Everything is downhill now. Goldhawk’s mission is over pretty much as soon as they arrive. Everything else for them is just meeting people, and that doesn’t need much organisation. It’ll happen, with Badger’s Den giving them somewhere to stay for the night. The two new Mates are going to want the visit to go on longer, but Mark will need to get back.
Either Paul will stay behind, or Caroline will visit London, probably. I hope it forces Ian into doing something. Join, Challenge, I don’t care as long as it becomes his job to keep the kids out of trouble until they’re a couple of years older.
I finally get a bit of time without someone wanting me to do something,or decide something, or explain something. I prop myself against the wall of the building, and stuff my hands in my pockets. There’s a papery crinkle. I pull out the folded sheet, and remember why I put
*** Some Time Later...*** “/Aiden? Can you hear me? Aiden? Please?/” “/Huh? Who? Imogen? That you?/” I really wasn't expecting to hear from my sister. Not this way. A text, sure. I’ve been bad at texting her, despite my promises. A message from her complaining about it wouldn’t surprise me. “/Aiden, thank the Goddess!/” Is she crying? My little sister? “/Imogen, what’s wrong
Foreword Vampires, shapeshifters and ghosts have appeared in myth and fiction, in some form or other, for thousands of years. Each generation of myth-makers and writers has brought their own twist to the legends, and I am no different in my writing of this story. Some elements you will regcognise. Others I have modified, or left out, or changed entirely, to create something that is new. So welcome to my tale of destiny, love, loss, friendship, discovery and mystery. I hope you enjoy the ride! Chapter 1: Sarah “Roberto this, Roberto that, Roberto calls and you run off to him without a second thought!” Brian complains in that polished voice of his. He never shouts. He prides himself on that. Perhaps that should have been a warning sign. “You're nothing but his bitch. I bought those tickets weeks ago, and you'r
Our pack are all good fighters, even the pups, but the attackers have the ferocity of the desperate. I can see the collars they wear, and my suspicion is confirmed when a cry of “Hunters!” goes up from the East side. Hunters are human, but they know about werewolves and they hate us. The collared werewolves fighting for them will be captured rogues, made into their slaves through their twisted science. Hunters know our weaknesses, and use them against us- silver, mainly, fashioned into weapons. They don’t know my weaknesses. I’m out of favour with the Moon Goddess, that's what they whisper behind my back. I have my own weaknesses, but I don't share those of my Pack. My connection to the Goddess is too weak. I lack the link that the rest of the Pack share, I'm unable to hear the mental commands of the Alpha. The light of the Moon's full face doesn't force me to Change. Four years past the age at which she should have blessed me with a Mate, and I still have none.
Walking in to the hall at the start of a rehearsal is always a bit on an assault on the ears. One hundred assorted instruments are all being variously plucked, bowed, blown or thumped as their players warm up and check that everything is in working order. I slip in among the first violins and reverently remove Malachi from his case. Malachi and I have been playing together for four years now. I bought him with my very own money, money that I earned from my first album- the one I released just after winning Young Musician of the Year. He's a Cremona Stradivari and very precious to me. I do have another violin, Eddie, who is an electric violin made of carbon fibre and looks skeletal and very cool, but for the classical orchestral pieces they want a classically-styled violin.We are performing Beethoven at the moment, a collection of his Sonatas, including the 'Kreutzer,' number nine, which is said to be on
It isn't until I am on a late-night Greyhound, headed cross-state to the airport, that the full extent of what I have done comes crashing in on me. I am Packless, an exile, without support or backup. No better than a rogue. If I stumble into the territory of a strange Pack without permission, they are within their rights to kill me or press me into slavery. Back home, I may have been a freak but I was protected by my position, as heir to the Pack Alpha of Shining River. Now that protection is gone. All I have is my piercings, switched to silver once I was clear of the Pack lands, because nobody will immediately jump to the conclusion that the guy with the silver ear- and eyebrow-rings must be a werewolf.The bus is not crowded. I have the seat to myself, and I'm glad of it. I can huddle into the corner, under the window, and have a quiet panic at
“In the interests of full disclosure,” Holly says as we wander the art exhibition, ” and because I know most of the orchestra thinks I'm gay, I'm not. I'm bi.” “You did say 'date-date'. You wouldn't say it if you didn't mean it,” I reply, because I know enough about Holly to know that. “Sweet of you to say so. You'd be amazed how many people think differently." I feel the corners of my mouth tug downwards in response. "That sucks." "It really does," Holly sighs. "People are a**holes." I can think of no other explanation. "Yup." We go a few steps in silence, then Holly admits, "I may have just a bit of a competency kink. Ever so little.” He hol
The flight is nine hours of hell. I never want to set foot on an airplane ever again. Werewolves are not meant to fly. The change in air pressure is screaming agony. being shut in a metal box, stinking of recycled air, blasted with the wails of over-excited and over-tired kids, jostled by overcrowded humans, constantly reining myself in over and over and over... it's only by the thinnest line of sanity that I manage to keep control of myself and Frost.The first thing... no, the second thing I do is in London is to scoop my guitar case and hug it close. The first thing is to break a few land speed records getting as far away as possible from that flying metal Purgatory. As soon as I've checked that my guitar is undamaged, I'm out of there. I snarl at a few people to get a good place in the queue for “Nothing to declare,” and ruthlessly crush Frost's urging to just claw my way to freedom.
I catch my bottom lip between my teeth, a youthful habit when uncertain that I have never quite manage to loose. This cannot be happening. Holly is the sweetest, kindest guy, so easy to get along with. He's funny, he's thoughtful, he's attractive in a bishounen sort of a way. So where is the spark?“Hmm,” I murmur, hoping that I am masking my ambivalence, “I'm not sure what I thought about that. Maybe we should try again?”“Experiment,” Holly agrees. “Try a few variations.”“Variations?” I hope he means it as a musicians' joke, and not tongues. Kissing Holly had felt like kissing one of my brothers, and the thought of anything more intimate is making me feel a little queasy right now.