Dan's Sci-fi & Fantasy Blog

Enjoy the prologue to the awarding-winning YA fantasy series The Allison Lee Chronicles. 

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The wind howled, stirring the falling snow into a tempest that nearly blotted out the giant trees rising up for hundreds of feet, the patriarchs of the Grove of the Patriarchs. The white blur obscured even the swaying suspension bridge over the Ohanapecosh River, a few feet from where Mark Cassidy stood.

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Cassidy squinted. His eyes were as black as crude oil without a hint of white sclera, red veins, or irises. No one ever mentioned his eyes, even if they found his gaze disconcerting without knowing precisely why. If asked, they would say he radiated a predatory vibe despite his mild-mannered disposition.

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The bridge looked treacherous, weaving and creaking. Part of Cassidy wanted to reveal his true nature and fly over the bridge, but he was a cautious creature. Otherwise, he would not have lived side-by-side with humans all these long years without being discovered. His underling, Druk, would have said he was a creature of habit. He knew her irksome opinion of him. He was the commander, and she was the soldier. She should respect and fear him even, but in reality, he respected and feared her. Still, he held her leash as tenuous as twine at times.

Instead of changing, Cassidy heaved a sigh and crossed the oscillating bridge. He moved quickly despite his boots sinking deep into the snow. Even when a wind gust threw him against the snow-laden heavy gauge railing, he merely gave a rueful grin and shook his head. He had faced harsher conditions on many occasions, albeit not in such a fragile shell. Once he righted himself, he crossed the remainder of the span in two easy leaps that would have put Olympic athletes to shame had any observed the feat.

 

When he landed on the far side of the bridge, a growl of pleasure resonated in his chest. Tapping the well of prowess encapsulated in his puny body always made him want more. He almost metamorphosed then and there, shredding his clothing and smashing the suspension bridge with his bulk, but he resisted the urge. He’d come this far as a human and only needed to go a few feet more before he could embrace his true nature without leaving behind a ruined bridge as evidence of his passing.

 

He trudged through the snow, not on the hiking trail into the trees, but along the edge of the grove until he reached a location where a curtain of trees and ground cover obscured a clearing from anyone lurking across the river. There, he froze as still as a statue on display in a museum and tapped into his heightened faculties. The rush of smells and sounds was intoxicating and told him exactly what he needed to know. No humans were nearby to spy upon him. Of course, they’d have to be idiots to be out in this blizzard, but it never hurt to be vigilant.

 

Mark Cassidy knelt next to a large log, the remnants of a once mighty patriarch, and dug into the snow, revealing a hollow in the dirt. From the hollow, he retrieved a sealed dry bag. Standing, he stripped off his outerwear, the best money could buy, and the rest of his clothing, also the finest, revealing a symmetrical body modeled after the statue of David. Goosebumps formed on his skin, but he suppressed his body’s shiver response. Although his current form was weak, he was not as frail as a human, even while masquerading as one. Shivering would interfere with him folding his clothes with military precision before placing them inside the dry bag and returning the sack to the hideaway.

 

Cassidy stood stark naked in the wailing wind and driving snow with the powder piled nearly to his knees. An ordinary man would have clasped his arms around his midsection and shook hard enough to rattle bones. But not Cassidy. He enjoyed the sensations of the wind scouring him, his extremities succumbing to frostbite, and the battle to keep his body from folding into a fetal position of its own volition. He could have remained rooted in place for hours, calling upon his supernatural prowess to maintain this weak vessel, and have taken pleasure in the experience. But even now, as a human, Cassidy sensed the pull of the nascent gateway forming within the grove. Sensual pleasures would have to wait. General Bane, his master and commander, did not tolerate tardiness.

 

Mark Cassidy embraced his genuine nature. Pain exploded through his body, sending his vision red and then

black. Bones burst through his skin, sculpting into shapes and sizes defying human physiology. Muscle and sinew tore and regrew, expanding and strengthening. Organs rearranged and several found in no earthbound creature were born seemingly from the ether.

 

The agony of transmutation only lasted a second. Cassidy’s vision cleared, sharper than before. His thick, serpentine body rippled, hovering over the ground. As his authentic self, he felt the tug of the forming portal as inexorable as the pull of gravity inside a black hole’s event horizon.

 

He weaved between the towering patriarchs, careful not to slam his dusky hide against their trunks. Now, he was powerful enough to topple the giants by accident. His bulk still brushed against them. That was unavoidable, as was crushing a few smaller trees. With good fortune, anyone who took notice of the damage he

caused come spring would reckon the trees surrendered to the weight of heavy snowfall.

 

When he reached the wide boardwalk, he slowed his undulations. Here, he needed to be careful because signs describing the majestic patriarchs and benches formed lumps and protrusions in the snow. If he damaged those, someone might become suspicious and start asking questions.

 

It took all of Cassidy’s considerable willpower not to rush to the portal’s siren call. It was more than just the beck and call of General Bane driving him. He wanted to gaze upon the gateway and dream of home, an existence free of stinking humans that he couldn’t eat whenever ravenous hunger took hold of him, which was often. His life on Earth was ascetic, and Cassidy, like all his kind, was a monster of insatiable appetite.

The oblong gateway popped into existence in midair several feet off the ground. The edges of the portal were jagged, yellowish tendrils reminiscent of electrical arcs. The passage was a pool of impenetrable darkness devoid of even the faintest pinprick of light. All told, the portal was pitiful, unstable and so small he couldn’t even pass through it as a human. Even if he could fit through the opening, he would still have to navigate a passage to reach a main artery of the Slipstream, the superhighway between universes. This faltering gateway and the tunnel beyond it would soon wink out of existence, ending anything inside for all time.

Mark Cassidy knew the gateway would be volatile, but he sagged until the talons of his four short, powerful legs brushed the snow all the same. His yearning for home and all the pleasures most humans would proclaim transgressive and vulgar made his chest ache.

 

“Commander, report.”

 

Cassidy winced, head throbbing. General Bane’s words were lightning bolts delivered directly into his gray matter.

 

“We continue to track the rebel leader in the hope he will lead us to his followers. Unfortunately, he is cautious.”

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“Some might consider that a failure. You have the most potent operative in my arsenal, yet you still have not rooted out the rebels.”

 

The word failure echoed disdainfully through his skull. It wasn’t fair. The fault was not his alone.

 

“Druk is distracted. I suspect she remains in intermittent contact with the man. She might even be keeping tabs on the child.”

 

“The hybrid. Has it shown the ability to transform?”

 

“No, General.”

 

“A failed experiment. Destroy the hybrid.”

 

Cassidy’s pulse thrummed. Kill the hybrid child? He couldn’t. Druk would eat him alive.

 

“General—”

“No excuses. See it done immediately. Our scientists and magicians have determined a stable gateway to Earth will form within the next Tarratargonian standard year. See that the hybrid is eliminated before I arrive. Druk is not to know I gave the order. I don’t want her to blame me. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, General. I understand completely,” Cassidy said, the wheels of his mind already turning on the problem of how he would kill the hybrid without incurring Druk’s wrath. He had an idea. A very good one, in fact, that would lead to the problem child’s death without any evidence pointing back to him.