﻿A fidus Aranea Kevin L. O'Brien Smashwords Edition +++ Text Copyright 2013 by Kevin L. O'Brien Cover design and typography copyright 2014 by Kevin L. O'Brien Trajan Pro font distributed under an end user license by Carol Twombly and Adobe +++ License Notes Thank you for downloading this ebook. It is licensed for your personal enjoyment and remains the copyrighted property of the author. This ebook may not be sold, reproduced, or copied, whether for commercial or non-commercial purposes, but it may be given away if no changes are made. If you enjoyed this book and would like to share it, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from Smashwords or their favorite online retailer, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support, and for respecting the hard work of this author. Please consider writing a review for this book on the retailer's website. If you see any misspellings or typographical errors, please notify Kevin L. O'Brien using one of his online social networks. Thank you. First printed 2008 in Help (Lulu) +++ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents, including those based on the real world, are either products of the imagination of Kevin L. O'Brien or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Because some ebook platforms do not support special characters, certain words may appear misspelled, but this was done deliberately to avoid the problem of the platforms deleting the characters. Also, the LRF platform used by older models of the Sony Reader does not permit the use of links to external URLs, whereas the PDB platform used by Palm reading devices does not support any form of linking whatsoever. +++ Table of Contents Preface A fidus Aranea About the Author Other Books by Kevin L. O'Brien Connect with Kevin L. O'Brien Sample Excerpts +++ Preface The faith of children is proverbial. If a child trusts you, you can tell her anything and she will believe you even if others tell her you're wrong. And this trust can sometimes be easily granted. For example, a beloved story becomes a gospel that rivals that of the Bible. It will even extend to personal experience. Once a child convinces herself something is true based on her own observation, she will hold to that belief regardless of the evidence arrayed against it, until her trust is betrayed. This faith can produce over-confidence, which in turn can make a child brave beyond her years. This can lead to disaster if her faith is misplaced, but, as an old saying claims, fate protects little children, along with fools and ships named Enterprise ["Contagion", Season 2, Episode 11, Star Trek: The Next Generation]. By the way, the title is Latin (based on a fidus Achates), and is meant to translate to "faithful spider". Back to TOC +++ Wendy thought doing magic was supposed to be difficult. From the way her Uncle Timothy had described it, it sounded like it took years of study and practice to get even simple spells right. But she did one right the first time without knowing anything about it. All she had to do was draw the web-design on the cement floor of the basement, stand in the open center, and repeat the simple phrase, "Fun-gluey miggle-naffle Atlash-Nacha Voormit-adret wagga-naggle fatagen!" And the next thing she knew, she was standing on a ledge overlooking a huge, bottomless chasm. She wasn't scared, not exactly; after all, she was eight going on nine, a very brave age. But she was a bit cold (all she had on was her nightie, and a cool breeze was blowing) and she felt anxious. Luckily she had had the foresight to bring her best friend with her for comfort and support, and she hugged Sheba Cat closer to her chest. It was very dark, so dark she couldn't see more than a dozen feet around her. It was enough, however, for her to see the abyss yawning in front of her, and the rock wall behind her stretching off into the air above her. And there was something else, something away in the distance, something that glowed and glittered like a bridge covered in Christmas tree lights. She stood admiring it for some minutes, until her curiosity overcame her anxiety and she started towards it. How long she walked she couldn't be sure, but it seemed like a long time. Eventually, however, she got close enough to see that the bridge stretched across the chasm and was made from a huge spider web, except that it was unlike any sort of web she had ever seen. The strands looked like they were made of glass, and they glowed with an inner light like a weak light bulb. Though the main structure was still some ways off, support struts had been secured to the ledge and the wall very close by, and she reached out and touched one of them. It felt smooth and hard, just like a metal tube, and surprisingly warm. Yet it also swayed slightly in the breeze that blew through the chasm. Even as she turned back towards the bridge, she became aware of an approaching presence. Soon it emerged from the gloom ahead. It looked like a spider, but it was gargantuan; its head alone was as big around as she was tall, while its bloated, sack-like body was larger than several trucks. It was covered front to back with red, black, and purple horny plates, so it appeared to be like an armored tank on stilts, yet the legs seemed almost too thin to support its massive bulk, and they ended in tiny, delicate-looking feet made of a pad surrounded by finger-like claws. But the head was the most intriguing part of the whole being. It wasn't part of the thorax as in regular spiders, but was attached to it by a short, thick neck. It was block-shaped, but somewhat rounded, and the points were drawn out so they looked like horns. And it had a man-like face, with two huge, forward-staring eyes with pupils, two miniscule nostrils below them on a short ridge, and a wide, lipless mouth from which protruded numerous fangs. She stood very still as it approached, more fascinated than afraid. For its part, the spider came right up to her until its massive head was no more than a couple of feet away. Its eyes were fixed on her, as if it too were fascinated. But it suddenly stopped. It closed its eyes and shook its head, as if it had a very painful headache. Then it backed up a step or two before opening its eyes again. "Are you okay?" When it spoke, the spider's voice was very deep and it echoed like thunder. "Who are you?" "My name's Wendy; are you Mr. Atlach-Nacha?" "I am he whom men have named Atlach-Nacha. Why have you come to me?" "My Uncle Timothy said that you could help me." "Who is this 'Uncle Timothy' who sent you?" "Timothy Stroud, my father's brother." Atlach-Nacha seemed to recognize the name. It also managed to look very confused. "He sent you to me, his own brother's daughter?" "No, sir, I came on my own. I need your help, Mr. Nacha. I'm afraid for my Mom." "How did you come to me?" "I used one of his spells, that I found in his book." "He told you to use it?" She blushed, chagrined. "No, Mr. Nacha, he told me never to touch his book." "Then why did you disobey him?" "He was going to ask your help to protect me and Mom from Eric, but he got hurt and sent to the hospital before he could. So I took his book from his room and found the spell which would send me to you." "You have been very foolish; it could have been your doom." "Huh?" She did not understand. But it refused to answer her implied question. "Are you not afraid of me?" Now she felt confused. "Gosh no, Mr. Nacha. Uncle Timothy said you could help us, so why would I be afraid of you?" "Why indeed. What of other things you might have encountered?" "Oh, I've got my good-luck charm for that." It tilted its head in curiosity. "A charm, you say?" "Well, yah, my Uncle gave it to me. He said it would bring me luck. Do you want to see it?" "Yes, indeed." Placing Sheba Cat under her left arm, she reached under her nightie and pulled out a small medallion on a chain. Engrave on it was a curious design, which looked like a stick with many branches coming off it. When it saw it, Atlach-Nacha jump back a short distance (which was no mean feat considering its huge bulk), a look of abject fear on its face. "Oh, no, Mr. Nacha, don't be afraid; it won't hurt you. It's for protection against bad things, not good things like you!" It came closer once she replaced the medallion under her nightie. "The true Elder Sign is a most potent charm; you are indeed well protected. Still, does not my form frighten you?" She felt bewildered. "Gosh, no Mr. Nacha. Uncle Timothy told me you looked like a spider, and I like spiders, always have. They're fun to watch, and really cool looking, and they eat flies and bugs and such, so they help people." "You are a very brave girl." The spider lord's voice was grave. She blushed. "I'm not all that brave. I wouldn't have come if I didn't have Sheba Cat with me." Again the spider lord tilted its head. "Is that another charm?" "Heck no, she's my friend." And she held up a small stuffed toy cat covered in a plush satiny material. It looked exactly like a Siamese, except its head was round instead of triangular. "A loyal friend indeed, to brave the unknown for your sake." But she hugged the toy to her breast and softly cried. Atlach-Nacha hunkered down so that its gigantic face was level with hers. "Why do you weep, child?" Its voice was gentle and compassionate, at odds with its horrific appearance. She sniffled a few times as she sought to control herself. "I miss my real Sheba Cat." She wiped away her tears. "I do not understand." "A year ago, Mom got me a kitten for my birthday, for company; she called her Sheba. Eric killed her just a month ago. He hit her with a baseball bat and then strangled her. He hit me when I tried to save her." "You spoke of this Eric before. Who is he, and why would he commit such a senseless act of violence?" "He's my Mom's boyfriend. My Dad's dead; he died in a car wreck when I was five. Mom met Eric a few months ago. We didn't like each other, but he made Mom happy, so I tried to get along with him. But he sometimes drinks too much, and when he does he hurts my Mom if she makes him mad, and he gets mad real easy. He came over one night, when Mom was working late. He was drunk, and he got mad because Mom wasn't home. He tried to hurt me, and Sheba Cat bit and scratched him. So he killed her. He beat up Mom when she got home. He then dragged her into her bedroom and locked the door. I don't know what he did to her, but I could hear her crying all night. When he left in the morning I went to see if she was alright. She was pretty badly hurt, so I called Uncle Timothy and he took her to the hospital. I didn't hear what the doctor told him, but later he and Mom had an argument. He wanted to call the police and she wouldn't let him, but she asked him to take me to live with him for awhile. That's when he started telling me about you and how you could help protect us from Eric." "Did he give you your new friend?" "Yah, just a couple of weeks ago. He said it contained the spirit of my real cat, and that she could help me be brave. Sometimes, when I hold her close, especially at night, I can hear her purring." "Why did your uncle not come to me himself?" Her lips trembled as she fought back new tears. "He was going to, but just tonight Eric came to get me, saying Mom wanted me back. When Uncle Timothy wouldn't let me go, he got real mad and beat him up until he couldn't move any more. I got scared and ran away, into the woods behind his house, and hid where Eric couldn't find me. After he went away, I called the police, so they could take Uncle Timothy to the hospital, but I hid in the basement so they couldn't find me. I didn't want them to take me away from the house until I had a chance to see you. Then after they left I did the magic spell to come here." The spider lord narrowed its eyes and its voice turned grim and cold. "So you know not your uncle's fate?" "No, Mr. Nacha, but I'm afraid he might be dead. Even if he isn't, I'm scared of what Eric will do to him or my Mom unless you help us. Please, can you?" "Why do you believe I can?" "Because Uncle Timothy told me you can." "And why do you believe I would?" She felt bewildered again. "Because you're a spider, and spiders help people, just like Charlotte helped Wilbur." "Who?" "Don't you know about Charlotte's Web? It's a book about a spider who saves a pig from being killed by writing messages in her web. All my friends at school have read it. I can lend you my copy if you want to read it." "I thank you, yes." "Then what about Eric?" "What would you like to happen?" "I want him to leave us alone; to go away and never come back. Can you make him go away?" "I can." Its voice was once more grave. "But there is something you must do for me." "I'll do anything!" "You must bring him here, to me; can you do that?" She was surprised. "Is that all?" "Yes. You can send him to me the same way you came." "He wouldn't say the magic words." "Then say them yourself; he will come with you as long as he is in the web beside you." "Yes, I think I can do that." "Good. Wait until tomorrow night; by then I will have completed all my preparations. And take this with you." One of the rear legs came forward. In its claws it carried what appeared to be a large chunk of green glass; it dropped it between them. She bent over and picked it up. "It's pretty; what is it?" "An emerald. It is nothing special, but humans like Eric consider such junk to be very valuable. If you show it to him and tell him that your uncle has more, you can get him to follow you anywhere." "Thank you." "And now, I shall send you back. Remember: wait until after nightfall, and bring your friend with you again." Wendy watched as Eric pulled into the yard in front of Uncle Timothy's house. It had been no problem getting him to come for her. All she had done was call home and tell him she was ready to come back. Her only worry was that he would send her mother instead, so she was relieved to see him behind the wheel. Atlach-Nacha had returned her to the basement even as it said it would. It was dawn, so the first thing she did was take a bath, and then she had some cereal and toast. Finally, she went to bed and slept until after noon. When she awoke, she pondered how to get Eric down to the basement and into the center of the web drawing, and as evening approached she figured out how to do it. It was then a simple matter of erasing the first drawing and making a new, larger one in a different spot along one wall. As night came on, she called home and, pretending to be frightened, lonely, and hungry, begged him to come get her. Afterwards, she went to sit on the front porch to wait for him, with Sheba Cat beside her and the emerald cradled in her arms. He got out of the car, his face wrinkling in distaste at the sight of the house. He stood by the open door and shouted. "Come on, then, I don't have all night." Feeling anxious, she stuffed Sheba Cat under one arm, stood up, and walked over to him, holding the raw gem in her hands. At first he looked puzzled by the sight of her carrying a large, rough green stone, but as she got closer his eyes widened and seem to light up like headlamps. He stepped away from the car and hurried up to her. Snatching the uncut gem from her hands, he examined it closely, and began to tremble. "Where did you get this?" "Uncle Timothy gave it to me." She took Sheba Cat into her hands. "And how did he get something like this?" "That's simple; he knows magic. He just conjures it up out of thin air." His face clouded as his eyes narrowed. "Don't you lie to me, brat." "I'm not lying!" Despite her nervousness, his accusation made her mad. "Uncle Timothy's got lots of them, more than he wants, so he gave that one to me." His eyes seemed to shine brighter as a cruel smile pulled at his lips. "You say he has more? Where?" "In a secret room he keeps in his basement, where he does his magic work." That was the moment of truth. She understood that he wouldn't believe her about the magic part, but that wasn't important. All that was, was whether he believed her about the emeralds. If he did, he would ask her to take him to them, to see for himself. Otherwise he would just take the one she had and leave. He licked his lips as he stared at the raw gem. "You say they're in a secret room? How many?" "I don't know; maybe five or six, maybe more." "Where is this room?" "I can't tell you; you'd never find it by yourself, but I can show you where it's at." He gave her a searching look, as if trying to ascertain whether she was being truthful. Finally, however, his greed overcame his caution. Going back to the idling car, he tossed the emerald onto the front seat and reached in to switch off the engine. Pocketing the keys, he came back. Reaching out, he grabbed her by the arm. "Show me where this room is, and you'd better not be lying, brat." He gave her arm a rough pull as he spoke. She muttered a meek, "Yes, sir," but inside she was ecstatic. Doing her best to hide her excitement, she led him into the house and down to the basement. Pausing long enough to turn on the light, she walked right up to the edge of the chalk web. "Right here's the door to the room." All he saw was a bare section of the cement block wall. "You sure this is the right spot?" He sounded skeptical. "Yah, Uncle Timothy showed me what to look for." "Well, then, open it." "You've got to stand right in front of it and say the magic words." He jerked her arm in annoyance. "Don't play games with me, brat." "I'm not!" Tears brimmed in her eyes from the pain. "Uncle Timothy said the door would open when the right words were said." He grunted. "Probably some kind of voice recognition system. Alright then, do it." Feeling calm, she took a couple of steps into the center of the web and, as she expected, he followed. Facing the wall, she spoke the incantation. The transference was as instantaneous as it had been the first time, so before Eric knew what had happened, he and Wendy stood on the ledge overlooking the chasm. At first, he only looked confused, but when the nature of the altered surroundings finally dawned on him, he cringed in terror. "Where the hell are we?" She grinned, being immensely proud of her accomplishment. "We're in Uncle Timothy's secret room." "How did we get here?" "By magic of course; don't be dumb." Enraged by her insolence, he whipped her around and grabbed both her arms just below the shoulders, causing her to drop the toy Siamese. "I've had it with your games!" He shook her hard. "Now, tell me where the hell we are or so help me I'll--" "Unhand the child, villain," boomed a voice from out of the surrounding gloom. He looked up and saw Atlach-Nacha emerge from the surrounding darkness, its eyes glowing with hate and menace. He shrieked like a baby and tried to hide behind her. "What the hell is it?!" "That's Mr. Atlach-Nacha, and he's going to make you go away, so you can never hurt me or Mom again." The cyclopean spider lord halted within three feet of her, which she realized was as close as it would get to her medallion. She watched it as it glanced down at the toy cat lying on the ground, and smiled. It looked back at Eric. "I command that you release her immediately." She looked up at Eric and saw him staring into its face with a blank look on his own, a thin stream of saliva drooling from his mouth. But then he suddenly snapped out of his trance. Dragging her with him, he ran for the edge of the chasm. At the last minute he halted, grabbed her by the waist, and pushed her right up to the edge. "You send me back immediately, or I'll throw her over!" Atlach-Nacha again approached as closely as it could at an unhurried pace. "If you send her to her doom, your own shall be as long and painful as I can manage. Release her, and I will send you back." In his blind terror, he almost let her go. As it was, he moved her away from the edge, but at the last minute pulled her back against him. "No! Send me back, now, or I'll kill her! I really will!" But she could see that the spider lord was not listening; instead it was chanting softly, in some strange guttural speech. She recognized the sounds as being similar to the words of the magic spell she used. "What the--" Eric began in a panic-stricken tone, but he was cut off by a low moaning growl. He and Wendy looked down, and there, at their feet, sat a small plush toy Siamese cat. It stared up at Eric with menace. Then, it launched itself at him. He screamed as it hit and clung to his face, spitting and screeching like a demon. He let go of her to grapple with it, and Atlach-Nacha lashed out with a foreleg. It caught hold of her even as Eric reeled backwards. There was a bright flash of light, and a massive shock not unlike static electricity coursed through the spider lord's body as it tossed her away from the chasm. In the same instant, she caught sight of Eric catching his foot on the edge of the chasm and tumbling over, still clawing at his face. He disappeared into the shadows in an instant, but his shrieks faded gradually for a long time. She was startled to find herself lying on a cushion of soft webbing. She felt something warm against her chest, and when she removed the medallion she found that the metal disk had melted into an unrecognizable lump. She tossed it aside in an absent manner and sat up to look around. Eric was nowhere to be seen, but Atlach-Nacha had collapsed off to one side, lying as if dead. "Mr. Nacha!" She jumped to the ground and ran towards it. She came up short when she saw that one leg had been reduced to a charred stump. Walking up to its head, she looked into its face and saw its eyes were closed. It didn't move or breathe; she was sure it was dead. Overcome with grief, she knelt in front of it and reached out to touch it just above the mouth. Then she leaned forward and kissed its face. "Thank you," she whispered to it before finally embracing it, as she began to cry. "Do not weep for me, child," it whispered back, though the voice still rumbled like muted thunder. "I am not dead yet, nor will I die for some time still to come." Startled but delighted, she sprang back as the huge head lifted and the eyes opened. The fanged mouth even managed a faint smile. She laughed away the rest of her tears. "Oh, Mr. Nacha, I'm so glad you're alive!" Then she sobered with the swiftness of a child. "What happened to Eric?" "Your friend defended you and avenged herself. He fell over the edge when she attacked him." "Good! I'm glad he's gone forever. I'm just sorry he hurt you before he fell." "He did not hurt me, child, your charm did." She felt shocked. "No! How?" "It is the sign of Those who imprisoned me here. By Their power I cannot harm whoever wears it. If I even but touch the wearer, the charm unleashes that power against me, as it did when I touched you." "But Uncle Timothy told me it would only hurt bad things." "Child, I am the kind of 'bad thing' the Elder Sign was meant to protect you against." "No! I don't believe it; I won't! You helped me just like Uncle Timothy said you would. So you're not bad, you're good, and if that charm hurt you then it was bad, and those people who made it were bad!" "Wendy Stroud!" the spider lord reprimanded, though in a wistful voice. "You have much to learn of the ways of the world. But in this at least you are right. You need not fear me, for I will never harm you, and you are welcome to visit me whenever you wish." "But what about your leg? I'm really sorry." "I will heal, and faster than you might believe. But, speaking of healing..." A rear leg appeared, dangling a small leather bag over her head. She held out her hands and Atlach-Nacha dropped the bag into them. "What's this?" "Inside are two new charms. Place the bracelet on the wrist of Timothy Stroud, and if he is not yet dead he too shall heal, and quickly. The other is to replace the Elder Sign. The medallion bears my seal upon it. Wear it, and no minion of mine or my allies will harm you, nor will any creature you might encounter here in my chasm." She hesitated for a moment, but once again embraced the spider lord's huge face and kissed it. "Oh, thank you Mr. Nacha." "And now, I will send you back to your family. Do not forget me, Wendy Stroud." A week later, Wendy returned to the canyon of the spider lord. "Mr. Atlach-Nacha!" She watched as it suspended its work on the bridge and came to meet her on the ledge. "You are welcome, Sorceress Stroud," it boomed. She giggled. "I'm no magician, silly, I just read one spell out of a moldy old book." It approached her. "Nevertheless." She giggled again. For all its great size and gruff manner, it was really just an old softy at heart, and she loved it like she loved her Uncle. Then she saw that the ruined, burned leg had been replaced by a new one. Pointing at it, she laughed in an exuberant tone as the spider lord flexed it above its body. "You appear very happy, child. Is all right with you and your family?" "Oh, yes. Uncle Timothy's going to make a full recovery, thanks to you. He gets out of the hospital in another week, and my Mom and me are going to move in with him and take care of him until he's better." "I am well pleased. And what of your mother; how well does she fare?" She grew quiet as she spoke. "She thinks Eric left us. I didn't think I should tell her what really happened to him. She doesn't believe in magic, but even if she did she'd probably be mad I got you involved." Atlach-Nacha nodded, a grave look on its face. "You show wisdom for one so young, child." She shrugged, showing no concern. "She was real sad for a few days, but I think she's gotten over it." Then she lowered her voice, as if not to be overheard. "She's found someone new already. He's the doctor who took care of Uncle Timothy. I think they like each other a whole lot." And she winked, giggling. "Is he a good man?" "Oh, yeah, he's real nice to me and Mom, and he's really funny. He tells the best jokes and stories, after Uncle Timothy." "I am very happy for you. But be sure to inform me if he ever hurts you or your family." "I will, Mr. Nacha, but I don't think he will." "I have a gift for you." "Really?! What is it?" In response, a leg appeared, gripping the handles of a woven basket. Atlach-Nacha set it down in front of her, and she thought she heard a faint mewing from inside. Kneeling, she opened the lid. Inside was a small white kitten, with eyes as blue as the sky, and dark smudges on its ears, paws, and the tip of its tail, and around its mouth and eyes. It looked up at the girl with an inquisitive expression, and meowed a greeting. "Oh, Mr. Nacha!" She picked up the small bundle of fur and hugged it to her face. "Thank you, thank you very much." In response to the attention, the kitten closed its eyes and began to purr. She looked up at the spider lord with tears brimming in her eyes. "It's the best gift anyone's ever given me." Had it the ability to shed tears, it seemed Atlach-Nacha would have done so. Instead, the grim armored and fanged mouth managed a faint smile. "That reminds me!" She put the kitten back in the basket. "I have a gift for you." She shrugged off her backpack, and holding it in one hand she unzipped it with the other then drew out a slim book. "I promised I'd let you borrow this." She held it out for the spider lord to take. "What is it?" "It's Charlotte's Web, silly. You said you wanted to read it." Atlach-Nacha eyed the book. "Alas, it is so small that I would be unable to do so." "I can read it for you." "Please." It lowered its body to rest on the floor of the ledge. She set the backpack down and sat cross-legged. The kitten crawled out of the basket and into her lap as she opened the book. She waited for it to lie down and curl up, and as feline and spider listened with rapt attention, she began to read. Back to TOC +++ About the Author Kevin L. O'Brien was born with a pen in his hand. Well, not quite, but he has been writing for as long as he can remember, at least since First Grade. Writing has always been his first, true love, but it hasn't always been his career. He worked for 15 years as a biomedical researcher, then for 3 years as a web designer. However, after 30 years of trying to be published in print with little success, he has decided to try his hand at self-publishing. Most of his works will be sold as ebooks through various online retailers, but he also plans to make some available for free exclusively on Goodreads. He writes primarily speculative fiction--fantasy, science fiction, horror, and their sub-genres--but he also likes to try his hand at thrillers, suspense, mystery, and even westerns. However, his stories tend to have a fantasy element, no matter how subtle. Most of his stories involve the following three main characters: Medb hErenn [http://www.medbherenn.com/]--One-time queen of Ireland, she is over 3500 years old. A warrior and a sorceress, she cannot be harmed by any weapon made by the hand of man. Eile and Sunny, Team Girl [http://www.teamgirlforever.com/]--They are two adorable, vivacious, fun-loving young women whose motto is ONWARD TO ADVENTURE!!! Yet trouble follows them like a love-sick puppy wherever they go. Sir Differel Van Helsing [http://www.sir-differel.com/]--The descendent of Abraham Van Helsing and King Arthur, she heads the Caerleon Order, the premier monster-hunting organization of the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth. She commands Dracula, the most powerful vampire extant, and the greatsword Caliburn, better known as Excalibur. He also writes a series of sword & sorcery stories set in an alternative universe known as the Lands of the Dreams of Men. Kevin lives in Denver with his family and 4 cats. For more information, see the Songs of the Seanchai [http://www.seanchaisongs.com/]. Back to TOC +++ Discover other titles by Kevin L. O'Brien: Available on Smashwords - https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/biochemborg Enjoy these other titles at fine ebook retailers everywhere. Available on Goodreads - http://www.goodreads.com/story/list/20075368 Back to TOC +++ Connect with Kevin L. O'Brien Online: Twitter: https://twitter.com/KLOB_writer Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/kevin.l.obrien.1 Website: http://www.seanchaisongs.com/ DeviantArt: http://teamgirl-differel.deviantart.com/ Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/Kevin_L_OBrien Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/biochemborg Back to TOC +++ Sample Excerpts From "Feline Savior" It had started out as an ordinary day, at least ordinary in the sense that it had followed the routine established by Aunt Mandy since the reading of the will four weeks prior. The weekdays were spent in classes at the prestigious Gresham's School in the town of Holt, which she had been attending since Reception at the age of four. She was finishing Year 7 at the Prep School. The afternoons, after Aelfraed picked her up and brought her back home, were spent in training, learning how to shoot and defend herself, organized by LCpl. Holt. In addition to formal martial arts such as Bartitsu, Defendu, and Spirit Combat jujitsu, he also taught her commando hand-to-hand combat and street fighting, particularly the use of any tactic that could give her an advantage. On the weekends, Aelfraed tutored her in the function, organization, and history of the Caerleon Order in the morning, followed by more defense training with Mr. Holt in the afternoon. She enjoyed those sessions with him more than Aelfraed's lectures. While stern, he was nonetheless gentle and patient, and in any event, she thought learning how to fight was much more fun than reading dusty old reports. It was mid-morning on a Sunday, and she was in the children's bedroom. She had just finished a snack Aelfraed had brought her and vainly tried to concentrate on a manpower allocation factsheet, when the alarm sounded as the armored shutters closed over the windows, both inside and out. She took a moment to turn on her desk lamp. Aside from the adrenaline rush, she did not feel anxious. The manor security staff had run frequent drills in the last couple of years, most of which were unscheduled. She knew what to do, which was essentially to stay in her room until someone came for her. Then she heard gunfire, both inside and outside the house, and she realized it was no drill. The door opened, throwing her into a panic, but she calmed down when Mr. Holt strode in. She stood up, ready to go with him, but then he closed and locked the door. That unnerved her; it said they couldn't get to the shelter or outside. He went around and locked the other three doors. "What's happening?" She tried to keep her fear under control. "There's been an incursion, Miss." He stood in the center of the room, fingering his assault rifle. The alarm cut off, and Aunt Mandy's voice came over the intercom system. "This is Miranda Pendragon. The house is under attack. The ground floor west wing and entry hall have been overrun; we hold the east wing and great hall. All personnel evacuate to the parking lot; repeat, all personnel evacuate to the parking lot." And the intercom went silent. "We're cut off; we'll have to wait for extraction. Under the bed, Miss." That really frightened her, and she dropped to the ground and scrambled into hiding. The idea of an enemy loose in the manor had always disturbed her, but she had taken for granted it could never happen. "What is it?" "I don't know; stay quiet, Miss." She watched his boots as he nervously shifted from one foot to the other, and that scared her all the more. By her reckoning, a half hour passed without anything happening as sporadic fire continued to echo around her, but that only made her anxiety worse. She imagined that any moment some hideous monster would break down her door and attack him. The knock that came made her jump, but she calmed herself as she realized monsters wouldn't knock. Nonetheless, her heart was racing as she watched his feet edge towards the door to use the intercom. "Celadon," she heard him say. "Longquan," came the reply. It was Aunt Mandy. The door opened and she saw a pair of sensible shoes walk in, followed by a number of more official ones. "Where is Differel?" "You can come out now, Miss." Differel slid out from under the bed and stood up. Aunt Mandy was accompanied by five security guards and her father's nurse. Mandy had a machine pistol, while the guards carried submachine guns. "We have retaken the back stairhall and the solar on this floor," Mandy told him. "You join the troops there; I will get her down to the shelter." "With all due respect, Ma'am, Sir Henry instructed me never to leave her side." "Henry is dead, I am in charge now. Do as I say." "I'm sorry, I can't do that." Differel knew he wasn't bluffing, but she also knew he was outgunned. And while she didn't think Mandy would kill him, she also knew her Aunt wouldn't bluff either. "It's all right, Mr. Holt, I'll be safe with her. I want you to help get the others out, and then retake my house." He looked at her with an expression that mixed doubt and pride. "Are you sure, Miss?" "Yes, I am. Now, please, the best thing you can do for me is drive the enemy out." He nodded. "Very well, Miss, as you command." He saluted, then turned on his heels and jogged out into the hallway. Mandy watch him from the doorway as half the guards moved behind Differel. "I commend you, Niece, you probably saved his life." She then shut and locked the door before turning around. "Take her!" Two of the guards grabbed her by the arms. Surprised, she tried to get away, but they had solid grips before she could move. "Wha--? What's the meaning of this?! Let me go at once!" She tried to sound defiant, but she was too scared to sound like anything other than hysterical. "Shut up, you little tramp!" Mandy barked. "I have taken as much from you and your family as I intend to stand!" Genuinely perplexed, Differel asked, "What're you talking about? You are part of my family!" Mandy's face clouded into a look of rage such as Differel had never seen before. "Your family?! Do not talk filth to me! I am a Pendragon! My people have been combating monsters for centuries, and we never needed on 'Order' to aid us. Compared to us, you Van Helsings are mere infants. If it was not for a Pendragon, Dracula would have killed your ancestor Abraham in the Borgo Pass a hundred years ago. Yet you usurped our duty, stole our glory, and destroyed our honour by making us subservient to your wretched family! But that ends today. I will recover what we lost, and I will reclaim what was stolen from me." She wasn't making any sense. Differel wondered if she was mad. "Stolen from you?" "I was the oldest daughter; I should have become the Pendragon! I should have been the protector of England, the one who defended Queen, Church, and Country from paranormal threats. But my birthright was taken from me and given to my sister, unworthy though she was. And then she violated tradition by marrying your father! Unforgivable! But she was not censured, and though she gave up the title of her own free will, rather than grant it to me she held it in trust for her daughter! Unbelievable!" "But...I'm a Pendragon, too! The same blood as yours flows thro--" Mandy slapped her across the face hard enough to almost dislodge her glasses. "You filthy little slag! You are no more a Pendragon than your mealy-mouthed butler!" "What have you done to him?! To my people?" "Have no fear, your 'people' are safe. I arranged for a diversion, to keep them busy. They won't return until tomorrow, after I give the all clear. By that time, I will have finished with you, and they will be unable to do anything about it." Now she turned genuinely angry. "Traitor! Wasn't running the Order enough for you? Are you so jealous that you lust after the rest as well? Are you really willing to do this?!" "Not only willing, but prepared, Niece." "Then you're nothing but a bloody rotten scumbag! If you think you can just kill me and get away with it --!" She stopped when Mandy flashed a wicked leer. "Kill you? On the contrary, I intend to keep you very much alive!" And she nodded to the nurse. She stepped forward, and for the first time Differel noticed she carried a covered pan. She stopped just in front of her, lifted off the cover and tossed it onto the bed, and reached inside. She pulled out a monstrosity: a cross between a snake and a slug, six inches long and one in diameter, covered in glistening mucus, writhing and shrieking in a thin, high-pitched, wavering tone. "Give it to me!" Mandy commanded. She handed the creature over and Mandy bent down towards her. "NO!" Differel fought, trying to get loose, as she shook her head from side to side. "Hold her!" A guard behind her grabbed her head and pushed his fingers into her cheeks, forcing her mouth open. Mandy inserted the index finger of her free hand and wrenched her lower jaw down. She cried out from the pain and tried to bite, but the guard's grip was too strong. Mandy held the eyeless snake-slug by the tail and positioned it head-down over her mouth. She felt fluid drip of its snout onto her tongue. Find the story here: [https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/324759]. From "Dark Vengeance" Medb hErenn knelt to examine the track in the soft earth. Though shaped like the rear paw of a bear, it was at least three times normal size. What struck her as more odd, however, was that, while the line of tracks stretched for several yards along the crest of the ridge, she could not see a single print of a forepaw. She stood and gazed down the slope towards the plain below. It was covered with thick, tall grass, patches of ground-hugging herbs, and late-spring flowers, but at the base the land flattened into a broad, shrub-filled heath that stretched off towards a lake. Behind it stood a line of purple, white-capped mountains, still imposing despite their great distance. Closer, a forest filled her view, stretching off to the edge of the lake and to her right beyond her sight behind the line of the ridge, but it ended at the border of an expanse of moor to her left. Its coniferous trees were so thick they formed a dark, blue-green mass that looked as solid as the mountains themselves. And as she studied the landscape, she clearly saw the lone figure making its way through the moor towards its center. Even with her keen eyesight she could discern little, except that it was a tall, ursine creature, flabby, with a dirty-ivory coat of fur mottled with patches of tan. And it walked upright on two short, thick legs. A young warrior walked up abreast of her and followed her gaze. "You were right," he said in a stoical manner. By name T'lingit, he was tall, muscular, and very handsome, with copper skin, dark brown eyes, and straight blue-black hair cut shoulder length. He wore a heavy white shirt made from goat wool and cedarbark fiber, which came midway down his shins and was decorated with highly stylized designs in black, yellow, and turquoise, which depicted his clan's animal totems. A thick blanket, made from the same material and decorated with similar designs, was draped over his shoulders and closed over his chest with a whalebone pin. On his head he wore a conical, wide-brimmed, low-crowned hat woven from the roots of spruce trees, and on his feet soft-soled, knee-high sealskin boots. He carried his weapons of honor: a bow and quiver of arrows for hunting; a whalebone knife; a warclub of redwood with a stone blade, dangling from a harness swung over one shoulder; and a trio of spruce spears sporting blades carved from mussel shells, carefully balanced on his other shoulder. Without looking at him, she replied, "It gives me no pleasure." She was taller than T'lingit, but only by half a head. She was, however, more massive. She had wide shoulders and hips, with thick arms and thighs, and large, firm, well-rounded breasts and buttocks, but also a narrow waste and a hard, flat stomach. Her long, oval face with its sharp features was more handsome than beautiful, but her amber-colored skin was smooth and perfect, and her emerald-green eyes mesmerizing. She wore her gold-tinted, bronze-colored hair long, straight, and loose, except for two braids that hung from either side of her head down her front to her waist. She secured it with a band of silvered bronze around her head just above her brow, and she wore a neckring made of heavy twisted gold, open at her throat, with the ends capped with two large, uncut red gems. Her own armament consisted of a dirk with a thick foot-long blade and a sword with a narrow three-foot blade secured to a belt woven from leather strips; an oblong wooden shield reinforced with a metal rim, spokes, and a large central boss; six four-foot javelins secured in a special harness attached to the backside of the shield behind the arm holds; and two eight-foot spears with large, serrated metal blades. However, except for the cloak she wore from her native Erin, secured at one shoulder with a brooch of bronze, and the fact that she went bareheaded, she had adopted the dress of her native hosts. "Nonetheless," he persisted, "you seem to understand the Crusher better than we do." The "we" referred to his tribe, among whom Medb had been living for the past six years. "I have intimate knowledge of the Otherworld and its inhabitants, and I do not exaggerate. Though your culture is foreign to mine, our myths and legends seem to follow the same path." The warrior shook his head. "What you say goes beyond my understanding, but that matters little. It is more important that we have found it, and that you know its habits, or at least can accurately guess them. How do you suggest we proceed?" "You said there was a hunting lodge nearby?" He pointed down the slope to their right. "Yes, at the base of the ridge, built into the side of the hill." Then he realized her purpose in asking. "Surely you do not mean to spend the night there. Why delay? Let us go after it now, while we can still track it." Medb looked up at the sky. "No, it is getting late." And indeed the sky was darkening rapidly. "We could not reach the moor before nightfall, and I have no desire to navigate it in the dark. Do you? Besides, we need food and rest, and a plan of attack; we need time to prepare." "Very well, the lodge is this way." They walked down the slope. Once at the foot of the ridge they turned right and followed its length until they came to a wooden structure protruding from a particularly steep section of its face. Like the houses of T'lingit's village, it was square-shaped, built from wooden planks supported by a frame of log poles, with a low, gabled roof and no windows. The only entrance was round and slightly shorter than either of them, but covered by a thick, reinforced door. Inside was a single, small room, the floor covered in wood planks except for the central firepit. Around the perimeter was a raised platform, for sitting and sleeping. Above the firepit was a smoke hole, but the roof continued into the hillside along with the wooden walls, and a wooden wall formed the rear of the lodge. Despite the shape, interior design, and construction material, it reminded Medb of the dwellings in her native Erin, and she felt comfortable. She started a fire while T'lingit went hunting. She considered it an unnecessary risk, what with the Crusher prowling nearby. They had brought food with them, but he wanted fresh game. Medb relented mostly because she believed the creature would spend the night in the moor, waiting to see if they were foolish enough to follow it in after dark. Even so, what with the gloom of approaching dusk, the warrior did not go far, and returned with only three rabbits, which he had already gutted and skinned. Nonetheless, Medb was able to turn them into a splendid stew. With the fire burning well, the small space heated up quickly, so he stripped down to his loincloth. She did the same, except she wore nothing else under her shirt. He was neither disturbed nor aroused by her nakedness, since she had frequently gone nude in the house of his clan in the village. In that she was not alone; though the women seldom did so, the men often went naked when comfort and circumstances permitted. That she emulated the men rather than the women was simply one of her many eccentricities his tribe had learned to accept. That evening though, as they sat after eating and discussed how best to find and kill the beast on its home ground, he found that things were different. Perhaps it was the camaraderie of their mutual pursuit; perhaps it was the closeness brought on by being in that cramped, warm space, or the fact that they were alone for the first time in six years. But now he found himself feeling attracted to her, as he would if she were his wife. As they talked, sitting close enough to catch each other's scent and feel each other's warmth, he could not resist touching and caressing her. Rather than be offended, she responded in kind, and it wasn't long before all thoughts of what they had come to do were banished in favor of other more lustful meditations. They spent the night in each other's arms, and had the Crusher itself ripped down the lodge they would not have cared. Find the story here: [https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/329046]. From "Man Friday Differel awoke. Her tiny portion of the convalescence ward was dimly lit by a single fluorescent lamp above and behind her head. One of the nurses stood beside the IV holding an empty syringe. She must have just injected me with something. That's probably what woke me up. She tried to turn her head to ask for a drink of water, and discovered that she couldn't move. Her heart raced as she realized her body was completely paralyzed except for her eyes. She couldn't cry out; she was helpless. "Ah, you're awake." That voice; I know it from somewhere. The nurse stepped into her field of vision, and her gut clenched when she recognized her as the nurse Mandy hired to look after her stricken father. The same nurse who helped Mandy try to infect her with the embryonic Fomorian! "I hadn't anticipated that, but perhaps it's fortuitous. You should know what's going to happen to you. It will make your demise all the more devastating." She moved out of her field of vision. "I've injected you with a paralytic. Not enough to stop your breathing, just to keep you quiet." She reappeared by the IV and held out another syringe for her to see, this one filled with an amber fluid. "This will stop your heart, but leave no trace. Even after an autopsy, the only conclusion a doctor could reach will be that your heart gave out due to your injury. Your staff may suspect foul play, but they will have no proof. In any event, once you're dead, the Vampire will be released, and without him there will be no need for the Caerleon Order. If it will give you comfort, consider this: you will never have to bear the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, for your hour upon this stage will have come to its end." She grasped the IV line and poised the needle against the injection port, preparing to push it in. Dear God, I've got to do something! Vlad! Where are you?! Even as she inserted the needle, a burst of shadow appeared behind her. A red-gloved hand grabbed the syringe hand and forced her to let it go before she could depress the plunger. Vlad then dragged her away from the IV as he secured her arms behind her back. "Let me go! Help! The Vampire's trying to kill me!" The curtain that closed her bed off from the rest of the ward was pulled aside and LCpl. Holt looked in. When he saw the nurse in Vlad's grip he pulled his pistol and aimed for his head. "Let her go!" "No," he replied in his deep, resonate, bass voice, "she wishes to kill Sir Differel." "That's a lie! I'm trying to save her life! If she doesn't receive that injection in the next few minutes she'll die!" Differel could see that Holt was uncertain, but she figured he would believe a Human over a Vampire. "Ma'am, is this true?" Bloody hell, I can't respond! "She's unconscious. Please, there isn't much time left!" "She gave her a drug to induce paralysis. Sir Differel is very much awake, but unable to speak." "That's another lie!" "Listen, I understand you were locked away for thirty years, but medicine has advanced considerably in that time. A syringe doesn't mean it's lethal." "You fool. I heard her gloat of her intentions. She said the injection would stop her heart." "What?! No, I said no such thing; I didn't say anything!" Holt shook his head in frustrated confusion. "How could you hear her? The last report I had five minutes ago placed you in the library." "Sir Differel heard her, and I heard her thoughts." Differel's mind skipped a track. He can read my mind!? {Naturally, My Master.} Holt looked shocked. "You can read minds?" "Only Sir Differel's. Whatever she thinks or experiences, I know, but I cannot read her memories, unless she plays them for me before her mind's eye." "That's impossible." But he didn't sound very certain. Vlad, tell him to test me! "Sir Differel commands me to have you test her." "Don't listen to him! He's lying! For God's sake, make him let me go before it's too late!" Holt licked his lips and sweated as his eyes darted from Differel to Vlad and back. She realized he didn't know what to do, and it agonized him. What if he takes her side!? "What's going on here?" Aelfraed appeared behind Holt. He sidestepped away from the opening so that her butler could enter, but his gun never once wavered. Aelfraed rarely displayed his emotions, but she could tell from his tense body, stern look, and terse voice that he wasn't pleased. "I'm not sure," Holt replied. "The Vampire claims the nurse is trying kill Dame Differel, but she says that Madam will die unless given that injection." "It's true! I must give her the drug immediately or she won't make it!" Aelfraed glanced at the syringe. "Why does he accuse her?" "He told me he read it in Dame Differel's mind." Aelfraed raised an eyebrow. "Can he prove that?" "He said she wants me to test her." He nodded. "Then do it." "No! There's no time!" "My Dear, I cannot allow you to intervene if there is even the slightest chance Vlad may be right." "You idiot! If she dies, it'll be on your head!" "Then I accept the responsibility, and the consequences." Her heart skipped a beat with surprise. She had never seen him so determined or resolute! It made her wonder what else he hid under that stiff shirt. "Carry on, Mr. Holt." He lowered the pistol and looked towards the bed. "When you and I first met, I was on guard duty. You tried to distract me by singing a song. What was it?" Oh, bloody damn good, old man! Vlad, I didn't sing, I tap danced, and he knows I can't carry a tune in a bucket. "She said that she performed some soft-shoe, and her singing could wake the dead." She felt her temper flare. Don't embellish! {Never, My Master.} Holt looked surprised. "He's right." But Aelfraed didn't seem impressed. "That's no secret." Bloody cheek! "She replied, 'bloody cheek'." That floored him as he visibly started. "Try another, Mr. Holt." "Of course. At our first tea party, your other guests were Winnie the Poo, Mrs. Snuggle-Bunny, and who else?" Sooty. She recalled a memory of what it looked like. "A puppet bear named Sooty." "Correct again." "But everyone knows those were her favorite soft toys." Still, Aelfraed didn't look quite so certain. "Then how about this: shortly after your father assigned me to be your companion and bodyguard, there was an incident. You swore me to secrecy, but unbeknownst to you I informed Aelfraed and your father, and they both agreed to keep the secret with me. That was the reason I was promoted to lance corporal. What was the incident?" Oh, bloody hell! Aelfraed raised an eyebrow, but he didn't object. "I do not believe she wishes to answer." "There," the nurse crowed, "you see? He's making it all up!" Aelfraed looked grave, but his tone was as resolute as before. "I'm afraid I must agree, unless you can provide the answer." {Master, tell me, it is their only hope.} I beg your pardon? {I will not allow anyone to harm you. I will kill anyone who tries, even them.} I order you not to! {I cannot obey that order, if it places you in peril. I am the only other person present, and I will whisper it to them so no one else hears.} I...I can't, it's too...embarrassing. {Master, please. You should not be ashamed of anything. You are stronger than that, and the opinion of others should not matter a particle to you.} Despite what was at stake, she couldn't do it. "Well?" "She said it was too embarrassing to reveal." Aelfraed raised an eyebrow again, but he didn't look convinced. "That's true, but you could have guessed that from Mr. Holt's description. If you cannot provide an answer, I'm afraid I will have to allow the nurse to give her the injection." Vlad grinned in a wolfish manner. "I will not release her." "Very well. Then I will give it myself." He stepped towards the IV. "Touch it, and you die." Holt raised the pistol as Aelfraed paused and glanced at the Vampire. "Do your worst, sir." And he reached out for the syringe. Find the story here: [https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/333880]. From "The Golden Mushroom" By that time they had reached the spot indicated on the map. It was a boggy hollow, in area a little larger than a baseball field. Pools of debris and silt-filled water lay interspersed by mounds and ridges of soggy earth. The trees were small and thinner there, and more widely scattered, but the only other vegetation were thick mats of a ground-hugging herb. Shadow sat on a rock waiting for them as she gazed into the hollow. The long, lean, smoky-gray cat looked up at them with her mint-green eyes as they came abreast of her. "This may be a little more difficult." To Eile she sounded smugly satisfied. "What do you think?" she asked Sunny. "It doesn't look too bad." But there was a hint of uncertainty in her tone. Eile couldn't blame her. While it wasn't going to be as easy as the other items, it looked simple enough: avoid the pools, stay on the land, and hope it was solid enough to support them. But it would make searching for the gilded toadstool all the more difficult. "If only we knew where to look," Sunny added in frustration. As if her words were a prayer, a shaft of sunlight dropped out of a break in the clouds and fell on the central mound. At its center an object winked and twinkled with a distinctive metallic sheen. Though stunned, Eile felt suspicious too. "Alright, now that was just too convenient." "Yeah, but what choice do we have?" Sunny sounded nervous, but she was right. "None." She placed the pack on the ground. "You go first. Use yer bow ta test the ground ahead, make sure it's firm." She unsheathed her sword and held it at the ready. "I'll watch our backs. Okay?" "Okay, partner!" She grinned, excitement shining in her eyes. "Team Girl laughs in the face of death as we brave the dangers of the bog of doom! Ha-ha-ha!" Eile grimaced and pressed the fingers of her left hand into her forehead. "Just...be careful where you step, will ya? Shadow, you stay here." "I'll be sure to tell Mayv where to scatter the flowers." She gave the cat a dirty look. "Thanks a bunch." "Don't mention it." Sunny made her way to the closest ridge and started out over it, probing the earth with her bow before she took each step. Eile made sure she stepped into Sunny's footprints. At first the ground seemed quite firm, but after a couple of yards Sunny started to sink. For a moment her heart seized up as she expected Sunny to be sucked down out of sight, but she only sank to her ankles. The ground was getting softer, but the vegetation seemed able to hold it together. "Ick!" Sunny squealed as she extracted her foot. "Keep moving!" She sank as well, but fortunately no deeper despite her armor. Apparently the herb mat was strong enough to bear their weight without breaking. Sunny took another step. "I hope I tied the laces tight enough. I don't want to be stuck out here without boots." After nearly twelve Dream-months, Eile had gotten pretty good at estimating the passage of time without a watch. It was sort of like dead reckoning. By her calculation, it took them a total of forty-five minutes to reach the central mound. It was a nerve-wracking trip; with each step, she expected them to stumble into quicksand or fall through an unsuspected dirt bridge and sink into a deep bog hole. But they made it safely, and she figured the journey back would be faster. Sunny lifted her skirt and examined her feet. They were covered in muck half-way up her shins. "Ugh. I'm gonna need to get new shoes after this." She then dropped the hem and looked around, while Eile looked with her. The mound was no different from any of the others, except larger. It was covered by an herb mat, but in its center stood the Golden Mushroom. It resembled its name exactly: a standard toadstool stalk and cap, but metallic gold in color. In fact, it looked like it was made of real gold. "Here." Sunny held out her bow, and she took it. "We'll take the same route back." She watched Sunny put on her gloves and go up to the fungus. "Right." She spoke in an absentminded fashion as she knelt down. In the same moment, Eile felt something strange in the woods around them. The hairs on the nape of neck stood up as her skin crawled and turned to goose flesh. Raising her sword, she turned around in all directions, trying to identify it, but she saw nothing. But she heard it: muffled thunderclaps like the stamping of huge feet. Then she felt the ground tremble with the concussion shock. Something was coming, something huge, but she couldn't pinpoint from where. She looked back at Sunny. She had heard and felt it too, and she stood slowly as she looked around. "Sunny!" She tossed her the bow. She caught it and nocked an arrow, ready for whatever came. The sounds grew steadily louder as the tremors intensified. Then Eile saw them: gigantic anthropoid figures striding around the perimeter of the hollow, just beyond the tree line. She tried to count them, but lost track as they crossed and recrossed each other's paths. They moved faster than she expected from their size. She looked for Shadow, but the cat was gone. Before she could try to find her, one of the figures emerged into the hollow. It came at her with startling speed as it covered great distances with each enormous stride. "Sweet Jesus!" She saw it clearly for the first time: it looked like a tree! Sunny screamed. Eile whipped around in time to see a second tree-creature stalking off with her in one hand. She struggled, kicked, and pounded on the fingers, but it had her in an iron grip. "Eile!! Help me!!!" The monster merged with the woods and vanished from sight. "Sunnyyy!!!" She started off after her. The creature coming up behind her passed her in two massive strides, then turned and swung an arm at her. It caught her before she could dodge, picked her up, and threw her backwards in a high, long arch. She landed in one of the pools with a shocking splash. Terrified, she flailed about for some moments, desperately trying to stay afloat, when she realized she was already resting on the bottom. She sat up and wiped detritus away from her face as she sputtered to expel the foul tasting water from her mouth. She looked around and found that the tree-monsters were gone. "Shit!" She groped for her sword, and when she found it she stood up and ran back to the central mound, heedless to any danger. She gained the top and glanced around, looking for the spot where the one creature had taken Sunny into the woods, but she saw nothing to indicate where they had gone. "Arrrgh, dammit, dammit, dammit!" she raged, as much from misery as wrath. "Eile!" She turned and saw Shadow standing on a farther mound. "I know where they took Sunny. Follow me!" She didn't argue. She charged off the mound and across a ridge, and followed the cat as it crossed the rest of the hollow and dashed into the woods. Eile ran as fast as she could push herself, relying on instinct to avoid roots and branches, and luck to avoid what her instincts couldn't detect. The scenery around her passed in a blur as her sight focused into tunnel vision and she became oblivious to everything except the chase and her desperate desire to find Sunny. God, whoever or whatever you are in this place, please let her be safe. I can't live without her; I can't stand to lose her. Please, I beg of you, let me find her alive. Find the story here: [https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/390773]. From "Oak Do Hate" She ran back out to the cart and rode off; the source of the glow seemed to be just ahead. As she got closer her anxiety mounted, and in her imagination she saw all sorts of horrendous possibilities, each worse than the one before. What she finally did see, however, mystified her as she slowed the cart to a halt. In the space of the park between the stables and the lake, on either side of the path, were trees, dozens of them, maybe even a hundred or more. "There aren't supposed to be trees here." But they were the source of the glow. Each one emitted only a feeble light, but together they lit up the night sky, if only dimly. She got out of the cart and walked among them, examining each with the torch. She realized they weren't actually trees, just trunks sunk into the ground, all between five and six feet tall, with two boughs raised into the air, but with no branches, and curiously no leaves. That early in autumn there should still have been some, even if they had turned color. Another puzzling feature: each had a strange, knobby growth, like a giant gall, at the top of the trunk between the boughs. It doesn't make sense. Aelfraed hadn't told her about any landscaping being done, and she had been out riding a couple of days before and hadn't seen anything in that area. It would take longer than that to plant that many trees. On top of which, it would have been faster and more efficient to plant seedlings, but no gardener worth his salt would plant mature trees just before winter. And why cut off the boughs, or leave just two? As she shined the torch around, she spotted a small reflection in the middle of one of the galls. She kept the beam steady on it as she approached. What is that? When she reached the foot of the trunk, she found something embedded into the wood. She studied it in an intent manner, trying to divine what it was. When she finally recognized it, her heart seized as her blood ran cold, and she backed away from the tree. "Oh my Holy God!" It was a pair of pince-nez spectacles. She played the light over the gall. The pattern of the bark was identical to the facial features of Aelfraed, except they were twisted into an expression of terror. She shined the light on another tree; that one had the features of Mrs. Widget, with her granny glasses embedded as well. Beside her was a squat tree that looked like Holt, and beside him one that resembled Phillipa Trumbo, the pastry chef. Another reminded her of Doc LeClerc. She ran around the grove; all the trees had human faces on them, most of which she recognized as members of her staff. In her growing panic she accidently ran into one of them. As she stepped back, she illuminated the gall-face and felt a jolt: Vlad's countenance stared back at her in a blank manner. Despair washed over her and she reached out to lay a hand on the bark. She wouldn't have believed he would end like this. {Neither would I, My Master, but I am not finished yet.} At first startled, she broke out into a relieved grin. You're alive?! {In a manner of speaking.} What of the others? Aelfread, Mrs. Widget, Holt-- {They are more alive than I. They are just encased in prisons of wood, as I.} She felt her irritation flare. Why didn't you reply back at the house!? {I could not. My prison prevented me. Only through this physical contact are we able to converse, yet just barely. Soon even this will become impossible.} Oh. My apologies. {You need never apologize to me, Master. Do you beg forgiveness of a pistol or a sword? I am only a weapon, albeit a broken one at present.} Never mind that now! Tell me what happened. {I cannot be certain; I have never felt anything like this before. It was a summons that took control of my body. I was like a passenger riding a vehicle. I recognized what was happening, but I could not stop it. Nor was I alone. I could sense that everyone on the estate was under its influence. Once we had gathered in this place, we were encased in bark, as you see.} But why? {I can feel this spell, whatever its origin, changing my flesh, my organs, the very bones of my body, to wood, as my feet become roots and my fingers branches.} You're turning into a tree?! {So it would seem.} Why wasn't I affected? {I do not know. I have no knowledge of this magic. You felt nothing?} Something woke me up, but after that, no. {When was this?} I'm not sure; maybe thirty minutes ago. {That was about when I came under its influence.} Do you know who or what is behind it? {I...yes. The Spirit of the Oaks.} I beg your pardon? {An ancient--Master! Beware, you are in danger!} She caught movement out of the corner of her right eye. Turning, she pulled the Beretta out of her jacket pocket, thumbed off the safety, and set it to semi-automatic as she scanned the area with the torch. She caught a glimpse of something slipping out of the cone of light. She sprinted towards it and pointed the torch into its path. It was just another of the trunks. Disappointed and puzzled, she stopped and started to swing the light away, when she spotted its leafy crown. No, it was a willow, like those on the shore of the lake. But how did it get there-- It turned and "faced" her. Find the story here: [https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/344007]. From "A Deliberation of Morality" A pop startled her, and when she opened her eyes and slipped her glasses back on she saw a small column of fire and smoke standing in the middle of the report she had been writing, accompanied by a deep, resonant bass organ chord. Alarmed, she half rose out of her chair when it disappeared. In its place stood a feminine anthropomorphic figure inside a ring of char. It was no more than six inches high, dressed in an erotic bodice with a cross in the cleavage lacings, a pair of belted panties, fishnet stockings, and stiletto-heeled shoes, with a garter on her left thigh, two more on her upper arms, and a spiked collar around her neck. The clothes were fiery red while the collar, belt, garters, and shoes were night-black, and the spikes, buckles, and cross coin-silver. It took her a moment to realize the tiny woman looked exactly like her, even down to the glasses, except for the two red horns sprouting from either side of her head, and the long, sinuous barbed tail that emerged from her backside. She looked up at Differel with a sly, devilish expression as the aristocrat stood up, but as soon as she saw who it was, she jumped, a shocked look on her face. "Good God!" Despite her size, her voice sounded normal, and identical to her own. "Whatever I did, it couldn't have been bad enough to deserve this!" "Who, or what, the bloody hell are you!?" Differel leaned over the desk, her hands braced against the top. Recovering quickly, the diminutive Differel gave her a look admonishing her not to be daft. "That should be obvious. I'm your shoulder devil." "My...what?!" The devil-doll sighed in frustration and shook her head. "Do you have a hearing problem? Shoul--der--de--vil!" "And just what is that supposed to be, exactly?" She threw up her hands and looked towards the ceiling. "Oh for the love of Evil! How dense can you possibly be? I'm one of the two personifications that sit on your shoulders and offer advice on moral dilemmas. In my case, I personify temptation, and appeal to your selfish motivations." Differel felt faint for a moment and resumed sitting. "I must be dreaming," she half-whispered, leaning forward. She held her head in her hands with her elbows resting on the desktop. "Yes, of course, I've fallen asleep over my work and I'm having a guilt-ridden nightmare." "I wish!" The devilish-Differel sounded peeved as she placed her hands on her hips and turned away. "Being assigned to you is hardly what you would call a plum assignment. In fact, it's usually reserved either as a way to haze rookie tempters, or as a form of punishment." Differel looked up and crossed her arms over the desk. "I beg your pardon?" She spared her an exasperated glance over her shoulder. "Being a shoulder devil is an occupation, not a vocation. It's usually a devil's first job after graduating from the tempters training academy. However, it can be assigned to retirees who wish to keep their hands in the business, or to incompetents or malcontents as a way to teach them humility and the error of their ways. Haven't you ever read C. S. Lewis? The Screwtape Letters?" That did seem rather familiar. "Alright, I see what you're getting at." The devil-doll nodded her head and turned to face her again. "Finally! Now we can get down to business. Oh, by the way, the name's Differel Diabolique, but you can call me DeeDee. I prefer informality among friends." Differel frowned. Her attitude was getting on her nerves. "Just a moment. If what you say is true, then there should be a 'shoulder angel', correct?" "Exactly. She personifies your conscience and appeals to your altruistic motivations." "Shouldn't she be here as well?" Her face split into silly grin. "Are you kidding? You don't need her, you're a bigger stiff than she is." Differel felt her anger flare as she sat upright. "Now just a bloody minute--!" DeeDee's own face turned fiery red as she became upset. "I meant it as a compliment! Jesus, but you have a temper. I told you, being assigned to you is considered onerous duty. Why do you suppose that is, huh? It's because you're such a straight-arrow no tempter has a chance of getting you to commit any kind of sin, no matter how insignificant. So why would you need a shoulder angel? You do her job better than she would. In fact, I hear being assigned to you is considered a rather cushy posting Upstairs. She's probably off somewhere working on her tan, the stuck-up little bitch! Me, I'll probably spend my time doing my nails. Big whoop." Differel forced herself to relax. If she was having a dream, she should be able to control it, but she would have to be calm, and if she wasn't, getting mad still wouldn't help her situation. "Hey." DeeDee broke into her thoughts. "Do you mind if I change into something more comfortable?" Before Differel had a chance to respond, the devil-doll disappeared in a flash of fire and a puff a smoke. A larger column of smoke and flame sprang up in front of the desk, startling her, accompanied again by the organ note, now loud enough to shake the desk. DeeDee reappeared, full-sized, but otherwise no different. She stretched in a languid, almost provocative, manner, as if working the kinks out of the compacted muscles. "Man, does that feel good! Being shoulder-size gets to be pretty confining after awhile." Somehow, Differel found her larger size more disturbing, in more ways than one. "Are you sure this isn't a dream?" DeeDee walked around the desk to her side. Differel reached under the top to grip her pistol, but didn't pull it when she leaned backwards against the edge. "If you don't believe me, call someone. If this is a dream, they'll see me, otherwise they won't." She raised an eyebrow as she removed her hand. "I can call anyone?" "Anybody you like." She smirked. "Hmph. As you wish." And she sent out a familiar mental summons. Vlad Drakulya emerged from the corner closest to the door. "You rang, My Master?" he said in his deep bass voice. Find the story here: [https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/399503]. From "Disposable Commodities" He laughed again and shook his head as he crossed the room to his desk. He dropped the messages on the blotter and took a moment to push down the upper panel of his window to get some fresh air, glancing down at the street twenty stories below. He then turned and opened the desk file drawer. Inside was a bottle of whiskey, half full, a thick-walled pewter bowl a foot across, and a crude ceramic jar stopped with a lead plug. He took out all three and set them on the desk. Pulling loose the plug, he poured a handful of grayish-green powdery salt into a glass from the wet bar and measured out a gram onto a slip of rice paper using a pharmacist's balance. He poured the unused dust back into the jar and replaced the plug before dumping the gram into the bowl. He walked into the middle of the room carrying the bowl and the whiskey bottle, set the bowl on the floor, and poured in a libation of the liquor. He sprinted back three feet as the contents began to fizz. Within seconds, a column of fine mist rose into the air. It billowed and swirled, and took on a female form. As he watched, it coalesced into a solid object, then faded away, to reveal a nude, voluptuous woman with an hourglass figure and skin the color of bread crust. She stood as still as a statue for a few moments, her eyes closed, then she inhaled sharply and started to breath. She tilted her head back, raised her arms, and stretched her entire body, as if trying to reach the ceiling. She lowered her arms in a languid manner, bending her elbows, and ran her fingers through her billowing mane of fiery crimson hair. Still lowering her arms, she caressed the sides of her face and neck, her shoulders, and her voluminous breasts. It wasn't until she rested her palms on her hips that she relaxed and opened her eyes. She stepped out of the bowl. "How long has it been this time?" Her voice was a low contralto, with a sultry burr that sounded like a purr. "Three months, Lily my dear." He raised the whiskey bottle to his mouth. She frowned and raised an eyebrow. "That's the longest yet." He took a swig. "Not as long as when I first woke you up. What year were you processed again?" "1912." Her voice sounded tight as he took another drink. "And the first time I let you out was last year. So, ninety-five years. Get the picture?" She gave him a look that could curdle milk. "What do you want this time?" He took one last pull then recapped the bottle. "Most of it's routine, but I have a couple of new requests. First, I want to replace Lucy." He turned and went back to his desk to set the bottle down. "Isn't she working out?" Her snarky barb stung, but he ignored it. "She expects me to permanently resurrect her." He turned around. "What ever gave her that idea?" "I told her I knew how to do it, to get her to do what I wanted." She scowled. "That was stupid. All you had to do was threaten to torture her, though you would have to do it at least once to make it credible." "I'll keep that in mind. So, can it be done?" "No." "That's plain enough. So I'll need someone new for tomorrow. Who would you recommend?" She smirked. "As I remember, you prefer them sweet, adorable, and naïve, true?" He licked his lips. "Most definitely." "Then I suggest Helen; front row, third from the middle." He looked over to his left. That entire wall was covered by a bookcase. In its center was a display cubicle with a glass front. Inside were three rows of ceramic jars, similar to Lily's, but only a third the size. He glanced back at her. "Stacked?" Lily favored him with a grinning leer. "Most definitely." He went over and opened the front. "From the name, I assume she's a blonde." "That she is." He reached in and picked up the jar in question. "Why can't they be permanently resurrected?" "The reconstituted body is held together by the salt matrix. The salts are vulnerable to oxidation, so the integrity of the matrix only lasts about a day. Once the body starts to break apart, it crumbles very easily. If you could seal her in an airtight vessel filled with helium, she would stay intact indefinitely; she doesn't need to breath. But that wouldn't do you any good. Of course, the more powder you use, the longer she would remain reconstituted, but the fewer times you could resurrect her." He examined the jar as he returned to his desk. "I've always wondered why your jar is so much bigger than these others." "That's because living tissue condenses that much smaller. Your grand-uncle poisoned me first; I still don't know how." He snapped his head around and stared at her, his gut crawling. "They were alive when you...?" "Of course. You need special procedures to process a dead body. Your uncle didn't know that and he almost botched my processing. I survived only because I hadn't been dead long enough to matter. It also helps if the subject is aware." He felt the blood drain out of his face. "They're awake when you...process them?" "At least for as long as it takes the chemicals to begin decomposing their bodies." He glanced back at the jar in his hand. "Is it painful?" "Excruciating. And they remember every moment." He grunted as he placed the jar on his desk. "You sound like you enjoy their suffering." She turned and walked over to the "casting" coach against the right wall. He had put it in against the day when he would have flesh and blood female clients; for the time being, it served as the platform for his daily antics with Lucy. She laid down, facing him, her head and shoulders propped up on the padded arm and one arm draped over the back. "They're my servants; they're only purpose is to serve my needs; all my needs." She snapped her fingers and a cigar appeared in her mouth. "Your slaves, you mean." "I prefer to think of them as pets. In any event, I fail to see a distinction." She snapped her fingers again and the exposed end lit up. "You don't believe they have any rights?" She snapped her fingers a third time and a glass of liquor appeared in one hand. "Technically, they're dead. What rights does a dead man have?" She drained the glass, but as soon as she held it level, it refilled. Find the story here: [https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/346270]. From "Youthful Indiscretion" As soon as the block fully reassembled itself, the tolling stopped. Apprehension crept over Henry; he knew something was about to happen, he just didn't know what. Then the room began to grow dark. He looked around at the the lights. They didn't appear to grow dim; in fact, they seemed as bright as ever. Rather, the areas over which they cast their luminance shrank as the borders became more distinct and sharp. Beyond them, the room fell into shadow like it would at twilight when the sun had set but the sky was still bright. In that moment They appeared in his room. It wasn't like how Vlad emerged from shadow, or the affect of Dr. Mabuse's transporter machine. Quite literally one moment the room was empty, and next five beings stood in its center. The thing he noted first was the stench. Though not overpowering, it was enough to turn his stomach, and yet overlaid was the scent of vanilla, which partially mitigated but could not completely cover their foul, rotten odor. At almost the same time he spotted the blue phosphorescent glow that surrounded them like a mist. Their most horrific feature, however, was that each was deformed or mutilated in some hideous fashion. One was morbidly obese, with its face so swollen with fat that the wrinkles distorted and obscured its features. Another had a flap of skin covering its eyes while its disfigured mouth had the lips pulled back well away from its mouth and the teeth clattered together endlessly like it was chattering. The third was the size of child about his same age, but its flesh had been seared as if in a barbecue while its eyes stared out from their sockets without blinking. Number four looked like a teenage girl, and while bald was otherwise unmarked, except for a gaping wound in her throat held open by small hooks. They all wore clothing that looked like a combination of religious vestments and butchery garments, except they were made from black leather and vinyl. The robes exposed areas of skin on their chests and stomachs, and it was pierced and sliced and coated with fine powder, like talcum, or...ash? The garments themselves were sewn or hooked into the skin, as if that was needed to hold them in place, in the manner of buttons or zippers. But the fifth and foremost, whom he took to be the leader, was the most compelling. He was hairless, with dead-white skin, and his face and scalp was etched in a grid of lines. At each intersection a large pin or small nail had been driven into the bone below. Unlike the others, who looked vacant or mindless, he seemed intelligent and aware. He stared at him with a sardonic half-smile, as if he alone knew a secret others would give their lives to know. It sent chills down his back even as he felt ill. Yet despite how repulsive they appeared, there was something about them that he found fascinating, even provocative. Even as he feared he would vomit at any moment, he felt enchanted by their presence, even a little bewitched. But then the nail-headed one frowned, like he realized something was wrong. His companions moved towards the bed, he assumed with the intent to take him, but as they tried to go around their leader, he held up a hand. "No, he did not summon us." Summon!? He stared down at the block in horror. That's why it was in the vault! How could I be so stupid! Vlad appeared in an explosion of shadow, in front of the bed between him and the monsters. "Run, Little Master!" Whatever spell, psychological or psychic, that held him in that room broke, and his terror galvanized him. He ran for the door to the nurse's room, pulled it open, and made for the opposite side, which led into the nursery. From there he could access the secret stairwell and make his way down to his mother's office. She would protect him. As he reached the other door, he heard the one to his bedroom slam shut. Vlad moved to block the door to keep the Cenobites from following his Master's son, but he felt the one called Pinhead extend his power to push it closed. "Vlad Tepes Drakulya." Pinhead regarded him with what appeared to be an arrogant expression. "Have you finally decided to surrender yourself to us?" "No. My current existence still satisfies me." "Then why do you interfere with our actions?" "I defend the Van Helsing Bloodline. So long as I draw breath, no harm will come to those who possess it." Pinhead sported a bored expression. "So be it." Even as he spoke, iron hooks at the end of heavy chains flew out of the walls, ceiling, and floor. The chains wrapped around Vlad's body, ensnaring him, as the hooks dug into his flesh, ripping through to the bones. They lifted him off the floor and spread-eagled his limbs even as they pulled him apart. Through the haze of agony and blood he saw Pinhead scan the room in a slow manner, as if searching for something. "The one who summoned us is not here. Come, we must search for him." They turned as a group and headed for the hall door. As they passed through it, the chains dissolved into thin air and he dropped. Before he hit the ground, he transformed into shadow and flowed under the bed to reform. He had to do so quickly; he knew they would follow Henry for the time being, hoping he would lead them to their victim, and Henry would go to his mother. Differel and the Girls were in the north stairwell, halfway between the first and ground floors, when her cell phone beeped. She paused and answered it. "Differel here; report." "Holt speaking. The Cenobites are in the grand hall, second floor, just outside the matriarch suite." Too soon; she had hoped for more time. "Fall back. Do not engage; repeat, do not engage! Follow them for now, but keep your distance and do not interfere unless they threaten someone. Understood?" "Yes, Mum." "Keep me informed of their progress. What of my son?" "He is not in his bedroom." Her heart stuttered as her breath caught in throat. "Start a search for him immediately!" "Right away, Mum. Holt out." She passed the phone to Eile. "Take all reports from Holt." "Sure thing, Diff." "You want us to help with the search?" Sunny asked. "Not yet. Stay with me for now." They continued on. They got off at the ground floor, Differel used her pass card to open the security gate and the door to her office, and then she went to the room safe. She unlocked it and pulled it open with Eile's help. Sunny entered first and switched on the light; she and Eile followed and went to the weapons locker. She pressed a thumb against the reader and heard the metal doors unlock. Opening the cabinet, she removed and passed to Eile a British Army L128A1 semi-automatic shotgun with a bandolier of 12-gauge shells, followed by an FN AR-57 semi-automatic carbine which she passed to Sunny along with a bandolier of 50-round magazines, and finally a Parker Hale submachine gun with a 180-round drum magazine for herself. While she waited for them to lock and load, she heard the kick panel that led to the secret stairwell open in the back. She aimed the PH as a box of files was moved aside, but relaxed when she saw Henry crawl through the shelves. "What are you doing here?" He stood up and sprinted over to her. "Five monsters appeared in my bedroom. Vlad told me to run, so I came down here to find you." Her gut seized as the nickel dropped. The cube he mentioned; its description matched that of the Lament Configuration. He must have taken it and solved it! Bloody hell, I've been so stupid! But she couldn't worry about that yet. She had to get him to safety. She held out her hand. "Come on, let's get you out of here." He took it and she led him out as the Girls followed. As she entered the office, however, she spotted the Cenobites standing just in front of the door. Read the rest of the story [http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/336465-youthful-indiscretion]. Back to TOC