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Elf Raised (Northern Creatures Book 3)
Elf Raised (Northern Creatures Book 3) Read online
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Elf Raised
Kris Austen Radcliffe
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
Wolf Hunted
The Worlds of
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About the Author
Copyright 2018 Kris Austen Radcliffe
All rights reserved.
Published by
Six Talon Sign Fantasy & Futuristic Romance
Edited by Annetta Ribken
Copyedited by Juli Lilly
“Northern Creatures” artwork created by Christina Rausch
Cover to be designed by Lou Harper
Plus a special thanks to my Proofing Crew.
Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events, programs, services, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
For requests, please e-mail: [email protected].
First electronic edition, March 2018
Version: 3.4.2018
ISBN: 978-1-939730-55-8
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Chapter 1
Sometimes, I wonder if time has the same physicality as space. It’s a strange thought, especially for a man who lives inside Alfheim’s magical bubble, but the world’s not all elves and vampires. It’s not all witches and ghosts and Lands of both Living and Dead.
I’m the cobbled-together son of a mad scientist, and sometimes a scientific point of view helps me to understand a situation better than magic.
I stood in my underwear on the deck between my house and the lake. I’d come out to warm my corpse-cold body in the bright morning sun, partly because I didn’t like my post-sleep, creaky aches, and partly because Benta wouldn’t touch me until my flesh felt living once again.
Benta the Nameless, the elf who also happened to be my ex, had decided the previous evening that “ex” was a relative descriptor, and had stayed the night.
Benta made coffee inside. And outside, a woman I did not know—a beautiful woman with auburn-red hair and a bright, keen face—ran down the path toward my deck.
I did not know her, but she knew me. The way she watched me and navigated the path, and the way my dog circled her legs as she moved, telegraphed that this woman understood my house and property. My canine emperor, Marcus Aurelius, trusted her. And she was carrying my backpack.
“Frank!” she called.
Somewhere in the back of my mind—somewhere in the distant topography of memory or time or whatever currents we all swim against every single moment of our lives—I heard a call.
Remember, it said.
“Who are you?” I asked. I didn’t know this woman but I wanted to. I wanted to pick her up and spend the day touching and talking and laughing together.
She had my backpack. She had my dog. And she looked happy to see cold, creaky me.
“Ellie Jones,” she said. “The concealment enchantments wipe your memory every night.” She hugged me.
A woman I did not know but did—she was familiar in the way a land’s colors are familiar. In the way animal calls and bird chirps let you know you’re in a certain part of the forest or near a river because only this part of the world sounds and smells this way.
Ellie Jones was that kind of familiar. I understood her touch, even if I did not recognize it.
“I’m your—”
Benta walked out onto the deck in her full, mostly-naked, elf glory, with coffee in hand and her attention on my wayward dog.
The woman named Ellie Jones dropped her hand from my chest and I swear all the cold of the Arctic returned to my bones. All the isolation and the howling wind. All the aimless wandering. My soul moved from the life-filled wonder that was a summer with Ellie Jones to the winter desolation I left behind long, long ago.
Remember, that distant voice called.
Ellie stared at Benta. Her mouth closed. She pulled my phone from her pocket and set it on the deck’s railing.
She picked up my backpack. “I’m sorry,” she said, and turned away.
I should understand where to map Ellie Jones into my world. I should comprehend why I wanted to follow—and to orbit. She’d caught my soul in her gravity well.
Marcus Aurelius looked to me. He wagged his tail. Then he looked over his shoulder at Ellie as she vanished up the path.
He barked.
Remember, whispered again through my mind.
“Go,” I said, and pointed at the path. “Protect.” I wanted to say Protect Ellie, but her name wouldn’t come out.
Ellie’s concealments interacted with elves and I was standing in the eye of the storm. I knew, though I didn’t remember learning what I knew. Benta’s magical elven proximity messed with my ability to articulate my thoughts.
My dog understood. He barked again and ran after the woman named Ellie Jones whom I should remember.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Benta stretched her neck. “Where’s Marcus Aurelius going?” She sipped her coffee, but didn’t seem all that distressed that my dog had come home only to immediately leave again.
“He’ll be back,” I said. Maybe. If he never came home again, at least I knew he was with someone who cared about him. I knew the same way I knew Benta’s
proximity interfered with my ability to speak of Ellie Jones.
But…
My dog was okay. I was okay. I’d survived a magical, soul- and blood-siphoning pike through my chest and now I had a naked Benta the Nameless standing on my deck looking at me as if she disapproved of how long it took the sun to warm my cold flesh.
I really should be remembering something—someone. I rubbed my forehead. Sometimes the surreal nature of my life popped a jab right into my face.
Benta brushed her fingers along my thigh as she walked toward my phone, which was sitting on my deck railing for some reason that, again, I did not remember.
She set down her coffee and picked up the device. “Did you leave this out here?” She handed it to me.
I stared at the phone wondering if I should unlock it and check my messages. Arne wanted me to come into The Great Hall. Most everyone who knew about magic would be coming into The Hall today, one way or the other.
When the elves did a magical reset, debriefing always followed, and my debriefing would include hours of discussion about what happened in the now-closed pocket borderland where the elves had trapped a horde of vampires.
A horde, and my fully, finally, utterly dissociated vampire brother.
No more Lord Dracula for the universe, or so we hoped. I hoped. But a contingency plan needed forming, because only fools left behind an ash-filled, unguarded pocket borderland full of magic-wielding vampires.
But right now, I wanted to warm my cold bones. And Benta, it seemed, wanted to help.
Yet I could not shake the feeling that entire kingdoms within the Realms of Time were shrouded from my perception. That entire sections of my map of the past had gone missing and now I had no idea how to navigate the future.
Fog lurked out there. And monsters. Maybe dragons, too. And here I stood on my deck in my underwear.
I handed the phone to Benta. “Take this in, would you?” I asked. “I’ll warm up.”
She carefully kissed my cheek—even though she’d been lightly touching, major contact wouldn’t happen until I came inside.
Somewhere deep in the back of my mind, from that unknown kingdom inside the hidden realms of time, a voice called out. That barely-perceptible call to pay attention to things other than what was right under my nose. To put my energy into making sure that I truly did understand the world around me.
Remember, it said. But what? I had no idea.
Benta sniffed the air as if she smelled a hint of dead animal—or danger. She shook her head and wrapped her arms around her breasts as if the morning air suddenly chilled her radiant elf skin.
She took my phone. Then Benta the Nameless walked away.
I looked out over the path that led from my deck into the trees. Maybe I should get dressed and go look for my dog. Or maybe I should warm up and go debrief the Elf King of Alfheim.
I sipped my coffee. Arne first. At least I could map that bit of the past.
Chapter 2
Benta was in the shower when I walked into the kitchen. Water rushed through the pipes, and the sounds of her knocking around shampoo bottles echoed through my house. She sang too, and the occasional sonic wonder of sung Icelandic filtered through the walls.
I set my mug on the counter and stretched my shoulders. The sun and the coffee had helped, and my morning cold creaks and aches had settled into my normal large and lumbering.
Benta launched into a shower rendition of a pop song I recognized—still in Icelandic, but the melody was unmistakable—and I shook my head. I had a beautiful singing elf in my shower.
What a strange life I lived.
Time to dress. Time to make my way to The Great Hall. All the vampire business needed settling once and for all.
I walked into the bedroom and rooted around in my dresser for a clean pair of jeans and a fresh t-shirt. I pulled out my prized “Alfheim Gossiping Squirrels” Sprouts League baseball jersey—Jaxson Geroux’s team had won their version of Regionals last spring—complete with its bold “Champion” letters and its mean, bat-wielding Ratatoskr mascot. The kid had proudly handed out the shirts to every adult he knew, and had made a point of ordering one in my size. No way could I have said no. Not that any sane person would pass up a “Gossiping Squirrels” t-shirt, anyway.
The water shut off just as a vehicle pulled into my driveway. I tucked in my t-shirt and glanced out the bedroom window.
Maura parked a brand-new, deep red, one-ton truck in front of my garage. It rumbled like a big cat, and dropped smoothly into silence when she turned it off.
Akeyla Maurasdottir bounded out of the passenger side and ran for the front door.
Maura had said something about moving back in this weekend. She said nothing about buying a new truck.
I rounded the corner into the hallway. “Maura and Akeyla are here!” I called.
“Okay,” Benta responded through the bathroom door.
Best not to freak out my little niece with a naked houseguest, especially since Benta was one of her grandmother’s friends.
The doorbell rang. I opened the door.
“Uncle Frank!” Akeyla launched herself at me. “Mommy said the icky vampires tried to hurt you again but you and Grandpa and Grandma and Ms. Benta and Mr. Magnus stopped them and got back Mr. Magnus’s big horses!”
I settled her on my hip. “That’s right, honey. We stopped the icky vampires.”
Out on the driveway, Maura exited the truck, as did Jaxson Geroux. He wiggled his nine-year-old shoulders like the young Alpha he was, then smiled and waved.
I waved back.
“Jax is spending the day with you?” I asked.
She hugged my neck. “His mommy and daddy have to work for Grandpa today.”
“Ah,” I said. Arne must have the Alphas checking the pack for residual effects of the elves’ cleansing spells.
Jax watched Maura close her door. Then he scanned the trees the same way his father did when Gerard looked for threats. When Jax was satisfied, he walked to the back of the truck and waited.
Born-wolves were rare, though the few that made it through infancy tended to be the children of Alphas. But being the son of two Alphas also meant that Jax could be… intense. He was also a damned good young pitcher and likely to be recruited when he hit high school. He even looked like a kid destined for the Majors—he carried his father’s French musculature on his mother’s lean and fast Somali frame. He was the prototypical strong, skinny kid who we all knew would soon develop surprisingly broad shoulders.
Akeyla didn’t mind Jax’s intensity. If anything, her free fire spirit energy loosened up his more piercing traits.
Out on the driveway, Maura handed Jax a suitcase.
“Mr. Magnus said you helped save Bloodyhoof,” Akeyla said. “Bloodyhoof is huge.” Her eyes rounded to reflect her sense of the stallion’s size.
“He is,” I said.
“I want to ride Bloodyhoof but Grandpa says I have to start with the smaller horses first,” she said.
I set her down. “Bloodyhoof’s big even for me.”
“No, he’s not. He’s just the right size for you.” She shook her head as if I was being dumb Uncle Frank again.
“Mr. Magnus won’t let anyone ride Bloodyhoof,” Jax said as he walked up. Even at nine, he could carry a big suitcase with ease.
He set the case on the step. “I think Bloodyhoof would like Akeyla.” He looked around as if once again checking for threats.
“Everything’s good here, Jax,” I said.
He looked up at me with an expression that was equal parts not understanding and understanding all too well. He nodded once and glanced around my leg and into the house. “Where’s Marcus Aurelius?” he asked.
A dusting of magic washed over the kids as he took Akeyla’s hand.
I looked at Maura. She frowned but didn’t say anything as she pulled three more suitcases out of the back of the truck. Akeyla, though, swung Jax’s hand as if playing a game and pulled him into the house. “Let’s
go down to the lake!” she said, and skipped by.
Jax looked over his shoulder. “Can we play with your dog?”
All the wolves loved my canine emperor. Even Gaupe, Arne’s lynx, liked him. “He didn’t come home last night,” I said, though I didn’t think that was quite right. “He’s safe.” Though I didn’t know that, either.
Benta stepped out of the bathroom, thankfully fully clothed, and out of glamour with her wet yet still somehow lively ponytail waving behind her head.
“Ms. Benta!” Akeyla squealed. She let go of Jax and launched herself at the elf in much the same way she’d launched herself at me when she arrived.
Benta did not lift up Akeyla the way I had. She squatted instead and offered a hug. “Shouldn’t you two be at school?”
“It’s Saturday!” the kids said in unison.
Benta laughed as she hugged first Akeyla, then Jax. “I don’t get to see you two out of The Great Hall.” She looked Jax over. “Did you have fun at the Aquarium?”
Axlam and Maura had taken the kids to Duluth while Arne and the rest of the elves cleansed the town of vampires and vampire-caused “ickiness.”
Jax shrugged. “Can we go see the cougars at your Sanctuary? The cougars are cool.”
Benta patted his shoulder. “They can’t rehab if there are little wolves around.”
He frowned as if Benta had said the meanest thing an adult could say—which she had, in some ways. A little magic and the kid would be fine around the cats, so I didn’t understand why she would dismiss him the way she did.