Within My Grasp

By Jocelyn Stover

Zafir doesn’t believe the higher powers that exist give a damn about any of us, and he sure as hell doesn’t pray. The forgiveness he’s found for the sins in his past haven’t come from above but from the fatherless child he rescued. On a mission to destroy the remaining Sylph that had a hand in the death of David's mother, Z and the Wanderers stumble upon a nasty plot over a generation in the making. As the enemy brings the battle to them David develops a potent new ability that threatens his very sanity. Fighting a war with his hands tied, Z is forced to turn to the one place he never imagined to help the boy he once saved: his knees. He seeks nothing more than the strength to finish the mission he started when he brought his son home. And God help anyone who tries to stand in his way...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jocelyn Stover
• Release date: Feb 8, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311117083

Jocelyn Stover

Jocelyn lives in sunny southern California where she writes as time allows. Her head is full of dreams and she is continually thinking of new stories, and looking for new opportunities to learn and grow. She is blessed with a ingenious husband and four amazing children. Laughing with good friends and family is her favorite past time and the only thing she really dislikes is being cold.

Book preview

Within My Grasp

The Wanderer Series

Book 3

By Jocelyn Stover

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2014 Jocelyn Stover

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is purely coincidental.

Published by Jocelyn Stover

Cover Design by Nathalia Suellen

Editing by Michelle Bettis

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 9781311117083

Table of Contents

Contents:

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Prologue

I laugh as the late night host takes a jab at the guest on his show and I settle back on the sofa. Using the thick ring I wear I pop the top off the cold beer I’ve just retrieved from the fridge and take a long swig. I’m not really one for jewelry but over time I’ve grown accustomed to the heavy band and some of its finer functions, like how it doubles as a bottle opener quite nicely. With a flick of my wrist I toss the cap on the coffee table and try to focus on the television, but I struggle. I’m tired. It’s nothing new; I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t exhausted. Had to be before David, I surmise. Surely I’d slept better before the little monster latched onto me?

As my thoughts shift toward the child I mute the television and turn toward the closed door across the apartment, behind which he lies sleeping. My keen Wanderer hearing doesn’t detect anything amiss, in fact it doesn’t detect anything at all, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. A paralyzing fear snakes its way through my stomach and before I can think twice I’m off the sofa. Mother’s instinct…that’s how one of the women at the M.O.P.S. (Mothers of Preschoolers) group I’d been going to had described it. At the time I’d thought she was nuts and had almost let her know, using very specific terminology that there was no fucking way I was plagued by some feminine sixth sense. Then I remembered that they all thought I was a woman, thanks to a little mental tampering on my part so I could fit in. Looking at it in that context her assessment wasn’t so offensive, I decided. Still I’d Googled that shit when I got home only to discover she’d been spot on. The unexplainable feelings of dread that I sometimes get are apparently frequent in mothers of small children.

In a flash I’m barreling through David’s door with no consideration for the sleeping occupant. I can feel a light breeze from the window that I don’t remember leaving open and panicking I flip on a light. I run to the bed and yank back the covers that I find nothing out of the ordinary despite already knowing something is very, very wrong.

David? I yell. Sweat beads on my forehead as my eyes dart from the empty bed to the fluttering curtains and lock on to the malevolent grin and dark luminescent eyes floating in the shadows. I lunge for the Sylph calmly hovering mere inches beyond the window sill.

David, he says, mimicking my cry with mocking humor. Before I can get my hands on him he dissipates, leaving tufts of bright smoke that swiftly extinguish before my eyes.

David! I bellow again, fingers dug so tightly into the window frame that it cracks. I clutch at my chest and spin about disoriented; it’s difficult to think. I have to move, I have to find him. My battle-ready body responds to the simple command and all higher reasoning checks out. I leap through the window into the night; it’s time to hunt.

Chapter 1

I startle and sit up, ready to fight. My heart is pounding in my chest and the light cotton T-shirt I wear is drenched with sweat. I listen for the faintest sound as my eyes dart back and forth looking for the unknown threat. As my breathing slows and the last remnants of sleep release me I come to my senses. Just a dream.

I toss back the covers and leap to my feet, yanking the damp shirt off over my head as I do. It’s been a long time since this particular nightmare has plagued me, and I pace around the small bedroom trying to calm down. After I’d first brought David home he and I had both frequently suffered from nightmares. The little guy had them because he’d witnessed his mother’s gruesome murder and well, I guess you could say I had them because I’d grown attached to the boy and was afraid of losing him. With Gabir, the Sylph David had somehow managed to free, on the loose I lived in constant worry he’d come back for the boy. Recalling the leering face from my dream hovering just outside the window, I shudder. Despite spending most of our early years together in the safest place imaginable, the Wanderer compound, I’d still spent most nights sleeping propped up in a chair at the foot of the boy’s bed. Being together while we slept had gone a long way to alleviate both of our nightmares. I was there to comfort him when he woke up crying, and likewise he was there when I awoke, relieving my fear that he’d been snatched out from under my nose.

Why now? It was absurd – now seventeen, David hadn’t been a helpless little boy for a long time. The dream would make more sense if it had morphed or changed since the kid had grown, but it remained just as I remember: we were home alone, an unexplainable anxiety gripped me, and I’d rushed into David’s room to find him gone.

Fuck. It’s too early, and the dream is too illusive and unreliable for me to be putting so much brain power into unraveling the mystery behind it. Making a decision I silently slip from my room and pad softly down the hallway.

Just turning in? I ask Hal, recognizing his large frame coming toward me in the dim lighting. I’ve no idea the exact hour but I’m sure it’s well past midnight.

I could ask you the same, Zafir, he says with a smile, hand pausing on the handle of his room. There are dark circles under his eyes made more prominent by the fluorescent lighting and the combined effect makes him look about a hundred years old.

Just a dream, I tell him.

He nods and I don’t ask about the demons that have kept him up as he turns into his room. We all have our ghosts and I’ve often found the wee hours of the night is when they like to sneak up on you, when you’re at your weakest. It’s not my place to pry though. How a man chooses to deal with his shit is his own business.

I walk until I reach the doorframe I’m looking for, pausing long enough to take a deep breath before silently slipping inside. The relief every parent feels when they find the child they thought was missing floods my system as my sure eyes make out David’s sleeping form in the bed. I move closer, pulled by the unknown force that binds all parents to their children like gravity. Though not my biological kid I look on him as any father would, with awe for the person he has become and a tinge of regret over the loss of the child he once was. Gone is his small head covered in matted curls, replaced by the long bones and budding muscle of early manhood. Pride swells in my chest as I gaze at the boy - my son - and unconsciously I reach out to pat his head as I have so often done over the years.

No one’s kidnapped me; go back to bed, David’s snarky voice breaks through my reverie.

With a huff I draw my hand back and stalk out of the room, letting the door bang closed behind me. Insolent brat. Aggravated at being caught in a sentimental moment I tramp back to my room to grab my trainers. I’m too amped up to sleep so I decide to head to the gym and take my aggression out on one of the treadmills.

My mind swirls with thoughts of tonight’s dream and others I’ve had as I walk. Silently I traverse the empty corridors, my grey eyes on the lookout for danger but I meet no foes on the short trek to the activity center. As I flip on the lights I sigh, approach the unsuspecting machine I intend to wear into the ground, and flip on its power supply. The faint whirl of the fan belt and the pounding of my feet are the only sounds and the rhythmic cadence eases my anxieties.

Nostalgia had not been the only reason I attempted to lay a hand on David tonight. When he was young he was cursed with nightmares, and rightfully so after what he’d been through. Sometimes I would wake to find him restless and thrashing about in bed, caught in the grips of a night terror. It was during these times I could lay my hand upon his head and be able to see what he saw. That phenomenon baffles Hal, and even now he is at a loss to describe how David could be projecting his thoughts for another to see.

Tonight, disturbed by my old nightmare, I had wanted to see if the boy was having one too and been caught red-handed. After having lived together for so long it’s hard to keep anything a secret, and as David has matured the fact that I too have periodic nightmares has become hard to hide…not that I don’t still try. Sharing is far from my strong suit. I am and forever will be a guardian first, and as such have learned to squelch my own emotions for the good of others…and for the good of the boy.

Knew I’d find you here, a teasing voice I know all too well announces from the doorway.

When I don’t satisfy Gwen with a reply she ambles over and hops onto the machine next to me. I bat her hand away as she reaches to hit the pause button on my machine.

Don’t do that, I snap.

Whatever it is, let it go, she directs.

I just need to knock out a few miles to clear my head, I explain, knowing full well she understands the compulsion to hit the pavement when things get stressful.

Z…it’s time for breakfast.

I just got on! I swear.

By the looks of it you’re halfway to Canada, she points out, directing my gaze to the machine’s display.

For fuck’s sake, I breathe as I see my progress. What time is it?

Like I said, time for breakfast. Let’s go, she finishes and tosses me a towel.

I slow to a walk and dab the sweat off of my face before punching the off switch. Accustomed to heavy exercise my legs don’t even flinch as I make the transition from running to walking but I feel exhausted all the same. I follow the smartass redhead as she strolls down the hall and punches the button for the elevator. Gwen folds her arms and eyes me expectantly. Too bad for her, I don’t feel very forthcoming. I keep a straight face as we climb into the lift and avoid her gaze, letting my dark head fall back and my heavy frame slump against the wall as we ascend.

You going to tell me what’s up or do I have to drag it out of you?

My eyes snap open and I smile as Gwen turns to face off with me. She’s not one to put up with any shit, least of all from me, and our confrontations always end one of two ways, either with full disclosure or a hell of a good shouting match. Uninterested in the latter I decide it best to tell her before we get to the dining hall. I stretch, my over six and a half foot body eating up the limited space and announce, I had that dream again.

Which one? she asks for clarification.

The one from when David was little and we were still living in the high rise.

She frowns and chews on her bottom lip, thinking. What do you make of it?

Not a clue, I tell her. It bothered me so much I actually went to check on the kid. Her face transforms into one of smug humor and I glare at her. Yeah it doesn’t help that he caught me either, I tack on, making her laugh outright.

Oh geez, Z, she shakes her head before continuing, I’d have done the same thing. Lightly she touches my arm as the elevator doors slide open and her eyes tell me everything her lips can’t. We will find Gabir, they say, nothing is going to happen to David. I nod to agree with her sentiment and we continue to the dining hall in silence.

* * *

The atmosphere of the hall is jovial as Gwen and I step inside. She immediately traipses off to plant a kiss on Kade’s cheek before setting about her business. Outwardly my partner gives no sign that he’s noticed and carries on his conversation with Bass but his eyes burn with a light reserved only for her. I see it…I’ve always seen it. It’s as comforting as it is nauseating that after ten plus years he’s just as enamored as the day he first set eyes on her.

With a smirk I pass into the kitchen to grab a plate. My stomach gives off a manly roar as the heavenly smells of bacon and eggs grow stronger. I load my plate with both and snag a stack of pancakes for good measure. Hands full, I back out through the swinging partition and mentally run through my seating options. If I plant myself in the back as I’d like, conversation being low on my list this morning, someone will undoubtedly notice and want to know what’s wrong. If I sit with people I’ll be forced to endure polite conversation. Grumbling I grab a chair at the table behind the boy, who is running his mouth, and plop my food down across from Gwen and Hal. The odds are fairly good that they’ll leave me be, Gwen because she already knows what’s going on and Hal because he’s basically a mind reader. My brother gives me a nod of acknowledgement as he sips his coffee and then blessedly ignores me as I shovel food down my throat. Engrossed in the hearty meal I’m only vaguely aware of the room until the scrape of the chair next to me as it’s pulled back gets my attention. David’s lanky frame budding with the promise of new muscle plops down beside me. His hollowing cheeks accentuate the hard line of his jaw but there’s a lot of boy left in his face when he smiles, like he’s doing now.

Hey no hard feelings about last night. We can’t help what we dream about, he tells me, keeping his voice down. I grunt in return. His sentiment is true enough but I’ll be damned if I want to be comforted by the wee pip-squeak.

What’s this about dreams? Kade asks off hand.

I glance up, unaware of when he joined our little group, and gulp down another pancake as I gather my thoughts. The boy, unable to keep his mouth shut for two seconds, answers for me.

He had a nightmare, Uncle Kade.

I glare at David as I clear my throat.

It was the old dream. The one where I rush into David’s bedroom to find Gabir leering at me through the window, I specify.

Are you sure? Hal jumps in. There wasn’t a new element or detail?

I shake my head; it had been the same as every other time.

What are you thinking? Gwen casts an inquisitive look at Hal.

It’s odd, isn’t it? I mean, David’s not a little boy anymore.

Damn straight, David blurts, earning a scowl from Gwen and a smack on the back of the head from me.

Language, she chastises.

Me? What about him? he asks, jabbing a thumb my direction.

Have I said anything remotely inappropriate? I ask, stretching in my seat to glare down at the boy.

No, he mumbles. But it’s just a matter of time, he tacks on, eyes glued to the table top.

When you can physically best me then you can speak in any way that you want. Until then…not in polite company, I dictate, making it perfectly clear his back talk is not appreciated. What’s odd is that my nightmares usually coincide with David’s, I say, returning to our original conversation.

The focus once more shifts to David and uncomfortable after having been publically scolded, he answers swiftly, I haven’t had a dream in months.

And we’ve nothing new about Gabir’s activities to provoke you to worry, Kade throws in as his amber eyes meet mine briefly.

I shrug; I’m unconcerned after having run off most of my fears on the treadmill. Still, I don’t know what to make of it exactly.

If it happens again, remember to look for anything that might be different, Hal advises.

I drop my fork and cock my head to the side. And just how am I supposed to remind myself to do that when I’m asleep? I inquire.

Coffee mug raised to his lips he eyes me over the rim and returns my shrug.

Do you still plan to ask permission to take the sword? Kade changes the subject.

I do, I answer, resting a hand on David’s chest to keep him from speaking out of turn when I feel him stiffen beside me. My reply is met with blank expressions except for David’s. He’s practically jumping out of his skin with excitement. I don’t know what’s going to happen, I say, speaking directly to him. But I need you to remain calm. If you let your emotions get the better of you there is no way they are going to agree to this.

I know, I know, he repeats, barely listening.

Go burn off some energy, will you? I direct gruffly. This morning will be a lot of sitting and you’re already bugging.

Yeah, yeah, he says and jumps up grinning once more, then bounces from the room.

What do you think the odds are? I inquire for the millionth time since the four of us began discussing the prospect of young David being trained with the sword. I run a hand over my face. As the boy’s guardian it’s my place to address the group regarding his instruction and to make such a request. I’ve listened to everyone’s reservations and considered their counsel on the matter, but in the end it was the boy’s own attitude that solidified my decision. David is fixated on destroying the monster he feels is responsible for his mother’s death, and too impatient for his own good. If I don’t help provide a little bit of direction I fear he’ll take matters into his own hands, and probably get himself killed. I’m not going to let that happen.

Let’s go find out, Kade answers.

Chapter 2

In the end I really didn’t have much to do with it. As the quarterly meeting wound down I made my case for taking the sword which was met with solemn consideration, and then I was asked to step outside. I’ve been sitting here in the hallway ever since while my brothers interrogate David. If they don’t come to a decision soon I’m going to have to abandon my post in favor of taming my stomach, which has begun to protest its need for sustenance.

My shoulders tense as the doors to the conference room open and a very poised David slips out. Breath held I notice the faint perspiration on his brow and the thundering sound of his pulse, and I squelch the impulse to smirk. Below the surface he isn’t as calm as he appears.

They want to speak to you, he tells me.

What did they say? I ask, standing.

A whole lot of gibberish about what a responsibility it is, and if I’m ready, and how important it is to keep it safe, he answers with a shrug.

Did they tell you no? I press trying to wade through the teenage babble to ascertain what was really said.

No, he answers and his shoulders slump as he slides down onto the bench I’ve just vacated.

Right. I better go see what they want, I say and head into the conference room. I see the group has dwindled down to a handful and with a nod to Adil I sit beside Kade.

"The vote