BLOODPRINCE

  BLOOD PRINCE

  SHANNON WEST

  Blood Prince

  Copyright © 2014

  Published by Dark Hollows Press

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  WRAITH: Blood Prince

  Copyright © 2014 Shannon West

  ISBN 10: 1940756634

  ISBN 13: 978-1-940756-63-9

  Author: Shannon West

  Editor: Ashley Kain

  Original Publication Date: June 2014

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2014 by Dark Hollows Press

  Cover Design by 3 Rusted Spoons

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  W.R.A.I.T.H

  Witness Recovery and Inter-dimensional Tactical Hunters.

  There is world just beyond our own. A world where Fairies and Demons rule, where Fae and Paranormal creatures exist in a dimension parallel to our world.

  It is the Vargr Realm.

  The Vargr have known about our world for thousands of years and have, in the past, crossed dimensions to prey on it. In recent centuries, however, the Vargr Ruling Council has tried to put a stop to it. Humans have become more technologically savvy and some human scientists have even come close to cracking the barriers that exist between the realms. But there are those who disobey the law…

  The Vargr are attracted to humans. Some like to eat humans. Some come to have sex with us. Some travel to our world to obtain items that are common on Earth, but priceless on Vargr. A special Vargr task force has been established to retrieve those of the Vargr Realm who travel between the dimensions unlawfully and to neutralize any human witnesses who come in contact with these travelers. The Vargr Ruling Council has contacted the governments of our world and they have agreed to cooperate in order to protect human citizens. But there is a war brewing in the Vargr Realm…

  As a civil war begins to brew in the Vargr Realm, the agents of WRAITH find themselves caught in the crossfire. Can the agents - human and Vargr - find the common ground needed to see that the order between the world is preserved?

  Chapter One

  Tell all the truth but tell it slant,

  Success in circuit lies…

  The truth must dazzle gradually

  Or every man be blind.

  --Emily Dickinson

  Buddha supposedly said that there were three things in life could never be hidden. The sun, the moon and the truth. That was certainly a deep and philosophical statement and one that Cole would have once totally subscribed to, but he had learned recently that a lot of what he thought he knew about the world had long been hidden from him. And now that he was about to confront those things head on, he was, frankly, scared shitless.

  “Just stay quiet and keep a low profile,” Captain Vizier said distractedly. “Try not to bring too much attention to yourself—the high king is known to like pretty little humans. You’re mostly going along to observe anyway. Besides, King Egill and his sons can be a bit—unpredictable.”

  “Unpredictable?” Cole Gregory, newest agent of the WPDA, otherwise known as the World Protection and Detection Agency repeated, his voice only a little higher pitched than normal. He was trying to ignore the “pretty little human” part of what his new boss had said. His voice sounded, he hoped, fairly calm. “In what ways are they unpredictable?”

  “Well, if I could tell you that, then they wouldn’t be, would they?” Vizier said. The strain of getting ready for this conference at such short notice showed in his obvious irritation, or was it simply because he was speaking to Cole? Cole had suspected from the first moment he met Vizier that the man was a raging homophobe.

  Ironic, since the Vargr Realm, also known as the Immortal Realm where the conference Vizier was preparing for was being held, had none of the human prejudices about same sex relationships that humans had.

  In fact, the entire concept was so foreign to them that they were highly offended by human narrow-mindedness in the area. Immortals in the Vargr Realm had little need to propagate the species, so same-sex relationships were actually the norm in their world, and just as accepted as heterosexual relationships. As a general rule, only kings had offspring to secure their blood lines. The high king had four sons from four different consorts. Two of the women still lived with him, and he currently kept two male consorts in his household as well.

  That’s what Cole had been told, anyway. It was still difficult to believe that any of this was real and not some crazy dream. That another realm—another world, other than the human world—actually existed. And he would be on his way soon, along with Vizier and others, to enter that strange realm called the Vargr.

  Cole noticed Vizier’s hands trembling as he stuffed paperwork into his Italian leather briefcase. King Egill, the demon king of the Vargr Realm, had asked for this meeting only twenty-four hours before, refusing to give the captain any more time to prepare. Vizier stopped for a moment to sigh and run a hand over his balding head. “Look, Gregory, just try to be less…” His gaze raked over Cole disapprovingly, and he waved a hand in the air. “Flashy.”

  “Flashy?” Cole looked down at himself. He was wearing his best navy blue suit, a starched and snowy white shirt and a modest green tie. He hadn’t received his new WRAITH uniform yet, but it wasn’t like he’d shown up wearing a feather boa and heels. Vizier obviously resented Cole’s inclusion on his team and had made no bones about it since the moment he’d arrived at the WPDA headquarters in Mexico City, two weeks before. Cole had encountered guys like Vizier all his life. He tried his best to ignore him now. He was there to learn all he could about the operation before he left for an as yet undisclosed location to start his training as a WRAITH agent, a Hunter. WRAITH was the law enforcement arm of the WPDA, an agency Cole was still learning about. He had neither the time nor the patience for this kind of bullshit, but he had to play the game. Vizier was his supervisor, so he owed him at least a show of respect.

  The captain frowned again. “It’s the hair, I think.” He tilted his head a little as he regarded him. “I don’t remember all those platinum streaks when I met you last week. Are you sure you haven’t done something to it? And your eyes. Are you wearing colored contacts?” He leaned over his desk to peer into Cole’s blameless green eyes.

  “No sir,” Cole said, trying hard to keep a calm and civil tone. “I’m not. And this is my natural hair color.” He hated the implication that he would lie about it—he’d never been any good at lying. He just couldn’t do it, and had given up even trying long ago.

  “Hmm,” the captain said, clearly unconvinced. “Well, just stay at the back of the group. And don’t speak unless someone asks you a direct question. The Vargr, especially their high king, Egill, can be quite volatile and easily offended. Not to mention those sons of his. Apparently, we’re going to discuss a recent outbreak of violence in the American South. The latest incidents have been in Tennessee, I understand. It has to be Vargr, since a large Blood Gate has been opened near the area, a
nd the WRAITH team is being sent in to investigate and close the damn thing. Their commander is being difficult, as usual. I suspect it’s because we put the high king off about the tribute. But we need a bit more time. Egill is demanding a tribute this year, and no one suitable has volunteered for the position as yet. We have several candidates in mind, but so far none of them have agreed.”

  “Can you blame them? The whole idea of becoming a veritable sex slave to a half-demon prince is the most barbaric thing I’ve ever heard of. Why we ever agreed to such a ridiculous…”

  “To avoid a war with the Vargr, of course. One we’d have no chance of winning.” Vizier fixed him with a cold and irritated glare. “And no one is asked to be a sex slave. The humans who volunteer for this become treasured royal consorts of the princes, protected and pampered around the clock. They live in palaces and wear the finest jewels and furs. We understand they’re very well treated.”

  Cole stopped the eye roll only with great difficulty. Being offered this job at such a young age had been an unexpected boon for him, and he was loath to put his position in jeopardy by pissing off his captain. If pretending to agree with this self-important pencil-pusher was required, then that’s what he would have to do. The fact that he was even here in Mexico City to join the WRAITHs and about to cross over into the immortal realm was so unreal he still felt the need to pinch himself.

  Raised mostly in foster homes, Cole had been a six-month-old foundling who’d been left literally on the steps of St. Joseph’s hospital in downtown Atlanta. He didn’t have any of the usual horror stories about foster homes—most of his had been good enough, if a little lonely, and he’d never been abused in any way. He always felt different from the other children, though, and maybe a little lost sometimes. Still, it never lasted for long, and he couldn’t yearn for something he’d never had.

  He had joined the Army as soon as he graduated high school but soon found out it wasn’t for him. Two tours in Afghanistan were more than enough to convince him of that, despite a commendation medal he received for his service there. As soon as he could, he got out and went to college on the GI bill, working his way straight through, not taking any summers off, and eventually earning a degree in Criminal Justice. He’d been recruited for the FBI right out of college. Barely twenty-six years old, just three years above the minimum age for Bureau agents, he was surprised and flattered to be asked, but never thought he’d make the cut.

  He’d scored well on their tests, though, and that fact, along with his prior military service, helped him be accepted into the Academy. After graduation, the Bureau assigned him to a post in D.C. and not quite six months later, he’d been contacted by the WPDA. Hell, he’d never even heard of the agency before, but then most people hadn’t.

  His bureau chief had called him into his office late one afternoon and introduced him to a tall, well-built man with longish black hair and bottomless brown eyes that swept over him dismissively, but lingered on his mouth as he shook Cole’s hand. He wore a tight-fitting black uniform with insignia and patches that Cole didn’t recognize. A striking tattoo design on the side of his neck spread downward from his jawline to disappear below his shirt collar.

  “Agent Gregory, I’d like you to meet Commander Levi.”

  Nervously, Cole licked his lips as he extended his hand. The commander took his hand and then just held it in his firm grip. The corners of his mouth tilted upward and something glowed in the depths of those strange eyes. It was gone again so quickly Cole thought he must have imagined the whole thing when the man finally released his hand and nodded at Cole’s boss.

  “Yes, he’ll do,” Levi said, and turned his back to gaze out the office window.

  “I’ll do for what?” Cole glanced uneasily back at his chief, who motioned him to a seat.

  “Have a seat, Agent Gregory. What we’re about to discuss doesn’t leave this office, is that understood?” Bill Thompson was a stern, hard-nosed agent, who had been around the Washington Bureau for years before he’d been promoted to his present position. He was a no-nonsense kind of guy and this was only the second time Cole had been in his office in the J. Edgar Hoover building. The first had been when he’d arrived to take the Washington posting.

  Cole crossed over to sink down in the chair, his gaze falling on the strange man who turned and slanted a look toward him. A smell of sweet cream and honey swirled around Cole’s nostrils. It had to be coming off the man in front of him. Cole inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, feeling a little intoxicated. Was that his cologne?

  What the hell was wrong with him sniffing this man’s cologne in his chief’s office? He sat up straighter, stiffening his back. He thought he could feel the gaze of the man burning into him, but when he turned to look at him, he had turned back to stare down at the view of Pennsylvania Avenue from the window.

  Thompson was speaking to him, and Cole tried harder to focus. His boss leaned back in his chair, making a steeple with his fingers. “Agent Gregory, have you heard any rumors about an agency called the WPDA?”

  “The WPDA? No, can’t say as I have, sir.”

  The chief glared at him as if he might be lying. The man at the window was languidly examining his fingernails. Boredom wafted off him in almost palpable waves, along with that cloying scent. How could that scent make him feel so…? Cole shook his head to clear it and tried to take more shallow breaths. Just as the silence in the room was becoming uncomfortable, Thompson spoke again.

  “The World Protection and Detection Agency. Its headquarters are in Mexico City with offices in every major city in the world, including New York, San Francisco and right here in D.C.”

  Cole nodded, hoping he was projecting the proper amount of interest. He’d been called into Thompson’s office at the end of a very long day. He’d been looking forward to his sofa, a few beers and hours of mindless TV before he went to bed. He managed not to squirm in his chair and avoided looking at his watch, though it was a close thing.

  The chief leaned toward him and pitched his voice low and steady. “The WPDA was created in 1963, right after the assassination of John Fitzgerald Kennedy, when world governments were first contacted by the Vargr Realm.”

  “The, uh, Vargr Realm, sir?”

  “Agent Gregory, please listen carefully. Do you know anything about quantum mechanics?”

  “Um, no sir.” He glanced over at the man behind Thompson, who was now leaning against the window frame, a little smile playing around his lips. He forced his gaze back to Thompson. “Should I, sir?”

  Thompson gave a wave of his hand. “Quantum mechanics explores the theory of parallel universes or alternative realities. Thought to be a theory anyway until we were contacted by the Vargr Realm. It’s complicated, Agent Gregory, but basically, the Vargr is a self-contained separate reality coexisting with ours. Like a parallel universe, only certainly the Vargr Realm is not synonymous with ours in any way.” He fell back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair, looking over at the commander for help.

  Levi shrugged negligently. “He’s too young to completely comprehend all of it—just do the best you can to explain.”

  Too young? Cole stiffened and bit down hard on his tongue to keep himself from saying something he’d be bound to regret the moment it came out of his mouth. He was twenty-six years old, a grown man, and an Army veteran. Was it his appearance again? He wasn’t all that large, though he kept himself more than fit, and he’d been plagued with pale, almost translucent skin and a baby face most of his life, but it wasn’t anything he could help. He just hadn’t seemed to age much since his teens. Probably why he was carded at every bar he went to or every single time he tried to buy a six-pack of beer.

  What did it matter anyway? Why was the chief wasting his time sitting here talking about parallel universes and quantum mechanics, for God’s sake, and what in the name of all that was holy was that smell in the room? It was intoxicating him and making him a little dizzy. He shook his head and sat up
straighter.

  The commander shook his head. “Simply tell him what he needs to know. He can read all the theories about how the universe works later, if he’s so inclined. No one knows anything for sure, anyway, despite their claims, not even the Vargr. We’re all feeling our way in the dark.”

  Thompson frowned and blew out a long breath. “Okay, listen up, Agent Gregory. The Vargr Realm has existed alongside ours since time began, so far as anyone can tell. They’ve always known about us, but we were unaware of their existence until they made contact. Their universe is a place where the people, the animals, the very laws of nature as we know them are different. It’s almost impossible to explain unless you’ve been there, but it does exist. I’ve seen it for myself.”

  Cole looked from one man to another and couldn’t resist glancing around for any sign that this was all a joke. Any minute now, his co-workers would pop out from the door behind him and laugh. This was some kind of crazy initiation gag, exceedingly strange for so uptight a bureau as the FBI, but that’s all it could be.

  “Sir, I-I don’t understand. What is all this about?”

  “I’m trying to tell you, Agent Gregory. The Vargr have always been among us, right from the beginning. They have knowledge of things we don’t, along with certain—abilities. They’re able to open portals from their world to ours called Blood Gates. From time to time they’ve visited us, but either they glamoured themselves to look like us, or just allowed us to see their true forms, knowing that we’d make up myths and legends to explain it all away. All the past sightings of ghosts, vampires, witches—hell, even Bigfoot—all have been Vargr.”

  “Yes,” the commander said. “Humans are fascinating creatures. The only ones I know of who can stare an unknown entity in the face, speak to it, record its voice, even take a picture of it and still question its existence.”