It was a familiar and welcome voice, one she’d come to implicitly trust over the last ten years. It belonged to Rodney Stokes, her butler. Though in reality, he tended to fill the duties of bodyguard, trainer, and personal assistant.
Adelaide squeezed her eyes shut as the last of the white light faded, and the inside of her eyelids came back in to view. When she opened them, she was not at all surprised by what she saw. She was laying on the ground beside her Olympic-sized swimming pool. Rodney was beside her, his massive black body kneeling protectively over her, his hand at her back, forcing her to lay on her side.
She coughed a few more times and then moaned. “I did it again, didn’t I?” she croaked. Her voice was scratchy, and her throat hurt.
“Sure did. I’m considering having this thing filled in the next time you’re out. Turn it into a giant sandbox,” Rodney said.
Addie closed her eyes again and gave herself a moment to process things. Then she said, “We’d have to pooper-scoop the crap of every stray cat in the neighborhood.”
Rodney laughed, a deep beautiful sound that helped Addie remember she was alive – and it was because of her butler. Then she remembered who she was and why she was laying on the ground beside her pool. She’d had a premonition.
But this time… she had no idea who it was about or when it was going to happen.
Rodney helped her sit up. “How much time do we have this time?” he asked.
Addie blinked. She touched her forehead. “I don’t know.”
That was a first. She’d had hundreds of premonitions about people in dangerous situations, and as she’d come out of each one, she’d always known exactly who was in danger and exactly when the situation would go down. It was what she did. That was what she was about.
But this time was different. She knew what was going to happen. She simply had no idea who the shooter was, where the shooter was, or when the shooting was going to happen.
Rodney’s brow furrowed. He sat back a little and gave her a perplexed look. “You don’t know?”
“I don’t know,” she repeated. She was trembling, and it wasn’t just her near death causing it. She hated being out of control, and this vision put her right smack into that position. “And the thing is,” she admitted shakily, “this one is really bad.”
Chapter Three
“All I know is there’s a kid somewhere who is either being bullied to the point of snapping or is already there, and she’ll soon have a gun to help her even out the odds.” She shook her head as Rodney helped her completely stand. She was shaky at first, but this wasn’t her first rodeo, and she soon had her long legs firmly beneath her. “Her school has some sort of sea animal motif on the wall. And… that’s all I know.”
She was disturbed about this last vision on more than one level. Not only was it horrific in the extreme, it was familiar to her, for personal reasons. Plus, she’d nearly died again just having the vision. She’d had four premonitions in that damn pool so far. Granted, she’d been in it more than a hundred times. Still, an extra four percent added to possible death while swimming was an extra four percent. Rodney was probably right. She really should get rid of the thing.
The pool was one of the few ways she was able to get in her exercise. One rescue mission too many had landed her with injuries, and she was only human. Impact cardio like running was impossible. It was difficult enough just to walk some days, the bad days, and she was already on meds for chronic pain. She couldn’t function without them.
Later, she told herself, shaking her head in a mixture of self-disgust that stemmed from more than her injuries. She would figure this shit out later. Right now, there was a soul to save. “See if there are any high schools with….” She tried to focus on the image on the wall in her premonition. “Maybe a sea lion or a seal or, I don’t know. Honestly, it looked like a combination between one of those and a mermaid.” She was repulsed. This had never happened to her before.
She walked briskly back into the massive mansion with Rodney at her side, his hand at her back just in case. As she walked, she went over the details of her vision with him, hoping that if new ears heard it, new eyes would see it, and that could only be a good thing at this point.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Rodney said, hesitantly leaving her side to head to the first floor hall. “You okay on your own?”
She nodded and turned toward the first step of the large winding marble stairwell that led to the second floor and the other wings of her enormous mansion.
And that was when her second premonition struck.
The luxurious surroundings of her mansion faded into the mist of a vision, and then warped into their exact opposites. Instead of plush rugs, polished marble, and tasteful décor, she was surrounded by trash bins, graffiti, and garbage.
She stood at the center of the alley and, for the second time in the same hour, she watched helplessly as horror unfolded. At the other end of the alley, two men – no, they were boys – began using pocket knives to slowly cut off the ears of a young dog they’d tied to the wall. The dog was so small, and clearly in immense amounts of pain. But it must have been drugged into subservience, for it only whined and tried to duck its head as the cruelty took place.
Adelaide watched the rest of the vision like the prisoner she was, helplessly taking note of the boys’ ghastly task as they smiled and laughed and were filmed by someone close by. She heard the sounds, the whimpers, and willed the scene to end. Her mind felt like it was bruised, beaten and traumatized by the shocks of what it had been forced to witness over the last hour.
Blessedly, Adelaide felt herself being drawn once again into reality, and the vision around her receded, growing blurry and dim. This time, she’d managed to come through the vision unscathed. She always stayed on her feet when a premonition struck while she was standing; she had no idea why. But it was a lucky thing, because she’d have become a walking zombie by now otherwise. The concussions she would have sustained through repeated head-banging falls would have seen to that.
Rodney was beside her again. He was good at his job. “What was it this time?” he asked softly. “Same thing? The school?”
She shook her head. “No.” Unlike the last vision, this time she knew that what she’d witnessed was going to happen soon. Very soon. And she had much more to go on. Most of the time, her visions concerned humans, but once in a while a non-human slipped in with the warnings of things that hadn’t yet happened but could – if she didn’t stop them.
“We don’t have much time,” she said.
“How much do we have?”
“A few hours maybe,” she said. “This one was way too clear. It’s just around the corner.” By just around the corner, she meant time-wise. The clearer the vision, the sooner it would occur. If she wanted to save the dog, she needed to act now.
She concentrated on the details of the vision. They flashed before her eyes in almost the exact same way that images flashed before Shawn Spencer’s eyes in the television program, Psych. So much so, that when the show had first come out, she’d had the surreal impression someone was making a show about her.
Addie concentrated. Rubble… mold… wet concrete… crack in the wall of the building… rusted chain attached to a pipe sticking out of the ground… street sign….
Street sign!
She closed her eyes. A blurred bunch of letters swam through her mind. She honed in on it. A “T” became clear. Then three more letters. Then another “t,” this one lower-case. An “l” and an “e.”
Her eyes flew open. “The name of the street is Thistle. They’re somewhere that it rains a lot; everything was rusted, and there was mold in the corners of the sidewalks. The criminals were Caucasian and dressed for warmth.” It was May, so the location was most likely somewhere north, probably on the coast where it was wetter, and in a less desirable neighborhood. “Search for a Thistle street in a sketchy neighborhood in Seattle and its surrounding areas,” she told Rodney. “I’ll do San Francisco
and Portland.” She only prayed the vision hadn’t taken place in Canada. So far none of them had, though. Her psychic vibrations had remained close to home, thank goodness. She couldn’t imagine how helpless she’d feel if her vision suddenly placed her in a war zone overseas.
He nodded. “You okay on your own?”
“Yes, I’m fine. We need to hurry.”
He let her go to head for his office on the first floor. Adelaide made her way to the base of the winding marble staircase that was the centerpiece of her luxurious home and stood at the foot of the steps. She looked up, and not for the first time, firmly regretted purchasing a two-story home with her lottery money. Then again, she wouldn’t have known she’d end up injured as she had.
Then again, she was psychic. Maybe she should have known.
She shook her head at that thought. Her visions were never about her own physical well-being… or the physical well-being of those she loved. She’d learned that the hard way.
It was fate’s cruel joke. It was nature’s way of evening things out. Because nature couldn’t possibly allow something to just be good and not bad. Bad and not good was fine: allergies, aging, disease, you name it. The other way around though, nuh-huh. Because nature was a filthy, stinking whore with few redeeming qualities to speak of.
With a heavy heart but frank determination, she began climbing the stairs as quickly as she could. She needed to get changed and pack a bag. Time was of the essence.
Maybe in the near future she would have an elevator installed.
She was half-way to the second floor when Rodney called up the stairs. “Your initial instincts were right! There’s a Thistle street in South Park, Seattle!” He started up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
“Get me the phone number for their police,” she said, though she knew he was probably already on that.
“Already got it,” he said, confirming her theory. “And I’ve already dialed.” He handed her the phone he’d carried up the stairs with him, and she nodded as she put it to her ear.
“Hi,” she said as the cops picked up on the other end. “I don’t know which department I need to speak with, but I need to report a case of severe animal cruelty. Thistle Street in South Park. You need to get there quick. They’ve got a dog chained up and they’re doing terrible things to it.”
She hung up then, as she knew the first thing the police would do is ask for her name, phone number, and everything else she didn’t want them to know. She only prayed they wouldn’t take the call for granted.
Her trip to Seattle would reveal whether or not they had. Either way, she needed to get to the puppy and take it some place safe. If the cruelty didn’t take place today, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t take place soon.
That was why she had thirty-seven acres of land in Montana with seven different structures built upon it, and twelve veterinarians on-call in eight different states. Everyone deserved a safe place to call home. Even a chained up dog in a sketchy neighborhood in Seattle.
Hell, especially the dog.
Chapter Four
Nero Ares Crowley stared down at his hands as he turned them slowly over, taking in every detail. He looked at his arms, his clothes, his shoes. At the same time, he ran his new name through his quick-thinking mind. Nero was a bit outdated and more than a little infamous. Ares was the god of war, and it had also been his name the last time he’d been generated on the planet. He supposed it was an inside joke played by the fates that it would now be his middle name. Crowley was a tad off-putting to anyone familiar with history. None of the names were particularly pleasant. To some, they would appear frightening.
But what did he expect? He was a Nightmare, both ancient and frightening. He might have to create an alias, or no one would take him seriously.
He thought of his height, his strength, and he measured each in turn. Then he looked up at the display window of the store in front of him. It was night, and the store’s lights were off, allowing him a clear view of his reflection.
He smiled, slow and confident, a secret smile with a cruel edge. He was tall and his frame was strong. He could see by the shape of his wrists and the veins in his forearms, and feel by the callouses on his fingers that he was quick and well practiced. As usual, he’d been given the tools he would need for a fighting chance against the king. But this time….
He narrowed his gaze and stepped closer to the glass.
This time he’d been given something extra. This time, he was as beautiful as the Nightmare King himself. “There’s a first for everything,” he said softly. His smile broadened. Even his voice was beautiful, deep and laced with an accent that would make women swoon.
“An Englishman then,” he said with a chuckle. This was a first for him too.
And as he gazed at his reflection and the depth of his green-eyed gaze, he realized why there were so many firsts this time around. Information poured into his mind, information that always came but was different this time. It was more this time. “This is the last time,” he reasoned, his handsome brow furrowing. This was the final time he would be given form and allowed to compete for the throne.
That was a touch disconcerting, he had to admit. But that wasn’t all.
His mind continued to broaden as more information poured in.
He blinked, his intense eyes widening. “Oh my.” His brow lifted. “This time there’s a queen.”
He tossed that around in his head for a few seconds, wondering of what kind of woman could possibly fit the role of queen of the incubi. The very idea of a woman being in charge of a legion of womanizing men was, well, it was… “Interesting,” he said aloud.
And then Nero confidently adjusted his collar, turned away from the store front, and walked into the rain-soaked night.
*****
“How long will it be this time?” Nicholas asked. He noted that when he felt grouchy, his accent intensified. It appeared it would grow stronger with his emotions.
He ran a hand through his hair to remove the bulk of the rainwater from his thick, dark locks and gave the lapels of his jacket a quick shake on the house’s outer doorstep before breaching it and moving further inside. This was apparently his home. Or one of them, anyway.
It was pouring in his home town, it would seem. No big surprise. This time around, he lived in the rainiest city on the planet.
“Probably as long as it usually takes,” replied Andros, who must have instinctively known that Nick was talking about his powers and their full return. Andros cocked his head to one side and asked, “Is there a reason you thought it would be different?”
Nicholas hung his designer trench coat on the coat rack and peered at his Preceptor over his shoulder. “Everything else is. There’s a queen, after all.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” said Minnaea, coming around the corner from some room that Nicholas had yet to investigate. “I know you haven’t even had a chance to settle in, your majesty. But I thought you’d like to know I got a hit on the Challenger’s location.”
The female Preceptor walked right past the butler, who’d been standing off to the side with a polite but uncertain expression on his weathered face since Nicholas and Andros had arrived. Minnaea had left the two alone at the office and transported away, going ahead of them to make certain the new king’s home was “safe.”
Frankly it was a little bit emasculating to have a woman doing such a dangerous job in order to protect him. He was an incubus, and the desire to protect women came naturally to him, not the other way around. But it was her job. And in all fairness, she had bones made of other-realm metal, and she was immortal.
Minnaea stopped in front of them, all six feet of her, and raised her right arm. From her fingers dangled a gold chain with what looked very much like a pendulum made of prismatic crystal. Nicholas knew exactly what it was. It was a dowsing crystal with a sole purpose – to locate the Nightmare King’s Challenger.
At the moment, it was pulsing with red light, indicating the Challenger ha
d been “born” and was fully formed. “He’s going by the name Nero Ares Crowley,” said Minnaea. “It figures his previous name would be in there somewhere.” As Ares, the Challenger had been born into the role of a general in the Roman army, just as had Hesperos. The difference was that General Ares had been a little more infamous.
Now all they needed to do was place the crystal over a map, and the rock would point them in the direction of the Challenger’s location.
“Oh,” Minnaea suddenly said, her expression changing as she glanced over her shoulder at the butler. He hadn’t moved a muscle. Obviously the butler was accustomed to Nicholas, even if Nick had never seen the aged man before in his life. “And this guy’s name is Monroe,” she said with a quick gesture of her head toward the manservant.
At that, the butler’s gaze narrowed suspiciously at the back of Minnaea’s head.
Nick’s eyes widened, and he gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. Minnaea’s expression became at once apologetic. She mouthed the word, sorry. Two thousand years had seen her out of practice – because Nicholas Wargrave would surely already know the butler’s name, and wouldn’t need an utter stranger to tell him what it was. “… I’ve just learned,” she corrected quickly and ineffectively. “He introduced himself to me earlier, Nick, so there’s no need for you to introduce us again.” She grinned nervously, and Nick almost rolled his eyes.
She was the world’s worst liar.
“Sir,” said Monroe finally, and his voice sounded exactly as Nick would have expected it to, like an old butler’s voice. “So good to see you home safely in this weather. Shall I have refreshments sent to the study for you and your companions?”
Nicholas could only hope that his mannerism was similar to Wargrave’s previous behavior when he nodded and smiled. “That would be nice, Monroe. Thank you.”
Monroe nodded, not missing a beat, and turned on his heel to head toward what Nick could only assume were the kitchens of the enormous mansion.