the sea.

  Many of the humans could no longer recall Atlantis Herself, much less what had taken place there—and the supernatural forces that had been used, both in the fall of the city—and as the means used to save Mother Earth.

  But somehow, if they were facing what it was rumored they were facing, even the fall of Atlantis paled in comparison.

  They sat down and caught the rest of the men up on what had been going on, and what their plans were for the upcoming battle.

  Every man was quiet for several moments, contemplating the enormity of what strength this kind of power would bring to Constantine.

  He had, by himself, proven a threat, the likes of which none of them had ever faced before. With this power—he would be unstoppable.

  With this power—he would see himself as a god.

  They laid out maps of the city and the outlying suburbs, and they followed Constantine’s path: everywhere he had been for the past two years, and exactly what they could recall he had been doing during that time.

  They had to move forward as though they were merely fighting a hand-to-hand battle with Constantine.

  None of them had any idea of how to deal with the possibility of the other, more horrific, power that might now be a threat.

  They would have to search for ideas about how to deal with that one.

  In itself, just the standard meeting of vamps, Fae, and Jaguars in war would be difficult to coordinate. And they all knew that the war wasn’t likely to end with this one battle. No; this would likely be only the first of many battles, and they were very likely to lose their share. In fact—they were very likely to lose more than just a few.

  They just had to make sure that they won more than they lost.

  If the control and power started slipping more and more into Constantine’s hands—than they were doomed.

  And none of them were prepared to let that to happen.

  Lucius would be the liaison between their troops and the Queen of Darkness. She, herself, had appointed him the one to keep her abreast of the situation. She wanted kept aware of all the planning that went into their efforts to keep Constantine from gaining the power he sought. She had made it clear that she would send more help should they need it.

  But would the humans be able to handle the influx of Fae?

  On the other hand, if it came to that, everything the humans had known would be permanently and irrevocably changed by the time the need came to send in large swarms of supernatural beings—shocking the humans and making them realize that everything they now believed to be true was an illusion—an illusion thrust upon them by those who would control mankind.

  By that time, the humans would have suffered a few major shocks to what had become the great illusion of mankind—given that they had allowed themselves to be lulled into complacency until eventually they had forgotten everything—and now were becoming more and more sure they were completely and utterly alone on their planet—or even, in the worst illusion of all believed themselves completely alone in the universe.

  Yet if it came down to it and the Queen of Darkness needed to send in large armies, it would no longer matter what would come as a shock to the humans—just as long as they didn’t allow Constantine to win—and take over their Mother Earth.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Second Chances

  Conrad leaned in to quietly speak to one of the guards, not taking his eyes off the man who had just walked into Second Chances. Justice looked up from where he was writing, in the booth he had claimed, sensing that something was up before Conrad had even finished what he was whispering.

  Justice followed his line of sight to the front door. He would have recognized the uniform the man wore anywhere.

  So it was true.

  He was in town.

  No part of it could be denied anymore. Not a single, slender thread of doubt could be found, or even hope could be had, that this might have all been built on nasty rumors, as rumors did have a way of taking on a life of their own.

  But Justice had great runners—and he had known they were not receiving false information.

  Yet—one could always hope that perhaps all the stories had been blown out of proportion—until you received proof.

  They would not be left to wonder if they would be granted a reprieve. Constantine’s main man, staring him in the face, was the all the proof they needed—it was on.

  The long-awaited war was about to begin, and this would likely be a war that could not be fought without the humans becoming aware of a whole new world—one of which most of them would rather be oblivious.

  This was war with Constantine. And before it was over—most of their world would be changed.

  He felt the same curl of anticipation that he had felt before—knowing the battle was imminent—wanting to get on with it.

  He had waited a very long time for this.

  He had been waiting ever since the moment a fourteen-year-old boy had been attacked by a gang—and felt the claws rip from his arms—and the smell of their blood fill his nostrils.

  The man came straight to Justice, without missing a beat. Dracon came through the back door at that same moment. Damn the man is good, Justice thought. All those years of training and fighting had given Dracon uncanny senses.

  The stranger’s head actually snapped around toward Dracon.

  His eyes went dark.

  Now, they had another problem. The humans in the bar may have been coming here to see if all the hype about this tavern was real—but tonight they just might get more than they bargained for.

  Yet, from the look in their eyes, they weren’t going to miss a moment of it.

  The question was—could he manage to keep them safe when that happened?

  Dracon had no real interest in trying to preserve the lives of humans—especially humans who were a little more curious about the supernatural world than was healthy for them. Justice knew that Dracon only hoped that when the time came—they would stay out of his way.

  Justice didn’t hold his breath.

  Humans this curious would probably want to do more than just watch—if it came to that. Yet some of them would run screaming.

  Believing a thing was one thing—but seeing a thing with your own eyes was a whole lot more than many of them were ready for—in spite of what they thought.

  Dracon came straight up to them. He walked with his usual, lithe grace that was particularly punctuated by the danger—and his obvious readiness to welcome it. No one in the tavern missed it.

  Justice heard Conrad groan.

  Constantine’s man looked down at Justice, clearly ignoring Dracon, which said something in itself.

  “I’ve brought you a message,” he said. He looked at Dracon and snarled. “There is one who requests a parlay with you both—though I can’t see why he bothers.”

  Justice met Dracon’s gaze and heard him say yes in his head. He nodded. “Just let us know when and where.”

  The man nodded, and turning his back on the Jaguar and the vamp of the ancients, he walked out the door.

  The humans—actually looked disappointed.

  “I’m going to track him,” Dracon said.

  Justice nodded.

  After a long moment—the humans started whispering to one another.

  Conrad sent his bartenders to watch over the tavern, and he and Justice sat down at a booth where they could have uninterrupted time to talk and plan. Constantine’s arrival had made it more imperative than ever that they find a way to def
eat him.

  Dracon came back within the hour. He didn’t have any more information to offer. He had been blocked by some guards, who had been instructed to ensure that the messenger was not followed back to their base.

  “Okay, so we’re to go to this meeting,” Justice said, “just as soon as we’re told when and where it’s being held.”

  Dracon’s gaze was still on the door. Justice knew he’d been ready for a fight—and was disappointed.

  He didn’t like this at all.

  The meeting would throw a bit of a curveball into the plans they had created with Lucius and the men last night, but not much of one. They had been pretty thorough.

  Unless the other rumor proved itself true also—and if it did—likely nothing would save them.

  But there was help for it—they would have to proceed forward for now—and they would meet the other danger if—and when—it came.

  He and Dracon would still have to make an early night of it tonight. They had some more planning they would need to do back at the manor. It wasn’t long before they left Conrad with the guards and went back.

  On their way back, Justice went over the previous night’s plans, looking for ways to adapt what they had put together. Caesar had been put to work reinforcing the Alliance and its manors, but he knew he was going to need him to come, soon, and run the tavern. He would need Conrad at the manor, and he hoped that Caesar would finish his work on the manors soon.

  Roman would stick close by to allow the Sisters of Three to utilize his knowledge and power over the doorways. They had formulated a plan that would require the use of such doorways. The sisters would need him to take them through one or two of them when the time came.

  Lucius was returning to the Land of the Fae to speak with the Queen of Darkness. They were not going to simply dispatch a message to her with the rumors of something that might contain such a high level of risk. Lucius would handle this first-hand. She would likely have a lot to say about what she would like to see them do, should they discover for certain that Constantine was a much bigger threat than even any of them had already predicted—as if he hadn’t already been enough of a threat in and of himself.

  But then, Constantine had served as a major threat way back in history, too. He had proven himself a powerful commander. His intelligence in military tactics had served to allow him to win many great battles. His ability to sway entire countries to his point of view had proven his greatest threat—as had his ability to insert his will into affecting and influencing a book that would be passed down throughout the rest of history—and would in turn control millions of people over many lifetimes, a book that would rule those who followed it with an iron fist.

  The hand of the fist itself was named “fear”.

  Micah was sticking close to the Sisters of Three. He refused to leave Mira’s side at a time like this—and Justice hadn’t even needed to ask to place him as an extra guard over the sisters. Between Roman and Micah, they gave Justice some peace of mind, especially after Jes’s own father had attacked her. His duties would not allow him to remain so close to Jes. It was one of the more difficult, and more frustrating, parts of leading his people. He had no doubt the sisters could handle themselves. Still, it helped ease his mind knowing that Micah was there. Micah had loved Mira through numerous lifetimes. He would never allow anything to happen to her. He would do what he could to keep the Sisters of Three safe. And that Roman was there, too, with his ability over the doorways, was a great relief to Justice.

  That left Justice free to concentrate on the source of this serious threat to their safety and security. He would have to find out if the threat was posed by Constantine, himself, or if they now had two enemies. Though it was true that they had known Jes’s father was a threat, they may have greatly underestimated his agenda—and his involvement.

  It left Justice free to figure out where his forces could make their first strike, to attempt to bring Constantine’s armies to heel, and how they would deliver the blow that would hopefully cripple—or perhaps even stop—him.

  But it also gave Justice the opportunity to send out his runners to try to discover if one more rumor would prove itself true.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  War

  Dracon ran through the dark at lightning speed. It was impossible for Justice to track him when he moved that quickly. Constantine had sent his messenger, as they had been told he would, indicating where he would like them to meet. Dracon was now scouting the area into which they had been summoned to walk, and he was making short work of it. He was looking for signs that Constantine was trying to set them up, and he was also looking for any weaknesses in Constantine’s plans and positions.

  Justice was walking straight up the road, toward the cabin to which they had been instructed to go. From all outward appearances, he seemed alone, but actually he and Dracon were giving and receiving regular telepathic updates from the others.

  Yet, as hard as Justice worked to track Dracon’s movements, it was impossible.

  He continued to walk straight up the dirt road, the moon spraying her silver rays and lighting his way.

  He silently thanked Grandmother Moon.

  Constantine had done what he said he would: sent his man with instructions, and directed them to this forest tonight. The forest lay an hour and half from Chicago, nearly half-way to St. Louis, where Mira was from.

  Justice moved down the lane, taking great care to use every caution. No sound came from beneath his feet. No sound at all came from the forest; everything was eerily quiet. Even the animals seemed to know–something was going on and it didn’t bode well for any being that lived here, in this forest—or one who was foolish enough to venture here, this night.

  Constantine had sent word about where to meet him, true. But he’d deliberately brought them out to an area that they would likely be unfamiliar with, and he had only given them two hours to get there: he obviously didn’t want them to have any time to make any plans—or even scout the area he now had them walking into. And that smelled of a setup.

  Constantine was a master when it came to war. He was well known for his tricks, for doing anything to keep his enemy off balance.

  He sought to keep Justice and Dracon off balance now, by bringing them out into the middle of nowhere. They hadn’t expected him to do so. He usually liked more public displays. They had half expected him to use humans in his plan, so that they would have to expend more of their energy and time trying to protect the unsuspecting pawns.

  But instead he had brought them out here, where there wouldn’t be any witnesses as to what occurred. Likely he had planned it just that way, so they would spend most of their time trying to figure out where he had laid the trap.

  And it would have worked.

  But Justice and Dracon, Conrad, and the others had been planning for any contingencies Constantine might throw at them. It wouldn’t be that easy for him to trick them, provided they all played their parts. He would have to work harder than that for this treat.

  Justice wore the violet war tunic of his people. It was etched in silver trim, and was a shade of icy violet that was nearly gray. He wore an ancient cape over it all. It, too, was a light-violet shade that took on an almost gray hue. The cape had been worn by his people for hundreds—perhaps even thousands—of years, whenever they were meeting to have important peace talks, or performing serious rituals where several races were involved.

  In this case, he was wearing it to have a parlay with a serious enemy—one who could potentially be a great threat to all of the races involved.

  Justice also wore a sword.

  The Sisters of Three were busily working their spells, and Justice’s own sisters were also fanned out across the forest floor—using the Fae’s cloak of invisibility, which they had all been practicing ever since Mia had first learned it. They were keeping track of him by telepathy. He didn’t hear their footsteps nor could he sense where exactly they were.

  He would have been d
isappointed if he could.

  He knew where they were only by their constant telepathic updates. It worked a bit like the sonar the whales used, and they had perfected this communication long ago to keep others from being able to hear what they reserved only for one another to hear.

  Between them and Dracon, it was as if he was receiving a grid off a computer. He knew exactly where all the players were.

  Mia was keeping a constant litany of cheer going in his head. He knew his little sister, and knew it was her way of fighting back the shadows. His sisters were all highly skilled in fighting, but everyone knew who they faced here this night. He heard Jasmine tell her to tone it down, and he heard Ophelia second that.