Otherworld Tales Volume 1 Page 5

  She moved slowly through the room to him. “Rozurial…I love you. I’m so sorry.” Her voice was as broken as his heart.

  He turned to Zeus. “This is your fault. Fix it. Do whatever you need to but fix it.”

  Zeus looked from Fraale to Roz, back to Fraale again. “I cannot undo what Hera did—no one but she has the power to undo her magic, and she has a long, harsh memory. But…I will do the only thing I can think of to help.” He stood, then reached out and touched Rozurial.

  Roz felt something beginning to shift inside, a warm glow that quickly became a raging fire, rampaging through his body—burning the cells, shifting and changing him. As he fell back on the table, his body beginning to spasm, his last thought was, “I’m dying.” And then, the darkness hit again.

  “SO HERE WE are.” Fraale gazed at him, her luminous eyes shimmering with tears.

  “Wherever here is.” Roz pressed his lips into a thin line as he stared out the window. He was hungry—the ache was always there now. The desire to touch, to kiss, to run his fingers along feminine flesh, to taste the energy that charged him up like a fresh eye catcher, about to explode. No matter how much he and Fraale had come together over the past weeks, the ache and need couldn’t be satiated, for either of them. Now, they were facing each other, honestly, the naked truth painfully evident.

  “I love you.” He swung around, catching her hands in his. “You know how much I love you—I never wanted anything more than to grow old with you, to have children, to make some semblance of a normal life. You know that, don’t you?”

  Her breath was ragged, this time not from desire, but tears. “Don’t say it—there has to be a way we can get back to normal. Every man I touch, reminds me that he’s not you. But I can’t stop—I can’t stop myself. I killed someone last night, and that will never happen again, I swear it. If I have to slit my own throat, I’ll never kill any man again with my kiss. Can’t we try again? Can’t we try once more—we can sustain each other—” But her pleas fell away.

  Rozurial’s own eyes were wet. “We’ve tried. Every day we make this pledge. Every night…we roam the astral and hunt down victims. We can’t do it anymore—this guilt will eat us alive. If we stay together, we’ll drive each other mad. I can’t stand to think of you with other men but I know you need them. I know your hunger because I feel it myself.”

  How many times had he blamed Zeus? How many times had he stared at himself in the mirror, seeing the glamour that the god had given him when he changed him into an incubus? How many times had he cursed the gods who had destroyed their house?

  Fraale leaned over, sobbing so hard he thought she might break. She fell to her knees, pressing her head on his lap. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave…what will I do without you?”

  “My love, that’s not the question. The question is, what will we do to each other if we stay together? I know it hurts you to see me with other women, too. But…I think we have to accept—there’s no going back. The healers and witches told us that. Zeus and Hera ignore our prayers. Face it, Fraale, we’re stuck like this.”

  And that was the kicker—they were stuck. Stuck in a glamorous world of sex and charm and passion…but they couldn’t share it with each other without destroying what love they had left.

  Fraale pushed herself to a cross legged position and wiped her tears on her sleeve. She gazed up at him, and he saw the resignation in her eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “I know this is the end.” She let out a shuddering sigh, and then stood. “Rozurial, I will always love you. I’ll always miss you. And I’ll always hate the gods—with the last of my breath, I will curse them.”

  He rose, taking her in his arms, pulling her tight against his body. She fit—they fit together, and that was the hellish part. They had come together and built their love and their life, and now, in love, they were having to dissemble everything they had ever known.

  “Fraale, you’ll always be in my heart. But any chance we have for happiness…it means we have to part. We have to walk away and not look back, because the pain of what we’ve lost…there’s no getting past it otherwise. I look at you and remember what joy we had.”

  She pressed her cheek on his shoulder. “And I look at you, and I remember the promise of the future. Now, everything is shrouded in fog.” Then, resolutely, she took a step back. “Promise me, in a year, we’ll return here to see how…to see if…to check on each other? Promise me—on your oath. That way we won’t do anything stupid.”

  He nodded, understanding the unspoken message. “I promise. One year, here, we will meet.” He glanced around at the tidy home they had made. “I sold the goats to the farmer across the hill. Your half of the money is on the table.”

  Fraale shivered. “I don’t want to leave. I was so happy here.”

  “I know.” Rozurial picked up the bag of coins and pressed them into her hand. “But you go first…that way…it won’t seem so empty when you leave. That way you’ll remember me here.”

  “I will never forget you, my love. Never.” Fraale slowly turned and, tears silently streaking down her cheeks, headed for the door. As it swung shut behind her, Rozurial took one more look around the house that had been his home for too short of a time.

  He slid into a long duster—the autumn had finally hit—into which he had crammed every weapon he could think of. Placing a hat over his long curls, he inhaled sharply, then let out a long sigh and and headed toward the door, wondering if he would ever see his beloved Fraale again.

  Pushing the thought aside, he stepped out into the evening air. Reports put Dredge still in Ceredream. That seemed the most likely place to catch the vampire who had destroyed his childhood. Because if he couldn’t kill the monster who had destroyed his marriage, he was damned well going to track down the one who had murdered his parents and siblings. And this time, using the new powers that had come with transforming into an incubus, Rozurial swore he would cross every world necessary to find the vampire and stake him.

  Chasing Sharah

  The first date is always awkward—and it seemed to me that Chase and Sharah would feel even more uncomfortable, given their circumstances.

  IT REALLY DIDN’T feel right. Chase had always been extremely good about keeping his private affairs separated from work and right now, he didn’t feel at all comfortable. But one thing had led to another, and now, here he was, standing on Sharah’s doorstep with flowers in hand, staring at the doorbell. He shifted, uncertain whether he could actually go through with this, but then he thought about how uncomfortable work would be tomorrow if he stood up the elfin medic. That decided that. He reached out and pushed the bell.

  The faint tone sounded from inside, and the door opened with a faint swish. There she was. Slight, with pale blonde hair and delicate features, Sharah stood there decked out in a pair of blue jeans and a pretty peasant top.

  Chase blinked. He was used to seeing her in her scrubs, so this was new for him. But then she smiled and invited him in, and he was suddenly inside her apartment and the flowers were in her hands, and she was showing him to the sofa.

  “Have a seat. Would you like something to drink? Some wine or coffee or…I don’t know what you like.” Sharah paused, blushing. “I just realized, I have no idea what you like to do after work. Other than hang out with Delilah and her family.” She bit her lip, blushing again. “I’m sorry—I realize you may not want to talk about…” Dropping to the sofa, she let out a sigh. “I’m blowing it, aren’t I? This was probably a bad idea and I’m sorry I started it. I don’t even know what to call you.”

  Chase grinned, then. The pale rose of her cheeks touched his heart, and she seemed so delicate, yet so steady in herself. He wanted to help her out, to put her at ease. “How about Chase? And no, this wasn’t a bad idea. Terribly awkward, yes, but I think we both knew it was going to be that. Let’s face it, this puts us on new territory, Sharah. I guess we take it one step at a time.”

  She took a deep breath and l
et it out slowly. “Okay. Let’s start over. First, let me put these in some water. Do you want something to drink?” She paused by the door leading into the kitchen, flowers in hand.

  Chase was about to offer to help her, but then he thought that maybe she wanted a moment to compose herself, so he forced himself to remain seated. “Yeah, a cup of coffee would be nice. Black, with one sugar, please.”

  As she disappeared, he looked around. The living room had a Victorian feel to it—there were delicate bric-a-brac scattered around, porcelain figurines of dancing women, and of frogs and raccoons, of all things. A heavy wooden frame that was painted gold held a picture over the fireplace, and he recognized it as a copy of J.W. Waterhouse’s Boreas. The girl in the painting could have passed for one of the Fae, or an elf, caught in a blustery wind as her shawl billowed around her. Plants grew everywhere, from aloe to potted herbs to unusual flowers Chase had never seen, but that he knew must have come from Otherworld.

  He tried to relax. Sharah was his friend. She was a damned good worker—the head medic—and technically, she really didn’t work for him, but more…alongside him. He couldn’t really fire her unless she did something horrendous. The medical division of the Faerie-Human Crime Scenes Investigation unit was mostly autonomous, though they worked in synch—and often answered to—the law enforcement division.

  Another moment and Sharah returned, tray in hand. She slid it onto the table and poured him a mug. As she handed it to him, their fingers touched and a brief spark flared. Chase pulled away so fast he almost spilled the steaming coffee all over him.

  “So…” All of a sudden, every thought in his head vanished and he had no clue what he was going to say.

  “It was a slow day today—only four injuries.” Sharah stopped herself, biting her lip. She glanced over at him. “Um…your turn.”

  Chase fingered the neck of his collar, pulling on it. He felt on trial—almost as nervous as when he’d interviewed for his job. “Same here…except…” He was about to say something about Delilah and one of the demons, but decided that wasn’t the wisest move. Delilah was out of the picture now, out of his life except as a friend, but that didn’t mean her name didn’t come with a buttload of baggage for both himself and Sharah.

  They sat there for a moment, again not speaking, and Chase thought that perhaps this was the worst date ever. But at that moment, his cell phone rang. Relieved, he answered. It was Yugi.

  “Boss, we have a problem. There’s a fight going on in the morgue and we need you back here—Sharah too.” Yugi was the only one at the station who knew that Chase and Sharah were giving the dating thing a chance.

  “We’re on our way.” Chase punched the End Talk button. “Yugi said there’s…” He stopped. “A fight in the morgue? What the hell?” He jumped up. “We’re both needed at the station. Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

  She looked just about as relieved as he felt, and grabbed her purse and coat. “I’m ready. Let me turn off the coffeemaker first.”

  As she ducked into the kitchen, Chase stared morosely at the sofa. This had been a bad idea. He was sure of it. There was no way in hell that he and Sharah could make anything work between them. Of that, he was sure.

  YUGI WAS FRANTIC, and Yugi was hardly ever frantic. When Chase and Sharah rushed through the door, he let out a mumbled, “Thank heavens” and motioned for them to follow him to the elevator.

  “What happened?” Chase checked his service weapon, making sure it was firm in his holster. He held the elevator door for Sharah, then entered the car. As the doors swished shut, Yugi leaned against the railing, looking exhausted.

  “We had a problem in the morgue. I don’t know what practical joker decided to get a leg up on us, but we brought in three bodies tonight—car crash. Supes involved, we were told. I was wrapping up the reports for the day when I get a summons from the morgue. Big problem, Clyde says—the bodies aren’t dead.”

  “What do you mean?” Sharah asked. “Should I get up to the ER?”

  Yugi shook his head. “No, they weren’t injured either.”

  “Vampires rising?” Please, oh please, don’t let it be vamps, Chase thought. The last thing he felt like doing tonight was taking on a pack of newly minted vampires.

  Once again, Yugi shook his head. “Nope. Seems a couple of the local teens—Earthside Fae—thought it would be funny to stage a car crash and…well…long story short, the victims are actually zombies. Somehow they devised a stasis spell that kept the zombies from moving. They’re fresh enough that it fooled the medic.”

  “You have to be kidding.” Chase stared at him. Teenaged humans were bad enough, but he had discovered that teen Supes could be far, far worse.

  “I wish I was. Once the bodies were here, as Clyde and his assistant were opening the body bags, the spell wore off and the zombies started moving. Clyde and Jeffrey managed to get out without being hurt, but the zombies are in there causing havoc. And we were going to put them down, except for the fact that we’re not sure whose bodies they are, when they were killed—for all we know they may be fresh kills—and…I thought I’d better call you.”

  Sharah let out a disgusted grumble. “If we catch the idiots, I’d like to have ten minutes alone with them.”

  Chase glanced at her. “Take ‘em down a peg, huh?”

  She snorted. “You have not seen how elfin children are disciplined. Oh, no abuse, but a stupid stunt like this would warrant six months of community service and an ass whipping.”

  “You know this for a fact, do you?” Chase let out a grin as the doors opened and they stepped out of the elevator.

  “I’ll have you know, I did far worse when I was younger—and yes, that is a standard punishment. I still have the memories to prove it.” Sharah laughed. “I wasn’t always the upstanding medic-healer I am now.” She winked at him and Chase’s stomach fluttered at the coy gleam in her eye. Maybe…maybe…

  Yugi stopped in front of the doors leading into the general morgue. “I’m not sure what to do. How do we subdue them so we can identify the bodies before we…um…”

  “Destroy them?” Chase frowned. “Good question. We could drive them into a cell and lock them up.”

  “Yeah, but that entails getting them upstairs to the holding tanks.” Yugi shrugged. “I really don’t feel like acting bait.”

  Sharah let out a sigh. “I suppose that’s where I come in, right? You’re wondering if there are any drugs that will sedate a zombified body?”

  Yugi nodded. “Well, actually, yes.”

  “You’re in luck.” She stopped by one of the hall phones. “Let me call upstairs and have Arralyn bring it down.”

  Yugi motioned Chase aside. “I’m so sorry for interrupting your evening. We just didn’t know what to do and—”

  “No worries, man. I think we both welcomed the interruption.” Chase hadn’t intended on spilling the beans, but he was so disappointed that he couldn’t keep it out of his voice. “I don’t think the date was a good idea.”

  Yugi cocked his head. “But you guys are great together—you get along, you have a similar sense of humor, and I know Sharah’s attracted to you.”

  “That’s all well and good but we had nothing to talk about—shush. Here she comes.” Chase stopped talking as Sharah returned to their conclave. “Arralyn on the way?”

  “Yes, he’s bringing down several doses now. Be very careful—if even a drop of this stuff gets in the blood stream of someone who’s alive, it can paralyze the lungs. Which translates to: deader than a doornail.” She suddenly stopped and turned toward the door of the morgue. “Guys, we have company.”

  At that point, the door opened and the three zombies shambled out. They were definitely dead, that much was apparent, and not all that long ago. Chase started to reach for his gun but then remembered that zombies really didn’t respond to being shot. They were already dead, and the bullets didn’t do much to put a stop to them. At that point, he also realize
d that the hallway wasn’t all that big and the only way out was through the other side of the morgue to the stairwell, or back into the elevator. And getting to the stairwell would require going through the zombies.

  “Unless one of you has an axe, I suggest retreat!” He grabbed Sharah’s arm and turned to race toward the elevator. Yugi was right on their heels. But the zombies were entirely too fast and the elevator seemed to be hung up on one of the other floors.

  Chase swore. He didn’t remember zombies being this fast. He glanced around. There were two doors in the hallway—one was to a restroom, the other to the janitor’s closet. Yugi was already hightailing it for the janitor’s closet, but now one of the zombies was too close and if Chase and Sharah tried to join him, they’d be within striking range. Sharah grabbed Chase’s hand and made a mad dash for the restroom. As soon as they were inside, she hit the lights and locked the door, leaning against it as one of the zombies began to beat against it.

  “Thank gods this is a one-person stall,” she said, looking around. “Otherwise it wouldn’t have a lock on it and we’d be hip-deep in trouble.”

  Chase looked around. Usually bathrooms in medical facilities had phones, but this was the morgue level and there was no need for that—the patients didn’t usually get up and attack the technicians. He looked around for someplace to sit, but the only choice was the toilet and somehow, that seemed so indecorous.

  Sharah seemed to notice what he was doing. “Oh go ahead. I don’t care.”

  Grateful, he lowered the seat and sat on the john. “Thanks. I guess I’d better call upstairs for some help.” He pulled out his cell phone and punched in the front desk’s number. A few minutes later, he glanced back at Sharah, who was studiously ignoring the grunts on the other side of the door. “They’ll be down as soon as they can get the manpower. Right now, nobody upstairs has ever fought a zombie and Arralyn isn’t about to come down here with the drug without an escort. So we’re stuck here for a while.”