All Chapters of Reiver: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Vengeance is a monster of appetite, forever bloodthirsty and never filled. Richelle. E. Goodrich Grenville left the train in Edinburgh at 07.45 feeling quite refreshed as he managed to sleep for five hours, lulled to sleep by the swaying of the train. The first thing he did was find a place to grab some food, he found an all day pub right by Waverley Station where he ordered a full English breakfast. He struggled to find somewhere to sit as the place was heaving with tourists and commuters which surprised him as it was only eight in the morning. He found a small table squeezed into a corner and squashed himself into it. After breakfast he went to look for somewhere to stay, he wandered around for hours but to his frustration everywhere he found was full. Grenville, in his rush to get to Edinburgh hadn’t realised that the Fringe Festival was on and as a highly popular event, the city was crammed with performers from all over the world. There was hardly a hotel room or bed and breakf

The wolf that one hears is worsethan the orc that one fears.J.R.R. Tolkien.By the time Hugh had bought the wine, the police were speeding towards the industrial estate. The caller hadn’t been specific about which building the shots had come from so it took another couple of hours to find the bodies. The horrific scene they discovered had made even experienced police officers retreat outside, some of them were left retching as they gasped for air. Paramedics went in to check for signs of life but not one officer who had witnessed that scene had any hope of either of the men being alive, so the shock was palpable when a paramedic dashed out of the building, grabbed a stretcher out of the ambulance and screamed the officers to help her to carry it up the steps.Unbelievably one of the victims was clinging to life, his pulse was weak but it was there. The paramedics worked on him for a long time trying to stem the bleeding, they hooked him up to fluids and gave him a blood transfusion

Nothing ever becomes real till it is experience.John Keats.Pete and Sarah had been together for almost two months, it was Saturday night he was on his way to Sarah’s apartment to take her out to dinner. Over the time they had been together he and Sarah had grown incredibly close and she had shown him how to live a little, they enjoyed trips to the theatre and spent hours wandering around museums and art galleries together. The only thing he felt he would never get used to was Sarah’s love for live music. He had been to see a few bands with her but with Pete’s enhanced hearing he honestly couldn’t stand the noise and it always left Rufus on edge. Pete wouldn’t have minded so much but the bands Sarah liked were just shouty, screamy racket to him, they had however come to an amicable agreement, she would go with her friends and he would pick them up at the end of the night and drive everyone home. It was an agreement he liked, Sarah got to go and do something she loved and he was safe

The Knights Templar are recorded as one of the fiercest fighting forces in history famed for protecting Christian Pilgrims travelling in the Holy Land but what modern history books don’t reveal, is that the Templars were wolves. Once the Wolf Packs had steadfastly refused to participate in the second Scottish Rebellion of 1745, King George II ordered that the wolves were to be eradicated from history. Scribes spent years rewriting historical documents and manuscripts, obliterating the entire race from the annals of history. Where the wolves had done anything remotely heroic or loyal, the scribes attributed these acts to humans and any achievements that didn’t fit in to this new world order were just removed altogether. Unfortunately, many of these re-written histories remain as credible testimonies to this day. In around 1118, a French wolf called Hugues de Payens, a rogue but also an aristocrat, formed the Templar Pack for any rogue who wanted to join. As a rogue himself he knew tha

Too much rogue is a sign of despair. Arlene Dahl. Duncan Conell was a rogue, he had been a rogue ever since his idiot father had challenged their Alpha and had lost. The Alpha had killed Duncan’s father and he and his mother had no choice but to run, making it over to England by way of the ferry from Dublin to Heysham. His mother hadn’t lasted long once they were safe on the mainland, pining for her dead mate, Duncan had woken one morning in the forest where they were sleeping rough to find her dead, the grief taking her at some point during the night. Like the dutiful son he buried her in the forest and doing the best he could, he marked her grave with some flowers and greenery he found lying around, Duncan was no more than fifteen years old. Being rogue at such a young age should have been hard but Duncan revelled in the freedom, the freedom from his father’s fists, his mother’s drinking and her reliance on him, he felt free.