Legon Ascension (46 page)

She picked up a note pad as she made her way out of her room, finding a human in the hall waiting for her.

"Take me to the Queen," she ordered, not looking at the creature.

"Yes my lady," he said.

She walked behind the ape not paying attention to him, but rather studying every inch of her new home.
 

The servant lead her to what she presumed were the Queen's quarters. The servant opened one of two large redwood doors letting her in. Neelya marveled at the large apartment’s elegance. The room’s exquisite lines and symmetry spoke of a master Iumenta craftsman. Neelya walked in the entry room taking in the fine decor. She noticed that the servant did not enter. The room stood in stark contrast from that of the rest of the Palace. Her eyes gliding over smooth ceramic walls.
 

"Neelya," a cool voice called from another room.

She followed the voice to a small dining room.
 

"Un Prose," Neelya said, bowing to the Queen.

"You may rise. For you it is not necessary to bow upon seeing me; when in private," the Queen stated matter-of-factly.

"Thank you."

"Please join me," Hoelaria said.

Neelya felt confused, she'd always heard that the Queen was ill tempered; but she didn't seem so now. Neelya sat opposite the Queen taking her in. Hoelaria eyed Neelya looking her up and down like a piece of art.

"I take a great deal of time selecting an assistant Neelya, you should know that. With that knowledge comes knowing that you are highly desirable, but also means that you must meet those expectations," Hoelaria said, no menace or threat coloring her tone, just fact.

Neelya fought the urge to swallow, "Yes Un Prose, I will not let you down."

An Iumenta came in the room with two silver trays; he sat one before the Queen and then Neelya. He then left the room without uttering a word.
 

Neelya eyed the servant as he left.
 

"Humans do not enter my quarters," the Queen said, "please eat. You will be dining with me often."
 

She did as asked, spearing a cooked carrot. For a long time the Queen said nothing. She would just look up at Neelya, nod to herself and go back to eating. Neelya didn't speak.

"You seem nervous Neelya," the Queen casually observed.
 

"Forgive me, I do not mean to come off scared or weak Un Prose."
 

Hoelaria looked at her again, a slight gleam in her eye. "Neelya, I know the reputation that I have, it’s one I've worked hard to earn. When you leave my service you will help to spread that reputation. I am ruthless and I am ill tempered; but you are my assistant, which is a close relationship in our society. You are as obligated to serve me as much as I am obligated to mentor you. In public, I expect you to do as you are told. In private however, I expect you to speak your mind, respectfully of course, and if you feel so inclined, to question me. This is how you learn, this is how our society has flourished for millennia, and this is what raises us above the ape standing in the hall."

Neelya understood.
 

"I like the food," Neelya said surprising herself.

The Queen's lips twitched almost in a smile, "Yes, the apes can cook well."
 

Neelya looked down at her plate, "Humans are capable of this?"
 

"Yes..."

An Iumenta entered the room, stopping whatever the Queen was about to say. He bowed to the Queen, "You said to enter when I got news Un Prose."
 

"What is it?" the Queen asked coolness back in her tone.

Neelya's ears perked up, what was going on?

"Un Prose, Noris has fallen."

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Sample of Pactum

Society still finds itself reeling from magic coming out into the open. As the world comes to grips with the fact that old legends are true, Homicide Detective Alison Kaur still has a job to do. After the corpse of William Lanner is found, Alison must delve into the ugly world of prostitution, gangsters and murder. All while she and her partner deal with the dangers of Mages, Werewolves, Succubi and others. Will Alison be able to track down the killer of William Lanner? Or will she become a victim herself?

Prologue

BILLY LANNER
stepped out of The Gaylord Street Bar and Grill, the warm August night air scented by a handful of smokers standing outside chattering. Billy turned left, his shoes scraping loudly on the gravel as he started searching for his car. He wasn’t drunk, he’d only had one beer, but he still looked around to make sure there wasn’t a pig parked nearby looking to fill his DUI quota for the month.

Billy played with his phone, posting status updates on various social sites and checked out what a few of his friends were up to. He slowed, hearing a car door open. He looked up the street and froze. A man was looking inside the back seat of Billy’s car. His heart began to pound,
You idiot you knew this would happen!
He turned, walking away and trying to step softer, cursing the gravel on the street and the late hour. There was almost no one around; the smokers were back inside the bar. He thought about ducking back in, but decided whoever it was at his car would just wait for him outside the bar until last call. Billy heard a distant car door shut; his car door, no doubt. He glanced over his shoulder and sure enough a figure was walking quickly in Billy’s direction. He swore under his breath, turning left down Mississippi. As he rounded the corner he broke into a jog, panting, not for the first time wishing he was a runner.
Keep focused, moron
he told himself
.

His legs started to burn just a bit as he hung another left on York, aware of a sound from behind him.
Does he just want to talk?
Not likely. If Billy was lucky he’d just get beaten up, but if Billy was lucky he’d have never been found out in the first place. The late hour meant that no lights were on in the little brick houses he passed. He saw plywood covering the window of a small home to his right. He ran around back, breathing hard and dodging heaps of wood, the house was obviously under renovation. Billy found the back door and turned an old knob.
Finally some luck!
The door swung open and he entered.

He closed it softly and tiptoed his way to the front room, thankful that the shiny hardwood floor didn’t creek. He sat down in a closet, bringing his knees to his chest, a little plume of sawdust rising and catching in his throat. He tried rather vainly to calm himself. What was he going to do? Out front he thought he heard movement, the light sound of grass being walked on. Billy made sure his phone was on silent, knowing whoever it was wouldn’t be able to figure out where he was if he could keep quiet. And then he noticed it…a panting sound followed by a deep growl.

God no, not one of those!
There was a sniffing sound at the edge of the plywood window and Billy moved deeper in the closet, praying in earnest for the first time in years. There was a snort and then nothing. Billy breathed out softly, and then heard the back door click shut.

A deep, raspy voice called out, “Billy…Billy, I can smell you Billy,” it chuckled.

Billy’s eyes stung as sweat dripped into them, his mouth dry as parchment.
Don’t run, that’s what it wants, it wants the sport, don’t run, don’t run, don’t run…
his ears were pierced by a howl. Deep in Billy’s brain, instinct took over. Fight or flight were his options and his terrified mind knew only one response to a wolf’s howl. Billy bolted from the closet without thinking. There was a guttural growl behind him and he turned to see two glowing eyes higher than his own and a flash of white teeth. Pain exploded on Billy’s left side as claws raked his ribs sending him flying.

Billy hit the floor twisting his ankle, his weight buckling the joint, taking him to the wood floor. He hit, landing on his side, the air knocked from him as the pain from his other side flared. He tried to crawl away, his rational mind only a faint whisper telling him it was all over, the scared animal in him reaching for safety.

Billy cried out as claws sank deep into his leg.

* * * * *

Detective Alison Kaur set her latte in her cup-holder, shut her door and put on her seat belt. She looked up to see two teenagers dressed in ratty hoodies in an alleyway exchanging a bag and money. Alison un-clicked the seat belt and a voice in her head said,
You aren’t on vice anymore, it’s not your problem.
What was her problem was the crime scene she was supposed to be heading toward, the one with a stiff, not a couple of kids with grass. She re-clicked her belt and started the car.

She turned out into morning traffic on Alameda, hanging a right on University, thinking about a world without rush hour. She looked around, seeing everything. Her uncle had told her this would happen when she decided to become a cop: you see everything. Like the kids at the coffee shop, or now the hookers getting off a bus from a long night’s work. Next to her a woman was texting, not looking at the road, and further up someone wasn’t wearing his seat belt. Another lady was dabbing at a bruise under her eye with makeup. This was just another morning drive. She saw the good around her too, like the young girl gazing at a diamond ring on her finger, though good didn’t seem to hold the same effect on Alison. She knew most people didn’t see what she did, it wasn’t their job, but it was hers. Well not everything, just homicide. She moved forward, turning on Mississippi.

She drove up York and got out of her car, sipping on her latte. On the right-hand side of the road was a small two-story house with taupe bricks that was undergoing a renovation. She ducked under yellow tape and greeted one of the many uniformed officers.

She gave him a once-over. “You look a little worse for the wear, Charley,” she said.

Charley smiled grimly. “Yeah, and you will too in about five minutes ma’am, it’s…ah…pretty bad in there,” he said.

“Peachy.”

She took deeper sips on her coffee as she walked up the lawn and porch. She gently pushed open a red front door to a scene of organized chaos. CSIs were fluttering around the front room of the house dusting for prints and snapping pictures of everything. She turned and winced.

“What happened here?” she asked in disgust.

Alison was far from being squeamish, but the mess in front of her made her stomach turn. Blood pooled around a corpse whose head lulled against half-finished drywall. Gore spattered the drywall like someone had been spraying a hose, the droplets soaking into the material, the body of the victim shredded.

“Pretty nasty, isn’t it?” a voice asked.

She turned to her partner, Sean Hughes. His sandy hair was carefully disheveled, his tie just barely loose, the picture of what every city girl thought a trendy detective should look like. His blue eyes seemed unaffected by the remains before him.

“Yeah, it’s bad,” Alison said in response. “What do you think?”

“Do I look like an ME to you?” Sean asked, sardonic.

She ignored him and spoke to a CSI examining the body. “What do you think?” she asked.

He looked up, his face distorted by a plastic shield, his voice slightly muffled, “We’ll have to wait for the official autopsy, but I’d say blood loss.” He pulled at some of the man’s tattered clothing. “Not too many deep wounds here on the chest and abdomen.” He paused, “I think it was a dog that did it. I haven’t seen an animal attack like this before, and I’ve been doing this for some time detective. At any rate, this cherry wood floor is ruined.” His tone was almost sullen for the lost flooring.

“Animal attack? That’s what this is?” Sean asked, irritated. “Why are we here? We are homicide detectives not animal control! Why were we called here? And wood floors are resilient, sand it and stain it with something other than our stiff’s blood and it will be right as rain,” he said.

“Does he look like dispatch to you, Hughes?” Alison asked in the same sardonic tone he’d used a few minutes ago.

“Funny. So, do you know why we are here?” he asked, a bit more respectful this time.

Alison looked at her phone. “The vic’s car was found down the street from here and this isn’t his home, and unless Fido can open the back door or ransack cars I’d say this is a homicide.”

Sean cursed, “Freak used a dog as a murder weapon, that’s just wrong.”

The CSI was back to work, holding a little device that looked like an electric razor over one of the many wounds on the victim. He paused, “Detectives, I think I know what did this…”