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

by Lenore Wolfe

  Both Jasmine and Ophelia had tightened their arms around her, and now Dara and Mira had joined Jes on the floor, each of them touching Mia with comforting, feather-light strokes to her arms.

  Mia shrugged, the tears pouring down her face now. “Because… I had forced the issue—because it had been my choice to go….” She was sobbing now.

  Tears were falling freely down Jes’s face, as well as those of Jasmine and Ophelia. Even Mira’s eyes shimmered with tears. The only one who didn’t cry was Dara. But her eyes were dark with emotion.

  Justice stood suddenly. “What is going on here?” he demanded. “What am I missing?”

  Dracon moved closer to him. It was clear that he had understood only too well. Micah was the one to move in front of Justice.

  “She’s been—raped,” he said gently.

  The shock recoiled off of Justice. But it was the look on Jared’s face that took the wind out of Jes. He had just stepped inside the door—just in time to hear what Micah had said.

  “You lie!” he seethed, looking like he would fly at Micah.

  Dracon stepped in front of him. “Let’s hear what Mia has to say,” Dracon quietly commanded.

  Jared’s eyes went to Mia. Ophelia moved, and Jared sat down beside her and gathered her into his arms.

  Now, Justice looked like he was going to fly at Jared. And Dracon had to turn his attention on Justice.

  “Tell me,” Jared soothed. “Tell us….”

  She sobbed out the story. “He knew he couldn’t do anything to… to… turn me. He knew the vacc…ine would prevent it. So he… raped me… so he could… make all of you pay… by giving me a child… The old witch said… there would be a child….”

  “What happened to Morgi?” Jes whispered.

  Mia stared at her. “She never knew. He sent her away.”

  Now, not even Jared’s eyes were dry.

  He didn’t even try to check the tears that were running down his face.

  And when Jes looked up at Justice—she was shocked to realize that he had tears running down his face too.

  It turned out that the old witch had spoken of another prophecy, one that spoke of a powerful child who was half vamp and half Jaguar. Whether this would be that child, they would all have to wait and see. But it did turn out that Mia was, in fact, pregnant.

  Such a pregnancy was unheard of. The vamps could hardly have children of their own. And it was even more difficult for turned vamps.

  But Mia was pregnant—with Constantine’s child.

  Nothing would stop him from trying to get his hands on her again.

  Now Mia was important for two reasons. She carried both the virus of the only vamp the vaccine had not changed, and the child of that vamp.

  She carried within her blood a power they couldn’t begin to understand, and the child within her—had survived it as well.

  Epilogue

  Jes and Justice

  For a long time, Justice just held Jes—or, as it were, Shira, though she had become so used to everyone calling her Jes that she had told everyone she would rather keep that name for everyday use. She would use the name Shira in ritual only.

  They had come through this bout with Constantine. Little doubt existed in anyone’s mind that he was done with them yet, but for now, anyway, there would be peace.

  At least until he found another way to come at them.

  Jes had some healing to do—and some healing to help Justice to do as well. Neither of them would be able to forgive themselves for allowing Mia to put herself in such danger.

  But they would do everything they possibly could to help her heal from it.

  They had moved the vaccines to another, more secure, location. Justice’s parents had, of course, gone with it. Justice felt that he understood his father just a little more. His father had made it his life’s mission to make sure that several races of beings, here on Mother Earth, did not suffer for them stumbling upon those vaccines.

  Justice realized that he was proud of his parents.

  If it were not for them, there was little doubt that Constantine would have stolen those vaccines a long time ago, if only by means of the man who had been called Jes’s father—and killed Jes’s mother.

  He was a man that Jes, herself, had taken the lead in finding now. And Justice couldn’t imagine a better detective on the case.

  Jared had come to live at the Alliance.

  Understanding his role as the Prince of Earth had become his primary focus. Having the four of them together was imperative—to the future of all the races. Just as the Sisters of Three must remain together, for as long as there were those who tried to threaten the future of Mother Earth.

  Dracon no longer tried to leave the compound at night, either. In fact, they had started building special living quarters for him and Dara, right next door.

  Who knew what the future held in store for those two—but that was Dracon’s story to tell.

  Justice was content to pull Jes in tightly to him—and just hold her all night long. For now, they had back their nights, and could live a normal life during the day.

  And they were all very thankful.

  Jes snuggled up to her mate. They had set the ceremony for their union for three months from now. She hoped that this would give Mia enough time in her healing to enjoy herself some—but they all knew that she had a long road ahead of her.

  They wouldn’t completely know how the vaccine had affected her for some time to come, but she had been sent to the same lab where they were working on the vaccines. Mia, herself, could become as important to those who sought the vaccines, as the vaccines themselves.

  And who knew how a pregnancy of a Jaguar and a vampire would go?

  Her sisters had gone with her. They would not leave her side now. She and Justice were to follow when Mia’s time came near.

  But they must be very careful not to lead anyone to her—or the vaccines.

  Perhaps, when the time came, they would move her to another place, away from the vaccines, and keep her home base secret for now.

  Jes missed her best friend.

  The most amazing part had come when Jared had also requested to accompany her when her time came, while he waited for his own quarters at the Alliance to be built. Of course, he could not be away from the Alliance for too long, not while there might still be a threat.

  And for the same reason, he couldn’t keep going back and forth to Mia, for fear that he might lead someone to her.

  He seemed to fear that happening more than anyone.

  Jes didn’t know how she had missed the fact that those two were sweet on each other—hadn’t, in fact, been aware of it until the day Mia had told them all what Constantine had done to her.

  Justice had reacted much like a typically protective brother would at Jared’s request—and had first told him no, outright, and then threatened to beat him within an inch of his life if he so much as went near her again.

  It had been Mia who had changed his mind, when she had come to him to tell him that she very much wanted Jared with her, and that Justice better never threaten him again.

  Justice had actually had the grace to look sheepish for making a threat on Jared’s life.

  Jes had thought it was the cutest thing she had witnessed in a long time. Imagine having a protective brother. She wouldn’t have minded having a brother like that a time or two in her own life.

  In the long run, it had been decided. Jared would come along when they all went to her. And if they could find a way to bring her home, then the two of them would be able to spend time together.

  Jes felt sorry for them.

  But Jared had to remain with the other three princes—and they would Mia out of the wrong hands—at all costs.

  Constantine hunted for her. They all knew this. And not just because of what her body might have done with the mixture of the vaccine—and his own blood.

  But because of the very rare child who grew within her.

  Jes still
couldn’t believe what had happened to her. None of them had expected that outcome. But Constantine had proven that he was several steps ahead—though they really shouldn’t have expected anything else, given his many thousands of years of experience in dealing with his enemies.

  Still, they had managed to come out of their first war with Constantine much better than anyone would have thought possible. And they were busy preparing for any future confrontations with him.

  Yet—they all knew—there existed a connection between Constantine, the man Jes had known as her father—and Xavier Dubioux. And that connection lay in the whispers in the wind about the Dark Cloth—the dark forces that had been plaguing the Earth since before Atlantis.

  The dark forces that had moved all of them around like great chess pieces on a chessboard—while they maneuvered their way into gaining control of all the races.

  It was what they had been seeking when they had managed to bring about the fall of Atlantis, and what they sought still.

  They sought to control the stone.

  But that also was another story.

  Who knew where it even lay? There were only theories that it was well hidden in the Land of the Fae. Yet, that was certainly as good of a place as any that could be had. Certainly the humans couldn’t protect it. And the Jaguar People and the ancient vamps were too busy trying to protect the races from being governed by the Dark Cloth, who sought to at last gain complete control and dominance over Mother Earth.

  However—that was something they would spend the rest of their lives preventing.

  And so, right now, Jes simply snuggled up to her mate.

  When that time came—they would be ready to fight—once more—but for now, it was time to love.

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  DOORWAY OF THE TRIQUETRA

  by Lenore Wolfe

  This was not happening.

  Mira Levine flattened the back of her five-foot-nine, athletic frame against the outside wall of her apartment. The dumpster from down the alley smelled of the next door Mexican restaurant’s leftover food, pitched out and left to rot. Not the rot that curls the hairs of your nose, but the rot that causes the stomach to threaten to pitch its contents. Mira’s stomach clenched, but that wasn’t enough to tear her mind from what she’d just seen walking down the street—in the middle of the night—in the middle of St. Louis.

  Mira took a deep breath to calm her broken senses. She flipped herself around, shaking, shoving her long, dark hair out of her face and not hesitating to press her designer-clothed front against the red bricks to take another look. Damn it! All she had wanted to do was to get a book she’d left in her car. She’d been looking forward to a calm, quiet evening—warm bath, soft pajamas, and a deep, plushy robe.

  She flipped around so her back was to the wall, letting out a loud, frustrated sigh, then clapped her hand over her mouth when she realized what she had done. Sneaking a peek around the corner, she checked to make sure she’d not given herself away.

  She had stepped out, not paying attention, had taken the three steps down the stairs and was halfway down the walk before she’d spotted it. Then, she’d done a fast sprint back to the side of her apartment, seeing that as the closest protection. Well, it wasn’t like you saw something like that walking down the street every day.

  Working up the nerve for another look, she pressed her face next to her trembling hands on the cool bricks, digging her perfect manicure into the stone until pain shot through her fingertips, forcing her to ease up. Her mind warned her not to, but Mira never was one for caution. At this moment, she needed things to make sense more than she needed caution.

  Chewing on her lower lip, she peeked around the corner at the street—and fought to take another breath.

  Sure enough—there it stood!

  Mira shook her head, pressing her face back against the bricks, squeezing her grey-green eyes shut in the kind of denial the mind takes on when something doesn’t fit. Her brain scrambled to make sense of what she was seeing. She stood there, her body uncooperative, and fought to breathe—fought to stay standing, her knees threatening to buckle. She opened her eyes, arguing with herself not to look.

  She peeked again.

  There, at the end of the street, stood a full-grown, black-as-midnight, live, man-eating, jungle cat—a jaguar to judge by her heavier frame, and a female to judge by her smaller stature.

  She shook her head. She wasn’t having this conversation with herself in the middle of the street, in the middle of the night, in the middle of St. Louis, where that cat could not possibly be.

  The cat chose to defy her careful logic by letting out a loud cry, sending shivers skittering down Mira’s spine. Fine hairs rose on her arms. She froze and told herself not to move—if she didn’t move, she wouldn’t be detected. If she wasn’t detected, she wouldn’t be eaten.

  She was doing it again.

  She lost the argument and peeked again, if only to convince herself this was happening—and to make sure that thing was not headed her way—which was exactly what it was doing.

  The cat was heading straight for her!

  For a second Mira stood there, trembling lips compressed against a scream. Then, the force of her own ramming heart propelled her into action. Glancing down the barren alley, she fought a fresh wave of panic. No doorways, or stairways, lead out. The ripe dumpster, overflowing with garbage and cardboard boxes, sat against a brick wall, and a gate stood at the end of the alley, with an overly large padlock.

  She saw no place to hide, no place to climb—no place to keep her from becoming that beast’s dinner, anyway.

  She peeked around the corner again, in the kind of morbid torture the mind takes when it doesn’t want to look—and can’t seem to stop, holding her hand over her hammering heart. Blood pounded in her ears, drowning out all other sound. She let out a small cry. Scrambling for the cell phone in her pocket, Mira flipped it open, punching 9-1-1 with fumbling fingers. Peeking around the corner yet again, she dropped the phone.

  There, not two-feet away, stood an old woman.

  “Wha-at?” she said, trying to see around her.

  The cat was not there.

  She turned, swinging this way like a crazed thing, bobbing; then that, trying to locate the cat. The old woman watched her, skin crinkling around wizened, old eyes in what appeared to her as patient amusement.

  Without looking, Mira picked up the phone and went to press the call button when the old woman’s words stopped her.

  “Dear, I wouldn’t do that,” she said, not unkindly. “I mean, what are you going to say? ‘Officer there is a large jungle cat outside my place.’?”

  Mira had turned for another glance down the street when something about the hag snared her attention. She stopped now, staring at the old woman’s eyes. She knew she was staring, and rudely so, but couldn’t help herself. Nothing about tonight made sense. She looked down at her phone, not seeing anything, her ears buzzing. Somewhere out in the city a horn blared.

  The crone actually smiled. Mira didn’t have to look to know she was smiling. She could hear it in her words.

  “Actually, it would be quite amusing,” she said, drawing Mira’s attention back to her wrinkled hands, folded in front of her long, black dress. The dress itself, falling in folds of black and silver, was interlaced with what looked like—black fur. “Ma’am, did you say, jungle cat?” she mimed. “Yes, are you deaf?” She smiled again at her own joke. “Ma’am have you had something to drink?” She laughed.

  No; Mira was sure it was more of a cackle.

  Mira glared at her, shutting the phone with a snap, feeling coming back into her limbs as anger coursed its way through her. She took one more look down the street, before she met the crone’s gaze.

  The woman’s eyes were as yellow and metallic as the cat’s. She’d swear that, for a moment, they’d been
the same shape. Black hair with two large, silver streaks fell down the crone’s back. Black fur like that interlaced into the dress, the same midnight color of the jaguar, lay twined into her hair.

  “Who are you?” Mira demanded, the last dregs of her fear giving way to anger, relishing the feeling. It gave her back her control. “You frightened me half to death. Or rather…,” she gestured with an erratic jerk in the direction behind the hag, where the cat had stood. No words could explain what she needed to say. Not giving the old woman a chance to speak, even if she’d intended to—which she appeared in no hurry to do—Mira finally blurted out, “Where is that cat, Old Woman?” She realized she had yelled the question, but that couldn’t be helped. She was certain she was about to do a lot more than yell.

  The old crone smiled.

  Mira frowned. Something about this woman was strange. One moment she appeared old; and in the next—she seemed years younger. She wrestled for several long seconds with a crazy thought. No, she was not going to pile that thought onto the already bizarre things she’d witnessed this night. She tried to block it out—and failed. “Who are you?” she demanded again.