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Secret Ones Volume 1
Inhumanly quick, Janet's hand curled around a wicked dagger flashed down, aimed for Joe's chest. Equally fast he scooted sideways, and the blade entered his right shoulder, sinking up to the hilt. He gathered up the sheets and threw them at the woman's face to distract her, then he grabbed the dagger, yanked it out, and pounced on her, his extremely slim, wiry body quite agile. She landed many blows on his bare skin with bone-cracking strength but the pair ended up on the floor beside the bed, struggling.
Getting a good haft on the dagger, he plunged it into her left shoulder, as deep as it would go, and pinned her with it to the floor. She screamed in hot pain, her face drawing back in a grimace, her teeth bared. She went limp, and Joe feared she had slipped into a coma or worse, but her breathing came hard and fast, with tears squeezing out of her closed eyes. They opened, focused on him, and she moaned a bit. He realized he was still straddling her, naked, and got off of her. "Are you quite done?" he demanded. He touched her face, rubbed her forehead. "Are you?"
--Fae who spend all their time wandering the green Earth sicken and die, their spirits seeming to crave nourishment. I found that the human men I take as consorts age and die much faster, at least the ones whom live with me and only other mortals. Fae who stay in close proximity to other Sidhe seem to draw strength from each other, but we can't always keep such ideal situations. It appeared to be an involuntary thing, that we take spiritual essence from humans closest to us. I have learned to control it somewhat and try to take only a little lifeforce from many different mortals who are in the know.
Then there was my chance meeting with the Dark Elves and their servants. Through their nefarious sciences and magick they have changed their very physical structure to deal with their problem similar to ours. They consume the blood of living humans, indeed they live almost entirely on blood. I'm still amazed at the level of Drow debauchery, and what's worse is that the mortals they don't kill become Drow servants. The other humans call them vampyre.
Malcolm got that ice cubes on his spine feeling whenever Dark Elves were close by, and he got that skin-crawly feeling they evoked as well. They were close, and nearing the backstage area. They knew regular security would be no match for a determined Hunt. Then Randy came running into the room, sputtering, “There’s people and…animals…in the building! They’re all over--,”
Several large things burst into the room, growling and slavering. Black with red ears and paws, standing high as a yearling horse at the shoulders, they howled their finding of their quarry.
Something large suddenly crashed through the opposite window, and the bandmembers screamed in unison. All eyes widened as big as saucers--instead of some weirdo they were expecting, it was nearly 200 pounds of furry, muscled, canine attitude. Then it stood up and looked at them with intelligent, malevolent eyes. “What the hell IS THAT THING?” shrieked Lina. The creature yipped and more large things leaped through the windows like the glass was paper, each with different colored fur. They were wolves, sort of. Six of them total.
“Werewolves,” Trish spoke in awe. “Luna’s Children.”
Lindsey realized she was being followed on her way back to her hotel. She always walked whenever she could for she still was distrustful of all mechanized means of transport, and while crossing the street her keen ears pricked up. Superhumanly swift, she ducked the poisoned dart aimed at her, then bent backwards as the bullet grazed her silk blouse, barely missing her stomach. Spinning, utilizing training she'd received millennia ago she flattened herself against an old pre-industrial style building. Her large, deep eyes scanned her surroundings for her assailants but she failed to spot them. She could, however, feel them the way all Sidhe were aware of one another in proximity. Around the corner slender, very strong hands grabbed her upper arm. Twisting in their grasp she brought the side of her hand down in a chop across the forearm; it would've broken most mortals' arms, but did elicit a grunt. Finally she was facing the attacker, a pale-skinned Dark Elf with sunken eyes and badly dyed black hair. Lindsey could see through the simple glamour that elves put over themselves to blend into human society and she was horrified at what she beheld. It was worse than any battle-scarred, sun-hating Drow she'd ever seen.
Secret Ones Volume 2
The four passengers in the sedan all argued which direction they should go, with the woman with the map telling the driver to stay on the road they were on. “I’m telling you, the dragon is going that way!” she insisted.
“Are you sure, Barbara?” asked the blond man driving.
“Yeah, look, there he goes!” The redhead pointed out the huge reptile. He somehow impossibly hung lazily in the air despite favoring his left wing.
“Jesus, he’s big,” breathed one of the men in the back seat, a muscular fellow with long black hair. “How the hell do you kill a dragon? We’re not knights, you know.”
“With some big-ass spears,” Barbara answered. “What did you think was in those boxes, Lee?”
“We’re wolves, Barb,” the driver said. “We’re not used to fighting with spears.”
“Well, David, some of us could distract the big lizard then one of us sticks him,” said the man in the back. “Hmph, why you so quiet, Alan?”
“No reason,” the other man in the back seat replied. He was average height and build, and anyone would’ve assumed him nothing out of the ordinary. “Just thinking is all.” His dark brown hair was tied back in a loose ponytail and he bit his lip pensively.
“You’re not here to think,” Lee snorted. “You’re here to eliminate problems.”
Alan sighed and fell silent while the others continued bickering. He noticed movement in the distance behind them and twisted in his seat to look back. A large sedan was coming up on them in a rush. Something about the whole thing bothered him. “Uh, David...there’s a car coming up behind us pretty fast.”
“So?” Lee interjected. “Let ‘em pass us. We got shit to do.”
“I don’t think--,” the brown-haired man began but was cut off as the approaching car slammed into them. Barbara squealed and David cried out. The side glass in the car shattered and the door buckled inward. Alan picked himself out of the floorboard to the sound of “Space Truckin” by Deep Purple blasting out of the other car’s 8-track player.
“What the hell?” shouted the redhead. “Get us out of here!”
“You have killed so many of my children,” the yellow wolf snarled. “Do you think mommy approves? Did you think I would not remember? I’ve waited a long time to suck the marrow from your bones, elfling. Your meddling mother isn’t here to help you now.”
The foes locked eyes.
Time seemed to slow down to Kanaidwen as she felt her mother’s gift, the crystal, grow warm in her jeans pocket. She felt its power envelop her and the voices in her head quieted. She was focused, she was ready, she thought. The half-elf pulled her pistol loaded with silver bullets, her hand slowly cocking the gun while she watched the yellow wolf gather her back legs under her and leap toward Kanaidwen. The Lady’s daughter squeezed off three rounds, and she watched as if in a dream the projectiles leave the gun barrel and streak toward Lilith, with all three striking her in the chest.
Valillia growled in pain but she didn’t slow down. The fa-Sidhe extended her left arm, and out of her hand flew two silver spikes that had been forged and blessed in Tir-Na-Nog. One penetrated her left cheek but her momentum carried her through the air in slow motion to slam into Kanaidwen. The wolf’s defenses finally asserted themselves and it felt like an invisible brick wall had just slammed into the half-elf’s face, which knocked her flat. Valillia’s hot breath warmed Kanaidwen’s cheek. “You think I’ve survived this long worried about a little silver, little elf?” she demanded. “I am no pup.”
“And I am nothing to trifle with,” responded the blonde. Time jerked itself back to normalcy when the half-elf spoke, “Kondeo.”
Your spells cannot affect me, you stupid half-breed, Valillia spoke directly to Kanaidwen’s mind. The yellow wolf’s jaws closed around a slender white throat, just as searing fire seemed to burn her from the inside out. This was so entirely new and unexpected the wolf immediately let go of her enemy and backpedaled. The burning sensation radiated outward from the what she saw as trivial wounds and continued to intensify. Instinctively she assumed her human shape in an attempt to magick the pain away, but it was still there. She pulled the spike from her cheek and the wound instantly closed up, but the pain remained. “What have you done?!” Valillia yelped. She looked down at her chest to see the three bullet wounds that refused to close, with the silver projectiles still inside her.
Kanaidwen clutched at the torn flesh in her throat while muttering spells to stop the bleeding, and did this glaring up at Lilith defiantly. “The bullets and spikes were enchanted,” she gasped out as blood seeped between her fingers and pooled around her head. “Specially made to..penetrate your magick defenses.”
Valillia howled in pain and dismay, and scratched at her arms and abdomen. “My insides! They’re burning!” The woman tried spells she had learned over her long years to no avail. The searing sensation had now reached her thighs and was spreading down her forearms, like molten lava traveling through her veins.
Alan pondered what was to become of him and winced at the high volume AC/DC’s TNT was being played at, on the car’s 8-track player. He was acutely aware of the long graceful neck of the other backseat occupant beside him and briefly considered turning wolf and wrapping his jaws around that smooth throat when Garmon’s head whirled toward him. “You’d be dead before you could open your mouth, Lycaean,” she spoke.
He believed her. She was ancient and truly frightening in her differentness: she didn’t register the same on his wolf senses as humans did. He could see her true appearance, which was incredibly slender, almost androgynous and older than the youthful way most adult elves looked. “The dragon is up there,” she pointed ahead to a mountain, where smoke was wafting up from.
“That’s the usual Drakkar modus operandi,” Malcolm put in while trying to steady his shaking hand holding his empty glass. “Find a cave or mountain to lay up in and hide.”
“We’ll have to lose the car soon,” the Sidhe woman remarked. Alan couldn’t stop staring at her and assumed she knew he was looking at her, but he was fascinated. She turned to him again, this time her eyes holding his light brown ones. “Have you never even been around any Drow?”
“Uh, no,” he answered quickly.
“Your Mistress, Valillia, has made allies of them. But then, you’re young, barely more than a pup, aren’t you? The Drow are our cousins.”
“I’ve never met any of the vampyres,” the brown-haired man responded, finally tearing his eyes away from her gaze. “I only know unlike Elves, Lycaeans are loyal to their pack and to their own kind.”
“Your pack leader there was leading you to certain death, and if you succeeded in killing that innocent dragon you would’ve doomed the rest of us as well,” she said evenly, but the fire in her eyes was evident.
“So YOU say,” he shot back. “What has all the tales and legends throughout history warned humans about? Trusting elves. They never give a straight answer and can’t be counted on for anything.”
“Hah, said he never met an elf yet knows everything about em?” chuckled Brent as he drove.
“He’s a baby, even by werewolf standards,” the guitarist tossed over his shoulder.
He was too busy being lost in Garmon’s dark blue eyes to be annoyed. “You are old, so old,” Alan murmured. “And so...beautiful.”
“Hey son, that’s my woman you’re flirting with,” Brent declared.
“I’m not your woman,” Garmon threw at the band manager. “Though I thank Mr. Natural for the compliment.”
Copyright 2013-2015 Shana O'Quinn/Sandoz Driftwood