Forged Immortals
The Cardkeeper Chronicles - A Prequel
A. C. Nicholls
Contents
Forged Immortals
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Also by A. C. Nicholls
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
Copyright © 2017 by A.C. Nicholls
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Forged Immortals
The Cardkeeper Chronicles
A. C. NICHOLLS
Prologue
For many years, I’ve been Chicago’s savior. I don’t mean to gloat or sing my own praises, but I think I’ve done a pretty good job. My role, as the Vault’s Cardkeeper, is to protect a collection of magical weapons known as magicards. These cards, when wielded by a mage, grant immeasurable power to their holder.
That is why I must guard them. Can you imagine if they fell into the wrong hands?
Mages aren’t the only problem. I find myself caught in the fight between vampires and werewolves, and although I don’t like to take a side, the wolves seem to reason better than the blood-suckers do. Then there are the demons, sprites, witches, and other creatures you didn’t think existed. Hell, even my best friend is a faery.
A faery.
Amidst all the daily heroism, I don’t get much time to reflect. When I do, however, I think back to a time before the cards fell into my hands – before I engaged in frequent life-threatening battles with monsters twice my size.
I think of a time when I was mortal.
What you’re about to read is my account of what happened twenty-eight years ago. My time as Chicago’s guardian is almost up, and in case anything happens to me, I want the truth to be documented. That way, no lies can be told and no false stories can be whispered.
My name is Keira Poe, and this is how it happened.
Chapter 1
Unaware that my mortal life was coming to an end, I strolled the cold streets of Chicago. I was wrapped up in a long coat that my mother used to wear before she’d passed. It was hardly fashionable, but I liked how warm it kept me. I could still smell my mother’s perfume on the fur collar and, somehow, it made me feel safe.
There was no set destination. I only needed air. My independent cake-baking business didn’t get me out of my apartment much. Sometimes there were deliveries to make, and sometimes I had to run out for some last-minute ingredients, but I lived a pretty solitary life.
That was about to change.
I broke from my usual walking route, desperately depressed and willing to do anything to break the cycle. Not one to sit and mope, I always looked for ways to make myself feel better. Sometimes a change of direction did the trick, and I kept this in mind as I padded down 81st Street, stopping at the community basketball courts. They were empty, the lights off and the courts standing silent like they held a great secret. I leaned against the chain-link fence, weak in the knees and dreading having to go home. It felt cramped in there, suffocating. I knew I would be there all day tomorrow (baking a wedding cake for the lucky spinster Miss Ford and her gold-digging new man), so for now, I wanted to keep as far away as possible.
I didn’t realize I was making such a big mistake.
The faint sound of voices reached my ears, speaking in low and angry tones – aggressive whispers. Like anyone else with an imagination and a faint hint of curiosity, I craned my neck and listened closely as I tried to locate their source. When I realized it was coming from the back of the courts, I peered closer and began to recognize movement in the darkness.
Danger lurked around every corner and someone might need help. I turned to walk away, but as much as I wanted to flee the scene, a part of me knew that I’d regret it later, and feel nothing but shame. With this in mind, I slowly opened the whining metal gate and entered the courts.
I crept softly along the ground, almost silent with my hand raised above my eyes as if it would help me see better. It didn’t. All it did was block out what little light reflected down from the darkened sky.
I considered shouting, calling out to demand the arguers show themselves. By the time I decided not to, it was too late anyway. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could clearly make out three figures. They shoved around a fourth, laughing while they tossed that person around like a ragdoll.
“What’s going on here?” I asked.
The figures stopped and turned, letting the smaller one slump to the ground with an oomph. The guttural sound made it clear that it was a man. Perhaps even an older man, unable to defend himself against even one of these thugs, much less three.
“What’s it to you?” one of the hoodlums asked.
“It’s everything to me. This is my neighborhood.”
My response earned a laugh from the misdemeanor peanut gallery. I stood still, embarrassed. In all honesty, I was pretty damn scared, too. This area of town had a violent reputation, and a sort-of-pretty white girl wasn’t likely to last long against three burly bullies.
“It’s your neighborhood, huh?” The first guy, the biggest and most intimidating, stepped away from the old man and began to circle me. “See, I don’t recall ever seeing your face around here. But me? My family been here since fo’ever. I’m saying you’re in my neighborhood. You know what that means?”
I swallowed, but tried to temper it. The blood raged through my body, ending at my throbbing temples, but I couldn’t let weakness show. “Sure I do. It means you’re confused. And I’m guessing that your little bitches here aren’t strong enough to voice their own opinions. That would explain why you all have nothing better to do than hang around here all night; you’re all just sheep.”
The slap came hard and fast. It struck me across my cheek, knocking me straight to the ground. Blood rushed to my face, and I felt the heat beneath my skin crawl toward the surface. When I looked up, the old man was scurrying away. Good. At least the attention was on me now. If I died tonight, at least it would be while standing up for something.
“Little girl needs to be taught some manners,” another guy said from in front of me.
“What do you think, Ray?” said the first man.
“Oh, I think a little surgery might make her show some respect.”
“For real.”
I noticed the knife in his hand, and my heart began to hammer. Before I could react, one of them dragged me up to my feet, my hair pulled taut and my chin raised. I began to struggle, but it was no good. I just wasn’t strong enough.
“Now,” Ray said, the sharp blade of his knife glinting from the sliver of moon, “where we gonna cut first, eh?”
Hearing the word ‘cut’ sent shivers through me. I wanted to squirm, to thrash around and protest, but I knew that would only make things worse. Instead, I willed a mask of fake calm to settle over my features.
“Slice up that pretty face,” said the first man.
“But there won’t be nothin’ left to kiss.”
Then they laughed. Laughed.
I remained immo
bile, frozen in horror.
“What do you say, girly-girl?” Ray stepped forward, lowering the knife to my stomach. The point of the blade popped the buttons off my coat, and lifted the now-exposed shirt off my skin. As the kiss of the chilly air met my bare skin, I felt the cold, threatening metal of the knife.
“Look, guys, I think this is going too far,” I said in my calmest tone. A slight tremor laced my voice. Had they heard it? I had. I clamped my eyes shut for a few seconds, indulging in the blessed blackness. Maybe if I shut them tight enough, this nightmare would end. Opening them, I pierced Ray with a steely glare. “How about you put down the knife, and then we’ll all just turn around and head home. Nobody has to do anything stupid.”
Ray’s eyes widened, his mouth hung open, exposing his rotten teeth. “You callin’ me stupid?”
I fought my willful need to be cocky. A sensible person might have begged forgiveness, or at least attempted to rephrase. But me? No, I was far too self-confident to swallow my pride. I gave in to my urges. “I guess.”
Ray’s fist rocketed at my face and connected. It didn’t hurt as much as the slap had, but the knuckles caught me right on the nose, bringing tears to my eyes. My vision blurred and I stumbled back. I would have, anyway, if I hadn’t been so fiercely restrained.
“Let’s try that again,” said Ray, leaning in real close now. His breath stank of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and something else. Something musty. “Do you think I’m stupid, bitch?”
My hands trembled. I’d have given anything to wring them together but they had both arms pinned behind my back. The roots of my hair hurt from the restraint. I glanced behind Ray and saw the third guy’s eyes dart back and forth, but I couldn’t tell what he was looking at. When my eyes went back to Ray, I forced out a false grin. “I think…” I licked my upper lip, tasting the warm, metallic blood as it trickled from my nose. “I think it’s a possibility.”
The first man – the one holding me tight – grunted and threw me to one side. I felt my feet come off the ground as I hurled toward the nearest fence. My back struck first and I began to topple, losing my balance and dropping to the floor like a sack of rocks. Before I knew it, footsteps rushed toward me and heels stomped against my ribs. I covered myself with my arms, but it did nothing against the barrage. My voice caught in my throat. I began to wheeze. Why had I been so mouthy, so determined to look tough?
I couldn’t see. Tears filled my eyes as the attackers struck my face. Three pairs of boots pummeled me all over, ganging up against a defenseless girl. I could feel myself blacking out, losing consciousness… or worse.
A light pierced my vision.
The brightness blinded me, so harsh that it hurt to look at, even through my swollen eyes. The kicking eased off, and I heard the angry questioning from the three men. I couldn’t identify the source of the light. I’d never seen anything like it. It contained an almost unearthly tint of pink as it beamed forth with uncommon strength.
“Shit, man,” Ray said. “Let’s get out of here.”
The rushed footsteps of the men quieted as they sank further into the distance. The light began to fade, and I tried to raise my head to gauge my condition. A part of me was scared that I was in more trouble than I had been a minute ago, but I was also relieved to be able to feel my face again. My skin felt bruised, my lips swollen.
I strained open an eye and tried to focus. The figure of a man wavered before me like a ghostly apparition. Was it the old man who had taken flight? Had he run for help and sent someone to assist me? My gut told me differently.
When the person turned and walked away, I was left utterly alone.
As I lay there in the corner of the dark court, one arm wrapped around my aching ribs and the other pushing me slowly off the ground, I realized that someone had saved me. I didn’t know who it was, or why they didn’t want to take credit for it.
But I was going to find out.
Chapter 2
Over the next few days, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being followed. Every corner I turned, people gave me funny looks. Every time I stared someone down, they walked off and hightailed it out of there. I even noticed the same person a couple of times, which almost never happened in Chicago. Not for me, at least.
By Monday night, it all made sense.
The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, and I was tidying my tiny apartment. I couldn’t afford a stereo, but I had a Michael Jackson song stuck in my head. As I repeated the tune of the chorus over and over, my eyes drifted to the front door, where a shadow danced underneath.
I held my breath and didn’t move. Break-ins weren’t entirely uncommon in this area, but I had never been victimized in that way. Besides, with all the strange happenings since the attack, I had good reason to be cautious.
I didn’t own a gun, so I grabbed a butcher knife off the kitchen counter and tip-toed barefoot across the room, careful not to creak any floorboards. I peered through the peephole. Nothing. My grip tightened around the hilt of the knife. What if it was one of the guys from the basketball court? What if they’d been following me, so they could come to my home and finish me off? It seemed likely, and with the general response time of the Chicago Police, I was better off taking action myself.
Hands shaking, I sucked in a deep breath and counted to three, then flung open the door. My hand came up to my side as I caught sight of a tall figure in a strange, silky robe, leaning against the wall outside my apartment. I couldn’t help it; my gut reaction led me to raise the knife, pinning the guy with one hand and threatening the blade with the other.
“What the hell do you want from me?” I spat, faking bravado.
All I could see under the hood was a mouth… widening into a smile.
“What’s so funny? Get away from me, and stay away. You hear?”
The man’s smile turned into a hysterical laugh. Calmly, still chuckling, he moved my hands away from him and stood up straight. Before I knew it, I stood with my hands at my sides, staring at this mysterious intruder.
“I’ve been watching you, Keira Poe.”
Those words sliced right through me. I watched in silence as he removed his hood, revealing the kind face of a man. He must have been in his thirties, with a dark complexion, long, black hair and eyes that pierced my soul. Not what I expected at all.
“Who are you?”
“Please forgive my attire,” he said, gesturing to his dark robe. “My name is Francis Sayre, but please, call me Francis.”
I studied him, wanting to trust but unwilling to lower my guard. I had to remember that this man was still a stranger to me. “You say that like it explains your presence.”
“Another detail that is better shown than told. Only, I fear this may be an inappropriate place to explain. May I come in?”
“No. Strangers aren’t welcome inside. Tell me why you’re here. Tell me why you talk funny. I want to know everything, right down to why you’ve been following me. It was you, right? At the market, and the clothing store, and the bar?”
He nodded slowly. “Yes. But I really think we should do this inside.”
“What’s wrong with here?”
Francis shot me a look of impatience, spread out his palm, and aimed it at the ceiling. A moment later, small, bright-pink lights began to weave around his fingers. The glow lit up the landing, the tails of light dancing in his palm. Mortified, I watched, not only wondering what the hell was going on, but also feeling a wave of familiarity. Something about it seemed – incredibly – not entirely out of place.
And then it registered.
“It was you, wasn’t it? At the basketball courts.”
Francis nodded. “Now, let’s not continue out here, where mortals might see.”
“Mortals…”
Before I could make another demand for clarity, he turned away from me and entered my apartment, walking so fast that I had no time to stop him. Instead, I closed the door behind me and followed him into my tiny living room, which was
also my bedroom… and kitchen… and dining room.
“Small,” he said, and nothing more.
“Yeah, right.” I stood beside him, both nervous and curious. “What was that? The thing you just did with your hand. Some kind of trick?”
Francis shook his head. “There are no tricks here. Just good, old-fashioned magic.”
I stifled a laugh, and folded my arms. “Magic?”
“Yes.”
Silence fell between us, during which I tried to take in his bizarre explanations. Who was this man? How did he know my name and address? Why would he come in here with all of his illusionary, attempting to impress me?
“Look,” I said, trying not to sound rude. “I’m being as patient as possible, but I need to start getting some answers. Why have you been following me?”
Francis shifted his robe and took a seat on the arm of my couch. “You have to forgive me. I’ve been seeking a replacement for some time. It wasn’t until your actions at the basketball court that I decided you were suitable. After that, I had to follow you, to make sure you were worthy. It seems that kindness comes naturally to you. As does courage.”
A cold chill traveled through me, spreading gooseflesh on every inch of exposed skin. Good thing a psychopath hadn’t been following me, but this guy’s identity didn’t really answer any of my questions, either. After all, this man was still a stranger. “You say you’re seeking a replacement? For what?” I glanced at his robe. “I know, you’re a regular at Davey’s Pajama Parties, right?”
Francis smiled. “Very good, Lady Keira. Very good, indeed.”
“And what’s with this ‘Lady Keira’ stuff? Keira will do just fine.”
“As you wish.”
His evasive bullshit was starting to grate on my last nerve. “I really think you should start answering my questions. It’s getting late and I have work tomorrow.”
Forged Immortals - A Prequel Page 1