Monsters, Book Two: Hour of the Dragon Read online

  So Maze threw the man a bone. It was time for this party to get started anyway.

  “Personally, I think you need a bit of practice caring for something so valuable, so precious, before you’re given the real deal with which to… play. Faith is not like other women, obviously. She cannot therefore be treated the way you would treat other women. You wouldn’t want to enter into this relationship without having properly prepared, would you?”

  Just as he’d hoped, the man frowned a little, considering Maze’s words. In essence, they were actually true.

  “What would you suggest?” Price asked.

  “Well… they say that doing the same thing over and over again while expecting a different result is the definition of madness,” Maze began.

  “Insanity. But yes,” Price interjected, his gaze still locked on the Jeep, which was driving steadily now that no one was manipulating it.

  “Mmm,” allowed Maze. “However, it’s also called practice.”

  Price finally pulled his eyes from the white vehicle to peer over at Maze.

  Victor smiled. “I know you’ve been practicing on other women, Price. And I know you’re eager. But… I don’t think you’re quite there yet.”

  Victor silently delighted in the prospect of wreaking more havoc on the already topsy-turvy human world. The humans were terrified, just like they always were when a “serial killer” was on the loose. It was strange that this frightened them so much more than say, the prospect of driving. Or smoking. Or eating too much. The number of deaths involved with an action did not determine how frightening it was for a mortal. There was another layer to it altogether.

  He was having fun learning about that layer.

  Even the sovereigns had become involved with Price’s serial killings, on the off chance that there was an inhuman player at the reins.

  They had no idea.

  Victor looked away from his human charge, so to speak, and sighed. “The way in which veterinarians learn what will keep or kill a beast is by killing beasts one by one – until they happen upon the methodology that manages to keep their animal alive. And in that moment, insanity becomes practice. In fact, it becomes science.” His smile broadened. “I know you appreciate art, Mr. Price. You may liken the process to the same. It is violin chords played repetitively until they are crystal clear – or canvases marked by lines of paint one after another, until, et voilà! You have in your possession The Starry Night.” He grinned. “With its moon so bright.”

  Now his human companion’s pupils had expanded. His attention was indeed fixed.

  Maze leaned toward him just a little. “You need another canvas, Mr. Price. Perfect your stroke. And then the masterpiece shall be yours.”

  Chapter Ten – Australia, coastal highway

  Anna smiled to herself.

  There was that as well. The sentinel.

  She recalled the first time she’d met him and was beginning to sink into the memory – when Piper swore and slammed on the breaks, swerving to miss a small furry brown blur that raced toward the Jeep’s front right side. Anna gasped and braced herself against the side and top of the Jeep, a hand pressed firmly to each surface. But Piper deftly managed to miss the poor beast without tilting the car too badly. The people behind them didn’t even honk at her unexpected driving move, and it was short seconds before she had the Jeep straightened out again.

  “Damn, I’m glad you drove,” Anna breathed.

  Piper didn’t say anything, but she did spare Anna a relieved expression before returning her attention to the road.

  They passed the highway marker on the right that told them they were less than a couple minutes from the car park. Anna felt a warm thrill like she always felt when the time to actually get into the water drew near. It just felt so… good.

  Kind of the way Magnus made her feel. Her sentinel.

  Conall hadn’t warned her about sentinels before she’d agreed to join Draco, and she had no prior knowledge from other sources. In fact, even after she joined, she wasn’t let in on the secret. Anna didn’t in fact learn about sentinels until a few months later, and that was by accident.

  It happened when she was in one of her dark moods. All of her ghost scars were aching; they did that sometimes. Each time she resurrected someone, the wound that appeared on her skin created a twin wound inside. These were invisible in every possible sense; x-rays, MRI’s, and every other imaging method thus-far created failed to bring them to light. Anna finally told her clan leader about them, who brought in “imaging equipment” of a different kind – in the form of a seer.

  The seer had explained to her that she was not the first person to experience ghost pains; humans experienced them all the time. Amputees could still very much feel pain in the limb they’d lost because their brains would transmit this pain, despite the appendage being missing altogether. “If the brain tells you it’s real, then it’s real. I think therefore I am. It’s the nerve center. If your brain tells you that you’re sleepy, you’re sleepy, if it tells you you’re hungry, you’re hungry. If it tells you nothing, you’re dead.” She’d smiled when Anna had laughed. “However, because of the magical nature of these wounds,” she said, gesturing to the scars on Anna’s skin, “they’re even more solidly ingrained on you.”

  Anna’s laughter had died down.

  “These wounds, these scars, were created using the part of you that makes you Withered. And that is where their twins reside. That part of you is so strong, it defies death. I can think of little else that is so strong…. Unfortunately, that means that to treat this pain, you will need something equally as strong. Something frankly magical.” Her smile was back, reassuring and calm. “You’re lucky. We have something like this, just perfected recently, and it’s helped many of our kind.”

  By “our kind,” Anna realized she was talking about those with supernatural powers or abilities like her own.

  “I will provide you with a good supply of the medicine, however it would benefit you most if you learned to make it yourself.”

  And so she did. The seer, a woman by the name of Lily Kane, had then tirelessly instructed Annaleia in the creation of the potion, which they then turned to powder and enclosed in pill capsules for easy transport. A multi-level illusion then had to be placed over the medicine to disguise it as vitamins or supplements should humans ever run across the pills and test them or even ingest them. As far as any mortal were concerned, the pills would behave no differently than Biotin or Lysine.

  Anna never left home without them. But that day, the day she met her sentinel for the first time, she’d been so busy with all three of her jobs, she hadn’t had time to realize she was running low on her supply. Some days were worse than others with the ghost pain, and just as mortals with rheumatoid arthritis or fibromyalgia could always tell when a storm was coming, shifts in the magical fields in the realms had the same sort of effect on her. And when they did, and the pain got to her, Anna reached for her meds.

  But it happened when she was with a new employee from the ad agency that her boss wanted her to befriend to help ease the newcomer into the group. They were at a department store in the local mall when Anna did exactly that – reached for the meds – only to find that her bottle was empty.

  Mortal pain killers could sometimes take the very worst of the edges off the pain, but they had to be strong narcotics, and those were absolutely impossible to obtain if you didn’t present multiple, profusely bleeding compound fractures when requesting them. Hell, even then you’d most likely leave with casts, crutches, and instructions to take ibuprofen.

  Anna had nothing, and the attack was coming on fast and strong.

  As a throbbing wave moved through her and she felt the blood drain from her face, she’d excused herself from her coworker’s side to use the restroom. She thanked what miniscule good fortune there was in the world that the room was empty and entered the largest and last stall. There, she shut the door, draped her purse on the inner hook, put the lid down on the t
oilet, and then sank into a seated position to hold her head in her shaking hands.

  Her breathing came out ragged, hissing between clenched teeth as she wondered how the hell she was going to get through the afternoon. “Damn it all to hell,” she muttered, cursing herself for not being more vigilant with her supply. “Gods, Storyteller, someone – for the love of all that is not absolutely sucky, please help me,” she prayed. “Make this pain go away. Just please help me!”

  And suddenly Annaleia was jumping up from her seat on the toilet lid and screaming as she attempted to backpedal from the heart-stoppingly beautiful man who appeared out of nowhere in front of her in the bathroom stall.

  He was fast. He raised his hands immediately in a placating gesture and in a calm, magically soothing voice he said, “ My name is Magnus. Your name is Annaleia. You’re a warden for clan Draco… And I’m your sentinel.” As the words rolled slowly and easily off his tongue, Anna felt more and more of her shocked fear ebb away.

  “I’m here to help you because you called out for me.”

  Normally sentinels only appeared when their wardens called out to them by name and were doing so because they were either close to death due to injury or were caught in a moment when death loomed imminent, both of which sentinels could feel when called. But since a warden wouldn’t know their sentinel’s name until after they’d met, this rule was eliminated for their initial appearance. However, they still couldn’t show up unless they were absolutely needed, hence sentinels were always introduced to their charges in a most surprising manner.

  Luckily there was a kind of instant bond between a warden and his or her sentinel, and that bond could be immediately felt by the warden. When her sentinel appeared, Anna calmed down in record time before she let loose with a barrage of questions.

  At one point, a woman had come into the bathroom during their conversation – but upon hearing a female and male voice in one of the stalls, she’d immediately left again.

  After that, Magnus exited the stall and Anna tentatively followed after him, taking a warden’s opportunity to size him up. He was well over six feet tall, dressed in jeans and a plain white t-shirt that hugged broad, athletic curves, and she doubted he had a single ounce of fat on his entire body. He sported thick, dark brown shaggy-wavy hair that curled where it brushed his shoulders, and his eyes were blue. She was a real sucker for eyes like that.

  Truth be told, her “sizing up” of Magnus became more of an ogling. There was something about his appearance that almost puzzled her. It was hard to explain, but there was an aspect so classically perfect to his structure, it was almost uncomfortable. It was like staring at a Michelangelo sculpture come to life. He appeared to have been impeccably and seamlessly carved from marble; there was no unevenness to his symmetry whatsoever.

  Magnus either didn’t notice her blatant staring or was gentlemanly enough not to mention it. She watched him as he placed an illusion spell over the door that she knew would do something along the lines of… make the door disappear so it looked like a blank wall instead.

  When he finished, he turned back to Annaleia. “I promise to answer any and all of your questions, Annaleia. But first I must insist that you allow me to tend to you.”

  As she’d blinked up at him wondering what he could mean, Magnus smiled in a way that made her body tingle. He gently cupped her head in his hands, slid his fingers lovingly through her hair, and Anna sighed in deeply felt relief as warmth spread from his touch throughout her body, eliminating her pain as it went.

  When it was gone completely, Magnus had released her – slowly – and did so only by running his fingers through her hair again as he lowered his well-sculpted arms. “Now then,” he said, his smile making its way into his voice. “Let’s hear those questions you had for me.”

  Anna knew she was blushing when she finally found her voice again. But she did find it, and she did ask those questions, and as promised, he did answer them.

  Sentinels had apparently been created by the Storyteller to help protect wardens in their dangerous jobs. They were just that extra little edge in exchange for the highly dangerous task wardens took on.

  Sentinels were an enigma. No one understood how they came into being. No one ever actually saw it happen. They only knew that once an individual signed on to be a warden, the sentinel was assigned to look after them. Just like that. It was as easy as, “I’m in.” And boom. The sentinel was theirs.

  Sentinels had three main strengths and two big weaknesses. For strengths, they never took damage dealt by supernatural means, nor did they take damage dealt by wardens. Werewolves couldn’t claw them, vampires couldn’t bite them, wishers couldn’t enact revenge on them, unicorns couldn’t run them through, and wardens couldn’t pump them full of lead. This immunity allowed sentinels to enter into the fray of many warden battles, when and where they were needed. They could also transport instantaneously as if they were simply popping in and out of existence anywhere they wished. Anywhere.

  Not even a sovereign’s ward could keep them at bay. Although, Anna had heard recently that one particularly powerful magic user, who was also Withered, had managed to pull together just the right recipe of spells to keep one warden’s sentinel at bay for nearly an hour when the warden had needed him most. That wasn’t good – and the kings and queens were working hard on solving that little problem. But it was new and it was still relatively small when compared to a sentinel’s advantages.

  Most importantly, sentinels possessed the ability to heal. As long as their warden still lived, even a wound that would have been mortal could be completely repaired by a sentinel’s touch.

  However, everything had a weakness. Sentinels had two. One, just like any mortal healer, their ability to heal was limited. They could only heal sudden wounds, and damage taken by any unnatural means. Nature’s particularly cruel damages, such as disease and aging, they could not touch. Also, each time they appeared, a sentinel could heal one person, and one person only.

  Two, sentinels could only approach their wardens if they were called by them, just as Magnus had instructed Anna. Their initial meeting was lax on many of these rules, as again, a warden needed to meet their sentinel. So, in general the sentinel’s discretion was allowed that first time. If a warden’s guardian thought a meeting was necessary, they were allowed to follow through with it.

  Now as Anna thought about her sentinel, she wondered if he could hear her. Where did sentinels go when they weren’t helping their wardens? It was a common question amongst wardens, and one sentinels never answered. And if they could hear when they were called, could they hear wardens all the time? Like right now? Like when they were with friends? In the bathroom? Having sex?

  Anna blinked and shook her head as Piper pulled the Jeep into the car lot and had the fortune to find the perfect spot. “You ready for this?” she asked as she turned off the ignition and grabbed the door handle.

  But Annaleia was already out of the Jeep and pulling her board from the back. “Last one to the water has to clean and wax the boards for tomorrow!”

  Anna smiled to herself when she heard Piper swear behind her. The smile became an honest laugh of glee when her feet hit the sand running, the crash of surf on the shore filled her ears, and the sun prepared to place a few more freckles across her nose and the apples of her cheeks.

  Chapter Eleven – A few days later, Austin Texas, Sixth Street

  “Just go talk to them.” Antares Mace took a swig of his beer and slowly lowered it to the bar, gritting his teeth a little at the bitter taste. Buffalo Billiards was a chain bar with give-or-take thirty beers on tap at any point in time. There was one in Philadelphia, so Antares was familiar enough with the brand to feel instantly comfortable upon entering the Austin, Texas establishment. Still, even after all this time, he had yet to try every beer they offered. And the beer in his hands was one of the reasons why.

  To his left, David Sharpe glanced over at him. “I told you it was an IPA, Mace. You hate those.”


  “Yep,” Antares replied without inflection.

  “And as to your suggestion,” Dave continued. “Why would I?”

  Antares didn’t miss a beat. “Because you’ve been eyeing those girls up like the undead creep you are for the last ten minutes.”

  David Sharpe was subtle. He really could be sneaky when he wanted. He could be covert as hell, in fact. He was the Monsters MC clan’s information-gatherer, and as such, he knew how to get into places most people wouldn’t dream of accessing. That meant staying under the radar when necessary. But he’d been staring at a group of women who’d entered the bar earlier, and Antares was one of the few people in the world David couldn’t fool.

  Dave slowly swiveled his stool until he was facing the same direction as Antares. He leaned over the bar on well-muscled, crossed arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he blatantly lied with a smile, then nodded at the bartender for a drink. “The same as his, please.” He smirked at Antares. “I happen to love IPA.”

  “That’s because you’re dead. You can’t tell the difference between good beer and rot.”

  The bartender, who was human and of course didn’t hear their exchange, nodded back from where he stood across the bar and got to work pouring him a drink from the tap.

  “Which one you interested in?” Antares asked David without looking up.

  “The blonde I guess,” said Dave. “Her eyes remind me of something. I can’t even put my finger on it, though.”

  “That’s good,” said Mace without inflection.

  David thanked the bartender for the beer, took a drink, then asked, “Why’s that?”

  “Because she wants you too,” Mace told him simply.