Scribbler Guardian 2: Seven Sons of Zion Read online

  Poe scanned the angry faces. He’d just tell them the truth. “There is an evil on Octava, a real one.” At hearing that they were no less informed, he went on, “Laws are being broken and that which should be fiction is becoming real for some of the characters inside the story sets.”

  “They’re not getting it,” Scribbler whispered, eyeing all of them.

  “Some are feeling real pain. Some are suffering.”

  It was clear—oddly enough—that none of her characters had experienced any such unfathomable notion and appeared agitated with Poe’s nonsense.

  “Kane!” Contessant whispered as though just remembering. “Do any of you know a-a- Kane? He’s one such character in trouble. He needs us, he needs our help.”

  Poe’s blood began to tremble under his skin. Something was approaching. He spun to the forest at their backs. Divinities. Why did he have to live next to the place that likely harbored their one enemy?

  ****

  Charlotte turned, scanning the swaying tree-line. She didn’t understand their movement. There was no wind to explain the fluttering of green hues. She could hardly believe it. She was on Octava. With Poe. She’d written herself into another realm, another universe. She’d probably just hit her head and was dreaming it all. But it felt very real. She’d know just how real soon enough.

  A tiny girl appeared literally before them. Raven black hair cascaded just past white slender shoulders, framing the tiniest of perfect faces. The pair of brilliant blue eyes flashed over Charlotte before leveling on Poe. “The Guardian seeks you and has sent the 8 Gendarme to fetch you. But fear not, I have gathered the Nevaeh. They wait for us. Take my hands.”

  The Nevaeh? What the heck was that? And who was this girl? Was she one of the females Poe mentioned wanting Charlotte to help him steer clear of? She surely wanted to help Poe with that now.

  The girl stretched one hand out to Charlotte, and the other to Poe. At their hesitation, she hissed, producing long canine teeth! Dear God. Charlotte jerked back, realizing the girl was a vampire!

  “Do it, Contessant!” Poe ordered, taking the girl’s hand as a loud grinding sound shook the air like an ominous alarm. It reminded her of two massive ships colliding next to them.

  She glanced around and found fear twisting the faces of her creations. For her, she realized. Probably worried she’d not make good on her promise. But she would. She certainly would.

  She latched her hand into the small girl’s and the second she did, the world blurred and swirled.

  By the time she thought to take a breath, they stood in the midst of what could only be described as a pack of… human wolves. No, wait. Vampire wolves? No again. Wolf… Gazing all around in alarm, she discerned they were mixed. Some had human legs and wolf tops others had wolf bodies and human tops!

  What were they? Fear drove her heart like a jackhammer in her chest. The men parts of the beings were naked and beautiful. Immaculate in every respect possible. From the perfect skin to the deeply etched muscles tight over massive bodies. And their faces, all beautiful as well. Hair all long. Almost like they were all women with male features. Were there no women?

  The pretty girl that had whisked them away, dropped to one knee in a show of deference. Charlotte realized it was done to the one perched on top of a large boulder. She eyed the monstrous object, sitting there in the middle of a forest. It reminded her of the lunacy of the Stonehenge, just there, with no logical business to be. And her, in this impossible place, breathless, dizzy, and…”

  “Contessant!”

  Charlotte took in a gasp of air, realizing she’d talked herself right into a panic attack. “I-I-I…”

  Sorry! That’s what she was trying to get out of her stupid mouth.

  “This is who the Paranormal Guardian seeks?” The dry observation came from the man wolf—as in man upper body, wolf lower—perched on the rock. “You’re jesting.”

  Charlotte eyed the beautiful face smirking at her, clearly the one in charge, or at least in that circle. Well he was not so impressive himself, she wanted to say. He looked rather ridiculous with a wolf groin and legs. She gasped at spying the tip of his genitals peeking out a furry pouch between his large legs.

  She jerked her gaze up to his face only to find a slow grin there. Alarm filled her at the elongated teeth and she gasped. Right. Vampire. She darted a quick look around, wondering what happened to wolves being enemies with vampires. Weren’t they? Usually?

  “Only in the story world,” he said, more canine grins.

  Her breaths became ragged as she realized he’d read her mind.

  Poe suddenly took her hand and she felt a strange surge of energy rush over her skin followed by his whisper in her head. He’s reading your mind. That’s one of his powers.

  She looked up at Poe who kept a lethal silver gaze on the man/wolf before them. Keep hold of my hand so that I can block the rudeness.

  Chapter Three

  Charlotte clamped her fingers tightly in his, very much liking his protection and his affirmation that it indeed was rude to read her mind.

  The man eyed Poe now, his grin slowly spreading wider. “So this is the Rider?” His laughter was as beautiful as him. Perfect, with a tint of terrifying.

  “It is,” the pretty girl said, turning to eye Poe. “He’s very powerful.”

  Charlotte’s stomach jerked a little at seeing it for the first time, hearing it in her voice. The girl was smitten with him. Utterly. Charlotte glanced at Poe to see his reaction to that. There was none. Zero. If he were aware, he hid it well.

  But the girl clearly knew him, and thoughts of how well and what sort of things must have transpired between them to warrant her behavior brought a tightening to Charlotte’s muscles.

  “The infamous Jeramiah Poe,” the being said, sliding off the rock with a fluid grace. “Outlaw. Violator of ancient codes. Fugitive of the Gendarme…” The sleek muscled man paced before them, his mossy green eyes steady on Poe. “Energy sucker. Mind possessor.” He stopped pacing and shot a finger in the air, adding, “World jumper. And…” He faced Poe fully now, his muscles seeming to ripple with every movement he made. “Partners in crime with…moi.” He gave a slow bow then straightened.

  Poe regarded the girl then eyed the being. “Explain yourself, Were-Pire.”

  Were-Pire! Okay, wow.

  “Please…” The man placed a heavily jeweled hand on his chest, his nails the same color as his eyes and sharpened to a fine point. “I am Zinfandel. But you can call me Zin.” His handsome face appeared so very gentle and sincere in that moment.

  The tightening of Poe’s hand said the man was anything but gentle. And if he was sincere, it was attached to something unpleasant. Like sincerely insane, or dangerous. “What do you want with us Were-Pire?”

  “So glad to get right to business, Rider. In exchange for my protection from the Paranormal Guardian, you shall… help me.”

  “In what way,” Poe said, his tone hardening with his impatience.

  “Nothing unlawful.” He held up both hands. “Beyond the laws you have already broken, that is.”

  “That was done out of a necessity.”

  “As would be this, I assure you,” the man said, back to pacing. “Because if you don’t,” he aimed his finger at Charlotte with a casual tone. “Then she will be… well I don’t know what happens to Scribblers that somehow make it to the realm of fiction? I imagine it won’t be good. Most violations of this magnitude are seen as… universal treason at least.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” Poe said, unmoved.

  Charlotte became aware of the beings around them. They were pacing. Fidgeting. And she was sure the air seemed hotter. She chanced a glance at the girl and found grave concern on her face. An affirmation of how this meeting was going. Badly. It was going very badly.

  “Permission to speak, Lord Zinfandel,” the girl said.

  “Permission declined,” the man said easily. “You have failed to deliver that which I seek, and you sha
ll face the penalty of my disappointment, dear little sister.”

  She fell to her knees, both hands before her in desperate prayer. “Please, brother. I brought him here for your protection.”

  “Nothing is free, little one. Surely you knew I had a price for this. Besides indulging your silly love fantasies.”

  “Do not hurt them, brother!” she whispered sharply. “He trusts me.”

  “What exactly do you want from me, Were-Pire,” Poe growled now.

  “Ahhhh,” the man said, smiling. “Just a simple musing upon my Scribbler.”

  “For what purpose?”

  His eyes went wide with the spread of heavily muscled arms. “Just… more power. Of course.”

  “Of course,” Poe said, and Charlotte felt like the disgust in his tone was just a tad too loud and clear in their current situation. “And who might your Scribbler be?”

  The Were-Pire eyed him, his gaze darkened to a moldy green. Charlotte cringed, sure he’d read Poe’s intentions all too well. At least, to Charlotte, it sounded like Poe was demanding a name by which to bring reprimand to the fictional mishap standing before him.

  “Is that a yes, Rider? Just be warned that your Scribbler will be the exchange… should something… go amiss?”

  The energy coating Charlotte’s skin flashed hotter. She darted a gaze around, fear shooting through her at finding many of the half human males were in the process of shifting into full wolf. Dear God, dear God help us. Long dense fur—black, brown, speckled—sprouted over smooth skin, while large bones pushed and churned under the silken surface. “Oh dear,” she whispered, ready for a truce of some sort. “Perhaps we can negotiate something acceptable, my dear Mr. Poe.”

  Poe’s power arced along her skin, making her wince. “I don’t negotiate with devils.” The dark ominous in his tone was new to her. Had she given him that? She didn’t remember in that petrifying second.

  “Brother!” the girl gasped, sounding mortified. “Please don’t do this!”

  Charlotte drew closer to Poe, trying to discern exactly what they had planned.

  “You leave me no choice Rider.”

  “Make the mistake, Vampire, and my Scribbler will merely think it, and your destiny will be rewritten in a most unpleasant way.” Poe’s hand tightened on hers. Follow my lead. I’m going to bluff him, she heard him whisper in her mind.

  Bluff!? Oh God, Poe. Poe, Poe.

  He won’t call my bluff.

  Charlotte went rigid at the silky touch of something cold along her spine. The sensation felt just like an icy finger gliding up each vertebra. She fought to breathe. “Something’s touching me,” she whispered, forgetting to use thoughts to communicate. “Poe,” she gasped, when the icy sensation reached her temple and formed a sharp point.

  She cried out with a jolt as the cold broke through her skin and slowly penetrated her skin. Her mouth remained open and she couldn’t speak as it sank into her head, the point now hot and gliding along her brain, a sensual licking that sought particular functions in an almost lazy manner. Toying and fiddling with this and that in a careless way.

  ****

  Poe felt it the second it entered Contessant. He quickly sent his power into her body, searching for its source. At finding it, he anchored his energy to it and read the codes in a flash. Divinities! The source gripping her mind belonged to the entire herd of malformations around them.

  The head Were-Pire held Poe’s gaze with an evil grin while Poe fought to discern the strength of the collected power cords. Quarks, it was a mile thick.

  Fight it Scribbler!

  Poe sliced through the codes at lightning speed, feeling the Scribbler’s mind reach temperatures that would destroy her. Panic seized him and a scream erupted.

  Rukie. Rukie flashed through the midst of beings and Poe felt the massive power cord unravelling. Her attacks were loosening the weave. The second he could, Poe drove his energy hard into the cord. He clenched his eyes shut tight, growling as he focused on every code around him, tagging every single one. Taking in a deep breath, he roared his own codes into theirs and rewrote it.

  The air rocked with a sonic boom of his power, throwing Poe and Contessant to the ground. Hurrying to his knees, he crawled to her. No, no, no. Fear gripped him as her body shook and began to age to the point of withering, right before his eyes.

  He grabbed her face and dove into her mind with his own, rapidly healing and reversing the disaster that still fought to kill her. “I got you, I got you,” he whispered as he formed the healing codes.

  Finally, she gasped on air, mumbling, “Help me, help me.”

  “I’m here, I got you.” He petted her face and kissed her forehead over and over before helping her to her knees.

  “Oh God, I… I was dying. I was dying,” she whispered in shock.

  “You’re fine now.” He turned and looked around, pulling Contessant to her feet with him. “Rukie…”

  “Where… did all these kittens come from?” his Scribbler asked, looking around.

  Poe lowered and picked up a kitten at his feet and held it up before him. “There you are. I didn’t mean it, I was in a panic.”

  The kitty mewled, licking at his fingers.

  “You… you turned them into cats?” Contessant whispered in shock, looking all around again.

  Poe quickly undid the codes he’d written into Rukie’s body and set the kitten down, watching her transform back into the girl she should be.

  “Kittens, my dear Poe?” Charlotte let out a laugh. “Aren’t you just the gentle giant,” she muttered.

  Poe still fought to catch his breath as he sent his power around the herd of multicolored kittens and corralled them into a litter. “Gentle giant,” he mused, seeking the nearest paranormal larva den beneath them. At finding a hefty one several hundred feet below, he read the codes in the earth and formed a serrated edge with his energy, quickly hacking away the codecs holding the ground together.

  Charlotte gasped when the ground shook and swallowed up the foul, screaming litter.

  “You… you killed them?” she asked, sounding shocked and confused.

  “I fed them.”

  “Fed them?”

  “To the paranormal larva.” Poe was mildly shocked to see the horror writer so bothered about such a thing. “The paranormal larva have to eat too.” He rolled his eyes at the disturbance etched in her face. “Don’t worry, they’ll consume them, defecate them out, and their energy will return to the bog until their Scribbler brings them forth again. I’ve merely paused their life and gotten them out of ours. For now.”

  Poe turned to Rukie. “I am ever grateful for your help.”

  “I led you to a trap,” she said, sounding hurt and devastated. “I meant but to help you.”

  “Of course you did,” Poe said softly, hoping to console her. “Can you tell me who knows about the Scribbler? Does the Paranormal Guardian truly know?”

  “Yes,” the girl said then narrowed her dark brows. “I… I think so. I don’t know now. Zinfandel said…” she shook her head. “Maybe the Guardian doesn’t know. Maybe Zinfandel lied to get me to bring you.”

  “How did Zinfandel know?”

  “I… I told him.” Worry and guilt flooded her blue eyes. “I knew the Paranormal Guardian wanted your Scribbler.”

  “How did you know this?”

  “Because the Ancient Trees told me. I stayed near your house, keeping an eye out for you.” She shot a look to his Scribbler, then lowered her eyes. “Watch over your home. Was very easy for me to hear when the human’s in her story arrived. I reported it to Zinfandel, as he is enemies with the Paranormal Guardian. I just assumed…” she shook her lowered head. “I assumed he was on your side, he sounded enraged that the Guardian would misuse his powers in some way with you and your Scribbler.” She leveled earnest blue eyes at him. “I assumed he would protect you and I realize it was a stupid assumption.”

  “Indeed it was not,” Poe said strongly. “You have no reason to
assume such treachery on Octava.”

  The slow lowering of her gaze made Poe pause and second guess his observation. “Octava isn’t as noble as you think, Poe.”

  Her soft confession sounded sad and guilty. Like…

  “I never told you, because…” She smiled at his Scribbler now. “He is so pure. And noble. I didn’t….” She stared at Poe now. “I didn’t want to contaminate that. So soon.”

  Ire filled Poe. “Are you saying you planned to tell me?”

  “Of course!” she said, nodding. “If I ever thought you needed to know.”

  “Well, I would have liked to know that day in the bog!”

  Her blue eyes flashed. “When you were in such a hurry with private things? How was I to know?”

  The pleading tone mixed with the angry edge in her voice brought Poe up sharply. He realized it wasn’t accurate what he’d just said, certainly not fair. “I had questions about Kane, but nothing I was certain about.” Poe remembered the dire things at hand. “Do you know where he is?”

  “The young boy?” she asked, brows furrowed with concern.

  “We need to find him,” Contessant said. “He’s in danger.”

  “I can ask the Ancient Ones,” Rukie said, nodding. “But I will have to hide from Zinfandel.”

  “Do you know his Scribbler?” Poe asked.

  “Fletcher Sully,” Rukie said without hesitation.

  “I shall muse upon him. Or her,” Poe said, remembering it could be either or, as he took hold of Contessant’s hand. “I will see about permanently disabling the pack of rats that they are. If you would be so kind, we need transportation.”

  The girl eyed Contessant, appearing a little… uncomfortable, Poe thought. Was she afraid of his Scribbler? Why would she possibly be, given her own powerful make-up?

  “Can she really do what you said? Turn characters into other things?” she asked Poe.

  “No,” Poe said, reassuring her then realizing he hadn’t introduced them. “This is Contessant Juliet.” Poe regarded his Scribbler, who now regarded the girl. They stared at one another for a few seconds, creating an odd current of energy in the air, making him feel as though he’d missed an important moment in the conversation.