Winter Rising: an Urban Fantasy Novel (Coldharbour Chronicles Book 1)

by Richard Amos

  You really didn’t need booze to make clubbing any more fun. Bloody hell! I was having the best time I’d ever had. My shirt was stuck to my back, every bit of me sweating like a pig. I was so bloody liberated, so high from the fun.

  Something pulled at my shirt.

  I looked down to see a goblin man staring up at me, anger in his big brown eyes. His arms were crossed, and he was tapping his right foot.

  “Er, hi!” I shouted down to him.

  He beckoned me down to his level. I obliged. No one saw him or me going down—probably looked like I was pulling out some new dance move. He put his mouth to my ear, and for a moment I thought he was gonna bite it off.

  “I think it’s shameful the way you expose yourself.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “What did your mother think when you posed for those pictures? Did you shame her? I’d be ashamed. Disgusting!”

  His face was purple with rage. Ah! The husband of my admirer I’d yet to encounter.

  “My mum’s dead,” I said. I probably could’ve been a bit more tactful, but fuck him.

  He spluttered, turned on his heel and stalked off.

  “Oh, shit,” Greg said. “It’s him!”

  “Yep.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Not much.” Judging by the way he kept looking back, he wasn’t done. He’d take time to formulate a response, and I’d be ready for him.

  “What a prat.”

  The goblin stopped and started gesticulating at what could only be another goblin, as he wasn’t looking up. I couldn’t make out the one receiving his clear ranting through the sea of bodies, but I took a wild guess.

  And she stepped into view, waving him off and coming at me, a huge grin on her face. She was all dressed up in gold, her hair done in a brown beehive. I got hints of rosewater from her.

  “Oh, my!” she yelled up at me.

  Greg snorted in my ear.

  I bent my knees. “Er, hi.”

  She batted her eyelashes at me—lashes so big I swear they were fanning my face.

  “Ignore my husband,” she said. “Not my problem he’s boring in bed, and I need to feast my eyes.”

  I was blushing. Dammit!

  She giggled. “Oh, so bashful. I just wanted to say that it is a pleasure to meet you.” She shot her husband, who looked fit to explode, a scathing look over her shoulder. “He’s no fun anymore, doesn’t like doing anything but weaving and watching the TV. And to think his name is Randy!”

  “Thanks for all you do,” I said, not really knowing what else to say.

  “Same to you.” She looked me over appreciatively. “Gorgeous. I’m such a fan. I know he gave your friend there one of my copies, but I have a secret stash—including the black and white ones.” She winked.

  Greg snorted like the damned piggy he was, and I nearly fell over.

  “I, er …”

  She touched my knee. “Thanks for keeping the cold nights so hot.”

  I came so close to crashing my backside to the dance floor. Greg steadied me, laughing in my ear.

  “Name’s Rose,” she said. “See you around.” She blew me a kiss and then returned to her husband, who was an animator short of having flames coming out of his ears.

  “That was the best thing ever!”

  “Shut the fuck up.” I straightened, regaining composure, turning my back on the goblin couple. “I hate this city.”

  “What was that about?” Nay asked, throwing an arm around me.

  Greg took great delight in explaining.

  “And you’ve kept this magazine a secret?” She punched Greg lightly on the shoulder. “I knew you were up to something earlier! I demand to see it as soon as we’re home.”

  “I hate this city, and I hate both of you.”

  Nay kissed me on the cheek and Greg ruffled my hair, which was obviously destroyed by sweat anyway. He pulled a face and wiped his hand on me. I took delight in the power of sweat and hair gel grossing him out.

  “What’s the time?” I said.

  “Nearly midnight, babe,” Nay said. “Time to go back to Mr. Spoilsport and reality.”

  “How fucking depressing.”

  “Damned bloody right it is,” Greg said.

  “Hi, Nay,” said a familiar voice I just about heard over the music.

  Crystal strode past, absolutely knock-out in a white dress showing off leg and bosom, her hair curly with what looked like diamonds scattered in it. And she smelled expensive. There was a gorgeous man on her arm, dark haired and gray-eyed, dressed sharply in black and white. He smiled at me and the two of them wove their way into the heart of the dance floor.

  That man … I cocked my head. The voice was my own inner thoughts, not the creepy female one. Who is that man?

  “What the actual fuck?”

  I snapped out of my little trance. Greg was seething.

  “Calm down,” Nay said.

  I put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, mate. She—”

  “How the hell is this okay?”

  That man … I looked over. The pair of them were all hands and close bodies, eyes locked, in their own little world that should have been Greg and Crystal, not her and him.

  That man …

  “I’m gonna smash his fucking face in!” He surged forward, and I grabbed him, pulling him back. Nay helped. It wasn’t easy. Greg was muscle and power, like trying to stop a bull going for a matador waving red silk.

  “Not worth it, mate!” I cried, losing my battle.

  I saw Crystal look over, laughing at the spectacle.

  “Why’s she being such a bitch?”

  “She’s hurt,” I said.

  Greg froze. “Oh, fuck.”

  “Yep,” Nay said, relief in her face. “Why’d you say that stuff to her about not expecting much?”

  His shoulders sagged. “Obvious, right? Because of all this shit.”

  “I know but now look.”

  “I’m an idiot.”

  “Yeah, you are.” She put an arm around him. “But your heart’s in the right place.”

  “Shit.”

  Crystal looked over again, no laughing or sly grin. She looked … I don’t know, sad, kind of, but also mad. And that man …

  That man …

  I stared at him. He never looked at me, but I couldn’t pull myself away. He was hiding something from me. Beast? Surely the creepy voice would tell me.

  A dark figure broke my staring, cutting through the crowd. His white eye flashed at me, and so did his malevolent grin.

  Everything, all of my rage and sadness, came rising up, ready to erupt. I went after him, moving quickly. He went down a stairwell to the back of the club. I could hear my friends calling after me, but I shut them out. Rage was pulling the strings, my mind reset to its ‘Destroy Him’ mode.

  I went down the stairs, turning a corner to face an open door. I went through, stepping down into a cellar filled with barrels of beer, wine racks fully stocked, and boxes of liquors.

  In the center of it all, there he was in his long black coat, looking as he always did.

  “Good to see you alive and well,” he said.

  “Can’t say the same for you.”

  “Jake!” Greg and Nay came through the door.

  The white eye guy waved a hand and sent a pulse of power at them, sending them crashing onto the stairs. The door slammed shut. Pounding and calls of my name followed.

  I was trapped with him. My hands balled into fists.

  “I wanted to talk to you,” he said.

  “And I want to kill you.” I charged forward. I didn’t get more than a foot before I was held in place with whatever mojo it was he had.

  “Let me go!”

  “Shut up and listen,” he said.

  “You—”

  “I’ll burn this club to the ground, with everyone in it. You want that, do you? Don’t test me, Jake, because I’ll do anything to make you listen to me.”

  He was the kind of scum
who would. I shut up. Couldn’t move anyway.

  “We understanding each other?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. Now, you need to protect our furry friend.”

  “The cat?”

  “Yep. His name’s Luke.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “He needs looking after.”

  “Jake!” The door rattled on its hinges.

  “What are you?” I said.

  “Help Luke. If not, you’re really, really fucked.”

  “Why?”

  “Jake!”

  “Don’t take pity. He’s dangerous and needs to be dead.”

  “Why should I do anything you ask?”

  “Because we’re only just beginning, Jake. You have so much to offer, but there’s forces working against us. You’re a special gift.”

  Gift … Holy crap! “Tell me what you mean!”

  The door burst open. Power surged forward and sent me flying into my friends. The white eye guy leapt over me. I reached out to try and grab the hem of his coat and missed.

  “Fuck!”

  I scrambled to my feet, noticing Dean had joined the party, and rushed up the stairs. The club had been completely oblivious to everything, still getting on with the night as normal.

  I couldn’t see him, not one trace. I made my way outside.

  “Jake?” Sam said. “What’s up? Too hot in there?”

  “Did you see a man in a long black coat?”

  “Can’t say I did.”

  Then he was still inside. I spun and crashed into Dean. He grabbed me by the shoulders. “You need to calm the fuck down right now.”

  “Get off me.” I tried to shrug him off, but he held tight. His dark eyes flared, and I was locked onto them, dangling over the edge of those twin pools of obsidian.

  “Calm. Down.”

  Greg and Naomi came rushing to me.

  “Are you okay?” Nay said.

  “Bloody hell!” Greg exclaimed. “Don’t you ever run off like that again!”

  My lungs were working overtime, eyes still on Dean.

  “Calm down,” he said softly.

  “Everything okay?” Sam said.

  Nay moved round to go talk to her.

  “Calm down,” he said again.

  The tension was slowly leaving, my lungs getting the chance to have a break from the frantic drawing in and letting out of breath. My racing heart was soothing to a normal pace. Rational thought was coming back.

  I really shouldn’t have run off like that.

  “I’m sorry,” I said weakly. I was shaking, about to lose it. A tsunami of images, all of Lucy and Michael, hit me.

  Greg moved round to pull me into a bear hug. “I got you, mate.”

  Arms snaked around my waist, a head on my back. “Me too,” Nay said.

  I was still staring at Dean over Greg’s shoulder. He did the same, not saying anything, but as reassuring as the two who held me. He had my back, they all did.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  Greg and Naomi squeezed me a little harder.

  Chapter 32

  After patrolling the area in the car, we hit a kebab shop, gathering around a table for four with Cokes and sharing a massive box of cheesy fries that no one was touching.

  The elated mood I’d experienced from dancing had gone, the rawness of seeing a woman murdered less than twenty-four hours ago fully back to remind me that reality was always there to show its face.

  “These look good,” Greg said. He was sitting next to me, pulling three fries from the box, stringy cheese coming with them. He wound the cheese around the fries, then dropped them back in the box.

  A couple of guys staggered in, ordering some kebabs and chatting loudly about someone called Jessie.

  “So the white eye guy is some kind of witch, then?”

  “Using power like that,” Nay said, “I’d say he is. Another layer to the mystery.”

  “Still doesn’t explain how he could leave Coldharbour and come back again,” Dean said. “He must have some skill to pull that off unnoticed.”

  “Our systems should’ve picked something up,” Greg said.

  “Maybe they’re weakening,” Dean said.

  “No reports of weakness,” Nay said. “There would be a trace, you know that.”

  “Who the hell is he?” I said softly. Why didn’t my power give me some clues?

  Because he wasn’t a beast.

  “He must be someone in the know of how the power around the city works,” I added.

  “But that doesn’t make sense,” Nay answered. “He’s protected you, helped you—”

  “And killed my husband.”

  “He knows what you are, Jake,” Dean jumped in. “Went to great lengths to make sure you got here. I don’t know how murdering your husband factors into the plan, but it does. He wants you here.”

  “He called me a gift. Shit!” The smell of the kebabs and chips wafted toward me, and my stomach turned. Dean went to answer when DI Williams strode in with a male uniformed officer. She looked at me, blinked, her eyes sliding over to Dean for a long moment. He was looking right back at her. She smiled, he did the same before she turned and made her order. The two guys waiting for their food went down a few decibels.

  Dean scratched his chin with a tiny smile on his face. He picked up some fries and popped them into his mouth—a mindless action.

  What the hell was that? Had something been go on between them on the nights he had off to himself? Not that he’d had many lately. Guess his idea of blowing off steam wasn’t on the same level as the dancing stuff. Maybe now he could have his own relief, and we’d all be on the same level, his being pissed off over with.

  Nail-biting commenced.

  Dean looked at me, the smile gone from his face.

  “Floyd,” I said.

  He cocked an eyebrow. “What about him?”

  From the corner of my eye, I could see the detective was staring at him.

  “Well, maybe he can come up with some answers about him.”

  “Tricky,” Greg said. “If the bloke’s not a beast, it’s not gonna be easy for Floyd to help.”

  “But Floyd said about me being a gift, and the white eye guy called me one too.”

  Dean’s eyes flicked to the counter, then back to me.

  “There’s a beast connection to what Floyd said,” Nay added, “so we’ll find how the white eye guy is involved through that.”

  “Brain freeze,” I said.

  “I know, babe.”

  “So,” Greg said. “We have a lung-stealer, a purple-haired woman with an old lady as her best friend, a cat man, and a potential witch involved. Yeah, my brain too.”

  I took a swig of my drink, watching Dean’s eyes dance back and forth. “Distracted?” I asked.

  “I was listening,” he said.

  Nay leaned closer to him. “You and her?”

  “Once,” he said.

  “Once what?” I asked.

  “In her car,” he said.

  Greg snorted. “No way!”

  “Yep.” His gaze fell on me.

  “You into one night stands, then?” I said.

  “Not really, but it’s been a while and I’m not dead.”

  “What about your girlfriend?”

  “She’s out in the world living her life,” he said. “So that’s that.” He popped some more fries into his mouth. The cheese dangled from his lips. His eyes were back on her. He grinned, wiping the cheese away in a suggestive manner.

  Whatever.

  Will he give her his scarf?

  Crystal and the hot guy walked in. The temperature seemed to drop.

  What the hell was wrong with this place? Did it draw everyone to it? The white eye guy would be next, followed by Purple and the cat man.

  The detective and the policeman left, followed by the two guys in silence behind them. She threw some more little smiles Dean’s way before disappearing down Rainbow, the two guys heading in th
e opposite direction sheepishly.

  Crystal paused at our table, the man’s arm around her waist.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “You okay?” Nay asked.

  Greg bristled beside me, not looking up, mouth firmly shut.

  “Oh, I’m having a great night.” She flipped her hair. “Hi, Greg.”

  “All right?” He didn’t look up.

  “Whatcha want to eat, baby?” the man said.

  Baby? Greg’s hands were fists on the table.

  “Why don’t you get me a chicken wrap?” she said. “I just want to talk with these guys for a moment.”

  “Sure thing, baby.” He kissed her and headed up to the counter, throwing me a cold look.

  Prick!

  “Greg?” she said. “You listening?”

  “Yeah,” he replied, looking up. “I’m fucking listening.”

  She scowled at him. “Good. You need to know what you are—a heartbreaker who needs to grow up. Big time. This is what it’s like to have a man take you out, for him to be proud to have you on his arm.”

  “Is it?”

  If daggers could shoot from her eyeballs, they would. “What did you have to offer? Oh, sex and nothing else, no life beyond fooling around. Yeah, that works for no woman, Greg. You’re a waste of space.”

  “Don’t call him that,” I said.

  “What the fuck do you know?” she said.

  “Why don’t you go and get your chicken wrap?” Nay said.

  “Oh, defending him again!” Crystal snapped. “First you stick up for me, then him—you’re as confusing as he is. I feel sorry for Sam.”

  Nay was on her feet. “Back off, Crystal.”

  “My caring fucking friend Naomi. What a joke! All you care about is yourself and how blue your hair is. Which, by the way, I’ve always hated. Makes you look washed out. There, finally some honesty.”

  “You want honesty, bitch? I think you’re the most shameless person in this city. Look at you, thinking you’re all that and flaunting this man in front of Greg. Has he done that to you with some hottie? No. The man has his faults, but he’s not a player, and he has his reasons for not being able to … settle down.”