Awen Storm Read online

  “Have a seat,” he murmured, leaning too close.

  Neck tingling, Shalane hesitated, then took his chair. She’d rather not stand. Especially after a hard day’s work. She eyed the man. He had deep blue eyes a woman could swim in, and a physique that screamed good stock and regular workouts at the gym. She leaned toward him.

  “Thank you. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a gentleman.”

  The eyes searched Shalane’s face and dropped to her chest. “And you would have been correct. Want to get out of here?” The attorney touched her thigh, igniting a fire.

  Her heart thudded. That was Shalane’s line. Slowly, he inched his hand toward her groin. She swayed on the barstool for one exquisite moment feeling the warmth suffuse her panty-less crotch, then shuddered when he removed his hand.

  She straightened and gathered her composure as the band started another song. The dance floor emptied and filled again. Shalane slid off the stool and crooked a finger. The attorney followed.

  Outside, a gust of cold wind slammed against them. Mitch turned his collar up and flashed Shalane that sardonic grin. Something deep inside her melted. Something that seemed to have been waiting for the right moment. And maybe the right man.

  As if in a dream, Shalane let him guide her up a wide staircase that looked like something out of Gone with the Wind. In the cubby at the top, Mitch shoved her against the side door of the Fox Theater and ravaged her lips in a deep, lingering kiss.

  When he stuck his tongue down the back of her throat and ground his knee against her twat, Shalane groaned and collapsed against him, grinding and moaning as her hair-trigger clitoris orgasmed again and again.

  Near swooning, she dragged her mouth away and shoved him from her, retreating down the steps to catch her breath. The attorney was having an odd effect on her, one she hadn’t experienced in a long time. But, vulnerability and lack of control were two things Shalane could scant afford.

  Mitch Wainwright stood at the top of the sweeping staircase, hips thrust out and waiting. His eyes held a dangerous glint. Was it welcome or warning?

  A Dirty Secret

  Mitch rolled out from under Shalane. She burrowed deeper under the covers. The bitch had fallen asleep in the middle of riding him like a Preakness jockey. He studied her in the lamplight, and something sinister curled in his belly.

  Dressing in a hurry, he slung his jacket over one shoulder and tiptoed from the room he’d rented despite being determined not to get mixed up with Shalane. Once again, his cock had overridden his reason.

  He texted his driver and received a prompt reply: “Be there in five.”

  Exiting through a side door of the Hotel Georgian, Mitch shrugged his jacket on and shivered in the damp wind. His smartwatch said it was 3:37 am. Traffic had petered off, though the after-hour clubs would be in full swing. He studied his reflection in the mirrored hotel and slicked down his hair, then huddled inside his thin suit jacket. Moments later, the sleek limo pulled to the curb.

  Too wired to sleep, Mitch had the driver swing by Manual’s Tavern. It was closed, so he settled for the bar next door. He ducked into the dive and chose an empty seat at the crowded bar. Despite the late hour, the place was packed with businessmen and ladies of the night.

  Ordering a Johnny Walker Black, Mitch tossed it back and ordered another. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. Considering his inability to resist Shalane, maybe it already had.

  He drank the second shot and ordered another, then wobbled to a table in the far back corner where it stank of beer and spoiled whiskey. His stomach roiled. He hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday.

  Peering at the menu, Mitch flagged a scantily-clad, and possibly-underage, waitress. Surprisingly, his cock remained limp in his britches. The witch had drained all the desire from him. For the moment, anyway.

  When the girl brought his burger and a cold Budweiser, he paid and tipped her generously. Then Mitch tucked into the less-than-appealing fare, ravenous now that it was in front of him. At the next table, three older men swapped stories of bygone days. When Hamilton Hester’s name came up, Mitch stopped chewing to listen.

  “Can I get you anything else?” The waitress startled him. He waved her away, and leaned toward the adjoining table, chasing down his mouthful of burger with beer.

  “—Yeah, I had a chance to be rich. Ham Hester approached me about screwing my wife, too. But unlike you, I turned him down…”

  Mitch’s ears pricked up. What the fuck?

  “Did your wife conceive?” the man asked.

  “Nah,” his friend shook his grizzled head. “Well, yeah. But she had a boy. Hester insisted it had to be a girl, so he only paid us ten grand, rather than the whole shebang. Chadd here struck it rich.” He playfully backhanded the fellow next to him who chugalugged a beer and thumped it on the table.

  “Yeah, but our daughter wasn’t good enough. Just as well. Hester woulda taken her and raised her as his own. I don’t know what I’d a done without our Aaliyah. She may not carry my genes, but she’s my daughter through and through.”

  “Does she know?” The first man’s beady eyes bored into his friend.

  “Hell naw!” Chadd slapped the table with both hands. Which startled Mitch, who choked on a mouthful of Budweiser.

  “Y’all better not tell anyone either. Not EVER. That’s a secret me’n my wife planned to take to the grave. If she knew I told you-uns, she’d skin me alive.” He glanced over at Mitch who was hacking up his guts. “Y’okay over there?”

  Mitch nodded and took an unimpeded breath, then dropped his eyes to the now-cold burger. Downing the beer, he shoved away from the table.

  Help from Home

  Khenko had debated all morning whether to call his parents. He needed advice, and the best way to get it was to talk to them. But it went against his nature and his wishes. Caving in, he sucked in a deep breath and placed the call.

  It rang once before Val Blitherstone appeared on the other end, dark hair swept back in a ponytail. He must’ve caught her fresh from the tennis court.

  “Khenko!” she beamed, slightly off-center on the screen. “What a pleasant surprise. Yvette and I were just talking about you.” His mother’s best friend stuck her face in front of the camera and broke into a smile.

  “Mon cheri,” she crooned, “it is good to see your handsome face. And my, so brown. That Bahamian sun loves you, cher.” There was a good-natured shoving match, then Yvette ceded ground. His mother appeared onscreen again.

  Warm, fuzzy love tightened Khenko’s voice to a near-whisper. “Hi, mom. I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve miss you too, son. Are you in trouble? You look worried. Can I fly to Zephyr Cay and bring you home?”

  Khenko chuckled and shook his head.

  “Then what is so important as to make you break your own ‘No Talk’ rule?”

  “I do have a little situation,” he admitted. “But go visit with ‘Vette and call me later.”

  “It’s okay, Bird. I’m heading out,” Yvette called. “No, don’t get up, Val. I’ll lock the door behind me.” Her face appeared on the screen beside his mother’s. “Bye, Big Bird.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone. “Please come home. Your mother won’t admit it, but she needs you desperately.”

  Val bumped her friend away. In the background, Yvette hollered, “Bye, Big Bird. I love you.”

  “Bye ‘Vette. I love you too.”

  His mother leaned so close all he could see was her dark eyes. “Now. You have my undivided attention.” Fear tightened the lines of her smooth, olive complexion. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

  “Yes. At least I think so.” It hadn’t occurred to Khenko until that moment that he might not be. “Do you know something I don’t?”

  She leaned back and her full face appeared. Her lips loosened in the faintest of smiles.

  “Of course I do, son. But that’s beside the point. You never call and said you wouldn’t. Now you have called, and say you
need to talk. A mother worries. Even yours.”

  Khenko winced. The remark struck home. His absence had been hard on his mother and sister. He hung his head. “I know, Ma. I’m sorry. I do miss seeing the two of you.”

  “And your father? He worries too, you know.” It was half accusation, half attempt to console. But that ship had sailed many years ago.

  A door opened and shut down the hall. Emily was up; he’d have to be quick.

  “As you know, I don’t practice the Iroquois ways. But a few nights ago, I was visited by the crane.” Khenko paused for her reaction but Val remained silent, her face impassive. “Corr appeared to me in a dream. He told me to go to the blue hole to receive a package. So I did.”

  The blank expression shifted. A light emerged in his mother’s eyes.

  Needing to finish before Emily interrupted or wandered away, he poured the rest out, omitting nothing but the dragon and its instructions. That part he’d documented on his laptop, in a private file for Khenko’s eyes only, in case Talav changed her mind and imposed the memory spell.

  Val touched the camera as if it were his face. “My son, what an auspicious gift. It is the greatest of honors to be called upon by one’s totem. Not many are. And few have the courage or strength to answer. I am proud of you, Khenko. But for something this significant, I must confer with your father.”

  His displeasure must have shown because she hurried to finish. “You did right to call, son. Let us help.” He still wasn’t sure that’s what he wanted, especially from his father. But he didn’t know where else to turn.

  “I will speak to him tonight.”

  Khenko huffed, disappointed. He had hoped to get an answer right away.

  “He’s at Princeton teaching and has a meeting after that. I promise I’ll speak to him as soon as he gets home, and call you right after. Will that work?”

  A low knock sounded on Khenko’s door—three taps, a pause, and three more.

  “Just a minute,” he called, then mumbled to his mother, “Guess it’ll have to. Gotta go, mom. Call me soon?”

  “I promise, Bird. I love you. Be safe and take care of yourself and your patient.”

  **

  Khenko closed his laptop. “Come on in.”

  A shy smile lit his charge’s otherwise glum face as she opened the door.

  “What’s up, princess? Have a seat.”

  She slid into a chair opposite the desk and leaned toward him. “I need to contact my family. Let them know I’m alive and where I am.”

  Khenko tapped his fingers on the desk, wondering how to tell her she couldn’t. Quick and to-the-point would probably be best. But first, he needed to know what she knew.

  “Emily, do you remember what happened before you woke at the center?” He reached for her restless hands and sandwiched them between his.

  “In a nutshell?”

  Khenko nodded.

  As if reading something from a signboard, Emily spoke mechanically. “I was at the zoo in Atlanta with my friends. There was an earthquake—” she faltered and chewed her lip. “I got sucked into the ground.” She stopped again and stared off at something far away. Khenko massaged the backs of her hands with his thumbs.

  Emily’s gaze drifted back to lock with his and her eyes were terrified. “I woke alone. In the pitch dark.” Khenko tightened his grip. “My worst nightmare come true.” Her cold hands trembled in his. “I was alone in the dark, surrounded by fallen boulders. It should have killed me.” Her voice hitched. “I thought it had.”

  “Hush yo’ mouth, honey child,” he chided in a silly voice. It had the desired effect. Emily giggled.

  “Then I tripped over a dragon,” she added. Khenko relaxed. She remembered Talav.

  “You’re not surprised? You believe I saw a dragon?”

  He chuckled, remembering his reaction upon seeing Talav. “Two days ago, I would have said no. But today, yes. I believe you, Emily.” The stunned-look lingered on the battered face. “Do you remember anything else?” Color rushed to her cheeks.

  “I remember it all. The dragon saved me, Khenko. She caused the quake, then she saved me. ”

  He sat up straight.

  “Oh, God,” she wailed, rubbing her face in her hands. “The dark was awful, even worse than the quake. That happened so fast I had no time to think, and shock held the pain at bay. But that dark cave, omigod. I thought I was dead.”

  “What do you mean, the dragon caused the quake?”

  Emily stared at him, wild-eyed. “She caused the quake. She even admitted it. She shook the very foundations of the zoo until the earth crumbled and split apart. Then I fell in. I still don’t know what happened to my boyfriend. Or his nephew and dog and my father.”

  She had a boyfriend. The air left Khenko in a rush. His homosexuality would remain intact. “I’m sorry,” was all he could think to say. “Did Talav mention how close to death you were?”

  “No. Was I?” Her somber eyes stared.

  “Yes. Talav used her powers to heal what she could. But you remained in a coma. She called it lingering in the Otherworld.”

  Understanding flared in the green eyes. “Yes, she did tell me I was in the Otherworld. But she also said I was in the Underworld. Wherever I was, it seemed oddly like this world.” She squinted as if comparing. “There really wasn’t any difference at all. Except my reflection didn’t show up in Talav’s mirror.” Her brows shot skyward and she sat up straight. “You! You were there.” She leapt from the chair and backed away. “You’re in cahoots with the dragon!”

  Khenko busted out laughing. “In cahoots?” he snorted. “Who says ‘in cahoots’?” He guffawed until tears dampened his eyes. When Emily stamped her feet, he slapped his sides in another round of gaiety. By the time he gained a degree of sobriety, she was hopping mad and stared down at him, hands on hips, green daggers for eyes.

  “I-I’m sorry,” he managed to get out without laughing. “I did come to the cave, but to rescue you. To bring you back here. Surely you didn’t want to stay with the dragon?”

  The red drained from Emily’s face. “No, I did not.”

  “Well then, there you go.” He was offended she would think he meant her harm. He’d never hurt a soul, not on purpose. “Thanks to me and that dragon, you are back in the real world. In the land of the living.”

  Emily sighed loudly. “And few make it back.” This time, gratitude swam in her liquid eyes. “Thank you, Khenko. You did save me, didn’t you?”

  He couldn’t help squirming. It had been an assignment. One Khenko had tried his damnedest to ignore.

  “You did,” she concluded. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. But I have to tell you something, and you’re not going to like it. Steel yourself.”

  “Steel myself? That’s a good one,” she grinned. “Almost as good as ‘in cahoots’. What is it?”

  “You cannot contact anyone. By order of the dragon.”

  “But—”

  Khenko held up an index finger. “Wait. Let me finish.”

  Emily scrubbed her face in her hands and looked up impatiently, bottom lip caught between her teeth.

  “Talav insisted. She said your family and the world must continue to believe you dead. Or at least, missing.” Emily frowned and her nose wrinkled. “I can tell you that the MacBrayer man made it out alive. The boy is missing. But the only mention the news made of your father is that his death preceded the earthquake by several weeks.”

  “And Cu?” she squeaked. “The wolfhound?”

  “The dog did not survive. His body was recovered.” Emily crumpled into tears and Khenko hated himself. “I can also tell you that Talav revealed the identity of your family. You come from a long line of powerful druids. And the world’s existence depends on you.”

  She lurched like a gazelle poised to run.

  “It’s okay,” Khenko assured her. “I am here to help. I am not druid-born, but I hail from another long line of peacemakers. The Iroquois Nation. We answer to the
same ancestors, though we call them by different names.”

  Emily relaxed a little, though her inquisitive look remained.

  “I was trained as an Iroquois medicine man. Two days ago, Corr the Crane appeared in my dreams. He told me to go to the blue hole and wait for a package, so I did. When Talav finally appeared, she led me to you. The rest, you know.”

  “But why can’t I call home?” Emily groaned. “At least let me call Lugh. He’s the priest of my Order and would keep our secret.”

  Khenko shook his head. “According to Talav, it has something to do with the end of the world.”

  Emily blanched, then reddened. “Oh. That.”

  “Yeah. That.”

  “I’m freaking tired of being threatened with Armageddon.” She flounced into the chair. “If I can’t let my family know I’m alive, then what, pray tell, is the plan?”

  Inanna

  The compulsion to get out of the compound became too much for Ishkur to bear. Once Shibboleth heard about the decimation of his guards, the warlord’s retaliation would be swift and merciless. Ishkur would rather not be there when that happened.

  His three Dracos from Xibalba IX were still missing. Ishkur had dispatched an attaché to discover their whereabouts but had received no word. He eyed the interactive map of the city, searching for a pub not gutted by the creeping magma. Noting a cantina on the south side of town, Ishkur scribbled the coordinates on a slip of paper and exited his berth.

  The lights were dim in the empty hallway. He strode to the chute system and ignored the occupants that skittered to avoid him. At the far end of the station, he accessed the keypad. Minutes later, a southbound transpo zipped into the station and stopped. The auto-door slid open. No one exited.

  Ishkur stepped into the car with a couple of Fomorians and a Breesnak. He stood, rather than sit with the lesser species, and gripped the hand strap as the chute sped through the compound. They emerged to the sight of the setting sun. The sky was awash. Purples, reds, and blues glowed through the ashen haze.