Slayer in Lace: The Beginning
Page 8
The rest of her bullets emptied into the creatures rushing for her before she grabbed her trusty knife from her skirts. She’d slice them to ribbons, if necessary. Another blast of energy burst out in a shockwave so thick, everyone within flew off their feet.
Dazed from the crash, Emma’s hand lifted to find blood trickling from the side of her head as a pair of arms snaked around her neck. In desperation she grasped at them, her urgent, crescendo of a cry growing.
“You’re on my list, Miss Clearwater.”
Chester Graves stood with the solid aid of his machine. The dots which danced before her vision refused to diminish under the rapidity of her blinks. Chester stepped forward through a wall shimmering with a darkened swirl of night. The moment the last of his tailcoat vanished, so too did the portal.
Every creature’s body upon which she had come to rest sunk into piles of ashes shrouded only by the coats and hats left behind. Each one sounded like a swift hourglass which had met its end too soon.
Thunderous steps flooded nearer, and she was relieved at the sight of their friends.
“What happened?” Oliver asked, as the group strategically poked at each pile of clothing to be certain nothing remained behind.
“Oh, just a psychotic man escaping into a portal.” Callom shrugged before he jumped to his feet and plucked Emma up.
“Oh,” Logan drawled, “that’s all?”
Henrietta’s concern for Emma had her prodding the wound on the side of Emma’s head. “You do make terrible company at times, I hope you know,” Henrietta said with the softest of grins.
“Oh, I’m well aware. I don’t suppose you have a spare gown, do you?”
Brightly, Henrietta laughed
“Does anyone here know dark magic?” Brett’s question seized everyone’s attention toward the center of the room. “I have no idea what any of this means, but I can’t imagine it’s good.”
In a hurry they all crowded around him to see the book cradled in his hands. Each page seemed more sinister than the last, crowded with sharp-edged symbols and dates yet to come.
Wherever Chester Graves had gone, he wouldn’t be gone for long.
Chapter 10
Whether it had been fate or destiny that led him to Emma, he now sat within her father’s home with leaders from both sides. More lives would have been lost by their petty feuds, and now, nearly to the end of their meeting, they’d managed to convince both dragonborne and slayer that they weren’t always natural-born enemies.
Callom nudged the book that had started it all into the table’s center. “The translations within explain that once the slayers were called Siraeses. They acted as guardians and protectors of the dragonborne, and their bonds were strong.”
He glanced toward Emma, who plucked her amulet out from beneath her neckline. “Many of us have long since had pieces of jewelry with missing stones. In both text and practice, we discovered that dragonborne, at least some of you, may hold the missing pieces. When placed together, a bond is created that fortifies strengths and abilities.”
For a moment, Emma hesitated. “In the heat of battle, I instinctively knew where Cal—Mr. Smythe was. Our actions worked in tandem and made us more effective in battle. Together.”
Murmurs drew up around the table, with Callom’s snow-haired father the loudest. Callom reassured his worries. “She speaks the truth, Father. Either one of us would have perished had we not been so in sync.”
“Then,” Emma’s father sighed heavily, as if such an admission would maim him, “we must make search of these amulets and stones.”
Emma herself smiled, and the sight of it warmed Callom.
“And,” she added, strong of voice, “we must agree to an alliance and move forward stronger together.”
For a moment Callom’s eyes connected with his father’s. For years the man had staunchly detested the slayers. He had killed them when he had the chance and would have slaughtered entire villages in search of someone he thought had wronged his people. Now, the man offered a single nod that brought Callom to his feet.
“As the newly appointed King of the dragonborne, I hereby extend a hand in offer of an official alliance. On my honor, never shall we harm a Siraeses and always shall we work together.”
With a nudge from the others, Emma’s father rose to his feet. “We of the Siraeses accept such an alliance and hereby extend the same offer. If once we were protectors, then protectors we shall be.”
Much to Callom’s amazement, a ripple of cheers erupted, mainly from their friends who’d escaped to a nearby room to eavesdrop after giving their own testimonies involving their fight against Chester Graves.
“Well then, if that is all,” the head of the Collins’ family and Henrietta’s father said, “I must be off. I’ve brandy to drink and jewelry to find.”
It was the perfect farewell to send everyone scattering. Callom shook the hand of every passing Siraeses family head, except for Thomas Clearwater, who’d dawdled behind in his own home. When everyone had left, Callom still lingered. He stood within the front parlor, staring out the window with watchful eyes as their carriages set off into the city.
On the street, Logan himself turned back to offer him a quizzical look. It took a single wave of his hand to send his friend on his way.
Though his back faced the door, he felt Emma’s presence in the room long before he heard her quiet steps nearing the crackling fire. In the window’s reflection, he saw her sit.
“It seems you’ve earned yourself a rest,” Callom said, breaking the silence and concentrating on the gentle curve of her lips.
“And you as well, though you don’t strike me as a restful type of man.”
“Neither do you, Ms. Clearwater.”
Quietly, she laughed. “My father could tell many stories of my restlessness.”
“None which ended well!” Thomas shouted from the hall as he walked back toward his private study.
Her father’s interruption stirred anxiety in Callom.
“Emma.” He hesitated as she turned casually toward him.
“Yes?”
“I wanted to—”
A voice interrupted as the footman appeared. “Miss Clearwater, Mr. Milton’s carriage has just arrived.”
“Thank you,” she said before the man left.
“I need to return home,” he said as Emma rose to her feet.
They walked toward the door in silence, as Callom struggled with warring desires. He agonized over Emma’s engagement, wishing he could remove her fiancé and claim her, without putting a caveat into their newly formed alliance.
“What were you about to say earlier?” Emma asked, shaking him from his thoughts as he paused with his scarf halfway around his neck. Gentle as ever, she stared up at him. She was beautiful, and into her eyes he let himself fall, drawn in like a magnet without wings.
He allowed his eyes to show her he was in love with her.
“Emma, dear!” A foreign voice, that of her fiancé’s, shattered their moment.
“I should go,” Callom said, as he stepped out the door past the man he detested.
He stared at the confused squint of Frederick Milton’s wayward mud-brown eyes and ignored greeting Frederick. He heard Emma’s crystalline voice greet the man she’d marry. The man she’d kiss. The man she’d love.
Halfway across the street, Callom turned around to where Emma stood in the man’s tight embrace. Yet it wasn’t to Frederick that she looked but out into the street, into Callom’s distant eyes.
He saw it then, the admission written in her gaze.
Whether she was ready to acknowledge it or not, Emma Clearwater wanted him just as much as he desired her. Today, she was Frederick Milton’s fiancée. But the journey to husband and wife was a long one, and he wouldn’t give up.
On her. On them.
The End . . . for now.
Thank you for reading Slayer in Lace, Book Zero of the Lace Revolver Chronicles!
About the Authors
> D.D. Miers is an ardent book lover, coffee enthusiast, and die-hard romance fan. When she's not writing, she can be found snuggling on the couch with a good book in hand, planning a Harry Potter themed party, or dancing very badly to music. She currently resides in beautiful Southern California with her wonderful husband, a crazy toddler, and the many different characters in her head.
Visit D.D. at her website: https://www.ddmiers.com/
Jessica Soucy is a lover of masterful villains, dark fantasy, and hot romance. Residing in South Carolina, the transplanted Mainer has no qualms about staying in the air conditioning with a good book or pen and paper. Coffee fuels her writing, but when caffeine isn’t on the table she can be found cursing at her sewing machine in the spirit of cosplay, bingeing period dramas on Netflix, and dreaming about her next trip to Disneyland.
Visit Jessica at her website: http://jessicasoucy.com/
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