Nocturnal Embers

By Noree Cosper, Jessica Fortunato, Kelly Frank and 7 more

Rupert Shaw. The name may strike you as remarkable, or not. It might conjure expectations of the person who answers to it, in which case you’ll no doubt be surprised.

Or, perhaps you’ve heard of him.

If you have, you are most likely a vampire. Humans who know the name have limited lifespans or are in his employ (in which case you have not heard of Rupert Shaw, the vampire who rules over San Francisco – not if you want to keep your potential lifespan intact).

But if you’ve heard of Nocturnal Embers, you certainly know him. It’s even possible that you’ve seen him on the occasions you visited the establishment. Of course, you’d also know that discussing what goes on at Nocturnal Embers beyond its walls is a quick invitation to possessing gaps in your memory – if you’re one of the lucky ones.

What it is can’t fully be captured in words, anyway. It needs to be experienced.

So if you’re ever in San Francisco, in the neighborhood of the Transamerica Pyramid, keep your eyes open. Down one of the narrow streets, among the shops and nightclubs,  its entrance unassuming, is Nocturnal Embers.

And on the other side of the door?

…

What were we talking about?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Crimson Melodies Publishing
• Release date: Dec 5, 2012
• ISBN: 9781497797987

Book preview

AN ANTHOLOGY

Edited by

J.R. Wesley

Stories by

Noree Cosper

Peter Dawes

Jessica Fortunato

Kelley Frank

Anya Harker

Viktor James Night

Dawn Nikithser

Catherine Peace

Zack Rewey

Brendan Sullivan

Caroline Totten

Digital Edition, License Notes

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 recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please visit crimsonmelodies.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

A Crimson Melodies Ebook

Draft2Digital Edition

Nocturnal Embers - An Anthology

Edited by J.R. Wesley

Copyright © 2012 by Crimson Melodies Publishing

An extension of this copyright can be found here

All rights reserved, including the right to

reproduce this book or portions thereof in

any form whatsoever, without permission

in writing from the publisher.

Crimson Melodies Publishing

http://crimsonmelodies.com

[e-mail]

Front Cover Design © 2012 by Crimson Melodies

Front Cover Illustration by Heather Watson

http://lunaticstar.deviantart.com

Other Publications by Crimson Melodies

The Vampire Flynn Series

Eyes of the Seer

Rebirth of the Seer

Fate of the Seer - 2013

A Vampire’s Game

To Sir, With Love

Urchin of Atoranon - BONUS STORY

Bloodtide, an ezine - 2013

http://bloodtidezine.com

Table of Contents

Embers Brendan Sullivan

Unrequited Lust Viktor James Night

Cocktails Dawn Nikithser

Banished Jessica Fortunato

Hunting Evangeline Zack Rewey

Trouble Found Me Anya Harker

Collector Kelley Frank

Lured Catherine Peace

Indigo Fever Caroline Totten

Love and Honor Noree Cosper

Lost Highway Peter Dawes

Bonus Story

Urchin of Atoranon Victor Mason

Embers

Brendan Sullivan

Brendan is a lifelong beach bum who has turned from acting to poetry, as he finds it a more remarkable muse. He also enjoys surfing, sailing and diving. His work has been published at Wordsmiths, The Missing Slate, Every Writer’s Resource, Gutter Eloquence, A Sharp Piece of Awesome, After Tournier, Bareback Magazine and Bare Hands.

October 13, 1941 - San Francisco

It was a private club on Market Street - one of those hidden places that boasts a deceptive interior of leather banquettes in dark shades, copper bars perched on marble bases, glasses thick and shaped to turn the light into liquid, and the sort of upholstery that leads people into an almost dangerous state of relaxation. Art Deco notes were the finishing touch for décor, and the mortal guests who lingered in intimate clusters at tables and the bars looked as if they had belonged there since time began. I was a regular in the establishment; I had a reserved table up front where I could survey the entrances and exits of the guests, and study the small dramas that unfolded before me throughout the evening.

The couples surrounding me at other tables were full of only one topic - the War raging in Europe. Most people had a friend, or a friend of a friend, or a distant relation somewhere over there. The rumors pouring out of Germany were grim. Some were so grotesque, people needed to doubt their reality - death camps, gas chambers, the whole scale slaughter of hundreds of thousands of innocent men, women and children at the dictate of a mad man. And they called my breed Monsters.

My attention was drawn away from these musings by the return of my companion, Dreda. She was young, beautiful, full of charm and wit, and with an appetite for life that belied her twenty-one years. In short, she was just the antidote for the dismal mood that had been plaguing me of late. Unlike many of my kind I was not yet tired of immortality, yet at times the years loom like an insatiable beast. Perhaps she sensed my thoughts, or read my expression, for I felt a silken foot rub against the legs of my pants as she shifted her chair closer. My mind turned in other directions as I allowed a tendril of my thoughts to slip under her skin and tease the edge of her imagination. My hand slipped to cover her thigh as my mouth went to claim hers.

The sudden presence of a man at my elbow threw me off and nearly toppled me out of my chair. He was gone almost instantly, only to appear a few feet away at the next table. No one else seemed to notice - it was as if he had always been standing there. His odd behavior did not seem to be a threat, but I could not know that for certain. When he vanished again, I whispered Dreda a promise to return shortly, and vacated my chair.

The room was full of the familiar scents of mortals - the musk of men, complimented by tobacco and brandy; the heady blood of women, artfully punctuated by floral spices; the earthy scent of warm skin flushed by heat and desire. This creature gave off no telltale perfume of his own - no body scent at all. I could detect a rapid heartbeat as I followed him around the club at a distance, pretending to look for someone in the press of guests that crowded the large room. It was on his third reappearance that I realized what he was doing. He was pickpocketing the mortals in the room, going from group to group in a seemingly erratic pattern and relieving them of pocket watches and jewelry. Not a soul seemed to realize this fact either - it was as if he suddenly had ceased to exist for anyone in the room except me. What the hell was he at by robbing the people of San Francisco of their trinkets? I must have garnered the creature’s attention because he suddenly appeared near the door, turned in my direction to flash a positively cheeky grin, and exited into the night.

I was on the move immediately. My first steps outside the club's door revealed an empty street, until he appeared again ten feet away from me. Now that I was out of the crowd and the smoke, I was able to study him more closely. Medium height, thin and almost childlike in his appearance. He had regular and ordinary features, save for his somewhat pointed ears and long, knobby fingers. His face broke out in another grin before he vanished once more under the streetlight. I knew Dreda would be hurt and angry by my desertion, but I was not about to let him get away. Besides, I would more than make it up to her the following evening.

He was definitely not of the mortal world, nor anything I had encountered in the immortal sphere to date. I could see him ahead of me, darting from lamp-post to lamp-post as we wound our way deeper and deeper into the city’s heart. Every now and then he would pause in front of a building, or what remained of it, only to shake his head and take off again. It almost seemed he was deliberately leading me somewhere, but my patience was wearing thin as we turned yet another corner.

The street here was old. More of an alleyway, really. At one time it had been a prosperous neighborhood, but the market crash two decades ago brought that to an end. Buildings that once boasted lovely facades with manicured gardens had been reduced to burned out wrecks when a fire had taken its toll. Piles of rubble littered the sidewalks, the occasional stoop or stairway jutting out like random ghosts. The creature seemed intent on finding something. He moved with a purpose, no longer bothering to taunt me with his vanishing act. A few hundred feet away appeared to be the remains of an old fireplace, the kind that people kept in their dens or studies - large enough to heat a fair sized portion of a home in winter. The base of the structure was still fairly intact, tapering off into a semi-crumbling chimney.

And it was there he headed. Once he reached the structure's opening, he had the audacity to turn, doff his hat and vanish, leaving nothing behind.

I picked my way through the rocks and broken bricks, foolish enough to hope he had dropped some sort of clue - a button off his jacket, the clip from his tie; anything that confirmed his being. Nothing. Knowing with resigned certainty that he would not be reappearing, I decided to thoroughly investigate the structure that had seemed to have swallowed him whole.

The fireplace was full of more of the same rubble and trash that cluttered the alley. The bricks were a typical reddish brown in hue with white mortar crumbling between them. Looking closer, the interior appeared to be more like granite - almost a dark marble, and bore very little sign of actual use. The remains of the chimney were in poor condition, but a close investigation revealed symbols engraved into some of the remaining bricks.

I recognized them immediately - runes. Whomever had used this chimney, perhaps even had it built or built it himself, had some connection to magic. I poked and prodded at the bricks, hoping to reveal a compartment, a door, anything at all that would help me in finding him. I dug and scraped at sections of the mortar; I ran my fingers over every inch of the marble interior. Had this been part of a home, or perhaps a bar or shop? My inability to turn up any substantial clues as to the creature’s whereabouts, let alone why he was in San Francisco, or how he had managed to vanish was frustrating. After all, I had given up a night's pleasurable dalliance with a willing and delicious bit of mortal flesh for a mad and ridiculous chase around the city.

As I was turning to leave, my vision was distracted by a tiny flash...so small it was all but imperceptible to anything but preternatural sight. It was only the breadth of a hair, like a tiny wire, and pale purple. I felt an excitement at this further discovery, and put aside my disappointment of a moment ago. The distinctive sliver of purple light denoted several possibilities and raised more questions surrounding the creature. He could have simply disappeared, having already displayed the ability to appear and vanish at will. Or he might have been a sprite of sorts who dematerialized into light as a method of transport, which would mean the purple light may be the final discharge of aura I noticed only this final time. There were several other terribly unexciting explanations, but my instincts bade me to consider a more exotic possibility - an opening to other portions of reality.

Portals were not terribly rare, but they were more than uncommon. They consisted of an energy source - usually light, wind or water - a medium of transference, and were usually contained within fireplaces, tree knots, windows, paintings or mirrors. They served as conduits through time and space, allowing individuals and materials to make their way through dimensions and planes of existence into the visible world...and back again. This fireplace certainly had the telltale signs indicating it was a portal, but would require further observation and investigation to determine what kind of portal it was.

Essentially, I still only had more questions. And I was crouched over in the dust and debris of a trash heap.

I got to my feet, brushed off my clothes as best I could, and decided I was at a dead end for the night. I was ravenous as well as annoyed, with a need to drink that had been accentuated by my frustration. I scanned the immediate area. There was nothing to provide shelter, so even those poor individuals who called the derelict streets their home would be scarce here. My ears and nose were able to detect the sounds and scents of human life two blocks north, however. And it was that ripe and pungent stench of depravity that I loved to feast upon, all but beckoning me to move and find it.

The hunt could be as rewarding as the prey itself, but when hunger turns primal strategy changes. There is no time for toying with the potential victim - no desire on my part to plant seductive thoughts, or tender nightmares in the mind of the meal to be. There is just a need to capture it and drain it dry, to annihilate the prey.

I caught up with my would-be prey under the awning of a deserted shop and took the two of them completely by surprise. Not that they were in any condition to have tried to elude me. It seemed almost a pity to take such easy pickings, but I was definitely not in the mood to turn this into a game. I collared the first one easily, lifting him so our bodies met and then slammed him harshly against the door of the shop. I heard the crack of bone and was rewarded by the look of terror overwhelming his dulled senses. Before he could even cry out my teeth found their way into the artery pumping furiously in his throat. Liquid Eden. Surely if heaven could even tolerate the look of me, this is what it would feel like. The delicious heat of him flowing into the back of my throat, the twitch of his muscles jerking in spasms against my chest as I drank him back with the ease of a summer night.

He was a mere taste of what I craved - just a shadow of my appetite. I dropped the body and turned my focus to the second one. He seemed dazed by the sight of his companion's death, torn as to whether to try and escape or just become a silent sacrifice. And I enjoyed the stark fear that I could see vying with the alcohol in his system. I crouched down and thrust my face towards his, our foreheads touching as my hand grabbed the back of his head. Slowly and deliberately I ran my tongue over his lips, tasting the day's sins that lingered there like an afterthought. He was delicious - the perfect godsmack of what the mortal world could bring a man to. And just as that flash of recognition hit his eyes, I bent in and my teeth tore out his throat, the act of feeding rendered all the sweeter by that vicious deed. Dear God, but I reveled in his taste.

I disposed of the bodies in the ditch, covering them up with rubble, and made my way back home. Sated now, my mind was full of the possibilities of my discovery. If it was indeed a portal, I wanted to make sure it was not claimed by another of my kind. The benefits of becoming the owner of this possible entrance into other domains were staggering...and so were the chances for destruction.

––––––––

The next few evenings passed with my time split between the fireplace and enjoying the charms of Dreda. It took little coaxing on my part to make up for my abandonment before she was a more than willing partner in my bed once again. When I was not losing myself in her arms, I was busy investigating what I needed to do to secure my new discovery. I took my time exploring the entirety of the area surrounding the portal. The severe damage I had observed was limited to the expense of four blocks, and distinctly centered on the location of the fireplace. There were signs of mortals inhabiting the buildings once you passed a three block radius and the neighborhood kept improving the further out you went.

I also sat guard for several nights, watching for any activity. I was finally rewarded one evening, moments before surrendering to the desire for home and Dreda, when the sudden appearance of purple light alerted me to activity. And what a sight it was - three elongated figures of undetermined sex, dressed in clothing that seemed some sort of Renaissance hybrid, crawling out through the fireplace's entrance. They were loaded down with plain white sacks which seemed to contain a variety of objects. I detected a non-human smell - more feral and animal like, tinged with something bitter, almost acrid. They seemed very dour creatures whose skin pulled tightly across their long bones, especially their skulls.

I studied them as they rearranged their clothing and shifted the bags they were carrying, hoping they would not be able to detect me where I was hidden in the smashed out foyer of what had once at one time been a restaurant. They seemed oblivious, or perhaps just did not care if I was a witness. As they headed north to where the neighborhood was alive and thriving, I moved to follow, but stopped. Another figure stepped out of the shadows several hundred yards away. I could not detect anything about him, in a manner that suggested he had deliberately clouded his scent and even his appearance. I could make out a shape, but not discern any features. The trio seemed to recognize him - they also seemed familiar with their surroundings as they quickly made their way further down the street. I pondered the possible significance of this.

Three otherworldly beings, bearing objects of some sort, meeting a creature that I could not even distinguish, let alone identify...setting out all together. Obviously this trio had a purpose and the meeting had been arranged. The four characters who comprised the little drama playing out before me could have been engaged in anything. They could be transporting the bags anywhere for a purpose I had not a clue about. Were they being given, sold, traded, hidden...? And by whom...for what? Who wanted them and what were they being used for?

I followed them at a distance, cautious and still unconvinced they were unaware of my presence, until I noticed a small object - a piece of paper or card - fall from the pocket of one of the trio. I quickly retrieved it as they made their way out of my sight and my eyes caught the elegant script of a business card. It was for an antique dealer. The actual title was Dealer of Antiquities, Treasures and Esoterica. We buy and sell in all currencies. Delianna Marchant, Owner. The address was not one I recognized. I debated whether to go tonight and decided against it. It could be the destination of the trio and their companion, and next evening would be time enough. I would even bring Dreda along.

––––––––

It was still early, although six pm might find the shop closed, which would necessitate an evening visit by appointment. We went by car - I had a driver who handled my local travel needs whenever the need arose. I could not take my eyes off Dreda. Her pale hair was arranged carefully to achieve that careless look; the swirl of waves draping her cheeks and chin like Veronica Lake, falling slightly over her right eye. She was sheathed in a dark blue silk suit, deceptively demure and accentuating her ample curves. I have never been the type to find overly thin women attractive. I prefer something a bit more solid and full - more corporeal than ethereal. I leave the latter to the other world.

When we arrived, we had the good fortune to find the place still open. It was an elegant if undistinguished and ordinary building, surrounded by more of the same. Hours were not posted on the door as was usually the case and the place seemed somewhat empty. I wondered just how much business the proprietor actually did.

A small bell inside announced our entrance. A feeling I still distinctly remembered my mortal days overwhelmed me; I can only describe it as an intoxication of the senses, as if too much is going on at a time and you do not know what to focus on. You are taking it all in at once on an immediate level, through each of your five senses, and some other part of you realizes you are missing out on everything. My eyes, ears, nose, and skin felt almost assaulted.

The interior was the exact opposite of what the exterior led you to believe you would find. Pale, thin silk lanterns, all blazing with light and winged insects swung overhead in the light breeze coming from a fan somewhere out of sight. A cacophony of scents vied for attention along with music. To the right of the door was a very long, L shaped counter made out of rosewood. The glass case contained within was so clear you could mistake it for being non-existent. Inside there were daggers, swords, knives, the hilts were all worked in a series of decorative knots, many encrusted with jewels and stones. They were every pattern you could imagine, including an assortment of circular, saw tooth blades, almost resembling a shark's mouth. Shoes and boots of various hues in tooled leather were carelessly piled just behind the counter, looking as if someone had simply dropped them there.

The thought of the white sacks I had seen last evening took root in my mind.

Dreda was drawn to the stick pins and hat pins - a fantastical collection of odd jeweled creatures topping thin spikes of gold and silver. My eyes stole to a collection of armor - most of it highly polished. The helmets were all fashioned like mythical beasts. One was the perfect likeness of a dragon, the sort found in Chinese wood cuts and paintings. There was a long curled tail trailing off the back of the metal suit. To the left was a rack of robes and kimonos in a rainbow of silks and satins, the fabrics almost seeming to swing in the light from the lanterns above.

Dreda and I were headed to view them more closely when a light tug at my jacket sleeve diverted my attention. I turned to face a woman whom I knew had to be the shop owner, Delianna Marchant, judging from her countenance and demeanor. She was very tall and of a figure best described as stately. She was not the sort of woman who would have been served well by demure or even nondescript clothes; instead her dress seemed a regal if slight garish compilation of Tudor and Victorian. Thick red hair, greying slightly at the temples was coiled in a bun at the nape of her neck and small jet earrings accentuated her cheekbones. Her age was indeterminable - she could have been anywhere from twenty to a well preserved fifty. There are some mortal women who have that gift of appearing timeless. I have never been sure if it was just impeccable genetics, or an otherworldly gift.

She was definitely mortal – I could smell the blood and slight spice of her perfume. Her smile coiled up like a toy as she offered me a nod – a distinct custom that most mortals were unaware of – and then extended a hand to Dreda. When her gaze returned to mine, there was a very knowing look in her eyes. She not only recognized me as a vampire, she seemed to know who I was. Ordinarily, that sort of behavior came across as smug and annoyed me, but from her, it was more like a pleasant approval.

I broke the silence as Dreda allowed herself to be finally drawn toward the case. My companion and I were just taking a stroll and thought we would drop in, I stated as casually as I could.

Delianna’s glance fell in the direction of the car a block or so down the street, by now completely invisible in the dark. How the hell had she seen that?

Dreda interrupted my thoughts. Would it be troubling you at all to unlock the case and show me some of the stickpins on display?

The shopkeeper nodded warmly and turned to cross behind the counter, Dreda at her heels. I feigned interest in a collection of old maps tucked up on a shelf near me, watching the two of them bent over the case. I was a bit disconcerted as I realized the maps were not of any place I recognized or knew. Unheard of names that I could not even pronounce seemed to float off the brightly hued parchment.

Rupert, what do you think of this one? Dreda asked. I returned the maps to their shelves and went over to her side, where I tried to focus on the assortment she was narrowing her selecting from. I have never understood why mortal women can have so much difficulty making a choice in situations like this. After a point, don't all of these trinkets look alike?

That one, I said absently as I turned my gaze back to the store owner.

She seemed completely absorbed in her business transaction.

The whole establishment, Delianna included, possessed an almost supernatural overtone. The merchandise, while giving a first impression of being the usual expensive items found in antique and import shops, definitely had an aura that went just beyond the foreign and exotic. Dreda turned to me, her hands deftly adhering the pin to her jacket, and distracted me from my musings. It was disappointing, in a way, as if some surprise or mystery had deliberately eluded me. I dropped a kiss on Dreda's shoulder and murmured that she should go ahead to the car but wait for me, which she did without argument. I watched her exit the shop, my chauffer in tow, and then turned back to the owner.

What the hell to say that would not seem trite or intrusive, or downright stupid? She seemed absorbed in her account books and I drummed my fingers on the glass case that stood between us. I am not often, if ever, rendered speechless, so my inability to find something to say to her did not sit well with me. In disgust I turned to leave, thinking I would just return another evening. Without even raising her head, her hand shot across the case, pressing a small but ornate gold ring into my hand. My eyes met hers in question.

It is a borgiarite, she said with another knowing smile. Yes I know that seems an odd name for an unearthly object. The story of its naming is too long for this evening.

I assumed she was referring to the notorious Borgia family and their penchant for poisoning enemies, family, friends or anyone they took a dislike to.

Unearthly object...? I let my voice deliberately trail off in mock surprise. And what was it crafted for - poisoning one's obnoxious family, or offing an annoying lover? That hardly warrants unearthly. I laid the ring back on the counter and turned again to go, when the pressure of her hand on my wrist stopped me.

No, not poison. The powder in the chamber of this one allows you to assume the identity of anyone you wish. Not a trivial gift, even given your powers. There are a few more of the same, not to mention another three to four of them that bestow different gifts on the wearer. More will be arriving in St. Louis later this week. I am not expecting another shipment, so if you desire more of them, I can contact another one of the shops. The lilt in her voice turned her last sentence into a question.

She had my full and eager attention, and she knew it. So there were more than one of these emporiums. I wondered just how many...and how all the merchandise was acquired, and who bought and sold it. The possibilities seemed staggering and I knew I wanted to find out immediately. I also sensed there was more that she needed to tell me.

Her gaze deliberately turned to the large window facing the sidewalk and street, her head nodding questioningly to my car. Damnation. I would have to dismiss Dreda. I was out the door and at the driver's window in a matter of seconds. I knew that I had moved too quickly, but was pleased to notice the lack of traffic, both by car and on foot, on the street. My chauffeur did not seem disconcerted by my request that he escort Dreda back to the townhouse and return for me directly after. He was also deft enough to roll the window up on Dreda's complaint and set the car back on its way home.

I returned to the shop to find the owner making ready to lock the front doors and place a Closed sign on them. As I re-entered, she moved to the window and dropped the blinds, shutting us away from any possible passersby.

You did not come upon this place by chance. Her words to me were not a question so much as an affirmation of what we both knew. I nodded slightly, indicating that I wanted her to continue. Her hand swept in an arc, indicating the entirety of the store. You do not need me to tell you that this merchandise has a somewhat unusual origin and that with the exception of a handful of shops worldwide, it cannot be found, let alone purchased, anywhere else. In short, it will not be found at Lord & Taylors or Bloomingdales. The items for sale here and in these few other shops serve a select customer base. A few customers are mortals. Most are not. Here she turned and looked pointedly at me.

As you are most likely aware, she continued, Trade between this world and others has been going on to some degree for centuries. Marco Polo found more than just spices and fabrics along the Silk Road. Explorers and pirates carried more than just food and gold and human cargo in the hulls of their ships. And the natural resources of this earth have found their way far beyond the confines of this plateau.

I started to interject, but she cut me off. The structure you came across a week or so ago is a conduit through which this merchandise is carried and sold. In short, it is a –

Portal, I finished, my voice overpowering her own. Her response was a nod of agreement and another smile. Why was she telling me all of this and how did she know of my interest and discovery of the portal?

I waved my hand at her almost dismissively. Yes, but how did it come to be there? Why is it not protected?

My question did not surprise her. She walked toward an ornate chair, settling into place and indicating with her hand for me to take a seat as well. I implicitly declined. The gesture did not seem off-putting to her, or if it did, she gave no indication. Instead, she nodded in thought. The origin of the structure, the portal, is fairly straightforward. Do you remember the fire two years ago that destroyed that area of the city? she asked.

I nodded my head. That was part of what I had discovered through simple research. The neighborhood had gone downhill, as they say, about two decades ago and the fire had destroyed the immediate area. It had been rumored that it was to be redeveloped, but because of the war it seemed unpatriotic to spend money in such a way. And so, it sat.

She shifted slightly in her chair. The original neighborhood was quite old. It was an exclusive area, actually, and attracted the well-heeled - definitely a haven for gracious living. One of the homes was owned by the Mortimer-Derwent family.

I had heard of both families. They were something of a legend among the local vampires for having broken ground that few ever had in cooperation between the bloodlines, save but for mine with a coven master named Gavin Monroe. The more flowery - or, in some opinions, the more perverse - stories suggested there had been genuine love between Meganna Mortimer and Branwen Derwent.

Neither family resides in the city any longer, I said, attempting to move the conversation along. They were cornerstones of the area, and drew notice from the ranks of both bloodlines. Their joint family was in a position to deviate from history, for good or ill, but they disappeared... My eyes lit up as I cut myself off. Just a year or two ago.

The corners of her lips curled in an amused grin. She nodded. They were claimed in the fire. The same which created the portal. The portal obviously was discovered - I believe originally some of the denizens of the upper dimensions made use of it. Word spread and, as there are so few in the world, it became a popular route. At first I thought the Council might close it down. At certain times of the year, it is a very busy and congested trade route.

My mind spun dizzy with prospects. She broke the silence with a sigh. "The portal, of course, is impervious to destruction.