The Invisible Entente: a prequel novella Read online

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epitaph

  Introduction

  The Letter

  The Discussion

  Daphne - The Sorceress

  Discussion

  Gabriel - the Gorgon-Fae

  Discussion

  Vera - the Semi-Goddess

  Discussion

  Allegra - the Succubus

  Discussion

  Antony - the Incubus

  Discussion

  Zachariel - the Daemelus

  Discussion

  Molly - the Human

  The Second Discussion

  Chapter 1

  Thanks for Reading

  Acknowledgements

  Other Works by Krista Walsh

  About the Author

  The Invisible Entente

  A Prequel Novella

  By

  Krista Walsh

  All Rights Reserved

  This edition published in 2016 by Raven’s Quill Press

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this work are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity is purely coincidental.

  Cover art: Ravven (www.ravven.com)

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication maybe reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the publisher. The rights of the authors of this work has been asserted by him/ her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  To Chris Reddie, for helping me get these characters

  out of my head and into a locked room

  From all I’ve read, the word ‘entente’ is defined as ‘a friendly understanding or informal alliance between states or factions.’

  I don’t think we’re what the dictionary had in mind.

  1

  *****************

  The Introduction

  How would you react if you found yourself trapped in a small, dimly lit room with a group of strangers?

  Seven people, three men and four women, found themselves facing this question one previously uneventful Thursday evening. A moment earlier, they had each been engaged in their regular routines — work, homework, watching television — and then the world had changed without warning.

  In a bright flash of light, they’d been teleported into a room with no doors or windows, unnaturally bright under the light of a half-dozen candles in wall sconces. The walls were brown stone, the floor just as drab, and the air stank of dampness and disuse.

  “—extra fries…” one man said, caught mid-sentence, and then trailed off. He craned his neck to gauge the room — his gaze, hidden behind a pair of reflective, round sunglasses, lingered on the wooden round table in the middle of the room and the seven chairs set around it — and appeared more confused than alarmed by his situation. “Okay?”

  He stood around six foot two, tall by most standards, but four inches shorter than the tallest man present. Broad-shouldered and tanned, with an easy smile, a smooth jaw line, and thick brown hair, he was the sort to stand out in a crowd. In the few moments since the group had appeared in the room, he had already drawn the attention of a heart-stopping woman in a curve-hugging green dress. Her brown eyes flashed gold as she widened her lips in a smile that showed off even white teeth. She had popped into the room mid-stride, but adjusted to the change of scenery with the ease of one accustomed to the extraordinary.

  “Not the nicest view,” she said. Her smile faded as her gaze landed on a man in a gray tailored suit standing across from her. The man shared her honey-hued complexion, her thick gold-touched brown hair, and her delicate construction of fine nose and high cheekbones. Although his presence had lured the eye of another woman with short blond hair, who had tumbled to the floor on her entrance, his powers of attraction apparently had the opposite effect on the woman in the green dress. “Or the greatest company.”

  “I couldn’t say,” another woman said, this one hardly more than sixteen years old, her blond curls unruly and tied into two wild pigtails. She wore jeans and a plain black T-shirt with a red-and-white plaid shirt over top. Curved white plastic stretched from behind her ears to transmitters implanted on the sides of her head, and she stared blankly into the shadows through square brown-tinted sunglasses. She’d appeared in the room on her stomach, as though she’d been lying down at her previous location. Cautiously, she crept her fingers along the uneven stone tiles and slowly rose to her feet. Unseeing, she tilted her head toward the sound of a scowling man shifting on his feet beside her, this one wide and hulking, standing at least six foot six with angry red scars down the right side of his face, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

  “I don’t suppose anyone could tell me where I am?” the girl asked. “Or who you are? Or how I got here? Pretty sure I was in my room studying for an exam.”

  “You know as much as I do,” said the blond woman who had been attracted to the man in the suit. Her short-cropped hair framed a thin, angular face. Green eyes stared out over a long, bent nose, her thin lips pale. She stood up, crossed her arms over her gray hooded vest, her clenched hands stretching her long-sleeved blue T-shirt, and glared around the room.

  The fourth woman remained silently poised on the fringes of the group. She was tall and willowy with waist-length red hair, clothed in a simple, belted blue dress. Although she said nothing, she missed nothing. Her cold gray eyes shifted from person to person, evaluating their reactions, assessing the situation.

  The man in the suit loped jauntily toward the wide table. He pulled a hand out of his pocket and reached for an envelope sitting in the center of it.

  “Maybe this will give us some idea.”

  2

  *****************

  The Letter

  Welcome to you all.

  While I would normally hate to start things off with a cliché, I can’t resist the temptation to say: If you’re reading this note, I’m already dead.

  I find even more pleasure in the idea that one of you will soon join me.

  I don’t know which one of you will — if I did, you wouldn’t be in this situation — but I enjoy the thought of you all piecing the puzzle together.

  Why me? you might be asking. You should really give yourself more credit. I’ve crossed a number of people in my lifetime, but only you were special enough to make it on the shortlist for my murder. You have been my greatest competitors and my greatest enemies, the only people smart enough or strong enough to best me. As such, I have no doubt you’ll be able to work out this mystery.

  Since I know you so well, I know you’re also wondering why I arranged this little meetup. I’m well aware I’ve always had a knack for getting people to hate me, but that’s never stopped me from working for what I wanted. Right up to the end I was focused on becoming the greatest warlock the world has ever seen — I came close, too, I’d like to see you try to deny it — but just as I was reaching the pinnacle, I ran into an old friend of mine. A Seer. Lovely woman that she was, she told me, right before I cut into her brain, that she’d had a vision of me dying before I achieved my goal.

  Having known Cass for ages, I didn’t waste time not believing her or going out of my way to try to avoid her prophecy. Instead, I opted to set up this counterattack. I decided that if I were going to die, my killer shouldn’t be allowed the luxury of living.

  So I created this room and tagged each person I encountered who I believed stood a chance of beating me. At the moment of my death, you were transported here.

  Don’t bother trying to escape. There are wards on
every exit and all of your magical abilities have been blocked. There is only one way out: discover who killed me — and return the favor. Seven enter, six leave.

  So work it out, take your time, get to know each other. It should be quite the discussion — I only wish I could be there to see it. The semi-goddess, the Gorgon-Fae, the incubus, the succubus, the daemelus, the sorceress, and the human — such a unique collection for this invisible entente.

  Good luck to you. And to the guilty party: see you soon.

  Jermaine

  “Well, that’s just wonderful,” said the blond woman. “Of course I have that kind of time.”

  “Magic?” asked the younger woman. “You’re not serious. And what was everything else he said? What’s a daemelus?”

  “You must be the human,” said the man in the suit, staring down his nose at her.

  “I’m part machine, baby,” she replied with a grin.

  “You fixed your ears but not your eyes? Did you forget?” he asked.

  “Parents’ choice,” replied the human, with such finality and speed there could be no doubt she was used to answering the question. “I don’t know of any magical technology that makes the blind see, and I don’t have any interest in changing who I am.”

  “That’s quite the contradiction,” he challenged. “You deny your humanity when accused of it, but cling to it instead of making life easier for yourself if you had the opportunity.”

  The girl raised a shoulder. “I’m still human enough to be inconsistent, I guess.” She turned her back on him and asked the rest of the room, “So, what’s a daemelus? Or a semi-goddess? This guy on drugs?”

  “You ask a lot of questions, kid,” said the man with the sunglasses, his voice warm and lilting with amusement. He reached for the letter the Suit had returned to the table and perused the words. With his mouth twisted downward, he shook his head and stuffed the letter into his coat pocket.

  “I’ve found it gets me more answers than not asking them,” the girl replied, and smiled in response.

  “That is only true when you direct them to people who know more than you do,” said the sultry woman in the tight green dress. Her smooth European accent slipped through the room like cream, stirring the blood of all who heard it.

  “None of you sound too confused about what he’s talking about, so I’ll assume you’re exactly who I should be asking. Can anyone see a way out of here?” The girl stepped forward with her hand out and stopped when she reached a chair. “If not, we might as well sit down.”

  She scraped the chair back and threw herself into it.

  “I don’t see any doors or windows,” Sunglasses said as he spun in a slow circle, but he didn’t appear disturbed by the fact. “That doesn’t mean we can’t find another way out.”

  He drew a line in the air with his fingertip. His amusement faded and his brow furrowed when nothing happened.

  “He did warn you,” said the man in the suit. His voice carried the same trace of Italy as the tight-dress woman, and the tenor had the same effect on the room, raising the temperature until everyone’s cheeks flushed pink.

  The blond stared after him as he loped toward the opposite end of the table, two away from the girl, eased down, and crossed one gray-suited leg over the other.

  The tight-dressed woman scowled at him. “You needn’t be so insufferable.” She glanced at Sunglasses and the turn of her lips slid into another slow smile. “I prefer a man who chooses not to take people at their word. Trust is overrated.”

  She slid into the chair next to where Sunglasses stood and stretched her leg out toward the empty seat beside her. Her expression fell when he went to sit beside the Suit.

  The muscular man with the scars lumbered toward the chair between the Suit and the girl and dragged his chair a few inches closer to her, his dark gaze scanning the faces around the table.

  The blond woman grabbed the seat between Tight Dress and Sunglasses, and the silent woman, who had continued to stand apart and watch the proceedings, finally eased into the seat between Tight Dress and the girl. Although no words were spoken, everyone around the table unconsciously rearranged themselves to face the silent woman, as though her presence demanded deference.

  She stared around the table, and when no one else began the discussion, said, “As we’ve all been summoned here, we might as well work to achieve the goal our host has set for us.”

  Her voice came out soft and rich, the sort of voice that might quiet a mob in the middle of a riot.

  “Why should I bother?” asked the Suit with a disdainful laugh. “I have no idea how I’m in any way involved.”

  “He seemed to believe you are,” said the soft-spoken woman. Her tone remained calm, empty of argument. She folded her hands on the table, her gray gaze making a tour of the room. “We’ve been summoned to complete a task that should prove simple with the right logic. I suggest we move forward in a rational manner. To begin, would anyone care to offer a confession?”

  The only reply was silence as everyone looked everywhere but at her. The large scarred man kept his eye on the teenage girl, while Sunglasses focused on the wall sconce across the room, and the blond stared at her hands.

  The quiet woman pressed her lips into a thin, humorless smile and eased back in her chair. From her, the movement didn’t come across as a slouch, as it did with Sunglasses. She remained poised, proper, and in complete control despite the lack of response.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “I don’t see why we should cooperate,” said Tight Dress, her tone flat. “Where is the benefit to us? He claims one of us is a murderer and wishes to turn the rest of us into the same. Does it not make more sense to find a way out without playing his little game?”

  The Suit barked a laugh. “When have you ever had trouble killing anyone? I rather thought you enjoyed it.”

  Tight Dress squeezed her lips together and refused to reply. The human girl twisted her head between them, her fingers tapping a nervous rhythm on the table.

  “You’ll be safe here,” the scarred man assured her.

  She cast an uncertain smile in his direction, a clear indication that she had no idea if she could trust him any more than the others.

  “I don’t really get why I’m here,” she said. “I obviously don’t run with your crowd, and only met the guy once.”

  “You must have made quite the impression,” Sunglasses said with a smile. “You heard the letter. The only people here are the ones he considered a threat.”

  The girl grinned. “Then take that under advisement. I may be blind and human, but that doesn’t mean you can mess with me.”

  “You’re not the only one who shouldn’t be here,” the blond interjected. Her nostrils flared and her green eyes were wide as she fidgeted with her sleeves. “Sure, I worked with the guy once upon a time, but I didn’t kill him.”

  The silent woman nodded toward her. “Then how about you begin? Tell us your version of events from the last time you saw Jermaine.”

  “I shouldn’t have to justify —” the woman sputtered, then fell silent under the other woman’s steady gaze. Puffing out a breath, she crossed her arms. “Fine. The faster we kick things off, the faster I can get out of here.”

  3

  *****************

  Daphne Heartstone

  A three-month hunt for a parajula gem had led me to an empty storefront on the harbor. The place looked shady, but considering how much trouble the damned jewel had been to find, I wasn’t about to walk away.

  Stirring the air to check for any other presences nearby, I detected someone behind me — but as long as whoever it was minded his own business, I was willing to do the same.

  I flexed my fingers by my side and twitched them toward me, drawing a small ball of water from the river. It traveled toward me, settled into the palm of my hand, and I twisted my arm to hide it from direct view. Going into the unknown unprepared would be stupid, and although the small amount of water wouldn’t do much
damage, I hoped the quality of the river would condemn any potential attacker to a lifetime of unpleasant growths and skin conditions.

  I opened the door with my free hand and poked my head into the empty room. Although I had only detected one other person’s energy sharing my quiet evening, I called out in case the man I was due to meet had blocked his presence from me.

  “Hello? My name is Daphne Heartstone. I’m here to make a purchase.”

  My mother would have been horrified by my direct approach. She believed we sorceresses should prize secrecy above everything else, but I never saw the point of beating around any bushes. My time was too valuable to waste.

  The seller of my gem apparently didn’t share my opinion of my self-worth, not yet having shown up. I paced the floor in varying patterns and hummed some Top 40 hit that had been playing when I turned off my car. As the seconds passed and my impatience grew, I turned my attention to the ball of water in my hand. I raised it to the height of my eye and shifted the air currents to create designs with the segmented droplets. A swipe of my hand through the air spread the water into a sheet that stretched down to my waist. In the watery reflection, I saw the shimmer of my narrow face under my short blond hair, my nose ever so slightly too long and crooked, my green eyes a sliver too small. I took in the soft purple sweater over faded blue jeans, which had started to rip at the knees. I raised my chin and set my hands on my hips in an attempt to summon the confidence and power of my ancestors, and then gave a bitter laugh when all the mirror showed me was a scrawny woman who hadn’t found a way to live up to her potential.

  “Such a shame to let all that raw talent go to waste for some newspaper’s benefit.”

  The suddenness of the voice made me jump, and I cursed as the water splashed to the floor and spattered all over my scuffed leather shoes.