Code Redhead - A Serial Novel

by Sharon Kleve

  ABOUT TINA DONAHUE

  My family and relatives have always been hearty souls. Most everyone lives to 90 and beyond. That changed when I was in high school. My aunt had always had a weight problem and was forever trying fad diets to slim down. Eventually, she did. Quite a bit, in fact. We thought it was because of her dedication to her most recent diet, but it was colorectal cancer. By the time she went to a doctor, she was very sick. She lingered for three years and the end was extremely painful for her. Up until that time, I’d never known anyone who’d gotten cancer. I researched her condition and vowed to change my diet and exercise habits, which I still adhere to. Many cancers are diet or lifestyle related. The proverbial pound of prevention is worth all the cures in the world.

  Tina Donahue is an Amazon and international bestselling novelist in erotic, paranormal, contemporary and historical romance for traditional publishers and indie. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. Three of her erotic novels (Freeing the Beast, Come and Get Your Love, and Wicked Takeover) were Readers’ Choice Award winners. Another three (Adored, Lush Velvet Nights, and Deep, Dark, Delicious) were named finalists in the EPIC competition. Sensual Stranger, her erotic contemporary romance, was chosen Book of the Year at the French review site Blue Moon reviews.

  The Golden Nib Award at Miz Love Loves Books was created specifically for her erotic romance Lush Velvet Nights. Two of her titles (The Yearning and Deep, Dark, Delicious) received an Award of Merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competition. Take Me Away and Adored both won second place in the NEC RWA contest (different years). She’s featured in the Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Before penning romances, Tina worked at a major Hollywood production company in Story Direction.

  You can find Tina here:

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  Red Sarah by Carol Ann Kauffman

  Romantic Time Travel

  Sarah approached the lifeless figure huddled on the floor. The prisoner was shackled to the wall in the small, dark, damp cell. She reached down toward his throat to make sure he was still alive.

  “No,” he growled as he pulled away from her.

  “Shh,” whispered Sarah. “I come to help you, not to hurt you. But you must be quiet. I cannot be detected in here.”

  “They will kill you… or worse,” he whispered, “for trying to help me. I am not some poor unfortunate soul. Do you have any idea who I am?”

  “Yes, I do. You are Crown Prince Lucas of the Mist Kingdom in the highland of LaMere. Let me touch your neck.”

  He moved toward her as much as he could.

  She gently touched his bearded neck. “You are very warm, Prince Lucas. I fear you have the fever.”

  “I am Prince Lucas, yes, but not the Crown Prince. My eldest brother Marcus is the Crown Prince and heir to the throne of the Mist Kingdom. I wield no power, here or in the highland. If you help me, I can do nothing for you in return. Leave this rotten stink hole at once. You only put yourself in extreme danger. There is nothing you can do for me.”

  “Oh, really?” Sarah laughed as she put a small flask to his lips. He swallowed and sighed.

  “Ahh, good. Thank you,” he whispered. “What is that?”

  “Herb-infused whiskey. It will induce a deep and heavy sleep. If you are chained to the wall in here, you may as well get some rest.” Sarah gave him more of the strong, sweet liquid. “Sleep now, Prince Lucas. I will return tomorrow night, when the guards are fast asleep. I will bring you bread and cheese. Is there something else you crave?”

  “Freedom from these bloody chains. A bath. Warmth. Clothing. Sunshine. Strawberries.”

  “Strawberries, I can do. And maybe something for the fever.”

  “Why? Why do you chance danger to bring me real food and medicine?” Lucas eyed her warily.

  “Because you need to regain your strength if I am to help you escape.”

  “Escape?” squealed Lucas with a surprisingly hearty laugh for a man in his depleted condition. “Are you daft?”

  “Shh,” whispered Sarah. “Be quiet.”

  Lucas nodded.

  “You have quite the sense of humor, lovely one,” whispered Lucas. “I am chained to the wall in a filthy dungeon in the miserable, hellish depths of Marlowe Castle. There is no escape for me. And where would I go? I am too weak to even make it to the drawbridge, let alone up the rugged terrain of the mountainside. I am alone. My people have abandoned me. And, in case you did not notice, this cell is locked.”

  “So then… how did I get in here?” Sarah smiled.

  The prince looked around in confusion.

  “Now, close your eyes.”

  Lucas closed his eyes.

  Sarah disappeared.

  The next night, Sarah appeared in the locked cell once again. “Is there anyone in here who is hungry for real food?” she whispered to the sleepy prince.

  “Ahh, there you are!” He smiled at her. “When I awoke refreshed from my deep and restful sleep, I was not sure if you were real or simply a lovely vision of my imagination.”

  “I assure you, I am real. Here,” she handed him a small cloth pouch with berries and pieces of bread and cheese and a flask of water.

  “I am most grateful,” said Lucas, “although I do not know why you do this.” Lucas lifted the cloth pouch to his nose and inhaled. “Smells wonderful.” He picked a strawberry from the pouch and ate it. “This is the best thing I have tasted since...since…”

  “How long have you been a prisoner?”

  “I do not know,” he said as he broke off pieces of cheese and bread into a smaller bite size, nibbling in a regal manner. “One sunny day I set out for a ride alone in the wooded countryside outside the castle walls to clear my mind. I needed to get away and think. I had yet another argument with my father, King Theodore of the House of Walker. Have you ever heard of him?”

  “Yes. He is a beast.”

  “Yes. He is closed-minded and stubborn, as well as vicious and brutal. Anyway, I was knocked off my horse…and I woke up in here.”

  “I heard you attacked the Marlowe hunting party while they were out gathering food. Two men were killed in the attack. The penalty here for murder is death.”

  “I attacked no one. I murdered no one. In fact, I have never taken a life. At home, my reputation is that of a lover, not a fighter. And a planter. I have a fascination with seed growth, plant care, and ways to grow more food for my people.” He smiled up at Sarah. “I was out riding by myself. I saw no one…until I woke up here.

  “Have they tortured you for information about the defenses of the Kingdom of the Mist?”

  “Four men descended upon me with clubs and straps, wanting information I did not possess. After a while, they gave up. No one has asked me anything since then. I have been locked in here alone. The conditions are deplorable and the food is not fit for livestock, but no one has struck me since, although they do threaten. The guard who brings me rations pushes them under the bottom bar on the floor and carefully backs away from me, as if he is fearful of me.”

  “How then did you get the wounds on your neck and wrists…and ankles?”

  “Every now and then, I attempt to break free by pulling away from this cold, damp wall with all my might. Illusions of strength, I guess.”

  “Please stop it. You are weakening yourself with
these self-injuries.”

  Lucas nodded.

  “I must go,” said Sarah, collecting the cloth pouch and offering Lucas one last drink from the flask.

  “What is your name?”

  “Sarah.”

  “Will you return, Sarah?”

  “Yes.”

  There was a noise in the corridor. Lucas looked toward the sound. When he looked back, Sarah was gone.

  “Dimitri, I found him. He’s locked in a cell in the dungeon, chained to the wall. He’s in bad shape. Injuries, fever, starving. I recommend immediate extraction if we’re to save his life,” Sarah spoke quietly into her mobile unit.

  “No, not yet. Something’s gone wrong. The timelines don’t match anymore.”

  “What? How can that be? They matched last year. They matched two days ago.”

  “I know. But not today. Maybe it’s just a glitch in the system. Maybe not. Are you sure he’s the Crown Prince?”

  “Yes.”

  “Keep an eye on him. Keep him alive at all costs. Contact me tomorrow night.”

  Dimitri clicked off. Sarah stared at her phone. She was assigned this mission, to save the life of the Crown Prince of the Mist, a year ago. Soon she would ‘tap’ him out of here. The mission would be over. And then what?

  The third night, Sarah returned with more of the strong, sweet sedative.

  “I come bearing bad news. Drink.” She handed him the small flask.

  Lucas took a long swig from the flask. “What is it?”

  “The date of your public execution has been set. It is soon. Word has been sent to King Theodore.”

  “My father does not care. He will not send a rescue team. I am expendable.”

  “No, Lucas, you are not. You are the Crown Prince.”

  “No, Sarah. I am the king’s third son. He has told me many times I am a major disappointment to him. I lack all the qualities necessary to rule the highland. My eldest brother, Marcus, is the Crown Prince, and my father’s favorite. He is bright and charming. He makes quick decisions. He inspires our people. And he is also a good warrior. He has been groomed all his life to assume his rightful place as king. And he will be a good one.

  “Then there is my older brother, Darius. He is second in line to the throne. He is also well-versed in all the kingly duties. He is also smart and charismatic. He is the high priest of the church of the Kingdom of the Mist. He may not be as open-minded as Marcus, nor as kind and understanding, but he can rally our people with his words of duty and honor and higher purpose. He would also make a good king.

  “My father explains it thusly: Marcus is his golden heir. Darius is his silver spare. And I am his ‘I do not care.’ I have had all the privileges and advantages of living a princely life and none of the responsibilities or expectations. I have lived a rather useless life.

  “So, tell me, what is this bad news?”

  “You…are the Crown Prince of the Mist Kingdom. Marcus was killed in a fatal fall from his horse. Darius was found dead in his church. They suspect it was poison.”

  “No! Marcus. Darius. Both my brothers are dead? That cannot be. When?”

  “It is true, Lucas. Within this month, both of your brothers have died.”

  “You say Darius may have been poisoned?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Marcus? Was it an accident or was he murdered also?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Who would do such a horrible thing? The lowland king? King Jason?”

  “I do not believe King Jason would have given such an order. He is a good and just king and a good man. He told me he just learned of your incarceration here and your impending execution for the murder of our men. King Jason expects either an attack to rescue you or a Mist bargaining unit to plead for your life. If at all possible, he will negotiate with your people. He will offer your release for land on the mountainside that was once Redland to grow more food for our people.”

  “I don’t want to go home.”

  “You would prefer to stay in this filthy hole chained to the wall?”

  “Does that give you some idea of how truly unpleasant things are at home? I could do nothing right in my father’s eyes when Marcus and Darius were alive. I can just imagine his disgust at being left with his weak, stupid, spineless, and deplorable third son, who prefers plants and seeds to swords and guns. And my mother, my only source of love and support, is, I am sure, consumed with grief and sadness over the tremendous loss she bears.”

  “I am sorry, Lucas, for the loss of your brothers, that King Theodore is your father, and that you are stuck in this horrible place. We will meet again soon. When we do, pretend we have never spoken. Trust me and I will get you out of here. And, please, do as you are bid so you will not be harmed.”

  Lucas closed his eyes and leaned back on the cold, stone wall.

  “Sarah, you do not understand. You risk so much to get me out of here and I have no place to go. I do not wish to return home. Sarah?” Lucas looked around.

  Sarah disappeared.

  “Lady Sarah,” said King Jason of Marlowe. “You would be doing me a great service if you would take a look at the Mist prisoner. His guards tell me he is injured and weak. He strains at his chains and shackles, causing his own wounds. No one knows for sure how long he has been kept in the dungeon. Surely he needs medical care, as well as better accommodations. After all, he is the Crown Prince of Mist. I know how you feel about the Misters. They killed all your people because they feared their abilities. Instead of embracing the Reds, revering them, and learning from them, they chose to round up and eliminate every Red they could find. I would understand if you would rather not help him.”

  “I know what the evil people of the Mist did to my kin, but I will look at him because you asked me, Your Majesty. Where is this prisoner?”

  “He is in the vilest, most disgusting hole in the wall in all of Marlowe, a place usually reserved for the most violent scum in the lowlands. I will not ask you to go there. I will have him brought to you.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  “I will have him cleaned up and brought to your clinic in the morning.”

  “I will look at him, I will tend his injuries, and I will administer aid and medication if needed. But, Majesty, I do not wish to be left alone with the beast. I could end up vaporized like my kin.”

  “Do not fret, Sarah. I would not put you in any danger to save him. You are far too valuable to me, to all of Marlowe, to allow that to happen. Two guards will be with you at all times. But from what I hear, I believe he is too weak to attack you.”

  “Do not underestimate the treachery of the Mist warriors, Your Majesty. Your weakened prisoner comes from a diabolical sect.”

  “True, Sarah, but I have discovered evil does not honor boundary lines. I think it must be an unfortunate part of our genetic make-up. But fear not. You will be safe. I promise it.”

  The next morning, a freshly bathed and shaven Lucas was brought to Sarah’s clinic.

  “Lady Sarah is the last of her people. Have you ever seen a Red before? A real live one?” asked Turner, the guard.

  “No,” said Lucas.

  “Their hair is as red as coppery flame and their eyes are as blue as the sky. They may look like delicate creatures, but they are powerful. And magical. Some say they are descended from an alien bloodline. Some say they are witches. They can sense things, like storms, lies, and danger. They can do things, unbelievable things, like mind control and levitation. They can cast spells. Lady Sarah is kind and gentle, and very beautiful. You are fortunate she has graciously agreed to see you and tend to your wounds. She is the last of her kind because your people herded all the Reds together, vaporized them and then stole their land.”

  “No, that is ridiculous. We did not. First of all, we have no magic weapon capable of reducing people to vapor. That is merely some fairy tale told to convince others of the great power and might of the Mist kingdom.

  “Secondly, we in the highlan
d are just like you in the lowlands. We have no special powers or superior strength.

  “And lastly, if the Reds did have this acute sense of impending danger, then how could we possibly herd them all together to kill them? They would have known they were in trouble. They could use their mind control to get away. Think about it.”

  “What you say makes sense. But I do not know,” said Turner. “I only know that one day all the Redheads in the land disappeared and your people took over the midlands. Last harvest season Lady Sarah showed up alone at the drawbridge, shaking, frightened, and alone. King Jason took her in and gave her sanctuary. He is very fond of her. You will be polite to her and do as you are bid. Any offensive action toward her will be dealt with swiftly and severely.”

  Just then Sarah entered the clinic with a basket of herbs and tinctures.

  “So this is the big, bad Mist prisoner. He does not look so fierce to me. Hold him still.”

  Sarah laid her hand upon his face. Lucas shuddered violently for a moment, then became very still.

  “Wounds on both wrists and ankles. Deep, but with care they will heal. But this one on his neck is bad, very serious. It may have to be stitched up. I’ll need these shackles removed. But wait! The king promised me two guards at all times. Where is the other guard?”

  “I do not think he is dangerous, Lady Sarah. And you just subdued him.”

  “I do not think you are supposed to think, Turner. I think you are supposed to follow orders. I do not know how effective my efforts are on these Misters. He may be immune to my spells. Two guards or I do not touch him.”

  Sarah turned and walked out of the clinic.

  Turner grumbled as he led Lucas back down the corridor to a stairwell.

  “You sit right here while I go find another guard. Do not cause yourself unnecessary grief and pain by attempting to escape.”

  Lucas nodded and sat on the stone step. He leaned against the wall. He had no desire to run away. He could maybe make it to the bottom of the steps, but then he would be caught and punished. He thought about his dear brothers, Marcus and Darius, whom he loved. He thought about how his sweet, devoted mother must be crushed with inconsolable grief. He thought of how much the people of the kingdom of Mist loved and admired Marcus and Darius, their handsome princes.