Senses Rising: An ancient warrior rising series, #1

By M.J. Cant

I've seen the future, and it's demon-shaped.

 

Neve Phoenix needs medication to suppress her macabre visions. When her best friend and joint manager of The Shadow nightclub in Sheffield's West Street goes missing, she must face up to the reality that her dormant gifts not only allow her to predict people's deaths but are from an ancient bloodline, one who fights demons.

 

Her only clue is a photo of a man with amber eyes.

 

The local police can't help.

 

Her psychic visions can't help.

 

Striking a bargain with the dark, mysterious Rome leads her into a world full of hellish creatures. Ones who are most of the nightclub's clientele. And one who has her marked with a bullseye.

 

Hunted by demons. Fighting desires. Neve must navigate an unknown world to find her friend, and if she can't locate the powerful relics before the demon's break free…humanity is…

 

A dark urban fantasy mystery with a slow burn romance subplot. The first in a five-book series. Contains adult content.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.J. Cant
• Release date: Dec 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201637309

Book preview

Prologue

Chapter Separator

My idea of fun is not taking to battle with a glowing blue sword that screams every time it encounters demons or fiends’ flesh. I’m not bloodthirsty. What I am, reluctantly, is an ancient warrior, one with a unique set of, as yet, unlearned skills. All designed to stand on the front line as a protector of innocent. Do I want this responsibility? No, but I have no choice. It is in my bloodline to help prevent all hellish creatures from breaking through the shield between our worlds. And there is little over a month before Samhain (Halloween) and the shield blinks out.

Chapter 1

Chapter Separator

Iignored the shadow present in the corner of the office while I finished up the accounts; it was my companion during the late nights.

At the knock on the door, I clicked the button to shut down the computer.

‘I’m all finished, Ms Phoenix.’

Walking Mrs Whechild towards the rear of the nightclub, I tried to suppress a yawn as she prattled on about her arthritic hands. I was dead on my feet. A walking zombie. Not trying to be rude to the woman’s ills.

‘Good night, Ms Phoenix.’

‘Take care on the way home, Mrs Whechild.’

Eighty, if not more, Mrs Whechild was as agile as a twenty-year-old and took great pride in her work as our cleaner. She wrapped her bright orange scarf over her face, ducked her head and braced against the autumn wind as dawn broke its colourful rainbow over the horizon.

I slid the bolt home and turned the key in the security door. Shuffled back through the mirror-walled dance floor and flicked off the lights as I exited the swinging doors. I headed down the red hall separating the VIP lounge, restaurant, staff toilets, bar, kitchen, and office.

An icy breeze had me bristle as I passed the basement. I hated it down there, more so in the early hours of the morning.

I slouched into the kitchen to double-check I’d bolted and locked that exit too and stifled a yawn en route. My nose twitched at the pine disinfectant on the still damp floor tiles, and by the time I’d exited the swinging doors into the dimly lit bar, I’d sneezed twice at the lingering polish. I switched off the main bar lights and paused with my booted foot on the metal stair to the flat at a puff of foul rotten egged odour that burnt the back of my throat. A growl, deep and low, rumbled, followed by a high-pitched screech from the hall. I spun on my feet and peered into the pitch-black of the vast room. Heart hammering, I searched for the outline of shadows unfamiliar, poised for attack. An icy breeze filled the bar. My leg jiggled as adrenaline pulsed through my veins. Breaths puffed out as I readied to run the feck from whatever was here. A wave of calmness spread over me, and I drew in a slow breath. My leg no longer danced to its own beat. Head tilted, I strained in the darkness listening for something other than me but sensed nothing. No foul smell lingered, not even a growl or screech of an injured animal. No sounds other than my own heartbeat and breathing. I shook my head at my stupid over-wretched senses and moseyed up the stairs to the flat, yawning so widely my jaw cracked. The bar clock chimed five times as I reached the top step. Knackered after my long shift, I was ready to fall into bed fully clothed.

The flat door was already unlocked. I’d think about why it was unlocked later. At present my brain was only firing at five percent, the rest already shut down. Yes, all the automatic functions of breathing, heartbeat, and moving limbs were working in the right order. The ability to make any calculations was at minus seventy-five thousand. My eyes were now at half-mast, so heavy they had their own little weights hanging off individual eyelashes, dragging them down as I stepped over the threshold.

‘Noooo!’

All body parts locked, heart rate zoomed up, yet the message to move remained stuck somewhere between my synapses and joints.

Silence.

Nope, I really couldn’t summon up one more thought on the yell. It was probably in my mind, anyway.

It took so much effort shoving the steel door closed – I dropped the keys and bashed my head on the way down for them like a swaying drunk. I had it locked, after a period of fumbling, and dropped the keys on the small table, swayed on heavy legs to the bathroom and made short, very short work of using the loo and washing my face, then tackling the toothbrush in my mouth.

Getting out of my clothes was easier if I didn’t rush. Buttons never worked with uncoordinated fingers. I tripped out of my trousers as they tangled around my ankles and decided I may as well crawl across the hardwood floor to my king-sized bed. Hoisting myself in the thing resembled climbing Mount Everest. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

* * *

‘I’m going to murder them,’ I mumbled, covered my head with the duvet and snuggled deeper under the warm blankets, hoping they’d go away, or Mel would hurry and answer the damn door. Another round of persistent banging on the staff’s nightclub door had me groan. I shoved the purple duvet off and rubbed my scratchy, tired eyes with the heels of my hands, pushed up from the bed – scanned the vicinity for something to cover my birthday suit – and pulled on my pyjama bottoms and matching red vest. I trundled over the wooden floor of my bedroom, through the vast white and blue living room towards the flat door and snagged the bunch of keys from the side table to unlock the door. Rubbed at my chilled bare arms, stepped out along the landing, then headed down the stairs to the club. My bare feet slapped against the waxed oak floor as I tromped across the main bar area and through the cold kitchen to the back door. I pissed about trying to locate the right key, and finally found, stuffed the damn thing in the lock, turned the key, slid back several bolts, and yanked it open.

‘Hey up, boss.’

I squinted at the brightness behind Lisa, one of the bar staff and a good friend.

‘What time is it?’

‘Nine. Are you alright?’

‘Ask me again later when I’ve woken up.’

‘I’ll leave you to it and prep the bar then.’

I groaned and shut the door. Slouched back through the thirty-foot kitchen to the bar area. The darkness eased the stinging of my eyes.

‘Where’s Mel this morning?’

I paused at the stairs leading up to the flat above the nightclub I manage with my best friend, Mel Runnet. It was her morning to prep as I had the late shift yesterday and didn’t get to bed until five this morning.

A headache started somewhere behind my eyes. One of those dull aches that would explode into a full hammering as the day wore on.

‘I’ll go wake her, but she should have been up,’ I said, rubbing my temples and tromped back up.

Door relocked, and keys dropped on the table, I rubbed my temples en route to Mel’s bedroom. Shoved open the door and froze in step at the empty unmade bed. I shuffled to Mel’s red and white striped ensuite bathroom, and nope, she wasn’t there either. Where the heck was she? I hope she’d not stayed over with her boyfriend. We had a good routine since we’d taken over as managers of The Shadow three years ago. I worked late, and Mel went to bed early so she could wake early for the staff. We rotated every two days so we could make up our sleep. Only we had keys to the place, except our elusive owner, who we’d never met, and only communicated with via email. Strange, but at least it took off the pressure of having to explain stuff when things when tits up, like now. It was going to be a damn hard day for me with only four hours of sleep.

I opened the white cabinet in my blue ensuite bathroom for my medication. Three pills left in the blister packet. Where were the rest of my pills? I shifted the nail varnish remover, deodorant, wax strips, mouthwash, and a packet of toothbrushes about. Not here. Shit. I had three little pills left! Dammit, I’d have to see doctor Wolf again, as I couldn’t order the prescription via phone. I didn’t want to be without my medication, or I’d start seeing horrific beings, along with the beautiful man who’d cropped up periodically throughout my life since the age of six. But that wasn’t the worst of it; it was the damn premonitions of peoples horrific deaths. And no, I wasn’t going into graphic detail about them, least not this morning.

I downed a pill with the tap water, then turned on the shower big enough for two people. The blast of cold water jolted me awake an instant before warming. The needles of water, a wonderful morning massage on my shoulders and back, just not my head, so I went through the process quick.

Dried and dressed in black skinny jeans, Doc Martens, and a black skull T-shirt, I stomped down to the bar.

‘Is Mel sleeping in?’ asked Lisa crouched behind the central bar, restocking the ice tray.

‘No, she’s probably with that boyfriend. She’ll get here when she can.’

I headed to the kitchen for the coffeepot. DK grinned at me from the double fridge. ‘Someone’s in need of a caffeine hit.’

‘Considering it’s not my shift, I’ll need a bucket load of it this morning.’

DK grinned, showing his gold-capped teeth.

‘She spent the night banging her man and left you to take up the slack.’ He whistled. ‘That guy must have something going for him if he gets her to miss work.’

I leaned against the steel worktop and slurped my rich roasted coffee.

‘We have a system DK. Personal stuff never gets in the way of work.’

‘Wow, you are grumpy. You want me to give you a massage to iron out the kinks?’

I laughed at him. ‘You are not putting those hands on me; they’re covered in flour.’

I leaned in closer to see what he was making.

‘Muffins? Since when do we serve muffins?’

‘We don’t. These are for staff only.’

‘What flavour?’

‘Sweet and sticky, just like you, boss.’

I shook my head, then cringed at the pounding hammers it set off.

‘Here.’ DK held out a pot of painkillers. I grabbed them, pushed up the lid, it flung off and hit the steel worktop. DK slammed his hand on it to prevent it rolling on the floor, arched a brow at me as I tossed two capsules in my mouth and swallowed them down with my coffee.

‘Thanks.’

I topped up my cup and left the Italian, in looks only, chef to his prep work. Crossed the deep red hallway to the office and flicked on the main light. Dropped in the leather chair and dragged my mobile from my jeans pocket. Booted up the expensive computer while Mel’s phone rang, then switched to voicemail.

‘Honey, where the heck are you? It’s after nine. When you get this, get your arse to the club so I can go back to bed.’

We’d had a few words earlier in the night over her boyfriend. Not that I’d met him. Mel had said he’d been in the club on numerous occasions.

It had been my start to the week for the late nights. Mel had been busy in the office while I worked the bar. I’d asked her if she was alright, as I’d had a ten-minute break. Because the night before, Mel had arrived home in the early hours, while I was busy cleaning up the area after closing the bar at three A.M., so couldn’t ask her where she’d been all night. But I wasn’t sure if I’d seen some bruising around her eye unless it was the dim light casting a shadow on her face.

Mel had looked on the verge of tears, so I’d asked her, ‘What’s wrong? Has that boyfriend hurt you?’

She’d rubbed her face and spun in the chair, giving me her back. ‘Just mind your own fucking business.’

‘Suit yourself,’ I’d snapped back and slammed the door.

Now she wasn’t home. I had no idea if she was with the rat or hiding somewhere to lick her wounds. If I knew what the man looked like, I’d kick his arse for hurting her, but that was the frustrating thing; I hadn’t seen him. I didn’t know where he lived. And she wasn’t answering her phone.

I tossed my mobile on the artisan desk and spent the next few hours ordering stock and updating the accounts, and finished with sending an email to our elusive owner. Within minutes, I had his reply.

Why is this Ms Phoenix when it is Ms Runnet’s day for updating me on the accounts?

Shit. I couldn’t tell the man Mel wasn’t here. The contract we’d signed three years ago stipulated we both had to run the place and keep to the routine we’d set out. It was strange, and neither Mel nor me had thought much about it at the time, but now…

Mel is sick. I’m filling in for the day.

DK knocked and entered, bringing with him the smell of muffins.

He set a plate on the desk with a fresh cup of coffee and took my empty cup.

‘Thank you, DK.’

He winked and closed the door. The man was suave and didn’t hide his attraction to me, even with my blue-dyed hair, ear piercings, and black eyeliner. He’d said, when I’d first met him, to introduce myself as the new manager in the kitchen, ‘No matter what you do with colour, piercings, or tattoos, I can still see the true beauty, you’ll never hide the real you from me, honey.’

DK was a man who liked women and certainly let them know. He spoilt us both but had a soft spot for me, ensuring I had the rich roast coffee I liked, and brought me snacks to keep me going when busy. He’d even stopped me from working behind the bar and physically dragged me to the kitchen to eat the meal he’d cooked for me. Sort of mothered, fathered and wooed me at the same time.

The camera shows Ms Runnet is not in the nightclub.

I stared at the screen with the muffin at my lips. Camera? What camera? There were no cameras in the entire building.

I set the muffin on the black plate and scanned the white ceiling, tilting my head this way and that. I felt around the heavy gold-based desk lamp, then touched over five steel file cabinets against the wall. I squatted and thumbed around under the desk and chair, then over the stack of invoice boxes in the far corner. No cameras were in the office. I shot out the office across the hall, and turned in circles, scanning the curved bar ceiling and spotlights between the wooden beams. I patted the shelves of the twenty-foot circular bar. Not sure what a camera would be doing amongst the bottles of alcohol. I felt under the round tables, high stools, and snug seats, then on through the VIP lounge area. Tilted back my head at the curved ceiling for any tiny camera lens, which again I doubted unless there was one on the chandelier. I crawled under each table, patting down the red snug seats, and did the same in the restaurant, then finally onto the dance floor. Without a ladder, I couldn’t reach the hugely positioned spotlights, anyway. I raced up to the flat to check the ceilings in both bedrooms, bathrooms, and the lounge area. Unless there was a tiny camera on the light fixings on the ceiling, I couldn’t see any.

I stomped down the stairs, ignoring Lisa’s quizzical expression as she sliced lemons on the bar, and continued on into the kitchen.

‘DK, are there cameras in this place?’

He turned from the central island and paused chopping vegetables. ‘Sure, it’s for staff safety.’

‘And the flat?’

‘I guess so. Why?’

‘Where are they positioned?’

DK dried his hands on the ‘I am sexy and I know it’ apron he wore and placed his hands on my upper arms. ‘The light fixings. Always been that way so the owner can keep track of things. Don’t worry. He doesn’t have any in the bedrooms or bathrooms upstairs. He’s not a pervert.’

‘He knows Mel’s not here.’

‘Ah, the contract.’

I nodded.

‘Where is she?’

‘I guess she’s with the boyfriend I’ve never met.’

The black brows dropped in a frown. ‘You’ve never met her boyfriend? You’re as close as sisters.’

I shrugged. ‘Mel said he’d been in the bar when I was working, but…’ I shrugged again.

‘She’ll turn up. He’s probably keeping her busy in bed. You know how it is when you’re full of lust for each other?’

Was he referring to me and Damien? I only saw him at night. He played in the rock metal band twice a week and helped out at the bar on other nights. We had an on-off kind of relationship. We slept together when horny, never made a commitment, and I never saw him in the day.

‘Do you know the owner? We’ve never met him?’

He let my arms go and turned back to the shiny steel counter.

‘DK!’

‘He likes his privacy, Neve.’

‘So, you know him?’

‘Yes, I know him.’

* * *

Night-time had the sixty-foot bar packed with a range of scantily and casually dressed customers eager to spend their money. I had a full fifteen staff on tonight. Waiters and waitresses in the standard black slacks and white shirts tended to the rich who liked the VIP lounge for after-work meetings, spending upwards of four-thousand pound per bottle of wine. Therefore, received the top service.

The whole nightclub, the size of a football field, was on Sheffield’s West Street. The flat above was half the size with so much room, it had taken Mel and me three years to fill with enough furniture and decorate.

We had a restaurant area for the lunchtime customers, who DK cooked for, but we served no meals at night and only drinks in the bar. A basement, which me nor Mel liked going in, as it was cold but with no source of the draft. It contained the kegs of beer, ice chest, and other alcohol. We served a range of weird combinations, neither me nor Mel had ever heard of and had to learn the mixtures from the manual. Hilais Liquoroso, a fiery spirit with a liquorish tang. Luvens Cava, a citrus wine with a fiery heat. Dirmerons Branaco, an earthy spiced brandy. Yelas Clavet, a heated pear, walnut, and hints of tobacco wine. Muncetour Cap Classique, top-shelf seven vodka with lemon. Red with Tabasco Twist, also known as Red for short, a spicy hot wine with extra Tabasco. To name just a few of these weird concoctions.

I took the order from one of the regulars and mixed up his potent cocktail of a hundred and forty proof, and placed it on the bar mat, then froze, staring at the man beside him on the barstool. His attractive face flickered and morphed into something resembling a boar with huge tusks.

‘Got a problem, darling?’

I blinked and shook my head. ‘Tired.’

‘Damien keeping you busy in the sack?’ He laughed, then continued his conversation with the guy whose drink I’d just made.

Speaking of the man, he swaggered through the crowd to the bar in black jeans and T-shirt to join me, giving me a wink. His tussled auburn hair looked black under the ceiling lights. His hours were flexi, and as the owner had said not to change them, we hadn’t. Damien had worked and played here long before me and Mel took over as new management.

I got a wet, warm kiss on my lips that sent a shiver down my spine to my toes.

‘Hi, Ms Phoenix.’

I smiled at one of my regular flirter’s, a twenty-something brunette with big, hazel eyes.

‘What can I get for you tonight, Vicky?’

She sucked the end of her pink manicured nail, head tilted as her eyes roamed over me in my work uniform.

‘A candy twist, please.’

I turned for the cocktail glass, and Damien whispered. ‘She’s trying to flirt with you again. When are you going to let her down gently?’

‘She knows we are together.’

I squatted for the three bottles on the bottom shelf to mix her drink, and she watched from the bar stool as I shook the cocktail container, chin on her hands.

Damien plopped the pink umbrella in the glass he’d previously coated in sugar.

I slid the glass towards her, took her bank card for the touch screen on the back of the shelf. As I rose, Damien pressed against me. He’d swiped the card out of my hand, then leaned over the bar to whisper something to Vicky. She gasped, grabbed her glass, and sashayed to the far corner seats.

‘Hey, what did you tell her?’

He smirked as he pulled the lever to fill a pint glass of Bitter.

‘Damien!’

‘Evening, Ms Phoenix.’

I returned Cherub’s smile, then reached under the shelf for his vodka, held out the glass for Damien to fill with coke, still waiting on his answer. Slid a slice of lemon on the glass and set the drink on the bar mat. Cherub grinned at me as he sipped his beverage. He was as his name, always smiling, and I guess if you got over the baby looks and voice, you would find a little scrapper underneath. Many a time Seth, our bouncer, had to toss him on his small arse out the door for inciting another brawl.

Damien bumped me as he held a pint glass under the Guinness, as I had one under the Bitter.

‘I told her you have a twin sister who is into her, and if she keeps her distance, will get taken out the back for a quicky.’

I burst out laughing, spilling the Bitter on the black tiles.

Damien tossed a cloth over his shoulder, and I quickly rubbed up the spill with my booted foot.

There were always fights, starry eyed romances, and a few weirdos in the bar every night. The dress code, from smart to casual, depending on the occasion. If Damien and his band were playing, we had a mix of grunge, leathers and baring of flesh revealing a selection of tattoos, to the thirty-somethings, or just old enough to drink so-called bad guys in black shirt, black jeans, and black boots, who inevitably caused trouble and got their arses handed to them by Seth. They never returned.

Stacy nudged me. ‘Problem on the dance floor, boss.’

I sighed, exited the bar via the hinged door, and followed her through the wall of bodies to the swinging nightclub doors on the far right of the joining hall. Once they swung open, the noise of electronic music from several speakers attached to the mirrored walls assaulted my ears, aggravating my dull headache. Sweaty bodies swayed close like sardines in a tin. The whole room saturated with body odours, spicy, musky, and sweet perfume. Pipes affixed sporadically around the dance floor ceiling pumped cooling steam out every two hours to prevent people overheating. Water was available freely at the bar. We permitted no alcohol in here. Customers drank at the bar or in the VIP lounge only.

Stacy, one of our security personnel who monitored the dance floor, led me over to the far corner on the left, and against one of the black ceiling support columns was a couple busy going at it like a pair of rabbits.

I tried to see over the heads of moving bodies to Tom, the head of security, but I was too short at my five-nine height to see him when it was this packed. I’d have to deal with it myself.

Stacy shrugged. She’d fetched me as she couldn’t find Tom and had to watch a young group of overzealous men near the centre of the dance floor.

I grabbed the back of the man’s blue shirt and tugged hard, separating them, and had him tossed on the black-tiled floor. The woman yanked her silver dress down as far as it would go, and that wasn’t far. I pointed to the exit behind her and mouthed, ‘Out.’

Stacy followed to ensure she left without trouble at the rear of the club. I turned to face the man now zipping up, a furious expression on his narrow face.

‘Bitch.’

Always one.

‘Out, now. Your membership is revoked.’

‘Fuck off is it.’

He reached for me, then spun around and slammed at the column. Damien had him pinned against it. He wasn’t a huge man but knew how to use his lean frame in more ways than one.

‘I think not,’ he growled in the man’s ear.

With a firm grip on the man’s arm up his back, Damien took him towards the rear exit.

Damien would ensure the man’s membership was removed from the electronic system that admitted entry at the doors. Along with a red mark on the computer next to the rule he’d broken, in case he decided to return and cause trouble.

I returned through the throng of clients, lightly slapping invading hands touching me in certain places known to elicit a squeak from a woman, and gave all a dark look in warning. Not that I didn’t appreciate a little flirting or attention from either sex, just that I wasn’t in the mood for it tonight. I blinked as a man’s image flickered at one of the high round tables. At first, I thought he was sucking the ends of his girl’s fingers, then actually nibbling them off. The blood stained his lips and razor-sharp teeth while the girl looked up at him adoringly. I shook my head and headed back to the bar. Lack of sleep was causing me hallucinations tonight, and I had another six hours to go. Urgh.

As I reached the bar, ten of our servers were spread around it, taking various sized glasses from the seven-tier central shelf, including Damien, while customers leaned against or sat on the available bar stools waiting for and ordering their drinks. Most took their beverages to the tall tables and stools or the green snug seats around the edges of the room. Although, we provided table service too, especially when it was packed, and very nearly that now.

I bumped past a group of excited women in various coloured dresses and heels. Their sweet and fruity perfume made my nose twitch.

‘Hi, Ms Phoenix.’ One of the regular redheads called as I passed. I inclined my head and skirted the male bodies queueing for their order.

Antony lifted the hinge of the bar for me.

‘Avery just restocked the glasses, boss, the first dishwasher now finished, and Lisa is…’ he turned his head to the right, scanning the crowd. ‘Just had Seth toss out a couple of brawlers.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘They’ll not come back.’

Antony shook his mousy brown head, ‘Nope, Seth will make sure they don’t.’

Lisa’s blonde head bobbed through the crowd, half her hair free from her previously tidy bun, lifted the bar hinge and joined me. She retied her hair with the clips and black scrunchie.

‘What happened?’ I asked, filling a cocktail glass with strawberry and vodka for the woman who’d spoken to me.

‘I set the drinks on their table, and they started arguing. I told them to keep it down that we don’t cater for unsavoury behaviour, and one threw a punch at the other.’

I smirked. ‘And you decked him?’

She cleared her throat, then laughed. ‘I caught his cheek and ordered the other one out. I had to drag him out the seat, by then Seth saw and grabbed them both by their collars and,’ she sighed. ‘I got felt up