A Summoner's Tale by Victoria Danann, now you can read online.
PROLOGUE
This series is also a serial saga in the sense that each book begins where the previous book ended. READING IN ORDER IS STRONGLY RECOMMENDED AND ENCOURAGED in order to fully enjoy the rich complexities of this tapestry in book form.
There is a very old and secret society of paranormal investigators and protectors known as The Order of the Black Swan. In modern times, in a dimension similar to our own, they continue to operate, as they always have, to keep the human population safe. For centuries they have relied on a formula that outlines recruitment of certain second sons, in their early, post pubescent youth, who match a narrow and highly specialized psychological profile. Those who agree to forego the ordinary pleasures and freedoms of adolescence receive the best education available anywhere along with the training and discipline necessary for a possible future as active operatives in the Hunters Division. In recognition of the personal sacrifice and inherent danger, The Order bestows knighthoods on those who accept.
BOOK ONE. The elite B Team of Jefferson Unit in New York, also known as Bad Company, was devastated by the loss of one of its four members in a battle with vampire. A few days later Elora Laiken, an accidental pilgrim from another dimension, literally landed at their feet so physically damaged by the journey they weren't even sure of her species. After a lengthy recovery, they discovered that she had gained amazing speed and strength through the cross-dimension translation. She earned the trust and respect of the knights of B Team and eventually replaced the fourth member, who had been killed in the line of duty.
She was also forced to choose between three suitors: Istvan Baka, a devastatingly seductive six-hundred-year-old vampire, who worked as a consultant to neutralize an epidemic of vampire abductions, Engel Storm, the noble and stalwart leader of B Team who saved her life twice, and Rammel Hawking, the elf who persuaded her that she was destined to be his alone.
BOOK TWO. Ten months later everyone was gathered at Rammel's home in Derry, Ireland. B Team had been temporarily assigned to The Order's Headquarters office in Edinburgh, but they had been given leave for a week to celebrate an elftale handfasting for Ram and Elora, who were expecting.
Ram's younger sister, Aelsong, to Edinburgh with B Team after being recruited for her exceptional psychic skills. Shortly after arriving, Kay's fiancé, was abducted by a demon with a vendetta, who slipped her to a dimension out of reach. Their only hope to locate Katrina and retrieve her was Litha Brandywine, the witch tracker, who had fallen in love with Storm at first sight,
Storm was assigned to escort the witch, who slowly penetrated the ice that had formed around his heart when he lost Elora to Ram. Litha tracked the demon and took Katrina's place as hostage after learning that he, Deliverance, was her biological father. The story ended with all members of B Team happily married and retired from active duty.
FOREWORD
Stagsnare Dimension. Sixteen months earlier.
Thelonius M. Monq watched his computer screen. The filler in the blue bar was reversing to indicate the amount of data being wiped from his system. The assassins on the other side of the door were using an old-fashioned, titanium ramming post to gain access and the pounding was near deafening. The ancient door was solid burdoche and took a lot of punishment before it started to splinter.
Monq watched the color in the bar move all the way to the left. He smiled as the intruders broke into his lab, knowing all they would find was a black screen of death. The system, with all his personal and scientific journals, had been backed up on a microcord impressed into the Celtic weave pattern of a locket that he had sent into the unknown with his favorite student, Elora Laiken. He hoped they both fared well.
It may have been odd to feel peckish in the midst of those circumstances, but minds can react to stress in strange ways. Monq turned and reached for the jar of peanuts on the cabinet lip behind him. As he did so, one of the armed attackers pulled the trigger of an automatic weapon which riddled Monq with dozens of wounds within seconds.
One of the men jerked his ski mask off which left his sandy hair tousled in a way that might have been comical if he hadn't been wearing an infuriated expression that said he was intent on killing someone. He took two strides toward the shooter then grabbed the weapon out of his hands at the same time he pulled the knit mask away from his face.
"Mallach!" He hit the young man in the face with the stock of the gun and broke his nose. "We needed that old magman alive. We should have a public hanging for this - like in the old days." The younger man was holding his nose with the fingers of both hands, but his eyes widened and, even with the blood on his face, it was easy to see he had paled. While the commander continued to glare at Mallach, several other comrads came through the door. They had removed their masks.
Without taking his eyes away from Mallach, he spit out a command. "Report."
One of the newcomers stepped forward. "Twenty-odd Laiwynn survivors, sir. All captive."
Lft. Rothesay nodded. He flicked his attention toward the man kneeling next to Monq, who read the question in his eyes. "Dead, sir."
Rothesay's jaw clenched down tight. He swung away and charged for the door. On his way out he said, "Get Archer down here. Give him anything he needs."
Mg. Archer waited in the hallway outside Monq's former lab and watched them drag the body away. "Shame that," he said to the soldier next to him.
"Why?"
"Because he was one of a kind. If he'd lived, with funding and the freedom to do anything he wanted, he might have unlocked the secrets of the universe."
Pt. Rystrome laughed. "I don't know, Magman. That's way too deep for me. I don't need the secrets of the universe. I just want to take care of my kids and make enough money to get my wife's flute back."
Archer looked up. "Your wife plays the flute?"
Rystrome's smile died. "She did. Long time ago. They took it, you know, like everything else."
Archer nodded. "Well. I guess I'd better get to work."
While the guys who were assigned to 'give Archer whatever he needed' finished cleaning up the mess, he started taking a look around. He slowly walked around the room looking at books and curios and pictures in frames. He stopped next to the blender and pulled out a twisted mass of plastic that had, more than likely, once been a handheld remote.
He took the find to a desk, switched on the spot light, and pulled his glasses out of his jacket pocket. Without looking up, he said to no one in particular, "I need this area secured. New door, locks, guards. No one comes in here but me. Unless they outrank me, of course, and, even then, they need to log in and out. Finish up what you're doing without touching anything else and get out."
The soldiers who were mopping up blood on hands and knees exchanged a look and said, "Yes, sir."
Archer looked over at the computer displaying the black screen of death and wondered if it was truly wiped. If anybody alive could retrieve some data remnants not swept up in the harvest, it would be him.