Dark Autumn (Book 2 of the Caelli Rivers series)

By Naomi Lara

When a skeleton is uncovered in a backyard where it had been buried for thirty years, the police investigation yielded little. It was supposed to simply disappear as an unsolved murder. A couple of months later, a second body is found encased in a concrete tomb where it had lain for sixty years, and the similarities are striking. Caelli Rivers, a Homicide Detective with Victoria Police knows that these murders are right up her alley. The only problem - no one in the Supernatural world knows who or what might be responsible.

Caelli digs through the facts where the past and present collides and comes across rumours about a old European family steeped in bloody deaths and suspicious disappearances begin surface and it all started with the strange death of Nicolas Flamel.

Meanwhile, Caelli she must also deal with a crisis back in the Sidhe. She's been suspected of murdering a rival. All of the evidence and witnesses point to her. With the clock ticking, Caelli is in a race against time to try and find the killer and undo a complex web of lust, jealousy and insanity before her own life is forefeit.

Legends will fall and new ones will be made.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Naomi Lara
• Release date: Jan 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781465757326

Naomi Lara

I've been writing for more years than I care to count, but I love it. Fallen Angel is a story that's taken me about two years to write and it's been a wonderful journey. I am working hard to publish this story, so if a publishing company is interested, please feel free to contact me. Fallen Angel is Book One of my series. I'm already hard at work on the sequal, Dark Autumn, which is going to be mind-blowing. A little about me: I am an adventure lover; I kind of wish I was born about 150 years ago - I'll be one of those crazy girls trailblazing through the uncharted Amazons or Australia. I'm also really interested in playing sports and in challanging myself by doing things such as climbing, splunking, hiking and all that fun stuff. I also am a volunteer with a rescue organisation, so I'm involved in all sorts of things that have given me the opportunity to learn some great skills and to have some amazing experiences. To contact the author, please email at: [e-mail]

Book preview

Dark Autumn

Naomi Lara

Copyright 2012 by Naomi Lara

Smashwords Edition

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

Copyright 2012 Naomi Lara

Google Book edition published: January 2012

ISBN: 978-1-4657-5732-6

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my technical advisors when it comes to all of the grammatical checks and for their knowledge of police procedures. Penny is my comma monster slayer and Aidan is the first to point out any weapons violations I make. Thanks guys! Love you heaps! I also have to thank Leah – you’re my first fan and you make sure you keep prompting me to write.

Index

Prologue ~ 1418

Prologue ~1980

Chapter One ~ Murder Call

Chapter Two ~ Who Are You?

Chapter Thee ~ Scorned

Chapter Four ~An Ill Wind Blows

Chapter Five ~ The Hole in the Heart

Chapter Six ~ Enigma

Chapter Seven ~ Vanquished

Chapter Eight ~ Bad Romance

Chapter Nine ~ Skeleton in the Closet

Chapter Ten ~Phoenix Rising

Chapter Eleven ~ Chinese Whispers

Grace

Prologue ~ 1418

Nicolas’ hands had the fine tremor and leathered appearance that marked the steady advancement of age. The deep lacework was strained with decades of ink work and scarred through misadventure. His entire life was written in his hands.

With cautious movements he painstakingly poured the pale blue aqua vitae into a glass flask sitting atop a small laboratory flame. The liquid hissed as it came into contact with the hot glass, producing a small puff of smoke. Nicolas wrinkled his nose at the acidic smell. After fifty years of experimentation, he still wasn’t used to that particular stench.

With the concoction bubbling away cheerfully, the old man shuffled over to a table pushed against the far wall of his humble laboratory, his arthritic feet dragging along the hard ground and the cold winter’s night steadily gnawed away at his toes, clad in simple leather. The earthen floor had been packed down hard by millions of footsteps over the years and was more almost stone-like in its quality, it only lent to the discomfort of his feet.

Nicolas reached for the glass jars and phials that littered the table’s surface. He shifted items around until he found what he was looking for. He held up the glass phial towards the central hearth of the cottage. The quicksilver moved with its magical grace and reflected the flames against its metallic surface.

The old man paused in his work as the ghost of a foreign sound intruded in his thoughts. Yes. Hoof beats approached. Nicolas carefully placed the phial down on the table lest he drop it. Quicksilver was expensive to come by.

It was strange to have a visitor so late in the evening but not unprecedented. Nicolas listened carefully as the hooves stopped outside his door. There was a creak of leather and a jingle of bridle brass; someone dismounting. Nicolas was slowly making his way towards the door when someone knocked on it.

One, two…five rapid-fire raps.

The old man shook his head as he laid a hand on the latch. Some people were simply impatient. The little brass catch worked smoothly.

"Entré."

The door was pushed open roughly and Nicolas stumbled backwards, his frail hand reaching for a bench to steady himself. The aqua vitae in its flask wobbled precariously on its metal stand over the laboratory flame.

In the intermittent flicker of firelight, Nicolas struggled to recognise the stranger who strode through the door. The stranger was wrapped in a travelling cloak with the cowl drawn up around his face, casting it deep into shadow. It was only when the man moved closer to the hearth that Nicolas was able to recognise him. With the recognition came a visceral emotion of fear.

"Monsieur Cramoisy?" It was none other than the solicitor general of King Charles VI who had darkened his doorway. Cramoisy had a reputation as a ruthless man, despised by Parisians everywhere. His taste for wealth and power along with his callousness for obtaining it was well known.

"Ces’t bien. The noble strode across the threshold and towered physically over Nicolas. I want it."

The old man stepped back trying to get some distance between them as his mind tried to make sense of what was happening. Somehow Cramoisy had learnt about his Stone.

Monsieur, I do not know what you are talking about.

Cramoisy’s hand whipped out from the folds of the black woollen cloak and flung back the cowl that masked his features before it coolly came to rest on a dagger pommel. Give it to me, old man, or as God is my witness, I will take it.

Monsieur…

Steel slid free of its sheath. Nicolas breath caught in his throat.

Cramoisy’s eyes narrowed. I know of your secret, Nicolas. Now I want it.

It is not that simple, there are consequences. He kept stepping back to make some distance between himself and Cramoisy, but Cramoisy calmly followed the old man through his laboratory with the dagger in his hand.

Damn the consequences! Cramoisy roared. His fist swung out and cleared off several terracotta urns scattered on the table. In the name of the King, I demand it, you doddering old fool!

The King did not ask you to do this. Nicolas peered at Cramoisy with his pale, rheumy eyes.

Cramoisy lunged forward to close the gap and grabbed a handful of the brown woollen smock and forced Nicolas backwards with the knife blade firmly under his chin. Nicolas cried out as his back rammed into the bench and he was forced back over it. Several jars and phials tumbled from the table and shattered onto the ground, scattering their contents underfoot.

One last time, or I will kill you and turn this place over at my leisure. Cramoisy wasn’t bluffing. His brown eyes gleamed maniacally in the firelight.

Nicolas hesitated before giving him a tight nod.

With a final glare of warning, Cramoisy released his grip on the old man and stepped aside. Warily, Nicolas straightened up and headed to a cupboard in the far corner of the room. He shuffled across slowly, frightened by Cramoisy’s violence but too old and stubborn to be cowed by it.

The wooden cupboard door creaked as he opened it. The shelves were littered with books, paper and phials of different coloured liquids and lumps of mineral ore all piled atop one another haphazardly. Nicolas ignored the clutter.

He reached deep inside. His old fingers quested blindly for a small flaw in the wood of the back panel.

There.

He worked his nail under it to gain purchase and gingerly pulled the wooden panel backwards until it came free. It revealed Nicolas’ greatest achievement and his greatest curse.

With sweaty, shaking hands he tenderly caressed the leather wrapped object before retrieving it from its hiding place. He brought it out into the light, cradling it gently in his hands. Cramoisy’s attention was riveted to the dusty item.

Here is what you want, Monsieur. Nicolas laid the package on the table and stepped backwards, away from the nobleman.

You are not toying with me, are you, Nicolas?

"Non, Monsieur. I am too old for such games."

Nicolas maintained his silent vigil as Cramoisy unwrapped the protective leather which exposed the softer felt underneath. His quest came to an end when the final fold of soft cloth was removed to reveal a gleaming rock. It was as black as the night sky or the finest black velvet and the stone’s transparency,gave it an illusion of great depth.

A wise decision, Nicolas. Cramoisy couldn’t tear his eyes away from the stone but didn’t reach forward to hold it in his hands. How does it work?

Nicolas hesitated.

The stone was useless if one didn’t know how to invoke its power; and while there was a key to it, that key was still hidden. It also seemed that Cramoisy didn’t know about its existence. Nicolas could always make another stone, not so with the key. It was a lifetime of work and he didn’t have another lifetime to spare.

So Nicolas spun a tale worthy of a master scribe, detailing the stone’s virtues and uses as well as how to implement it. Cramoisy was an intelligent man, he asked several important questions, but he was no master of the art. He was just a greedy, vicious man.

Maybe he would get away with it.

Monsieur, there is nothing more to tell. Nicolas finally told Cramoisy.

Cramoisy nodded thoughtfully. I do believe you have forgotten one thing, Nicolas.

Pride cometh before the fall. And what is that?

The manuscript.

Nicolas froze, a deer in a hunter’s sights. How could Cramoisy possibly have known about the key?

Did you hide it where you had the stone hidden? Cramoisy ambled towards the cupboard with a cool arrogance. He thrust his arm inside and groped around until he found the secret cavity.

His fingers brushed over gilded vellum. Cramoisy pulled the book free of his hole and glanced at it under the candlelight. The gold gilding gleamed dully in the light, the leaves of vellum were frayed and darkened with age.

Foolish of you, old man, to try and deceive me.

Nicolas took a step back. His hand reached behind him for a metal ladle discarded somewhere on the bench top. His questing fingers brushed cool metal and he threw the ladle at Cramoisy who flinched and darted away. Nicolas spun and made a desperate flight towards the door. He felt a hand grab the fabric of his smock and was forcefully shoved forward towards the table. Nicolas cried out as he overbalanced and tumbled towards the edge of the table.

Cramoisy watched emotionlessly as the old man