Magic and Alphas: A Paranormal Romance Collection Read online

  “Soon,” Michael whispered to his beloved weapon. He reached over his shoulder and caressed the well-worn hilt. “Soon.”

  The Guard dematerialized back to their private meeting chambers, a modest but large stacked stone dwelling far from human settlement, though Michael had a sorcerer cast a spell upon the structure. One that kept humans away. When any non immortal happened by, they would immediately feel the need to head in a different direction. It served them well over time.

  Lit sconces lent a soft glow and a roaring fire in the large open hearth ensured plenty of light permeated the room. As one of the seven Archangels created to serve the Fates of the Hereafter, Michael was the chosen leader of the Guard of the Righteous, a battalion of angelen and sancten tasked by the Fates to protect and defend the innocent with Michael at the helm.

  As the Protector, Michael was also burdened with maintaining the delicate balance between humans and immortals, whilst simultaneously keeping the immortal world hidden. Preventing immortal discovery by humans proved simple, what with humans’ constant infighting and pitiful communication amongst their own kind. Humankind’s desire to remain ignorant allowed Michael and his brethren to walk and live alongside humans undetected. The resulting freedom gave them unlimited access to Eastlake Falls, the kingdom whose borders contained densest population of immortals on the Earthly plane.

  Unfortunately for the unwitting mortals, they constructed their beautiful, thriving township directly above the largest Earthly portal to the Underworld—the very gateway for everything evil to cross planes. The Underworld is a place where the most wretched of immortals were created. Rare as it was, there were times which a daemon or what have you managed to break free of the portal, or were illegally summoned forth by shady immortals. Those escaped from the Underworld usually did so with a single intention—to wreak havoc upon the Earthly plane whilst using humans to fuel their vile needs.

  Because of this gateway, the Fates sent Michael and his angelen and sancten from the Hereafter to Eastlake Falls. Their most important task to ensure the portal remained sealed. For centuries… millennia even, Michael and his Guard engaged in the never-ending battle to protect the doorway, from constant attempts by cunning daemons and unscrupulous practitioners to open it.

  With all of the Guard present and accounted for, Michael cleared his throat. The chamber fell silent and every head turned in his direction. He loved his immortals and never failed to be awed by the loyalty in their eyes. Michael knew he struck an intimidating figure. Startlingly tall and as wide as two humans, when Michael crossed his thick arms over his broad chest and flexed his thick biceps, there were few who would dare to challenge him. Today Michael tied his blond, shoulder-length hair back with a leather strip to display his stern and unyielding countenance. His only outward tell was the rhythmic ticking of his cheek as he ground his teeth. In truth, if Tony’s theory were correct and the Horsemen were working to bringing about the Apocalypse, it put the entire Earthly plane at risk, and by the bloody Fates, Michael would ensure his Guard damn well knew the seriousness of the situation.

  “It appears that despite our best efforts, the Horsemen have increased the frequency of their savage attacks.” Michael’s stern voice commanded attention, as did his steady gaze, stern jaw, and spine held as straight as a well-forged blade. “It has come to my notice,” he tipped his chin toward Tony, who sat at his right hand, “That mayhap the Horsemen are on the path to bringing forth the Apocalypse. In truth, if this is their ultimate goal, at the current rate and the number of seals opened thus far, should we fail to stop them, Judgment Day shall arrive… and soon.” Frightened murmurs rippled through the gathering of immortals. Loath to be interrupted, Michael raised his voice. “We, however…” He paused for effect and waited until every set of eyes returned to the front. “Will. Not. Let. That. Happen. We cannot let that happen.”

  “You’re talking about war.”

  Michael scanned the room until he found the one who spoke. Inwardly smiling, his serious stare landed on a petite female. The only female member of the Guard. As with every immortal from the Hereafter, she was undoubtedly beautiful, if a bit unusual. The female kept her platinum blonde locks chopped short like a male, which he should think would appear odd, except the severe style only served to enhance her large doe-eyes and full red lips. Joan’s beauty couldn’t even be marred by the grim expression on her youthful face. Somber was the norm for the feisty saint.

  Due to her gender and small stature, St. Joan of Arc was one of the Guard’s greatest assets. Oft dismissed by enemies as non-threatening, Joan could get close where others failed. Michael and the male members of the Guard knew better than to make any assumptions, especially when it concerned Joan. Timid and helpless she was not. Joan was a fierce warrior. As the Patron Saint of the Military, she harbored no fear and willingly—aye, eagerly—leapt into battle. Joan thought nothing of taking down immortals twice her size in hand-to-hand, close quarters combat. Michael himself witnessed the damage Joan inflicted without the female breaking a sweat. He had nothing but respect for the fierce warrior.

  Michael nodded in response to her question.

  “Mayhap it shall come to that. But I would much rather dispose of the Horsemen discreetly. It would not serve us well to alarm the immortal community by alerting them of the Horsemen’s activities. Such knowledge could cause a full panic in Eastlake Falls.”

  “You think to hunt them down one by one,” a muscular angel named Donovan said.

  “I do,” Michael replied.

  Donovan rested his elbows on the table and stroked his short, ginger beard as he contemplated Michael’s words. Donovan was one of Michael’s best fighters and strategists. As an Angel of Protection, Donovan Byrne possessed brute strength, a warrior’s build, and a shrewd and calculating military mind.

  After a moment, Donovan shrugged his powerful shoulders. “I’m in.”

  Despite his preference to appear stoic and unaffected, Michael couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth from twitching up. Others quickly followed Donovan’s lead and reaffirmed their dedication to Michael and commitment to defeating the Horsemen.

  “We cannot stop until they are banished to the Underworld,” Joan insisted, punctuating her words with a slam of her fist on the table.

  Michael watched as the others bobbed their heads in agreement. He knew his Guard would come through, and it pleased him to never need doubt their allegiance to their mission.

  “In truth then, we are in agreement.” Michael met the gazes of each of his angelen and sancten. “It shall be necessary to remove each Horseman from the Earthly plane. If left to their own devices, they shall continue to open seals until the Apocalypse is upon us. As of this moment, this task takes precedence.” He stabbed his forefinger down into the dark wood table. “Above all else, it is our sworn duty to stop the Horsemen from bringing Judgment Day. At any cost.” Michael waited for what he didn’t say to sink in—that mayhap one or more could very well lose their life—before dismissing the Guard. “I shall meet with the other Archangels and inform them of our plans. Once that is done, we shall reconvene and ready ourselves to hunt down the Horsemen.”

  The males and female—a mix of angels and saints—rose and exited the chamber whilst talking amongst themselves. Some were excited to at last strike against the Horsemen after centuries of standing idly by whilst the four evil brothers carved a destructive path across the land. Others were nervous, unsure it wise to willingly enter battle with such powerful foes.

  After exchanging a few final words with Tony and watching the saint dematerialize, Michael stood alone in the empty hall of the Guard. He required a moment or two to convince himself he was steering his immortals down the correct path. Endangering the very existence of his beloved Guard was daunting, but in the end, in truth, it was the very reason the Fates sent them to this plane. To fight and destroy evil. To protect humans and immortals alike from the depravity and suffering brought by malicious beings like the Horsemen.
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  Without question, as usual, Michael would carry out his duties and hope for no casualties on his side, though he knew the chance nearly non-existent. Though immortal, there were ways to end their existence, though few and far between. Mayhap some of his Guard shall perish, but most would live. Others would suffer injuries both serious and minor. It was the price they, as protectors of the innocent, were expected to pay.

  The Fates sent them—sent Michael—to defend the righteous and uphold immortal law, and that was exactly what Michael was going to do, no matter the cost.

  * * *

  Honor Ward blinked, or attempted to, but found her eyelids too heavy, as though weighted down with great stone blocks. Confused, Honor waited only the span of a few deep breaths before a second attempt. This time, Honor found success, though she immediately wished she hadn’t bothered. Honor no sooner cracked open her eyes than she silently cursed the saints above. Intense white light flooded her vision and assaulted her sensitive eyes. Squinting, it took several moments to adjust to the invasion of light, but eventually Honor saw well enough to take in her surroundings and gasped.

  By the Fates.

  White.

  Everything was white. White upon white upon white, trimmed by more white. The ceiling, walls, fixtures, even the bed and sheets upon which she laid. All white.

  “Mercy, I must needs be dreaming.” There could be no other explanation. In Honor’s experience, nothing remained this pristine and unmarred. The dirt and dust of everyday life eventually coated any and all surfaces, and never stayed away, no matter how hard one scrubbed or how often one swept.

  “Worry not. You are not dreaming, young one.”

  Honor flinched and her pulse raced, as she hadn’t realized anyone was nearby. Turning her head, she found an ethereal female—for reasons unbeknownst to Honor, the word female came to mind, not woman—beautiful beyond words, stepped into view. Besides her obvious beauty, something about the female soothed Honor’s tense muscles. Something… intangible.

  As with everything else, the female’s robes were a shimmery, silken white. Honor wanted answers, but knew not what inquiries to make and struggled to collect her scattered thoughts.

  “Who… what… where am I?” This place was unlike anything Honor had ever seen. In her experience, dwellings were made of stick or stone or mud. Even castles constructed from the finest cultured marble never achieved this perfect, blemish-free shade of white.

  The female smiled, and as with the rest of her, even that was perfect. Two rows of straight, white teeth shone whilst not a wrinkle appeared on her smooth skin. Honor sat up—and silently took note that her own movements proved effortless, almost fluid in nature—and glanced around. To her shock, on both Honor’s left and right sides, identical beds stood like soldiers in a single endless row, one after the other until the line disappeared beyond her sight. Upon most beds lie a lone figure, either sleeping or, as with Honor, recently woken. Angelic visitors, similar to Honor’s, flitted around roughly half of the beds.

  “Soon, all shall be made known,” the female said. Honor scrunched her forehead, displeased with such a vague answer, but didn’t argue when the female instructed, “Come.” She waved Honor forward, urging her out of bed.

  Frustrated, yet infused with warmth that somehow made Honor feel inexplicably safe, she did as told. Honor’s bare feet hit the smooth, white surface and she braced for the harsh sting of an icy floor, as happened with the uneven cobbled stones of the modest dwelling she shared with her parents and younger siblings.

  Momentarily shocked, Honor near tripped. She felt nothing. Neither warm nor cool, rough nor smooth. In truth, the ground didn’t register beneath her feet at all. Unnerved, she assessed each part of her body, and to Honor’s horror, she came to the realization that she felt nothing of her physical form. Soft flesh and hard bone were replaced with a detached, floaty sensation as Honor’s numb limbs moved and shifted at her command, yet she failed to detect a thing.

  “How—?”

  The female glanced over her shoulder and once again smiled, repeating her previous words as she walked away. “Soon, all shall be made known. Come.”

  Irritation flashed through Honor along with the desire to cross her numb arms and stomp her anesthetized foot, but Honor’s default setting was, as always, to be unobtrusive and obedient, thus she followed the white-clad female to a closed door. A door Honor wouldn’t have noticed if not for the female leading the way. The slick, inset rectangle was as equally white as the wall surrounding it and possessed a smooth, polished surface Honor thought impossible.

  They passed through the opening and by happenstance, Honor glanced down, startled to note she donned a robe, one identical to the female’s, and, predictably, as white as everything in this odd place.

  With so many questions ricocheting around in her impulsive mind, Honor pushed the clothing issue to the side and focused once more on her surroundings. She frowned at what she discovered. The hall the female led her into was—no surprise there—also white. In truth, it appeared no different than the room they just left, minus the beds, the sleeping figures, and the ethereal males and females that bustled around in white robes.

  Flustered, her sense of direction twisted around, Honor opened her mouth to insist upon answers, when her tour guide lightly rapped on another, larger door, more obvious than the previous one.

  “Enter.”

  The female turned the handle and held the door for Honor. “You may go,” she said with a dip of her head, her smile encouraging Honor to pass through. Honor stepped over the threshold and the female did not follow. For the first time since she woke, panic hit like a bucket of cold water to the face. Honor didn’t want to be left alone, but her sudden anxiety wasn’t out of fear.

  Not exactly.

  As she gave it further thought, Honor realized her anxiety was simply the discomfort of losing the only familiar face in this bizarre dream/not a dream state of consciousness.

  With a pleading look on her face, Honor turned to the female. “Prithee, you can’t come with me?”

  The female shook her head. “This is where we part.” Before Honor could protest, the door closed and the single person she knew—if only a few precious minutes—in this strange white world, disappeared.

  “Welcome, Honor Ward.”

  With a tiny yelp, Honor spun to discover another impossibly beautiful figure, this one seated behind a pure white desk. Her jaw dropped at the stunning sight. He was male—as with the female, Honor’s mind deemed the word man ill fitting. The male’s dark hair and eyes were striking against so much white. Bright and nearly blinding in its purity, the walls and furniture were white. Even the male’s pale, flawless skin lacked any sign of sun exposure.

  “H-how do y-you know my name?” Honor believed her knees too weak to hold her up. If she could detect them, that was. Only her determination to not appear overly fragile kept her upright.

  “Prithee, have a seat,” the male said in a comforting tone that warmed her insides. So taken with the male when she first entered the room, it was only then that Honor noticed a bench positioned opposite the desk. Gingerly, she lowered onto the seat. There was no sensation when her backside made contact and Honor frowned, unused to the disconnect with her own body. “You have many questions. I am here to answer them.”

  “Okay.” She chewed on her lip, then released it, annoyed she didn’t feel the sharp pinch of flesh between her teeth.

  “My name is Aaron. This…” He spread his hands wide. “Is part of the Hereafter.”

  “H-hereafter?” That doesn’t sound like a good thing. Unlike Honor’s unfeeling body, she most definitely noticed the burn of anxiety growing within.

  “Aye. You have passed on.”

  “P-passed? I’m… dead?” she croaked. What? Honor wobbled and put a numb hand to her numb head.

  Aaron smiled and dipped his chin in confirmation. “Your Earthly form died. Now you, specifically, your soul, is here. The body is merely an ill
usion on this plane. That is why you cannot sense your physical being.”

  The male’s tranquility, which Honor appreciated only a moment ago, suddenly seemed impersonal, as if the news of her death meant nothing. A mere fact to recite. An unimportant footnote in the annals of history.

  “B-but… how? I mean, I d-don’t remember anything.” Despite what her guide said when she woke, Honor knew this must needs be a dream. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her mind to snap out of it so she could wake in her own bed in her tiny home in Eastlake Falls. Honor would even be happy to see her horrid elder sister if it meant escaping this fantasy world.

  “I’m afraid that shan’t work, Honor Ward.”

  Honor swallowed, opened her eyes, and stared at Aaron, her earlier bravado and annoyance gone. “Then prithee, tell me what is happening. I-I don’t understand.”

  “It’s quite simple, really. You died and were chosen to come here,” Aaron said as if that clarified everything, when in truth, it explained nothing. Irritation rose at the lack of an actual answer that made any sense whatsoever. “Now, I shall give you a choice.”

  “C-choice? Of what?” Mayhap there was a chance to go back. To her parents, her sister, her suitor. Oh no! “Henry…” Honor blurted out her betrothed’s name, though Honor felt no grief for the man chosen by her father for her to marry. Nor did she feel the grief she expected from losing her family, only empathy for those left behind. “My father shall be devastated. Henry, a man from the village father arranged for me, was to ask for my hand on the morrow.”

  If anything good came of this, not having to marry the creepy older man was it.

  Aaron continued to smile and Honor was taken aback when the desire to grab Aaron’s shoulders and shake some sense into the enigmatic male arose. Mother always told Honor she was too quiet. Too passive. Too plain. Too common looking.