Warlock: Love, Sex, and Damnation

  A Shawn Moore Novel 01

  Author: D. R. Rosier

  Copyright 2016. This is a work of fiction. Names, Characters, Places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  Afterword:

  About the Author

  Other erotic fantasies by D. R. Rosier:

  Non-erotic Fantasy titles:

  Book Description

  Prologue

  They were meeting at the holiday inn, a neutral place if there ever was one in their world. The four members of the magic council gave each other wary looks, their personal guards left outside. Some might say they were paranoid, although the truth was at the last meeting they were five. One of their number had tried a power grab… and failed.

  The other three tensed as the old woman raised her hand, and emitted a red glow. The doors glowed the same color for a moment, and then the woman took a moment to smirk before she sat down.

  A young man, that looked twenty-two cleared his throat, “Clarissa, it may be prudent if you let us know when you’re going to seal the door against listeners in the future.”

  Clarissa looked over at him. He was young, handsome to the point he was almost pretty, with a muscular body. If it weren’t for the fact all that was an illusion, she would have been attracted in her younger years. The young man was named Dion, and he was the oldest vampire in the city. She nodded thoughtfully, and then relaxed, slightly, when the tension in his body released.

  Darren was the other man in the room, he was a wolf shifter, he looked about forty-five, but was probably twice that age at least, and he looked like a guard or bouncer, but she knew despite his brutish appearance, he was intelligent, and cunning. The last of their number in the room was Elissa. She looked like an eighteen-year-old goddess, her beauty was unnatural, and the truth was Clarissa had no idea how old Elissa was, except that she was probably the oldest in the room.

  Of all here, she feared the fae female the most.

  Darren looked at Dion and asked, “Why was this meeting called?”

  Dion replied cautiously, the wolves and vampires were hereditary enemies in the past.

  “I regret to say there is a rogue in the city, one of your wolves were killed outside of a bar. Fully drained and then spiked with silver to ensure they didn’t recover.”

  He paused as Darren’s eyes flashed gold, and he growled deep in his throat. Dion didn’t move a muscle, the truth was he could take Darren if he wished, but peace was important to the old vampire, he would hold back if Darren managed to get himself under control. Plus, if he did attack Darren, Clarissa would no doubt set him on fire, vampires weren’t fond of fire.

  He continued after a tense moment, “We’re in the process of tracking him down, and when we find whoever did this we will turn them over to you for justice. In the meantime, you may want to let the city alphas know.”

  When no one said anything, he figured it was time to redirect the conversation, and looked at Clarissa, “Do you have an update on the Moore clan situation?”

  Clarissa frowned at his transparent attempt to change the subject, but answered anyway, “According to our seer, there is one left in that line with the potential for power, he’s being tracked down now, and shortly won’t be an issue.”

  Darren grumbled, “Are you sure about that?”

  Clarissa sighed, “Of course not, you know the infernal clouds a seer’s sight, but he is untrained, and unaware of his true family much less his heritage. That much she was able to see. The last remnant of power in the traitor’s family will soon perish, I have my best on the job.”

  Dion lifted an eyebrow, traitor? Ambitious evil asshole maybe, but loyalty to this council was a foolish outlook. He didn’t doubt if any on the council thought they could get away with it, that they would try to seize power over the city as well. Himself included.

  Chapter 1

  “You need to leave, now,” the old man demanded querulously, “Or I’ll have no choice but to call the police.”

  I sighed at the inevitable and took a quick look around. The building was bare of many of the normal comforts, simple cement walls with white paint, and I was sitting in a room full of cots made up with plain white sheets, tiny pillows, and ugly gray blankets. There were some large windows against the wall reminiscent of the kind found in a high school classroom. It was a shelter in downtown Chicago, and I’d only arrived late last night. I considered arguing the injustice of it, but didn’t bother. I knew it wouldn’t help.

  I’d done nothing to deserve being thrown out, but all my life people have reacted to me this way, I had no idea why, but people… feared me. An uneasy fear, they usually reacted askance at first, treated me odd, but it was as if the longer they were around me, the more nervous they got. Needless to say, I’d given up on the foster system by the time I turned fourteen, and have been on my own on the streets for eight years.

  I suppressed the anger at the injustice, there was no point, so I just nodded and picked up my ratty backpack and looked inside, everything was still there, a heavy black coat, two changes of clothes, toothpaste, a toothbrush, deodorant, and a hairbrush. Luckily I’d taken a shower as soon as I checked in last night, otherwise I’d have to go without.

  I threw the backpack over my shoulder, and noted the confused look on his face as I left without a word. No doubt he’d expected violence from me, and was confused by his own attitude as well, the old man had helped many people over the years no doubt, and was unused to throwing people out that hadn’t started trouble. My crime was simply the fact that I was there.

  Someday, I’d no doubt lose it and turn to violence, I’d thought about it a number of times, but that would just land me in jail. There was also the fact that the fear I invoked in others had a short term positive outcome. When people first met me, they were very polite, and would do just about anything I asked of them. It was only after some time passed, and their fears of me hurting them didn’t come to pass, that they got brave and kicked me out. It made keeping a job impossible though, which is why I was on the street.

  It was just time to move on. It was always time to move on.

  It was late September and already getting a little chilly, so I grabbed a small coffee on my way out and turned toward one of the entrances in the south line of the El, and set up about a half block away. Close enough to catch a lot of commuters, not close enough to get chased off by the police. I drank down my coffee, and held out my cup.

  Begging bothered me a little, but on the other hand it wasn’t my fault I couldn’t keep a job. I also made quite a bit doing it, since scared people generally take the path of least resistance. I seriously doubted I could’ve made as much if I’d turned to mugging.

  I had about sixty bucks, and a gold watch, a couple of hours later, and figured that was good enough. I was about to move on when I saw an older distinguished man walk over towards me. He didn’t look intimidated at all, and there was something about him that made me look twice, although I couldn’t define why.

  He was in his late forties or early fifties, his suit was definitely not off the rack, and he had a small smile on his face as he closed in on me. I stood up, not wanting to meet this stranger while sitting.

  “Shawn Derring?”

  I frowned, “Who’s asking?”

  He looked amused, which for me was a new experience, no one that talked to me ever looked amused.

  “Ben Teague. I’m a lawyer.”

  I shook my head dismissively, “What do you want?”

  “I’m a probate lawyer, it seems Shawn, that you had an uncle.”

  I leaned back against the wall of the building and narrowed my eyes, “I don’t have family.”

  Ben nodded, “Your mother died in child birth, and your father wasn’t listed. I’ve been able to determine however you were the relation, the only relation, of Thaddeus Moore. Will you come with me? You are the sole inheritor of your uncle’s estate, there are some small stipulations in his will that need to be satisfied, but it shouldn’t take long.”

  “Estate?” I asked suspiciously, this was too much like winning the lotto without bu
ying a ticket. No one’s ever done me any favors in this life.

  Ben nodded, “I can’t give you any specifics right now, but it’s quite a large amount, will you come with me? It should only take a few hours.”

  I shrugged, I really didn’t have anything better to do, not until tonight anyway.

  “Fine.”

  Ben turned and walked away, and I reluctantly followed him to the curb, where a limo was waiting. It was kind of surreal.

  Chapter 2

  I had a ton of questions, like how did he find me. Both because I was out on the street, and because how did he know I existed in the first place. The limo was all black, leather seats, mini-bar of which I availed myself a snifter of scotch, there was even some ice. The limo went north of the city, to the really posh part of town with multi-million dollar houses.

  A part of me kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, maybe he was some kind of really weird serial killer, that seemed more my luck than inheriting a fortune from some uncle who died, that I’d never met. It actually made more sense too, pick up the guy with no prospects, homeless, no one would miss me.

  “You said there were provisions in the will, stipulations?”

  Ben replied, “Yes, nothing odious, but before we can move forward with any more information it must be done.”

  That made me a little suspicious, but I’d seen enough television to know rich people did all sorts of weird shit, but then again, what was the worst that could happen? Oh, right. He could be a serial killer.

  We pulled off the road into a gated community, the guard glanced at Ben and then let us through. We went to the end of the block and pulled in a driveway for a large three story mansion. I shook my head, had to be a serial killer. He was old though, and I’d grown up on the street, I could fight pretty well since most gangs had the fight or flight instinct in my presence because of the fear thing, and they usually picked fight.

  Ben got out without saying a word, and I followed him. Speaking of rich people doing stupid shit, I guess I thought there was a chance this guy might be on the level, and here I was following him into a huge mansion just on the off chance he wasn’t some psycho. Poor people can be stupid too I guess.

  I was far from knowledgeable about antiques, but this place seemed full of them, as we walked through an expensively decorated living room, into a kitchen that had to have been three hundred square feet on its own, and then he opened a door and started down the stairs.

  Was I really going to follow this guy into a cellar?

  I looked around at the obvious riches around me. Yes, yes I was.

  It wasn’t what I was expecting when I reached the bottom of the stairs, it was fully furnished and had recessed lighting in the ceiling casting a warm glow. There were a number of bookshelves with old leather bound books, I took a look and most of them weren’t in English. At least the ones that had writing on their spines.

  There was a large oak desk, with what looked like a very comfortable large black leather office chair behind it, with two other chairs in front of it. The floor was wooden, and there were paintings on the walls that drew my attention. A number of portraits of men that looked remarkably similar to me. There was even a fireplace.

  I looked back at the pictures and grunted. Either this was on the level, or the guy was way past psychotic to go to this much trouble.

  There was a metal door in the room, and Ben was going through it, I followed him a little less warily, now that I had at least some visual proof I was related to the previous owner of this house. At least until I stepped into the next room.

  It looked like something out of a horror book. Here the walls were all cement, no, not cement, they were stone blocks. It looked more like a cave than a room. There were also no electric lights, the place seemed to be lit with gas torches along the walls. Against the far wall, there was an altar of some kind covered with red cloth with three items on it. A dagger, a large leather bound book, and what looked like an amulet of some kind.

  In front of the altar, there was a pentagram with strange designs inside close to the points, surrounded by a circle, surrounded by another circle. Between the circles there were more strange arcane designs. There was also a feeling of wrongness in the room, but the feeling was also seductive.

  What the fuck? Despite the portraits outside I was leaning more toward the serial killer theory again.

  Ben turned around and shrugged as he saw me in the doorway.

  “Don’t worry, the only thing you have to do to prove your bloodline is put on this amulet. Your uncle was a strange man, believed in magic, but he was harmless.”

  That felt like a lie, not the first part, but the second part. Which was nuts, shouldn’t it have been the other way around?

  “What will putting on the amulet prove if he was crazy?”

  Ben sighed, “It’s a legal thing, just humor me. He stated in the will someone not of his line won’t be able to put it on, so even if he was crazy, we need to respect the provision in his will. Surely putting on the necklace would be easier than disputing the will in court, and a lot less expensive.”

  I frowned and shrugged. What the hell. Rich people were so damned weird.

  I walked over to the table and looked down. The dagger looked exquisite, the handle looked to be polished silver with some kind of material wrapped around it for gripping, the blade itself was onyx, dark as night. The book had the feeling of age to it, there was no title or writing on it, just strange designs. The amulet was three inches across, and appeared to be made of solid gold. It also had some of the same symbols the circle on the ground had written on it around the edge, with one large glyph of some kind in the center.

  I felt both nervous and eager, and a little ridiculous all at the same time. I knew there was no such thing as magic, and my uncle must have been a beer short of a six pack, yet I felt like if I picked it up and put it on, I’d be changing my life forever.

  Well, I suppose I would, since this house and who knew what else would become mine.

  “So, I just need to put this on, and then you’ll tell me everything I get?”

  Ben nodded, “Yes, I know that sounds strange, but I’ve seen stranger in wills in my time.”

  I took a deep breath and picked up the amulet by the chain, and lifted it over my head and then put it down on my chest. There was a flash of red light, and I could see it glowing a deep burgundy, and then I screamed as it felt like someone started to dig around in my chest with a sharp blade. I’d never felt pain like this before, and my chest grew hotter as well, it was a burning and stabbing pain. I couldn’t breathe and felt my body start to shudder and sweat, and started to hope I’d die soon.

  Turned out he was a serial killer after all. Weird murder weapon though.

  Right before I blacked out, I felt something inside me break and then open up, and the pain dissipated. I gasped in a breath as I collapsed, my muscles were locked up that whole time, and I felt like I’d just run for days without a break. I looked up at Ben a little angrily, what the hell was that? Some kind of taser, or drug? And what was it with the damned light show? The pain was gone, but I could still feel the echo of it.

  My mouth dropped open when I saw the grim look on Ben’s face, and the gun he now held in his hand, pointed at my chest.

  “I’m sorry Shawn, I can’t allow your family’s evil to continue.”

  I felt the world going black, fuck. I had no energy at all, that old bastard was going to kill me and I couldn’t even stay conscious. My eyes closed as I collapsed on the floor, and I heard two loud bangs and a stinging pain in my chest, followed by a loud crack and a feminine curse as I lost consciousness.

  Chapter 3

  My first thought upon regaining consciousness was that I must have died. There was a warmth infusing my body, and I don’t think I’d ever felt better in my life than I did right then, surely I was in heaven. Yet, I could still scent the smell of the gas torches burning, and feel the stone beneath me. I was also slightly uncomfortable lying down on the stone, not to mention the front of my shirt was damp with blood. There was also a nasty metallic taste in my mouth. What the hell just happened?

  I mean, besides getting shot twice in the chest.

  I opened my eyes and surreptitiously looked around. There was a woman in her twenties setting up candles around and inside the pattern on the floor. She had a look of intense concentration on her face, a rather attractive face it turns out. She had warm flowing chestnut hair, chocolate brown eyes, and pouty lips set in a beautiful heart shaped face. Her nose which was just slightly too large, and the beauty mark below her right cheekbone merely made her more attractive, it made the rest of her unearthly beauty seem more real.