Wrathstone: Shattered Legacy

By Steven Sterup, Jr

Scott Solfurn is the son of one of the world's greatest heroes, Andrew Solfurn. Despite being the son of a half-angel, Scott has no special abilities. After the murder of his four-year-old daughter, Scott joins the reinstated Wrathstone agency. When the person who stole his daughter starts killing again, Scott is put on the case. With the help of a neophyte partner and an agent of the FBI, perhaps he can finally wake from the nightmare his life has become.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steven Sterup, Jr
• Release date: Nov 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005727703

Steven Sterup, Jr

I enjoy reading and writing fantasy themed books, including romance novels. Most of my work is about fantastical worlds with magic and monsters.Since I was young I've had a strange desire to create 'something' and as soon as I started writing my first book I knew I had finally found what I was looking for.I hope you enjoy the worlds I have created and I appreciate your feedback. Feel free to contact me on my website at www.StevenSterupJr.com or email me at [e-mail].

Book preview

Wrathstone

Shattered Legacy

Written By: Steven Sterup Jr.

Copyright 2021 Steven Sterup Jr.

Legal Disclaimer - This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Prologue and a Cup of Coffee

The Boy

Proper Introductions

Coffee Shops

Admission

Amber’s Secret

Interrogation of a Vampire?

Painful Truth

Family Home

Pretend Date

The First Memory

Warehouse Party

Sweet Sin

Aftermath

Ghosts

Foiled Plans and Family Secrets

Wolfnip

Guilt

Confessions

Sitri’s Weakness

The Last Memory

Confrontation

Words from the Author

Prologue and a Cup of Coffee

While it is beneficial to read ‘Wrathstone – Maternal Instincts’ to fully understand the main character of this story, Scott Solfurn, it isn’t absolutely necessary. The previous story happens thirty years before this book and tells the story of Wrathstone’s beginnings. I give some background to Scott’s feelings in this book, though not as completely as in the prequel. Understanding what Wrathstone is and where it started might also be helpful, but again, not necessary. You will find some spoilers for the prequel in this book, so if you plan to read ‘Wrathstone – Maternal Instincts’, I suggest you read it first. You can find it free on many sites, the links are available from my website, http://www.stevensterupjr.com/wrathstone.html.

You have been warned. Reading any further will give spoilers for the prequel.

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Thirty years have passed since Denice Hanson, and Andrew Solfurn saved the world from Wrathstone and the liches. Denice married Andrew and took his last name. A name that everyone in the world now knows and equates with the word savior.

However, even though the liches were defeated, they set events in motion that could not be avoided. After years of unrest and small wars between humans and non-humans, the governments of the world realized that something had to be done. The name Wrathstone still carried weight among humans and non-humans alike, so the dubious institution that had nearly ended the world was reinstated.

Now requiring law enforcement or a military background as a prerequisite to sign up for Wrathstone’s training program, they hoped to revitalize and rebrand the tarnished institution.

Although most people knew only a fraction of what had happened that fateful day in Omaha, Nebraska, the name Solfurn carried weight in the world, and the new administration for Wrathstone understood that. The new Wrathstone tried many times to get Denice and Andrew to rejoin the institution, but they were never willing to help rebuild the organization they had destroyed. After their deaths, their son Scott was eventually persuaded to become an agent for the new Wrathstone.

His training was hurried and the prerequisites were ignored. Although he may not have been qualified to become an agent nor was he ready to apprehend rogue vampires and werewolves, the world needed to see a Solfurn as a part of the new Wrathstone.

However, don’t think Scott a simpleton or a martyr, nor was he a man devoted to public service. After the murder of his four-year-old daughter and the suicide of his wife only days later, Scott had his own reasons for joining the reimagined Wrathstone.

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Scott Solfurn raced down the city alley early in the morning. In the middle of the small Nevada town, that he couldn’t recall the name of, the heat was becoming unbearable despite being only nine in the morning. The fact that he was running at speeds normal humans could never achieve probably didn’t help with the heat.

The perspiration was building on his forehead, so he tried to wipe it away with the back of his hand. This caused him to nearly run into a dumpster that the person he was chasing had ducked behind. As he quickly recovered and stumbled to keep up, he could even feel the sweat drenching his short brown hair.

The clothes he was wearing probably didn’t help anything either. Dress pants and a loose button-up shirt with long sleeves. He hadn’t expected to be running down an alley in ninety-degree temperatures, but here he was. At least he hadn’t been meeting with anyone important. He would have hated to ruin his one and only suit.

Scott dodged the empty box the man threw behind himself to block the chase. Despite being unable to see the man’s face, he was now certain that it was a man. No woman ran like that, and it wasn’t just his gait. The way the man moved his arms when throwing the box was also telling.

In the black hoody and baggy grey sweat pants, it was fairly difficult to tell the gender of the person he was following, but there was no way a woman ran like that. Not unless she was very masculine and very tall. Something Scott found hard to believe.

Another turn, down a similarly empty alley, and now Scott was certain of another fact. He was losing the man. Whoever he was, he was either a werewolf or a vampire. There was no way a human could outrun him like this.

And the man, who was quickly increasing the distance between them, didn’t even act like he was tired. Scott, on the other hand, wasn’t going to be able to keep this up much longer.

Wrathstone! Freeze! Scott shouted, hoping the man assumed that he had a gun, which he didn’t.

However, like most fugitives, Scott’s shouting only made the man run faster. Before Scott knew it, the man had vanished around a corner once again.

This time, as Scott reached the corner, he leaned against it and looked at yet another empty alley. Only this time, there was no man.

Damn it! Scott shouted, nearly out of breath.

As he leaned against the building, once more cursing his lack of physical ability, his phone rang.

Yes? Scott panted while answering the call.

Having a bad time? the man on the other side of the phone asked.

His accent was thick, letting everyone know that he was originally from India. Only recently had Omar Zhan moved to the United States to take up the position of director for Wrathstone.

No. This guy...was just incredibly fast. He…outran me…like I was standing still, Scott explained between breaths.

Suspect? Omar asked.

There was something about Omar’s tone. Something that unnerved Scott. Why was he being so nice? Omar wasn’t nice. At least not to Scott.

They had worked together for a couple of years now, and Omar had made one thing very clear from the beginning. Although Omar had been friends with Scott’s parents, he was Scott’s boss, not his friend.

No. Unrelated. After hearing the silence, Scott knew he had to tell Omar everything. The guy stole my coffee, Scott said, then laughed. At least he didn’t get to drink it. Dropped it like two blocks ago.

Well, that’s good, Omar replied, still sounding far too nice.

Did you need something? Scott asked, growing more suspicious of Omar’s kind demeanor.

We need you in Kansas, Omar said, though Scott still thought this sounded more like a request than an order. What was up with Omar?

Ok. This case is pretty much wrapped up. The locals have a human in custody. He was the one who killed the girl. Nothing supernatural about it. He mocked it up to look like a werewolf attack.

Good. Grab the next flight out and a car will be waiting for you at the airport. And Scott… Omar started, but his silence was telling.

I’m fine on my own, Scott said with frustration, suddenly understanding the reason Omar was being so uncharacteristically soft-spoken.

You know the rules. Everyone, even you, has to have a partner. We’re all about transparency and oversight. That’s the only way Wrathstone can recover from our black eye.

Black eye?! Scott asked, avoiding the subject of his partner. Nearly ending the world isn’t a black eye. It’s a full-body cast.

Nevertheless. Cynthia Thade, your new partner, will be waiting for you at the crime scene. Her file will be sent to your phone. Go over her information during your flight and get to the crime scene as soon as you can.

As Scott was preparing to tell his boss goodbye; Omar spoke before he could.

Also, this case has caught the attention of the FBI. They are sending special agent Amber Mirth to coordinate with you. She will fill you in on what they know when she arrives. Omar paused and Scott dreaded the words he was sure that Omar would say. Play nice with our friends at the FBI. Wrathstone needs friends like them if we want the world to trust us again. Be on your best behavior.

Scott grumbled.

He didn’t want to play nice with the FBI. Now, not only would he have one partner, he would have two. The one from the FBI would probably insist that she was in charge. No wonder Omar sounded so apologetic. This next case would be a nightmare.

As Scott prepared to say goodbye once more, Omar spoke again.

Scott...this one…

This pause was also telling to Scott, and it made him swallow hard while he waited for Omar to finish. This nightmare case was about to take a turn for the worse.

it looks like him.

I’ll head to the airport now, Scott said quickly, containing the mixture of excitement and dread that had welled up in him. He knew exactly who Omar was referring to. This case had something to do with the murder of Scott’s daughter, Kylie.

After hitting end on his cell phone, Scott headed straight for the airport, not even bothering to get another cup of coffee.

The Boy

In Wharton, a small Kansas town, Scott pulled up to the crime scene in his rental. Something he was getting used to. Even the flashing lights of the two squad cars were no more than a minor annoyance after two years with Wrathstone.

Upon exiting the rented brown sedan, Scott rifled through the pocket inside his suit jacket and pulled out his badge. Scott rarely wore his suit, but starting a new case while meeting his new partner and the FBI, he felt the need to put his best foot forward. So today, he wore his one and only navy-blue suit, and he had even put on a black tie.

Using the chain on his badge, he hung it around his neck. He didn’t want the older human officers to interrupt him while he was scouring the scene, something that happened far too often. Being the son of a demon and a half-angel, Scott didn’t age like humans. Even at twenty-eight, he still looked eighteen, possibly twenty at most. He also knew that physically he would look like this for the next fifty years. That was unless he died on the job.

Scott’s height at five foot ten wasn’t intimidating, nor was his thin frame. His dad, Andrew, had looked like a football player until the day he died at forty-six, but not Scott. A quality about himself, one of many, that ate away at him.

Why couldn’t he have been strong like his father? His father had been a half-angel, stronger and faster than even the oldest vampire. His father had been a true hero in every sense of the word, saving the innocent and protecting the weak. The man even refused to swear.

And on days when Scott dared to dream, he sometimes hoped that his condition was temporary. That one day, he would wake up and be as powerful as his mother had been. His mother, Denice, had been a full-blooded demon, the daughter of Lucifer and Abyzou. There was no one on Earth as powerful as she had been, but that was not Scott’s fate.

He was stronger than any human, sure, but that was a low bar in Scott’s thinking. He was also faster than humans, but compared to a werewolf or a vampire, he might as well have been crawling.

In his opinion, he was nothing special. No ability to read emotions, something both his father and mother had been able to do. However, it was true that no one, not even the strongest demon in the world, could read him. His mother had tried many times with no success. However, this wasn’t a useful ability. Not in Scott’s opinion. It hadn’t helped him stop the person who had killed his daughter.

As Scott drudged his way over to the uniformed police officer, the one giving him the contentious stare, he thought about the other thing he couldn’t do.

He couldn’t die.

As much as he wanted to, as many times as he had contemplated it, he couldn’t kill himself. He couldn’t even let himself be killed.

His wife had taken the easy way out. Not even a week after his daughter Kylie’s death, his wife Melissa had taken her own life. However, Scott couldn’t do that, and the reason was a simple one.

Being the son of a demon and a half-angel, he knew that both heaven and hell were very real. He also knew that Kylie, dying as an innocent at four years old, was most certainly in heaven.

His wife may have taken the easy way out, but now she would suffer for her cowardice. Never seeing her daughter again…for all eternity. That was a fate even worse than living the miserable life he now endured.

Sorry, kid, active crime scene, the officer said, holding up his hand to Scott.

The man was well into his fifties, possibly sixties. He was tall and lean. Obviously, he had been a street cop for many years, and he had the self-importance that went along with it.

Scott lifted the badge from his chest, the one the officer had clearly overlooked, and the officer’s eyes grew huge.

Solfurn? he asked but didn’t wait for an answer. I didn’t know this…boy was that important.

It was clear to Scott that this man was one of the many humans who still believed monsters were behind the original Wrathstone conspiracy. And while some monsters, namely creatures known as liches, were behind what had happened. The average werewolf had not been. The fact that the dead boy happened to be a werewolf left Scott more than a little agitated with the prejudiced officer.

He’s a dead boy. They are all important, Scott said gruffly and pushed by the officer.

Scott had no patience for his type today. It was bad enough that a little boy had been killed. He didn’t need a biased officer pushing his ideology and conspiracy theories at him.

Scott walked ten feet, then stopped as the scene came into view. He froze, and an icy feeling swept over his brain, just like it had that fateful morning. His lungs refused to draw breath, yet his heart felt like he had just run a marathon. For a moment, Scott thought he might pass out, or at least stumble, but he kept his composure then walked closer. Omar hadn’t been mistaken.

The boy had to be no more than eight, and his clothes looked typical for a werewolf boy. Likely his family wasn’t well off. He wore a light blue tee-shirt with some superhero logo on it. It was hard to see with the hole directly in the center of the logo and blood covering his chest. His pants were standard blue jeans, not a name brand, or even very fancy. They had a hole in one knee and looked to be many years old. The boy also had no shoes on, but that was common with young wolves. Only as they became adults did they overcome the annoyance of shoes to fit in with society.

As Scott walked closer, he could see the boy’s face more clearly. Upon closer inspection, it was even more evident that this young boy was a werewolf. A human boy of eight years old would hardly have what appeared to be five o’clock shadow. His bushy eyebrows and the sideburns also gave away the fact that he was a wolf.

This tidbit also told Scott that the boy’s parents could be traditionalists who didn’t believe in shaving their children to fit in. There was also another possibility. The boy might be homeless. His whole family might be homeless. Either by choice or by circumstance. This would make finding them a lot more difficult, if not impossible. Perhaps that was what the killer had intended?

The boy’s hands were placed on his chest, both just below the gaping hole that had once contained his heart, and he was on his back. The way the hands were placed made it appear as if he was grasping for his missing heart, either that or displaying the hole where it had once been.

As Scott inspected further, he got to the boy’s eyes. His eyes had been pushed shut, and brand-new pennies had been placed over them.

Did anyone touch the boy?! Scott shouted, then turned and looked directly at the officer who had greeted him.

No one…sir? the man groveled, unsure if Scott was his superior.

None of the witnesses, none of the cops, no one touched the boy? Scott asked, less harshly but still with malic.

Not a single person. We found him that way after an anonymous phone call, the officer said.

Scott turned to the other officers on the scene, and they all nodded.

Some of the officers were in plain clothes, some in uniform. They all milled about, and one was taking pictures. The two Scott assumed were detectives returned to speaking with people in the crowd that was beginning to gather.

After being certain that the boy had been left this way by the killer, Scott started to take in the rest of the scene.

The boy had been laid out in an alley behind a bar. He was directly in the middle of the narrow backstreet. Like the killer had wanted him to be found. But why in an alley by a bar? The building on the other side was a novelty shop that was closed for repairs. The bar would be empty until dark. This was all wrong.

Had the killer intended the patrons of the bar to find him after it opened? Had he hoped that someone might contaminate the crime scene? Then why call in a tip? It didn’t make sense, and it was all very wrong.

It was more than likely that the killer had been the one who called in the tip. Anyone else would have tried to revive the boy. Or, at the very least, found out if he was still alive. Why had the killer called it in?

Scott’s mind swam as he remembered the morning when he found Kylie laid out just like this on his front steps. The killer had taken special care to be certain that Scott was the one to find the body.

Scott left for work every morning at six to manage the businesses left to him by his parents, and the killer knew that. Scott’s wife Melissa wouldn’t be finding their daughter. No one would be delivering packages before Scott left for work. The killer had intended for Scott to find his daughter’s body. The initials left on the backs of the pennies even enforced this theory.

Delicately etched on the back of each penny were the initials K and S, Kylie Solfurn. The killer had chosen Kylie and knew her name.

This whole scene was wrong. Who had the killer left the boy for? Why in an alley by a bar? Scott was either missing something that should have been obvious, or this wasn’t the same killer who had taken his Kylie. Then why was the body left this way?

Scott turned to the officer with the camera and snatched it from his hands. He quickly took four pictures of the boy’s face from different angles. After handing the camera back to the confused officer, he grabbed a rubber glove from his right pocket and snapped it onto his right hand. Next, he pulled an evidence bag from his left pocket, then removed both pennies from the boy’s eyes and dropped them in the bag.

This solidified Scott’s theory. There were no initials on the pennies, which meant that this was a copycat.

I want pictures of every inch. Behind the garbage cans… Scott motioned to the pair of dented cans a few feet from where the boy’s head lay. inside the garbage cans…every single thing.

Yes, sir, the uniformed officer with the camera said.

This officer was at least smarter than the one who had greeted him. Understanding that once Wrathstone took over, Scott was his superior.

Scott removed the glove then put his hand to his head as he walked back to his rental car. He had seen enough. The photos would be sufficient to jog his memory as he went over the details. And even though this killer was a copycat, they had killed a young child. Connected or not, this was why Scott had agreed to join the organization that his mother and father had destroyed thirty years ago.

As Scott made his way back to the rental car, a young, petite blonde woman walked up to Scott swiftly, her heels clacking on the pavement. Her long, straight blonde hair was put up into some sort of bun. Despite this, Scott could tell that it probably went to the middle of her back when it was down, and it was very blonde. The kind of blonde you usually saw on women who have bleached their hair but judging from her platinum eyebrows and lashes, her hair color was natural. And those eyes. Her piercing blue eyes were nothing short of mesmerizing.

As he looked her over again, he decided that petite didn’t properly describe the size of her either. If he didn’t know better, he would have assumed that the small woman was a teenager playing dress-up. She barely had a figure, but perhaps that was due to her choice of clothing.

Next, Scott looked at her sharp business jacket and skirt, both a mild tan color, then at her pink, frilly blouse, which was buttoned up to her chin. Finally, his eyes made their way to her shoes, also tan, with three-inch heels.

You’re late, he snapped. And next time, dress for a crime scene, not a fashion show.

He wasn’t even sure why he was so angry. Then he realized something. The woman could have been his wife’s sister. The similarities were uncanny. Then again, maybe that was the whole reason he had snapped at her. Looking like the woman he had loved and now almost hated probably had something to do with his harsh tone.

After his swift reprimand, he opened his car door.

I’m sorry…sir…I... the short woman said. She was clearly flustered.

As her cheeks reddened on her pale skin and her eyes became glassy, Scott’s anger faltered. It wasn’t Cynthia Thade’s fault. She hadn’t created the rule that said he was required to have a partner, and she hadn’t decided to look like his dead wife. She probably hadn’t even wanted to be his partner. It was more than likely some kind of punishment or mandatory training experience Omar had forced upon her.

No. I’m sorry, Agent Thade. I’m having a rather bad day, Scott apologized. That’s no reason for me to take it out on you.

He slid into his car while he watched the tearful woman shift back into a ray of sunshine. Scott felt his stomach sink as he realized just how young and perky his new partner was. This wasn’t a punishment for her; it was a punishment for him.

I’m heading over to the hotel. We have two rooms on the third floor. If Agent Amber Mirth with the FBI shows up, send her over there. I’m in room three twelve...you have three eleven, Scott ordered.

Yes, sir, Agent Cynthia Thade said far too cheerfully.

For a moment, Scott thought she might salute him or something. She was way too eager to be his partner. This was most definitely a punishment for him, not her. Before Agent Thade could further add to his frustration with the current situation, Scott took off down the street.

In Scott’s opinion, Cynthia Thade should have been doing paperwork and research before she was allowed to do actual field work. Considering that she’d only been at Wrathstone for a total of two months, he wasn’t entirely sure why Omar