Maeve’s Book of Beasts, is a prequel to DragonFate that introduces both Maeve’s evil plan to eliminate paranormal species from the world (including the Pyr) and the cast of characters assembling to defeat her. In it, you’ll meet Sebastian, a vampire who has escaped Maeve and is building the team to destroy her, and Sylvia, the mortal librarian he chooses to hide the ancient volume stolen from Maeve. Sebastian gets more than he expects from Sylvia—never mind that Maeve wants her book back—and Sebastian’s romance with Sylvia will arc over the entire series.
Careful what you wish for…
A mysterious book given to Sylvia by a handsome stranger plunges her into a hidden world, awakening her ability to see a paranormal realm and the Others who live in it. It also makes her a target for the Dark Fae who want the book back—and who will kill her to reclaim it. The stranger, Sebastian, becomes Sylvia’s reluctant defender—but his ability to influence her dreams is almost as dangerous as the fact that he’s a vampire. On the run with Sebastian, Sylvia learns about the plan of Maeve, Queen of the Dark Fae, to eliminate all other paranormal creatures. Possession of the book means that Sylvia is caught in the middle of a war between the Dark Fae and the Others, with a predator as her only ally. If she can decipher the book, will that help the Others to fight for their survival? Should she trust Sebastian? Or does the vampire who ignores all the rules have a secret plan of his own?
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An excerpt from Maeve’s Book of Beasts:
Mel came home late, as usual, and exhausted, as usual. Though she thought of it as late Friday night, it was actually early Saturday morning. The street outside her building was deserted, the shadows dark. It had rained all day and the streets were slick with water. The air was damp and she hoped the boiler had been turned on for the building. Her landlord was cheap, though, and might hold out until the first of November.
A hot bath might have to do it. Her feet were sore and her back ached; the staircase seemed both steeper and longer than usual. Waiting tables was the hardest work she’d done in all her centuries and in just twelve short hours, she’d get to do it all over again.
Sooner or later, Mel had to catch a break.
The red string knotted around her left wrist burned like a bitch, the way it always did when she was feeling more mortal than would be ideal.
Maybe the guy who rented the place at the end of the hall would be awake. She guessed that he’d be watching, if so. That was his best, and maybe his only, trick. She didn’t even know if the Watcher was a guy. She’d never even seen him—she just felt his presence when she went down the hall to her teeny apartment, a hot gaze boring into her back. She’d knocked on the door to challenge him once, but no one had answered.
She thought something had flashed behind the peep hole.
She’d heard him breathing and it had creeped her out—which was saying something, given her own credentials.
The Watcher had to be a guy. Watching seemed like a more masculine hobby to her. More importantly, anyone who watched her was either an enemy or a potential ally. There was no middle ground. If the Watcher was against her, she’d rather know soon.
Mel felt Raymond’s ghostly presence behind her but ignored her dead ex with practiced ease. It was only when he began to complain that she addressed him. “Ghosts don’t get tired,” she muttered.
“Do not take a wager on that, my lady,” he replied, still as courtly in his manners as he had been nine centuries before.
Mel just rolled her eyes.
Her studio apartment was on the top floor of the old apartment building, one that was in pretty bad shape. It was in a crappy neighborhood, not far from either the docks or even crappier areas. There was another unit on the top floor, its door opposite her own, but she’d never seen inside.
That was where the Watcher lived.
She’d only rented this place because Raymond had heard a rumor from his fellow ghosts that it contained a portal, exactly the kind of portal she’d been seeking. All she wanted was to sneak into the realm of the Fae, without Maeve knowing. Mel knew lots of official portals, but they were all watched by Maeve’s allies. She’d been summoned by Maeve, too, more than enough times for her taste. If she was going to escape Maeve’s grip, she had to be stealthy.
Three months and a whole lot of stairs later, Mel was ready to admit that the apartment had been yet another dead end. The only thing it opened onto was a lousy view.
The dead had lied to her—or to Raymond—one more time.
They were tiresome like that.
Time to move on. Time to find another lead. Time to try another angle. Over and over and over again, through all eternity. If Mel was honest with herself—and she frequently was—she’d admit it wasn’t the long hours that wore her out. She was half-Fae. She didn’t need much R&R. It was the growing sense of futility that was grinding her down.
The prospect of being trapped like this forever wore her out.
Just the way the bitch had planned it.
All Mel wanted was for her luck to change. She could catch one break after nine hundred years of zero progress.
She unlocked the door of her apartment and froze on the threshold. Something was wrong. She felt it before she saw it. A tingle ran over her flesh, leaving goosebumps behind.
The light of the moon slanted silver through the skylight overhead, illuminating the corpse sprawled on her floor.
There was a naked dead guy in her apartment.
He hadn’t been there when she’d left.
She would have noticed.
Mel’s luck had just changed, and not for the better.
Raymond slipped past her, and she felt a slight chill at his passing. He was curious about a new companion, no doubt.
Mel’s eyes narrowed as a wisp of black smoke rose from the corpse and disappeared right before her eyes. Even Raymond turned to watch it.
It looked like a black feather.
Oh no.
Maybe the dead guy was just a vision, she told herself. A portent.
She crossed the floor and crouched down beside him. He looked pretty substantial for a vision. He was as muscled as a bodybuilder, a big buff guy. Naked, as she’d noticed already. There was an enormous dark pool beneath him and she could smell the blood. He was on his chest, feet closest to her, as if he’d fallen on his face. There was an arrow shaft buried in his back and the blood flowed from that wound.
There were also two long scars on his back, like a V that didn’t join at the bottom.
Mel swallowed when she saw them. The skylight wasn’t broken. The door had still been locked. The windows were secured, but there was a dead fallen angel in her apartment even so.
The apartment was a portal.
But Mel was too late to learn anything from this guest.
Or maybe not. She stepped forward when she noticed the book in his hand. It was flickering, caught between the realms. Raymond fussed—he’d become such a chicken shit since he’d died, which on better days, she thought was funny—as Mel seized the book and eased it from the dead angel’s slack grasp.
His body shimmered then, as if it was made of dark starlight. She stared, then caught her breath when he disappeared as if he had never been. Even the spilled blood on the floor was gone, but the apartment remained icy cold.
All that was left was a triangle of sharpened stone.
The head from the Fae arrow that had killed him.
“Probably poisoned,” Raymond whispered as Mel reached for it. “You know how thorough she is.”
She got a plastic bag from the kitchen and picked up the arrow head, distrusted how it shimmered in her hand. But it had to be of this realm, because it had remained behind. The Fae liked quartz, because it took a magickal charge, she remembered. The stone might have been granite, with quartz crystals in it. She sealed the bag and tucked it into her pocket, out of sight, and considered the book.
It felt solid in her hands and she held it tightly, not trusting it to remain in the mortal realm. It was old and leatherbound, and the cover creaked when she opened it. She could see that the pages were thick and a quick sniff told her that they were vellum. Why did a fallen angel have an antique book in his possession? Was it why he’d been killed?
Why had he brought it to her apartment? That had to be important.
Mel angled the cover toward the moonlight, halfway thinking she could see a title, then shivered when she read it.
Maeve’s Book of Beasts.
Holy shit. She almost dropped the book.
What had this angel done?
In a way, she was no longer surprised that he’d been shot dead.
“I’ll take that,” said a man from behind her, his tone both deep and officious. Mel spun, clutching the book to her chest, recalling a bit late that she’d left the door open. He had an accent, maybe French, and was tall with broad shoulders. He moved into her apartment with a fluid grace that was familiar in an unwelcome way. His blue eyes gleamed with intent and the hand he extended was pale.
Please, not a vampire. Mel could deal with any of the Others, but she hated vampires.
Vampires did not play for the team, no matter what the stakes.
“I’ll take it now,” he said, his voice dropping deeper as he proved her assumption true, and she glimpsed the points of his teeth.
“You’re the Watcher,” she said. “From the other apartment.”
“What matters is that book,” he said with impatience. “I’ve been waiting for it.”
“Then you should have had your courier bring it to your apartment.”
“Accuracy is difficult for most beings under duress,” he snapped. “And the portal is here.”
“Finders keepers,” Mel said.
His eyes flashed. “Give it to me before she has another reason to curse you.”
Mel felt a flicker of panic, but he couldn’t know who she really was.
“Oh, but I do,” he murmured, as if he had read her thoughts. Did he have Maeve’s power to discern any secret?
“No,” he said softly and smiled coldly at her surprise. “But I find the thinking of humans and Others to be painfully obvious.” His hand landed on the book. He tugged and she had a sudden sense of his power—and his determination.
Vampires had incredible strength. He would tear it from her grip easily, if she didn’t surrender it willingly. She tightened her grip upon it, intending to defend it to her last.
“Your death can be arranged, Melusine de Lusignan, and very easily,” he hissed. “But I think you will find it preferable to give me the book.”
“Who are you?”
“You can call me Sebastian, if you must.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“Defend it far better than you can. She will demand its return. She will hunt it down. I would not want to be the one holding it when she comes through the portal after her prize.”
The air shimmered behind Mel as if the dark queen was coming through the portal that very moment. Mel had no interest in seeing that monarch any sooner than was absolutely necessary.
“But we need it,” she protested. “We need to work together to defeat her and we can use it to find all of the Others.”
Sebastian’s expression turned mocking. “We?”
“The Others. We’re joining forces.”
“So I’ve heard.” His disinterest was clear.
“If you have a plan for the book, you have to share it. We have to be a part of the solution. We all have so much to lose.”
Sebastian’s lips thinned and Mel knew he was going to snatch the book and disregard her plea. Raymond started, though, and looked toward the door. She could almost make out the silhouette of another man there.
“We will join the Others,” he said and Sebastian inhaled sharply. “It has been decided.”
Sebastian spun and glared at the other vampire. “You mean you have decided. I didn’t join your little group to lose all autonomy.”
“No, you joined to survive.”
“The more who are involved, the greater the risk of failure,” Sebastian snapped. “We’ve gotten this far because of trust and silence.”
“And we will go further with the Others,” that vampire said, no heat in his tone. “I am Micah, of the Coven of Mercy,” he said and Mel knew the introduction was addressed to her. “We have a plan for the book, one that should see the dark queen defeated.”
“I’m all ears,” Mel said.
“There is no time to explain,” Micah said mildly. He was remarkably serene for a vampire. In Mel’s experience, they tended to be more volatile, like Sebastian. “And all is already in motion. That is why he stole the book.”
“You have to share the plan,” Mel said. Vampires and their mysteries. Everything would be so much simpler if they didn’t feel compelled to keep secrets.
“You can’t compromise what’s been accomplished,” Sebastian protested.
Micah inclined his head. “I will make a concession as a sign of goodwill. We will launch the plan in the location of your choice.”
Sebastian hissed disapproval. “We’ll lose it all,” he muttered, but Micah ignored him.
“Bones,” Mel said immediately, naming the bar where she worked and the refuge of the Others. She would have back-up there, and more allies.
“Bones,” Micah agreed. “Tomorrow night.”
“The problem with all of you is that you have no respect for magick.” Sebastian plucked the book from Mel’s hands. “I’d think that you, of all Others, would be smarter than that,” he said to Mel. The vampire retreated with astonishing speed: one minute he was right before her, claiming the book, and the next, she was alone with Raymond as the other apartment door closed with a click. She looked down the hall but couldn’t see even a shadowy hint of Micah’s presence, and didn’t feel anyone watching her.
But there was something behind her. The air was rippling and shimmering again, and Raymond backed away from the disruption warily. When the whorling red and black appeared in the air, Mel swallowed. She knew where this portal would take her—and that she had no choice but to obey.
“She’s summoning you,” Raymond whispered.
“I’ll go alone,” she whispered back. “It’ll be fine.”
Raymond moaned. He hated the Fae realm and he hated being separated from Mel. His fear of Maeve trumped all, though, and he cowered in a corner, trying to make himself invisible as the red and black light began to pulse.
Mel knew she would be interrogated, perhaps by the dark queen herself. She’d want that book back. And even though Sebastian was a reluctant ally, Mel wouldn’t betray him or Micah. She pushed their images and names from her thoughts, as well as her recollection of everything that had happened since she climbed the stairs to her apartment. She gave the memory to Raymond for safekeeping, then voided it from her own mind.
She could only hope it would be enough.
Excerpt from Maeve’s Book of Beasts
Copyright ©2019 Deborah A. Cooke
Deborah Cooke: Author 