Bound, p.1
Bound, page 1
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Bound: Masters of the Savoy copyrighted 2022 by Delta James
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Cover Design: Dar Albert of Wicked Smart Designs
Editing: Michele Chiappetta of Three Point Author Services
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Created with Vellum
Bound: Masters of the Savoy
A Supernatural Mystery and Romance
Delta James
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: These things are so hard to write. It can’t be as long as the book, but you fear leaving people out. So instead, I’ll just go with the basics:
• To my father who gave me the gift of storytelling
• To Renee and Chris, without whom none of what I do would be possible
• To the Girls: Goody, Katy, Emma, Roz, Ava and Skylar
• To my ARC, Critical Reader and Focus Groups, JT Farrell and all of my readers – thank you from the bottom of my heart
• To Michele Chiappetta of Three Point Author Services, Editor Extraordinaire for all her hard work and putting up with my crazy schedule
• To Dar Albert of Wicked Smart Designs, the genius behind my covers who works with nothing from me and produces the most amazing artwork, which then become my covers
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
First Look - Release
About the Author
Also by Delta James
Chapter 1
Time. He always thought there would be more time. Each time when a small part of him escaped the trap of the crystal caves located below Tintagel, he had less and less time before being sucked back in. He only dared to venture out to keep Britannia from falling, but the forces of darkness were ever present, and he could do little more than react to the threats as they presented themselves.
London, of course, had not existed when his king had reigned, but the capital as it had been then had faded into the mists of time. London was now the capital, which made it the heartbeat of Great Britain. He had been surprised when he’d ventured out to find that the dark forces had built a portal from their world to the real one under the veritable noses of those who should have been most concerned. He’d managed to cast a spell so that their gateway would only open if the great clock struck thirteen times. Then and only then would the pieces of glass that formed the face open and allow something truly wicked to enter the world.
Fortunately, he’d been able to create and put into place four great guardians of the city—four enormous lions that would come to life when the clock struck thirteen. Each time, the beasts had joined forces with one of his descendants, who would lead them in battle, force them back behind the veil and seal the rift that had allowed them to come forward. Those warriors were descended from his loins and carried the spirit of the eagle.
The responsibility had now fallen upon one who did not believe. A girl who had not a clue about her heritage or her destiny. She would need to open her eyes to all that was around her and call upon all of her gifts and knowledge to defeat the evil thing that was coming. He feared what would come if she did not rise to the occasion.
One Year Ago
As Corinne left the Savoy, her mobile rang.
“Corinne Adler?” said the voice on the other end of the phone.
“Yes, this is Corinne.”
“Your aunt has asked for you. I know it’s frightfully early, but your aunt has taken a sudden turn for the worse. I’m afraid she doesn’t have much time left…”
As she headed out the door, Corinne realized the voice had to belong to her aunt’s newest caregiver, Delores. “No need to worry, I was just getting off my shift. Do I have time to stop by my flat and change?”
“I would think she has several hours yet, but she is adamant that she must speak with you.”
“I should be there easily within the hour.”
“I’ll let her know. My sympathies for your impending loss.”
Corinne rushed home, grabbed a quick shower and a change of clothes, and headed to her Aunt Peggy’s flat. Her aunt was the veritable black sheep of the family. No one but Corinne had spoken to her for well over a decade. Choosing to not upset her parents, Corinne had refrained from mentioning that she and her aunt had been in regular contact for the last several years.
It wasn’t that Corinne didn’t recognize her aunt’s deteriorating mental acuity. At first, she’d tried to convince herself that her aunt was simply becoming forgetful, but finally her aunt confirmed that she had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s sometime back.
“It will kill me in the end,” Aunt Peggy had said. “I’d always hoped I would die fighting with the boys, but then that was selfish of me.”
Corinne had wondered who the boys might be and why her aunt thought she would die fighting with them, and against who. The Alzheimer’s had taken its toll, and her aunt’s mental and physical health was failing. Pneumonia had finally begun its deathly crawl through Aunt Peggy’s body. When Corinne had questioned why her aunt seemed unwilling to treat it aggressively with antibiotics and settled instead for palliative care, the doctor explained that most in the medical profession called pneumonia “the terminal patient’s friend,” as it would allow them to slip peacefully away.
Within an hour of taking the call, Corinne was knocking on the door to her aunt’s flat. A small, round woman with a kind smile, which didn’t quite reach her eyes, opened the door. Corinne assumed this was her aunt’s newest hospice worker. She was older than Corinne and younger than her aunt.
“Corinne? I’m Delores. Your aunt has been asking for you.”
“Is she in much pain?” she asked as she spoke with the woman in her aunt’s living room. “What should I expect?”
Delores took Corinne’s hand in hers. “She isn’t in any pain and seems peaceful and resolved. The pneumonia is progressing as expected, but we have her on oxygen, so she isn’t struggling to breathe. As for what to expect, death should claim her easily. Each case is different, but most likely she will either take one last deep breath, expel it and be gone. Or she’ll slip away so quietly, you won’t even notice… until you do. It shouldn’t be traumatic so if you can’t stay until the end, just let her say what she needs to and then I’ll get you out.”
“No. I want to be with her. I’ve called my supervisor to let him know what’s going on. Spense is a great guy and told me that he’d ensure my shifts were covered. I want to be here with her until she passes. I don’t want her to die alone.” Corinne shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know you’d be here, and she wouldn’t be alone, but I want her to have family…”
Delores’ smile was kind and full of empathy. “I understand.”
When they walked into her aunt’s bedroom, Corinne was surprised at how normal and pleasant the room looked. There was medical paraphernalia, of course, but her aunt’s bed had been propped up and she looked like there was nothing wrong with her—tired, but not as though she were on the verge of dying.
Aunt Peggy’s eyes lit up when Corinne entered. “I’m so glad you could come.”
“Where else would I be?” Corinne said, leaning down to kiss her aunt’s cheek. The skin felt as though it were delicate tissue that could rip and tear with little provocation. “I should have been here more often.”
“Poppycock. You’ve been here at least weekly since you moved to London and every other day for the past three months. I know how busy your life is.”
“Yes, but I’ll be graduating next year…”
“But then there will be a new job in your chosen field. Your parents must be so proud. The first of the family to get a college degree.”
Corinne laughed. “They’d much prefer I came home, married some local boy and settled down to have lots of babies.”
A shadow crossed Aunt Peggy’s eyes. “I fear that will never be your destiny. I pray you are luckier than I was and find someone with whom to share this terrible burden.” She looked up at Delores. “D elores, darling, could you leave us? I need to speak to my niece about a private family matter.”
“Of course, Peggy. I’ll be in the other room; just call if you need me,” Delores said as she withdrew, leaving her alone with Aunt Peggy.
The sudden weight of being the only family member to share her aunt’s last hours on earth hit Corinne with the force and power of a mine cave-in. So many emotions assailed her, but she couldn’t seem to find the words to express her feelings. Aunt Peggy was her mother’s sister, but as far as Corinne knew, they hadn’t spoken in over a decade.
“No time for reminisces, regrets or recriminations. I have so much to tell you. So many things you should have known in order to prepare, but the ravages of this insidious illness have caught me up, and there’s no more time.” Aunt Peggy smiled. “He always said that regardless of how much time we had, it was never enough. I have been given this gift of a period of lucidity before my end. You must listen to me. You must believe me,” she insisted.
“Aunt Peggy…”
“Promise me, Corinne. Promise me you will believe me and will continue studying with Holcroft.”
Steven Holcroft was a sword master of some renown. Many actors had learned the art and discipline of the sword and other ancient weapons from him. Corinne had been surprised when her aunt had taken her to his fight studio, introduced them and then demonstrated her skill.
“Aunt Peggy, I’ve always listened to your stories. I’ve tried to believe, but you have to admit some of them are a bit out there.”
“I know, baby, but you must believe. I know your parents warned you away from me. Your mother thinks our legacy to be a curse as it took our mother away from us. I’m sure every instinct tells you that I have Alzheimer’s and that my fantastical tales are nothing more than delusions, but they aren’t. I swear to you, the stories, our family’s lineage and legacy are true. You must pick up the sword and answer if destiny calls on you.” Peggy seemed to run out of breath, coughed, but prevented Corinne from calling Delores. “Have you been keeping up with your lessons?”
Corinne knew she didn’t mean her college courses. “Yes. Last month I moved from sabers to broadswords. Holcroft was resistant to letting me advance, but in the end I convinced him, and he agreed to keep teaching me. I’ve gotten really good with the bow. The quarterstaff and halberd are more problematic for me, but I can use both. Can I ask why any of this is so important?”
Aunt Peggy nodded. “Under the bed, you’ll find two wooden cases with handles.”
Corinne knelt on the floor at her aunt’s side and pulled out the two cases. They were rectangular in shape, not overly deep and had intricately carved lids.
“Got ‘em,” Corinne said, opening the larger of the two and gasping.
Inside was a bow and quiver. The quiver was made of a butter soft leather decorated with a carved dragon design. It held a bundle of arrows, each with a tip of engraved silver. Beneath the quiver lay a bow made of what appeared to be yew with an engraved obsidian grip. The limbs of the bows were also capped in obsidian. One end was a carved dragon’s head and the other end, the dragon’s tail.
“You are looking at Storm Shadow. She has been passed down through the female line of our family since the time of King Arthur. It is said that Merlin imbued the bow with the power of light and that it can defeat the darkness. The arrows have been made by the same family of fletchers since the Normans invaded England.”
“Merlin? As in King Arthur and Camelot?”
The corners of Aunt Peggy’s mouth lifted into a wan smile. “One and the same. We can trace our female line back to him. In each generation, one daughter is chosen to stand as the Sentinel of the Portal. Your grandmother was the Sentinel before me, and you have been chosen to be the one who follows.”
Corinne leaned forward. “Was that the argument that made you leave?”
“Do you remember that?”
“Only that you argued. I remember a lot of raised voices—and then you were gone.”
“Your mother did not want you called and blamed me for not having daughters of my own. But once you were born, I knew you were the one.”
“How did you know?”
“The birthmark on your shoulder blade. The one that looks a bit like a sword.”
“Mom said it was hereditary.”
“It is. And once I knew you had been chosen, I had hoped to live my life training you, but your parents wanted nothing to do with it and so kept you from me. I’m sure they weren’t happy that you made contact.” Her aunt paused, arching her eyebrow. “Do they even know?”
“I told them after we had brunch that first time. Mom seemed frightened and dad was furious. It seemed easier not to bring it up. I did let them know when you went on hospice…”
Her aunt laughed. “And they said good riddance.”
Corinne smiled. “They weren’t that bad…”
“Keep in mind, my dear girl, you can go to hell for lying as well as stealing.”
“It bothers me that I’m the only one here.”
Her aunt waved her hand, dismissing her concern. “It would have been hypocritical of them to have showed up. You should know, I never held anything against them and when the time is right, you should tell them I forgive them. Now, open the other box.”
Corinne closed the lid to the case that held the bow and the quiver of arrows. If the bow had caused her to gasp, the object that lay encased in the velvet lining of the second box rendered her speechless.
The double-edged, silver blade gleamed with an almost ethereal glow. The gorgeous metal was engraved with what Corinne could only assume were detailed Celtic runes and symbols. The obsidian pommel had been carefully carved in the shape of a snarling dragon to match Storm Shadow. The grip was wrapped in black leather, the guard an ornate filigree of silver.
“Pick it up,” rasped her aunt, her voice growing weaker.
Corinne raised the broadsword. Power surged up from the grip, infusing her system and humming through her body, giving her a life and energy she had never known before.
“What the hell was that?”
“Galatine has accepted you.”
“Galatine?”
“The sword,” said Aunt Peggy.
“How do I know that name?”
“Galatine is the sister sword of Excalibur, given to Gawain by the Lady of the Lake. Merlin retrieved it before it fell into the wrong hands or languished back into obscurity. It was Merlin who passed it down through the ages.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Corinne asked, pleading for an understanding of what was expected of her.
“The faces of Big Ben are made up of pieces of cut glass, not a single plate.”
Why is she telling me this?
“When the clock strikes thirteen…” Aunt Peggy continued.
“Clocks don’t strike thirteen.”
“Never say never,” quoted her aunt. “It has only happened a few times since its creation. The tower itself was built over a portal into a demon dimension. Each time the gateway into this world has started to crack, a woman from our family has acted as Sentinel and has called forth the lions at the base of Nelson’s statue in Trafalgar…”
“How do you expect me to do that? Call, ‘Here, kitty, kitty, kitty’?”
Peggy’s brief laughter caused an eruption of coughing. “No. They each have a name—Nelson, Wellington, Victory and Napoleon. When the clock strikes thirteen, tap the nose of the lion on the corner closest to Big Ben—that’s Wellington—and call him forth. He will awaken and call to the others. They will follow you to fight the demons and keep them from escaping into the world.”
“Assuming that ever happens, then what?”
“The Sentinel’s job is to keep the demons at bay and force any who try to make their way into this world back through the portal until it re-seals itself. The entryway will only be open for thirteen minutes and then it will close again.”
