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Authors: Tammy Turner
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Benjamin wasnât sure what he had gotten himself into now, but the thought of seeing Alexandraâs face warmed his mood. She wasnât like other girls.
7
Burial Ground
A little deeper yet. Almost there. Another good stab or twoâthat will do it, surely. Pausing to gauge the size of the hole that his shovel had clawed into the earth, Sean Callahan grinned smugly. Almost perfect, he thought. Three feet wide. Three feet long. He nodded his head in approval. But not three feet deep; not yet.
His forehead glistened and a glance to the sky told him that midday approached. Towering cypress trees and long-limbed, ancient oaks surrounded the shady backyard of his rented Victorian mansionâbut even in the shade, it was, after all, high noon in late August in Georgia. Bloody hell , he thought. This infernal heat! His bones ached for the sharp winds of the Irish Sea.
Adrenaline and three cans of Red Bull raced through his Irish veins. Letting the wooden handle of his shovel rest against his bare chest, he wiped his brow with the back of his hands. A pair of dark-gray surgeonâs scrub pants clung to his long legs.
If anyone should ask, I am raising a garden, he decided. He threw a glance over his shoulder to the back door of the house. The telephone rang inside, but he ignored the call. No, thank you, I already told you that I do not want super-galactic, high-speed, three-dimensional Internet for a mere hundred dollars a month. Canât you see I have more important tasks at hand, such as digging graves for deadly, shapeshifting wolf men?
âAnother inch or two,â Callahan mumbled, raising the wooden handle above his head. The sharp tip of the steel blade dug fiercely into the hard, red soil.
I do hope I donât actually have to bury the beast here. He threw a heaving helping of earth to the side of the deepening pit. Surely he will not make me kill him. What a shame to have to cut him up into nasty bits, when he could be so useful to me and to the Order.
The Order of the Dragon King was a society whose existence depended upon the supreme secrecy and sacrifice of its members. The Order had found Sean Callahan when he was twenty and on the cusp of manhood. At the time, he had not yet understood his power to see the past and to read the souls of his fellow humans. Then a member of the Order (a recruiter disguised as a history professor) stumbled upon the young student at Oxford University and recognized Callahanâs abilities and vast potential.
For the last fifteen years, Callahan had studied and battled in the shadows, the dark alleys on the fringe of reality. He had traversed the world to investigate the supernatural, all in the hope of discovering the ultimate prize: the existence of an immortal time walker. Perhaps, in meeting Kraven, Callahan had now found a time walker, by the most fortunate of accidents. Or was it inexplicable destiny that had brought to his doorstep the worldâs most elusive mystery? Alexandraâ was she a beautiful reincarnation? Kravenâwas he truly an immortal who had waited a thousand years to find her?
Callahan swept his shaggy black bangs from his eyes and tucked them behind his ears. He poised the blade of the shovel for another jab, his weary arms straining as they held the wooden handle steady above his shoulders. He glanced briefly at his signet ring, a sign of the Order. The ring was engraved with the symbol of the Dragon King.
In the attic, three stories above Callahan, Cyrus yawned wide. His ribs ached terribly, but breakfast had settled well inside his gut.
âAck,â the shapeshifter coughed and spat out a wad of brown fur. His ears cocked, he listened for the humans who had imprisoned him. He sensed no movement in the house below him.
Dem cowarts , he thought. Me gonna show dem when dey come back in here. He rocked his naked body slowly and rhythmically against the dusty wooden floor. Me gonna learn
Benjamin wasnât sure what he had gotten himself into now, but the thought of seeing Alexandraâs face warmed his mood. She wasnât like other girls.
7
Burial Ground
A little deeper yet. Almost there. Another good stab or twoâthat will do it, surely. Pausing to gauge the size of the hole that his shovel had clawed into the earth, Sean Callahan grinned smugly. Almost perfect, he thought. Three feet wide. Three feet long. He nodded his head in approval. But not three feet deep; not yet.
His forehead glistened and a glance to the sky told him that midday approached. Towering cypress trees and long-limbed, ancient oaks surrounded the shady backyard of his rented Victorian mansionâbut even in the shade, it was, after all, high noon in late August in Georgia. Bloody hell , he thought. This infernal heat! His bones ached for the sharp winds of the Irish Sea.
Adrenaline and three cans of Red Bull raced through his Irish veins. Letting the wooden handle of his shovel rest against his bare chest, he wiped his brow with the back of his hands. A pair of dark-gray surgeonâs scrub pants clung to his long legs.
If anyone should ask, I am raising a garden, he decided. He threw a glance over his shoulder to the back door of the house. The telephone rang inside, but he ignored the call. No, thank you, I already told you that I do not want super-galactic, high-speed, three-dimensional Internet for a mere hundred dollars a month. Canât you see I have more important tasks at hand, such as digging graves for deadly, shapeshifting wolf men?
âAnother inch or two,â Callahan mumbled, raising the wooden handle above his head. The sharp tip of the steel blade dug fiercely into the hard, red soil.
I do hope I donât actually have to bury the beast here. He threw a heaving helping of earth to the side of the deepening pit. Surely he will not make me kill him. What a shame to have to cut him up into nasty bits, when he could be so useful to me and to the Order.
The Order of the Dragon King was a society whose existence depended upon the supreme secrecy and sacrifice of its members. The Order had found Sean Callahan when he was twenty and on the cusp of manhood. At the time, he had not yet understood his power to see the past and to read the souls of his fellow humans. Then a member of the Order (a recruiter disguised as a history professor) stumbled upon the young student at Oxford University and recognized Callahanâs abilities and vast potential.
For the last fifteen years, Callahan had studied and battled in the shadows, the dark alleys on the fringe of reality. He had traversed the world to investigate the supernatural, all in the hope of discovering the ultimate prize: the existence of an immortal time walker. Perhaps, in meeting Kraven, Callahan had now found a time walker, by the most fortunate of accidents. Or was it inexplicable destiny that had brought to his doorstep the worldâs most elusive mystery? Alexandraâ was she a beautiful reincarnation? Kravenâwas he truly an immortal who had waited a thousand years to find her?
Callahan swept his shaggy black bangs from his eyes and tucked them behind his ears. He poised the blade of the shovel for another jab, his weary arms straining as they held the wooden handle steady above his shoulders. He glanced briefly at his signet ring, a sign of the Order. The ring was engraved with the symbol of the Dragon King.
In the attic, three stories above Callahan, Cyrus yawned wide. His ribs ached terribly, but breakfast had settled well inside his gut.
âAck,â the shapeshifter coughed and spat out a wad of brown fur. His ears cocked, he listened for the humans who had imprisoned him. He sensed no movement in the house below him.
Dem cowarts , he thought. Me gonna show dem when dey come back in here. He rocked his naked body slowly and rhythmically against the dusty wooden floor. Me gonna learn
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