Red Lineage: Broken Realms Book One Read online

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Acknowledgments

  Author Biography

  This first novel-length work published under my name is dedicated to my beautiful wife. Thank you.

  PROLOGUE

  SNOW CRUNCHED BENEATH the lioness' massive paws, its fur the same bluish-white as the tundra itself, as she led the crone through the wards and towards the cave, her domain, her den. She could have been silent; her slender bulk evenly spread across the pads of her paws to not even break the surface of the snow. However, she needed to display her power, for the crone of course, but also as a reminder to her sisters, who encircled their charge and followed her lead.

  The crone was slower, almost appearing to struggle to keep pace with the predators. Not because of the frigid air or the gale winds, for she walked between realms and felt none of the discomforts of the lioness' harsh land. It was also not merely the limits of age that eventually claimed all mortals, humans especially. The lioness could taste the truth of it on her scent, could hear it with each tentative step behind her—fear.

  The crone’s fear proved wise. She understood what far too many didn’t realize until it was too late. To be in the midst of the pride was to be in the company of death.

  The crone understood.

  As they began the final descent to the den, down a steep path the lioness and her sisters regularly patrolled, a path hidden in plain sight, perfectly concealed in the flat, featureless tundra, the lioness grew tense. Moreover, she could sense the tension in the rest of the escort, her two sisters, Rhalla and Torla, on either side of the crone, and her sister, Balva, sealing off the crone's rear. More of her sisters could be spotted now, resting lazily on carved shelves just large enough to fit their sleek, muscular bodies, along either side of the gradually rising sheer walls of ice and snow, their white fur perfectly camouflaged, amber eyes all trained on the crone.

  The lioness entered the den, and yet more of her sisters closed in, over a dozen, circling, growling, hissing as they approached their queen, whom herself was resting lazily on a slightly raised platform of ice, all by herself. If her alpha sister, the queen of the pride, the Day Stalker herself, took this much caution in the old crone, it served the lioness well that she had shown the proper caution along the journey.

  The crone was not without her own dangers, yet she hesitated at the mouth of the cave. Balva lowered her sleek body close to the ground, muscles coiled and full of tension, and gave a single roar—the only warning the crone would get. Human or not, the crone's reputation preceded her. Besides, the pride knew all too well not to underestimate the capabilities of humans, considering the queen herself had once been human also, but that was a long time ago.

  The crone stepped into the cave, and Balva straightened but did not relax, following close on the crone's heels.

  The queen waited until the lionesses crossed the entire length of the den and were standing before the icy platform before she finally uncurled from the ball she rested in and stood, her ebon body naked against the elements. She looked down at the lioness that led the group and beckoned her up onto the platform, to claim her rightful position at the queen's side. "Come Hafsa. You have done well, sister."

  Although the queen still looked human and spoke with their tongue, Hafsa understood the intent of her will through the connection to her aura. Looking back at the crone one last time, Hafsa leaped up onto the platform and purred when the queens sharpened nails buried deep into the thick fur between her ears, scratching soothingly at her scalp. "You have all done well, sisters. You may leave us to discuss these matters of," she glanced at the crone, "grave importance."

  Slowly, Hafsa’s sisters backed away from the crone, hissing, roaring, sniffing, and licking the air, searching one last time for the slightest hint of treachery. One by one they left, but Hafsa circled the queen, relishing both the feeling of her muscled thighs and calves against her own skin, even through her coarse fur, as well as the waves of power that radiated from the queen’s dominating aura, mixing with Hafsa’s own considerable aura, before finally settling to the ground at the queen’s feet, amber eyes on the crone.

  The crone flicked her weathered eyes to Hafsa for just a second, then back up to the queen.

  The queen picked up the unasked question. “Hafsa remains by my side, always.”

  The crone’s weathered face flicked down to Hafsa one last time, then frowned. “Are you already proving your word means so little, Stalker?”

  “You requested this audience, not I. It would be wise of you to speak your piece, while you are still here strictly under my invitation.”

  “Threats, no matter how subtle, will do little to steer my will, Stalker. I do not fear death, for death will eventually come for all.” The crone let that last sentence hang for just a moment before continuing. “I have requested a lone conversation, and you agreed to such, yet you allow your beast to remain.”

  Hafsa growled at the crone’s tone, but the queen’s aura shifted, silencing her at once.

  The queen spoke. “I promised you a safe escort as you entered the realm, and I’ve done that. I also promised you safe passage both to my home, and while you remain here, and I am providing such, for my sisters will do you no harm. I have also promised you safe passage back to your realm, should this parlay prove worthy of my time, but so far, it is proving otherwise. So you had best get to your point, crone. Why are you here?”

  “I am here to seek your aid.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is.”

  The queen laughed. “You risk your life entering my realm, my home, to seek my aid?”

  “I have, yes, because we now have mutual interests in the coming conflict.”

  “Coming conflict? I have no mutual interests with you, crone, nor your realm.”

  Now it was the crone’s turn to laugh, a cackling shriek that reverberated off the icy walls and ceiling. “You do now. The prophecy has shifted.”

  “Which prophecy?” The queen asked, but Hafsa could sense, through their shared aura, that she knew the answer.

  “The prophecy, Aziza.”

  The queen bristled, and anger rippled through her aura so strong it made Hafsa hiss and roll to her side. “I will tolerate the casual use of my name once, but that is only out of respect for the bond we once shared, Hawa. You will address me as queen, my station, or Day Stalker, my earned reputation. Any further slights and my sisters will tear you apart where you stand and devour you, bones and all."

  The crone bowed. "As I've said, your threats mean nothing to me, Stalker, however honest the words are spoken. However, I did not intend to offend. I am here because of that bond we once shared, and only sought to invoke such when asking for your aid.”

  The queen’s agitation cooled some, but Hafsa remained on her side. “The prophecy states the fate of the three realms hinges on one another, and at the time when the central falls, so too will the others, as so the three were born together, the three will die together.”

  “Indeed,” The crone agreed. “That was the prophecy.”

  “So what has changed, crone?”

  The crone smiled again.
“Everything.”

  The queen’s aura rippled again, and Hafsa could feel her alpha sister’s patience thin. “Speak plainly, crone.”

  “Ever the same, Stalker.” The crone nodded with a smile. “The ancient prophecy has ended; the fate of the three realms are no longer bound together.”

  Genuine surprise rippled through the queen’s aura. Hafsa pricked her ears at that, now more curious than before.

  “You lie.”

  The crone frowned. “You know me better than that.”

  The queen brought a manicured finger to her face, tracing a line along her sharp cheekbone, to her full lips. A sheen of sweat spread across her bald head. “Has either side made a move yet?”

  “No. I doubt anyone knows the truth of this just yet.”

  “You are growing naive in your old age, crone.”

  “Perhaps.” The crone admitted.

  “Knowing the implications of this news as well as anyone, why have you come to me? Your realm is vulnerable.”

  “Because, once the word has spread, forces will come. I ask you to help protect it.”

  “I have no interest in staking any claim to your realm, but I also have no interest in helping it.”

  “Our realm.” The crone corrected, but continued before the queen’s anger flared again. “There are none left that can see to the best interest of our realm. The people have all forgotten, the truth of our history erased. Our people need you. What good is all the power that you have amassed, when you have nothing left to show for it.”

  “Enough.” The crone wisely fell silent. “I will observe and consider helping, should it come to it, and should it serve my purposes.”

  Hafsa sniffed, then licked the air in the crone's direction, sensing the first signs of anything close to hostility. Her sisters sensed the same because moments later she could hear and feel the chorus of concussive roars come from outside, echoing throughout the icy cavern. Hafsa got to her feet, teeth bared.

  The crone narrowed her ancient eyes. "Consider if you must, but do understand, Day Stalker, that should all-out combat come to the realms, nowhere will be safe, not even here."

  The queen aura flared, and Hafsa hissed, rolling onto her back, teeth bared and sharp claws extracted, exposing her belly.

  The crone flinched away as the queen's palm shot out towards her, fingers splayed. The air around the crone darkened and rippled. "Do not come here again, Hawa. For if you do, you will not make it back out." The queen clenched her fist, and the crone shrieked in pain as the darkness closed in around her. Then the queen flicked her hand away, and the crone was expelled from the den, back out the way she had come, moving away at speed just under the limit her old body could take without being ripped apart.

  When the queen's anger cooled, Hafsa rolled back onto her paws, ears and tail low, and leaped off the dais, down to the spot the crone had just stood. She circled twice and then squatted, spraying atop the woman's scent. Her sisters returned to the den then, cautious and uncertain of the queen's demeanor, Balva at the lead.

  Hafsa leaped back to the platform, and the queen curled back down to the ground, snuggling close beside her, then called out in a voice barely louder than a whisper. "Balva, sister, I have an important mission for you."

  CHAPTER ONE

  I HAD PROMISED myself the last time Red and I hit the city would be the last. Fuck, honestly, there should never have been a first time to begin with, if I was anything close to the man I thought myself to be. But here I was again, fighting against my same inner demons.

  I sighed. “How do I keep letting you drag me into these situations, Red?”

  "Come on, D. Not this shit again." Red settled back into the soft leather seat, shaking his head. Only a sliver of his face was visible from the reddish light that came in through the tinted car window, enough for me to look at a single eye, and the rest was a shadowed silhouette.

  An uncomfortable silence settled between us that seemed to make the atmosphere in the car thicker than the late-night May air outside. “Stop looking at me like that.” I turned away. “You’re weirding me the hell out.”

  Something about Red had a way of making me uncomfortable, despite the fact we had been friends more than half my life. He gave off a certain vibe whether he intended to or not. Almost on cue, the fluorescent light outside the car began to flicker, causing eerie shadows to dance across his rough ebony skin.

  I laughed, breaking the tension. "All right, just say it, Red. You know that I know that you know I can tell what you're thinking."

  Red frowned. “The fuck you just say?”

  “Just come on out with whatever you're wanting to say.”

  Red shrugged and crossed his arms as he turned his body to face me. "You ‘bout to bitch out on me."

  “Hey, I never said that.”

  “You ain’t have to.”

  “What do you mean I don’t have to? Of course I have to. You can’t just accuse me of bitching out before I even say a word. One of these days you're gonna put your foot in your mouth, and I'm gonna be there to help you pry it back out because I'm your boy."

  “Yeah, yeah. Now you stallin’.”

  “Stalli—come on now. What’s with this shit tonight? Did you drag me out here just to give me shit? I ain’t stalling, and I ain’t bitching out.” I held up my hand. “But…”

  “Theeeeeere we go. Come on, let’s hear how you ain’t about to bitch out, while you’re tellin’ me all about the bitch out.”

  I rolled my eyes. "But…I don't know about this man."

  “Darien, what the fuck’s there not to know about? We’re already here, man. Just get out the car an—” He frowned. “Stop that shit.”

  At first, I frowned back at him in confusion, but then noticed I was tapping the sapphire bezel of my Hublot on the gold trim of the wheel. Somehow, I didn’t hear the rhythmic metallic tings until just then. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

  “Mother fuckin’ right you’re sorry. We’re out here to celebrate, dance to some good music, and definitely entertain some fine ass ladies, not rob a fuckin’ bank. Loosen up, man.”

  I leaned back and settled my head in the cushioned rest. "All right, Red."

  “Nah, D. I said loosen up.” He jabbed me with his elbow twice, hard enough to make me shift my elbow to block a third blow that never came.

  "All right, all right, Red," I said, a little more aggressive than I expected.

  “That’s what I’m talkin' ‘bout, D. And don’t act like you don’t like what you see out there. This new spot is fire. Look at that line. Even the fine ass wannabe insta models gotta wait.”

  He was right. The line outside the club across the street stretched halfway down the block. The pair of black-suited bouncers pulled the black rope away and let another group through the large metal doors with frosted glass windows that seemed to serve no purpose other than making people that could never get in wonder what it was like inside. As soon as the door opened, the thumping bass from the music reverberated all the way across the street, rattling the interior of the car. It sparked a small bit of excitement.

  Really looking at the line now for the first time, every girl was at least a nine and wore dresses that looked like something you'd see on a Hollywood award show red carpet. Only, these slits were several inches higher on the thigh and plunged several inches lower at the neckline.

  The place had somehow earned a notorious reputation in just the few short months it had been open. If you weren’t at least a combination of famous, beautiful, or flaunting ridiculous amounts of wealth, you weren’t getting past the velvet rope.

  Just then, a pair of gorgeous women, one blonde and the other brunette, both tall, lean, and dressed in scandalous outfits that showed off far more skin than fabric, were turned away. They didn’t even bother arguing, and all but ran down the street, faces stunned red from embarrassment. “Damn.”

  Red shrugged. “Fuck em’. You ready to go or what?”

  There was one last moment of guilt,
but I forced it to the back of my mind, and then nodded. "Yeah, I'm ready."

  “That’s what the fuck I’m talkin’ ‘bout! It’s time to turn up. Look at ‘ol girl in the black dress back there.”

  “Which one?”

  “Man, you know which one. The chocolate sista with the natural curls and hella curves, with those cheeks peekin’ through the bottom of that short ass dress every time she turns to the side. Don’t act like you don’t know who I’m talkin’ about.”

  She was impossible not to notice. "Yeah, I see her. I see that swole brotha on her arm too."

  “Fuck all that. He don’t matter, D. Look at the body language. If she stood any further away from dude, she'd be with the white guy behind her."

  Turning back to her on the line, Red was right. I laughed. “She might be more trouble than she's worth. There’s plenty of other women on that line—even pairs of them.”

  “No, she’s the one.”

  I blew out a breath. “All right then. What's my angle? Aggressive, borderline arrogant, like so many of the women you choose like?"

  Red was silent for a long moment, studying the woman as hard as I’d ever seen him do anyone. “Nah, not this woman, D. She’ll need a different approach.”

  “Different how?”

  Red went silent again for nearly double the length of time, and he leaned forward. “You’ll need to be more reserved. Aggressive, but reserved. She’s used to pulling the strings, so you’ll need to make her feel like she’s in control…until she’s comfortable. Then, to seal the deal, you’ll need to wait until you’re sure you have her, then cut the conversation short and leave her alone. But be respectful, classy.”

  “What the fuck, Red? What happened to the girls that needed some old regular type of game? You want me to game some chick up all night, that’s already here with a man—”

  “He won’t be a problem if you play it my way.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You want me to game some chick up all night and just walk away from her?”

  Red shook his head. “People have different motivations, D. And people have different motivations for different moments of their lives or even times of the day. Her confidence is not an act, like so many others." He glanced at me for a split second. "Money and material things won’t seal the deal for her, but it will get you into the door. She, more than anything, is bored.”