Fox Trap: A SciFi Urban Fantasy: Guardians of Ghael, #1

By Jayne Fury

Lies. Shifters. And space vampires. 

Elly Morgan, an ex-cop-turned-PI, is sent on a mission to catch a serial killer making a blood buffet of her kin, the legendary Seannach. But she's got more than one problem. The Secretive Seannach Council has teamed up with the Ghael Constabulary and sent a Sanguinary—a detective named Blaine Cornell—to chase the killer. What he knows and can't share could get her killed. He's got lies. She's got lies. And the killer has Elly in his crosshairs.

This is the first installment of the Guardians of Ghael urban fantasy series. It's a detective story with a little bit of Dashiell Hammett and a little Cowboy Bebop.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jayne Fury
• Release date: Jun 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781393995081

Book preview

One

The Patriarchs

The order was simple. Show up.

Two days ago, Blaine Cornell – son of Patriarch Solblaine, of Clan Solblaine – found himself in the Hall of the Brotherhood with boot heels clicking down a shiny white tiled corridor. White like the teeth of the Sanguinary, his race of kindred. The swish of his long black oiled duster accompanied the tattoo.

Shusssh, click-click, shusssh, click-click.

The request came from the Council of the Consanguinity. Actually, the summons had come from Blaine’s father, who sat on the Council as he had for over a millennium.

Men in crimson robes hustled to and fro, nodding or ignoring Blaine as he made his way to the final chamber of the corridor. The heady perfume of fresh kill was sweet. Seductive. Mouthwatering. Blaine caught himself in a swoon, stiffened, and bit down on his inner cheek to regain composure.

There was always fresh blood in the chamber.

Stopping at the door he waited, inhaling, testing himself. He was ready.

A red-clad guard opened it from the inside.

As the monstrous door swung open, the scent hit him like a starving man at a banquet. He winced, turned his chin to his shoulder, and covered his mouth and nose with a silk handkerchief he hastily retrieved from his coat pocket.

Membership to the council was limited to the ten Patriarchs, the First Ones, brought here by the Forebearers who had come from Teeva’Oa to form the Will, which dictated the laws of the alliance of lunar races that circled Ghael. Only nine Patriarchs remained.

He turned his head back to the ruling council members sitting on the high dais, waiting, unflinching, watching him. Save for The Solblaine. That Patriarch’s gaze was focused left. Instinctively Blaine followed the scan and caught a glimpse of the chamber in the corner of the expansive room. A chamber which, in all of his four hundred years, had always held the stasis form of the arch criminal, Patriarch Ysbal.

It was empty. The door hung open, an impotent icon of its failure.

Blaine whipped his head around. Shutting out scents and sounds, he centered only on each of the nine faces, in turn. Dread shot through his belly, forcing him to purse his lips as if to contain it.

Nine sets of golden eyes stared back at him, unflinching.

He looked at their hands, eye level to him; they, too, did not budge.

I think you’ve deduced why you’ve been called in, Chief Investigator, The Solblaine’s voice cut through Blaine’s dread, centering his son’s attention up to the high dais. Blaine re-focused on his father’s face. It was a mirror image of his own. As a first born of the Patriarch, he looked as much like his father as any of his brothers, though he did have his mother’s blue eyes.

Where is the monster? Blaine asked, his voice rising in accusation, loathing seeped out a bubbling tide of rage.

Ysbal Fortier has escaped.

How is that even possible?

One of his clan, we suspect, has freed him.

But… how? Blaine flattened his lips. While his nostrils flared in anger, and his back stiffened, the hairs on his arms rose in anticipation of what was to come. Blaine glowered at the assembled men on the high white dais. Is that what you want me to find out? Who set him free?

No, we need you to find the criminal, Ysbal, and return him here to justice.

His father stood and nodded to the assembled Patriarchs who stood in unison with a grace of angels.

Blaine regarded their movement with both awe and consternation as they departed from the room, leaving his father alone with him.

As the last left, Blaine turned to his father and growled, Why me? You’re all more powerful, faster, and more capable of getting Ysbal back.

Because you’re our choice.

That’s not an answer, Father. But you never give straight answers, any of you Patriarchs…

Son, if you lived a thousand years, holding secrets that you could not share with anyone, you would understand my circumspection. The Patriarch gave a wry smile to his son. Come, inspect the chamber…

Before we do that, Father? Let me understand what you wish. Blaine’s stomach muscles knotted in a core of fear. His tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth. He forced a bit of saliva up but bile tainted the moisture. You want me to find the cannibal and bring him back to the stasis chamber once again? Somehow, I am to find him and return him to the justice that the Patriarchs have meted out? Public humiliation? Father, I know Ysbal’s actions are an unspeakable corruption. But why not finally finish —

—We do not kill, Solblaine interrupted. For no reason other than to feed. That is our code. You know this. Solblaine glared with thunder in his golden eyes. Menace riding on his robust voice.

"And just how will I neutralize him? He has the strength of an army of Sanguinary in his blood."

"He is no more powerful than you or me. His lie is that he believes he is unstoppable. He believed that when he drained the blood of seventy-four of his own sons."

I remember, I was only a constable then… Unbidden memories flashed in a stereotropic stop-time flitter of images. Ysbal running. A child. A choice.

He believed what he was doing and convinced his own family of it. He thought he could breed a more powerful Sanguinary race by taking his delusional next step in the evolution of our kind, said Patriarch Solblaine. Only a few of the mothers got away and fled with their daughters who were deemed unworthy. They begged us to intervene, Solblaine finished up the rest of the story. But son, he is no more powerful a Sanguinary than you. Yes he is a Patriarch, but we can enhance your strength enough to match his. And you do have other assets. And you won’t be alone.

The weight of the words sank in.

We have an idea of where he may have gone, Solblaine said.

And the Numina constabulary, my bosses? Blaine demanded. He struggled to keep the waver from his voice. Ysbal. They wanted him to go after Ysbal.

"That’s why you’re here. And we have contacted local authorities and the overarching Lunar Council of Ghael. You’re to go to the moon of Westmeath. There’s a group there that we have not worked with for many hundreds of years. The Assembly of Seannach."

Blaine’s brow scrunched in disbelief; his mouth curled with a skeptic scowl. His voice held a mocking tone, "Seannach are a fairy tale."

No son, the fox kindred are real. And they are in very real danger.

The foxkin? Real? Blaine shook his head. He could hear the thrum of his blood in his ears. Impossible. Seannach?

Yes, Solblaine said, his expression remained unchanged from the stoic mask his son was all too familiar with.

Not nursery room tales meant to amuse children? Blaine’s emotions fluctuated between outrage and incredulity.

Yes.

Why … why—I—I. Blaine forced his lips to a halt and tried to form a question. He focused on the empty chamber. And he knows of them?

Yes, Solblaine said and put a palm on his son’s shoulder. You must understand, it is our sacred trust to keep all the Children of the Forebearers safe.

But Blaine wasn’t listening. He was rubbing his temples, trying to erase the vision of foxes wearing boots and pointy caps while brandishing swords. Amid his nursery recollection, a