Born of Stone (21 page)

“Kill me,” Albain whispered.

He was hunched over, sitting on his legs and facing the floor. His hair hung in greasy ropes, clotted with sweat and dirt from the tiny cell he’d spent the past three weeks in. It hurt to see him so broken, but there was no other way.

“You know I will not,” Bastien said.

Albain finally raised his head and scowled at his former mentor. “Why not? I am worthless now. I can do no magic. I can’t even light a candle.”

“There are many men who live without magic in their lives, Albain. You will learn to live as they do.”

“And for what purpose? To farm? To raise sheep? Bah! That life is not for me.”

Bastien sighed and dropped the bundle in his arms onto the floor between them. “New clothes and shoes. You will be given provisions and a little money to make your way where you will. But I warn you, eyes will be ever watchful of your actions.”

Albain snorted but made no move to take the clothes. He hadn’t been beaten or starved. But the full force of nineteen wizards stripping every ounce of magic from his core had aged him another decade. He no longer looked like a mortal man of fifty winters, but one of sixty or more. Either way, it was a deception when his true age was nearly two hundred. And now he would begin to age like a mortal man rather than retaining the near immortality of wizards. The king had decreed this to be a just punishment since they shouldn’t have to worry about him after two or three more decades. However, Albain had always been unnaturally smart and eerily resourceful. Bastien had his doubts.

The wizard turned on his heel and left the cell, leaving the door wide open. Albain was no longer a prisoner. He had told them little, but more had been learned from the Kevan women. They were enduring their own punishments. For now they needed to find another to replace Albain so they could remain The Twenty. It was a number of power and every bit was needed to keep Halstrid safe and secure for all her people.

As he walked away, he thought he heard Albain laughing but didn’t turn around to be certain. Losing one’s magic could break the best of wizards. Bastien wasn’t optimistic Albain would survive the strain. He shook his head at the waste of such potential talent and went to seek an audience with the King.

Albain fought to hide his amusement while he dressed, but the chuckles still escaped. Take away his magic, would they? Send him out into the world a mortal man? It was all laughable, really. The
Nineteen
knew so little for having members who had been wizards well over millennia. Albain had learned much at his mentor’s knee. Fortunately, Bastien believed himself to be Albain’s only mentor. That was not the case, but Albain’s true mentor was dead.

He finished dressing and walked out of his cell with his back bent, eyes downcast. It wouldn’t do to let anyone know he still had enough strength to cause trouble. He would have that Wizard’s Stone or die trying. The Masters thought they were more powerful, but they knew so little. Now he had to plan again since the first plan had failed. He would round up the Kevan women and his allies in the other nations and return to Halstrid twice as strong as before. He might not be a wizard of the Twenty any longer, but that wouldn’t keep him from becoming a
sorcerer
.

About the Author

Ms. Missy Jane is the alter ego of a Texas mother of four who has been married to the same wonderful man for over eighteen years. A few years ago Missy finished reading a book by Mercedes Lackey and James Mallory titled
The Outstretched Shadow
, and thought “Now, what if…” and a monster was created. Missy now spends most of her time lost in worlds of her own making alternately loving and hating such creatures as vampires, shape-shifters and gargoyles (to name a few). When not writing, she spends her time reading, taking photos of her four beautiful daughters and training her husband to believe she’s always right. Missy’s work can be found on her site
www.authormissyjane.com
, her blog
msmissyjane.blogspot.com
, and other places around the web. Missy is often found playing around at
www.facebook.com/ms.missyjane
and
www.twitter.com/msmissyjane
.

Look for these titles by Missy Jane

Now Available:

They Call Me Death

Day Shift

The sun’s not the only thing that’s too hot to handle.

Day Shift

© 2011 Missy Jane

President Vardin isn’t the first vampire politician to make empty promises. Humans can work at night, he says. Humans will be safe on the streets, he says. It’s all bull. I’m still stuck on day shift at Langley’s Round The Clock Emporium, trying to earn enough to live from night to night.
 

If I thought the sun’s harsh rays had turned society upside down, watch what happens when I witness a murder in the alley. The police keep bombarding me with questions until a detective with a bad attitude walks in and takes over. He’s unbelievably hot, way out of my league, and way,
way
out of my comfort zone. Because he’s the one thing I fear most. A vampire.
 

Then I learn why the police seem so interested in me. My ex-husband is drawing a series of murders in his new comics. I’m in every one of them, and it looks like I’m supposed to be the last victim. The detective’s interest in my past—and his protective instincts—are bordering on unprofessional, but I can’t seem to bring myself to care.

Because the last place I should want to be is the safest place on earth…a vampire’s embrace.

Warning: If you like your vampires sparkly and emotional, don’t read this book. It contains an overworked, underpaid, bloodsucking hero who might break your heart.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Day Shift:

I was gazing sightlessly at the mouth of the alley, daydreaming about nothing, when a flash of movement startled me. There had been no one there a heartbeat before, but now two men appeared to be fighting. I stood and grabbed the cordless phone from its base before stepping closer to the glass. They were near enough for me to see each hit land and quickly realize one was much stronger than the other. The weaker one looked vagrant, dressed in rags and a long, dirty trench coat. His dark hair hung in greasy, tangled strands past his shoulders. It could have been blond or gray. There was too much dirt to tell.

The stronger one looked like a businessman, dressed in a long-sleeved, white, button-up shirt. His tie was askew from their struggle but his slacks were impeccable. Light blond hair fell carelessly over his forehead in a common style among young vamps, though some human men had adopted it as well. He backhanded the vagrant and I thought it was over. Then Mr. Businessman used one hand to grab Mr. Vagrant by his collar while yanking back the oily hair with his other hand. The vagrant hung limply in Businessman’s grip as if unconscious. Mr. Businessman opened his mouth, sunlight sparking off his elongated canines, and struck like a snake at Vagrant’s neck. I gasped and jumped back away from the window, dropping the phone onto the dirty tile floor.

“Oh shit.” He was definitely a vampire.

Biting wasn’t necessarily a crime. There were even clubs dedicated to the act. However it had to be consensual. There were very specific laws about that, with strict guidelines about the victim’s state of mind. It was obvious the human hadn’t willingly bared his neck for Mr. Businessman.

I immediately dropped to my knees. The urge to curl into a ball and hide nearly overwhelmed me. After a couple of deep, calming breaths I found the strength to crawl back to the window and peer cautiously through the glass. The vamp was still sucking down his snack without a care in the world. Bile burned the back of my throat but I fought it down and looked away long enough to find the phone. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely dial the police. I took another calming breath so I could answer the dispatcher’s questions, but soon they had the address and promised a police officer would be on the way.

“Y-You might want to send an ambulance too,” I warned. “It doesn’t look like he’s letting go of the human and he’s been drinking for at least three full minutes.”

The bored-sounding dispatcher gave me a half-hearted reassurance that someone would be there soon and disconnected the call. I looked at the phone in disgust.

Rumor had, it when a vamp drank from a human for the first time it was like an LSD high. Most vamps I knew refrained because their aggressive nature came to the forefront when they weren’t in complete control. For the most part, drugs and alcohol didn’t affect them, but if they drank from a new human every time they could replicate those effects.

The media always downplayed any crimes related to biting incidents, and many humans remained ignorant. Unfortunately, I’d seen it firsthand. I shuddered at the memories of blood and destruction, firmly pushing them to the back of my mind. There was a reason I only dated humans. The wail of approaching sirens jerked my head up and I looked out the window. The vamp was gone and a foot was barely visible at the mouth of the alley. I squinted in concentration, but a patrol car pulled in in front of the store and effectively blocked my view.

I stood and went to the door, opening it just as the HPD officers stepped out of their car.

“That was quick.”

The driver looked me over as his partner joined him on the sidewalk. They were both tall and well built, one light, one dark. The dark one had been driving and looked a little older. I couldn’t tell if they were human.

“Good morning, Officers. I’m the one that called in the attack.”

They gave each other a brief glance before looking back at me, and then the light one stepped forward. He smiled, barely flashing the tips of fangs, and I fought the urge to run back inside.

“You said it was a biting incident, right?”

I nodded warily as he removed a pad of paper from his back pocket. The other officer looked around.

“Yeah, right across the street there.” I pointed to the alley. “They were fighting, which is what got my attention. I doubt that guy gave permission to be bitten after getting his ass kicked.”

The vamp wrote down a few lines while his partner walked over to the alley. He froze in a dead stop a few feet away from the exposed foot and quickly grabbed his radio. I barely understood his report as it sounded from the vamp’s radio, but he reacted as if he’d been slapped.

“What the fuck?”

He turned and ran over to his partner, stopping beside him to stare at the victim on the ground. My curiosity was piqued, but dread held me immobile as I watched their reactions. It took no time for sirens to fill the air, quickly growing louder as trepidation deepened in my chest. I just watched in silence as the minutes slipped by and more patrol cars arrived. I looked around expecting an ambulance to come too. The coroner’s van showed up instead.

“Oh shit.”

I finally went back inside the store as the level of activity outside began to escalate. Brett would want to know the store was going to be on the news. He didn’t answer my call, so I left a vague message on his machine then sat on my stool and watched through the window for the next hour. Someone was taking pictures and a couple of men in suits were talking to each other. Uniformed officers littered the sidewalks on both sides of the streets. Most of them were looking through windows as if trying to determine which businesses were still open. No one had come into the store yet, but I knew my reprieve would be short-lived. I’d witnessed a murder without even knowing it and the murderer was a vamp.

Just my fucking luck.

It didn’t take long for the cops to remember me. Their nametags identified them as Officer Clark, the vamp, and Officer Santino, a human as far as I could tell. The slight hint of amusement from before was gone, and I had the urge to stick my tongue out at them. Now they were all business and wanted every detail of what I’d seen. I repeated word for word what I’d told the dispatcher when I’d called it in. Clark took notes while Santino tried to drill a hole in me with his stare. I don’t know what they thought I was hiding, but my patience was already wearing thin when someone else walked in.

The plainclothes cop entered the store as if he owned it, strutting through the door in a graceful glide all vamp men seemed to pull off with ease. He wore a suit that looked rumpled from a long shift, including a matching fedora and dark sunglasses. Most vamps stayed out of the sun as much as possible or covered up like he did. Still, the hat amused me and easily marked him as non-human. I’d moved my stool from behind the counter to a spot farther from the door, but his gaze still found me at once.

“Clark, Santino, I’ll take it from here.”

His deep voice sent an involuntary shiver up my spine, not entirely from fear. It annoyed the shit out of me. The street cops shared a look before nodding to the new guy and turning away from me. They didn’t leave, just walked to the door and began a conversation too low for my human ears to pick up. New Cop stepped into my line of sight, blocking the other two and gaining my full attention. He pulled off his glasses and slipped them into an inside jacket pocket before removing his hat. Short, black hair and dark, cocoa-colored eyes were revealed to make the whole picture nearly breathtaking. He was handsome like most vamp men, but there was wariness in his gaze that told me he’d be all business.