Zero Hour, page 4
Finding Leslie’s address had been easy after looking at her identification conveniently found in her wallet. There was much he and his team would have to clean up to keep tonight’s mess a secret. Even now, Beau and his men were scrubbing the apartment and the subway, correcting the narrative for the dead bodies and the derailed train.
He could only hope that bringing Leslie back here was worth it. There was truly something about her, something that Alistair might even find intriguing.
Holding Leslie, he could feel the power radiating from her. Like rays of fresh sunlight packed inside of this seemingly fragile human.
Despite the vampiric attention she’d gathered, Killian would have to extract or close the doorway, which Ásgeirr opened. Still, she’d be able to see into the other realm, as that was the power she’d had before this mess.
“What have you done to my granddaughter?” She leaned her nose in the air, and he watched her eyes glow, her head bow. “You are no regular man?”
“No, but be thankful I’ve come. Your kin used the forbidden grimoire.”
The ghost lowered the skillet she held to an antique table. Reality flashed on her heart-shaped face. Those in the supernatural world knew the consequences, even if this one hadn’t crossed over. “What is your name?” he asked.
She raised her eyes to stare at him. “I am Myrtle Davidson, but she calls me Gran.”
Some cowered under questioning, but not this one.
Killian squinted. He knew that name and of her past exploits. There weren’t too many pirates like the legendary Myrtle. “I’m not here to escort you to the other side.”
He watched her visible relief replaced by renewed worry.
“What will her punishment be? She just lost her father and—”
Killian raised his index finger, silencing her. All family worried about their family members after death, and often the emotion created chaos.
“She will forget that this ever happened, and you will be sworn to silence on the subject.”
“Surely you can’t erase the burden of grief so easily. Leslie did it only to commune with her father, who untimely passed. They were not close, and it—at least she thought—it was the only way to have one final word. Haven’t you wished to have one last goodbye?”
Killian couldn’t deny that. Over the years, he’d lost more than his share of friends, family, love even. He clenched his jaw to steel himself against the emotion of loss that came so strongly. A memory he’d stuffed so deep down.
He carried Leslie toward the room her Gran showed him.
A room said a lot about a person. Her bedroom was no different. Heavy antique furniture practically overpowered the room. Three of the four walls were covered with embossed navy-blue wallpaper, with the fourth wall accented with shiplap that aligned with the oak flooring set in a herringbone pattern. In the corner rested a desk. He thought all writers’ desks would be immaculate. This was the only area of the room where complete chaos existed. Papers messily piled. There seemed to be no order for the stack, but maybe that was how her creativity worked.
He gently placed her on her bed and covered her up with a blanket.
“I can help to keep her on the right track, but for that, I need to be able to leave this place,” Gran uttered.
“And you have an idea?”
“Yes, my mourning ring. Make it so I can travel with it. Enchant it.”
“I don’t have that type of magic.”
He heard Myrtle gasp and turned to find Freyja entering into the room.
“But I do.” Freyja moved forward. “What a grand idea. Your request is hereby granted.” Freyja’s hands glowed, and when she stretched out her cupped hand to Gran, therein rested a gold-and-onyx Art Deco mourning ring. “Place it in the safe until it is needed.”
Freyja turned her attention to him, and the room went cold. Killian collapsed to the floor, seeing Freyja pick up the grimoire, and hearing his grandmother’s order. “It is time that you all forget this night, even you, dear child. Ásgeirr is free and must be dealt with in time by the Order, but much must happen before the next skirmish.”
With Ásgeirr free, he’d have to warn Leif. A deadly rage was about to outbreak, and the Order and all of its members would need to be ready.
“Instead,” Freyja continued, “know that the seer and wielder will soon be called into the fold. Take peace, Killian. You have done your job, and a good one.” A feeling of peace settled over him, and just like he was transported to New York City, Freyja sent him back to the comforts of the Order’s castle, although remembering nothing but the peace the goddess gave.
Chapter Eight
Leslie
My alarm blared to life. I shot upright in my bed. Sunlight filtered in through the blinds.
What a dream.
The last thing I recalled was my dad’s funeral.
A sense of loss hit me.
Since then, I’d been in my writing cave typing like a workaholic. Eighteen-hour days to get this book done. Even now, I felt the ache from typing in my hands from my recent all-nighter.
The deadline loomed, and maybe my muse was on overdrive.
I rubbed my eyes to wipe away the sleep. I must have been so much into writing my book that my dreams had decided I needed to stay in that world while sleeping. It was the best answer I had for the dodgy memory, like a dream quickly dissipating.
I glanced up and around.
Everything looked the same as usual, except for the man seated in my old office chair—the one gift my dad had sent me at the beginning of my writing career. Sure, I’d sent him every newspaper clipping, everything that might prove I was worthy of his attention, and his love. I needed him to know I was special, to not forget about me.
I blinked to clear my vision, but the image of him seated there didn’t disappear.
His curly black hair was cut short; his brown eyes looked just like mine. He smiled, showing off his gold tooth, the tooth he always promised would wind up in my stomach—that scared the most out of me as a kid. The memory of childhood giggles mixed with his hearty, deep laughter hit me.
I jumped out of bed and fell on my knees, hugging him.
This was my five minutes.
This was my moment of goodbye.
“Listen, Leslie,” he said. “Hear me. You have a grand destiny before you. Don’t let anyone tell you if you have a seat at the table. I might not have been the father you deserved, but I never forgot you. I never didn’t love you—I always loved you—even in my own warped way. There can never be enough apologies. You are my special child, like no other.”
He hugged me back, and I held him as tightly as I could. Tears raced down my face.
This would be our last goodbye.
“I now dare you to live and live victoriously. You deserve the best, and I am rooting for you. I wish I could be there to see you step into your destiny, but I can see it there for you. You have that optimism from me. And Gran will take care of you to keep you on track. You will be happy.
“Take your place at the table, Leslie Marie. Take your seat. No one will give it to you.”
“Goodbye, Dad,” I sobbed.
Life chaffed against me as if I wore ill-fitting clothes. I’d wanted to run away my entire life. I’d longed to be more, do better, find a tribe where I could just be me. And I thought I’d found it in the pages of my creations.
Destiny is a flame fueled by hope. It pushes us to greatness. Despite seasons changing, the metamorphosis requires discomfort until we no longer feel the need to retreat.
He couldn’t be there when I skinned my knees, when I’d broken bones, or when life became overwhelming and miserable, and love seemed cold. For years, we’d danced around each other, walking the tightrope between beloved and despised, or fire and ice.
Crying on his lap, I realized the truth. No matter what separated us, the father-daughter love we shared would continue.
In death there is pain, life-stealing grief, but there can also be forgiveness.
The gods had given me a gift, and I wasn’t going to waste it. They’d heard my prayers, renewed my hope. They’d tossed me a lifesaver. What else did they have up their sleeves?
With one final tight hug and kiss on the forehead, Dad’s body slowly returned to its incorporeal form until all that remained holding me, was the chair he’d gifted me long ago.
He disappeared.
With a slight knock at the door, a letter was slid under my bedroom door from my literary agent, Maurice, demanding a meeting.
Could this be the destiny Dad was talking about?
This is not THE END.
Continue reading with Once Bitten
About the Author
TINA GLASNECK enjoys creating stories that combine history, mythology, Norse Gods, and dragons. Someday she might just fancy a trip to Asgard too, and find out what all the fuss is about! Read More from Tina Glasneck at www.TinaGlasneck.com
Also by Tina Glasneck
Check out these other amazing reads by USA Today Bestselling Author Tina Glasneck.
* * *
Dragons Series: Origins
Marked by the Gods: Norse Gods of War
Cursed by the Gods: Norse Gods of War
* * *
Dragons Series
A Dragon’s Destiny
A Dragon’s Desire
A Dragon’s Heart
Dragons Series Boxed Set
A Dragon’s Witch
* * *
The Hell Chronicles Series
Hellish
Hellbent
Helltown
Hellbound
Hell for the Holidays: A Lady Hel Short Story
Hunting the Undead: A Hell Chronicles Novella
The Hell Chronicles Boxed Set
Hellraiser
* * *
Order of the Dragon Series
Zero Hour
Once Bitten
Twice as High
* * *
Blood Sealed
* * *
Find out more about Tina Glasneck and her books by visiting her website: www.TinaGlasneck.com.
Did you love Zero Hour? Then you should read Once Bitten by Tina Glasneck!
A reader cruise? What could go wrong?
Death by accident, vampire by design!
When romance author Leslie Love falls overboard while on a cruise ship, she's rescued by a creature who shouldn't exist. Taken to a castle full of magic and danger, she must embrace her destiny as a powerful vampire seer -- or fall victim to a deadly menace...
Read the USA Today bestselling novel, Once Bitten, where Tina Glasneck offers a hilarious mix of mystery, romance, magic and mayhem.
Readers who enjoy the paranormal, supernatural and mythological creatures, such as vampires, wereshifters, dragon shifters, and ghosts, as well as romances set in Scotland, will get a kick out of this paranormal adventure.
Grab your copy now, and start the adventure.
Read more at Tina Glasneck’s site.
Tina Glasneck, Zero Hour
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He could only hope that bringing Leslie back here was worth it. There was truly something about her, something that Alistair might even find intriguing.
Holding Leslie, he could feel the power radiating from her. Like rays of fresh sunlight packed inside of this seemingly fragile human.
Despite the vampiric attention she’d gathered, Killian would have to extract or close the doorway, which Ásgeirr opened. Still, she’d be able to see into the other realm, as that was the power she’d had before this mess.
“What have you done to my granddaughter?” She leaned her nose in the air, and he watched her eyes glow, her head bow. “You are no regular man?”
“No, but be thankful I’ve come. Your kin used the forbidden grimoire.”
The ghost lowered the skillet she held to an antique table. Reality flashed on her heart-shaped face. Those in the supernatural world knew the consequences, even if this one hadn’t crossed over. “What is your name?” he asked.
She raised her eyes to stare at him. “I am Myrtle Davidson, but she calls me Gran.”
Some cowered under questioning, but not this one.
Killian squinted. He knew that name and of her past exploits. There weren’t too many pirates like the legendary Myrtle. “I’m not here to escort you to the other side.”
He watched her visible relief replaced by renewed worry.
“What will her punishment be? She just lost her father and—”
Killian raised his index finger, silencing her. All family worried about their family members after death, and often the emotion created chaos.
“She will forget that this ever happened, and you will be sworn to silence on the subject.”
“Surely you can’t erase the burden of grief so easily. Leslie did it only to commune with her father, who untimely passed. They were not close, and it—at least she thought—it was the only way to have one final word. Haven’t you wished to have one last goodbye?”
Killian couldn’t deny that. Over the years, he’d lost more than his share of friends, family, love even. He clenched his jaw to steel himself against the emotion of loss that came so strongly. A memory he’d stuffed so deep down.
He carried Leslie toward the room her Gran showed him.
A room said a lot about a person. Her bedroom was no different. Heavy antique furniture practically overpowered the room. Three of the four walls were covered with embossed navy-blue wallpaper, with the fourth wall accented with shiplap that aligned with the oak flooring set in a herringbone pattern. In the corner rested a desk. He thought all writers’ desks would be immaculate. This was the only area of the room where complete chaos existed. Papers messily piled. There seemed to be no order for the stack, but maybe that was how her creativity worked.
He gently placed her on her bed and covered her up with a blanket.
“I can help to keep her on the right track, but for that, I need to be able to leave this place,” Gran uttered.
“And you have an idea?”
“Yes, my mourning ring. Make it so I can travel with it. Enchant it.”
“I don’t have that type of magic.”
He heard Myrtle gasp and turned to find Freyja entering into the room.
“But I do.” Freyja moved forward. “What a grand idea. Your request is hereby granted.” Freyja’s hands glowed, and when she stretched out her cupped hand to Gran, therein rested a gold-and-onyx Art Deco mourning ring. “Place it in the safe until it is needed.”
Freyja turned her attention to him, and the room went cold. Killian collapsed to the floor, seeing Freyja pick up the grimoire, and hearing his grandmother’s order. “It is time that you all forget this night, even you, dear child. Ásgeirr is free and must be dealt with in time by the Order, but much must happen before the next skirmish.”
With Ásgeirr free, he’d have to warn Leif. A deadly rage was about to outbreak, and the Order and all of its members would need to be ready.
“Instead,” Freyja continued, “know that the seer and wielder will soon be called into the fold. Take peace, Killian. You have done your job, and a good one.” A feeling of peace settled over him, and just like he was transported to New York City, Freyja sent him back to the comforts of the Order’s castle, although remembering nothing but the peace the goddess gave.
Chapter Eight
Leslie
My alarm blared to life. I shot upright in my bed. Sunlight filtered in through the blinds.
What a dream.
The last thing I recalled was my dad’s funeral.
A sense of loss hit me.
Since then, I’d been in my writing cave typing like a workaholic. Eighteen-hour days to get this book done. Even now, I felt the ache from typing in my hands from my recent all-nighter.
The deadline loomed, and maybe my muse was on overdrive.
I rubbed my eyes to wipe away the sleep. I must have been so much into writing my book that my dreams had decided I needed to stay in that world while sleeping. It was the best answer I had for the dodgy memory, like a dream quickly dissipating.
I glanced up and around.
Everything looked the same as usual, except for the man seated in my old office chair—the one gift my dad had sent me at the beginning of my writing career. Sure, I’d sent him every newspaper clipping, everything that might prove I was worthy of his attention, and his love. I needed him to know I was special, to not forget about me.
I blinked to clear my vision, but the image of him seated there didn’t disappear.
His curly black hair was cut short; his brown eyes looked just like mine. He smiled, showing off his gold tooth, the tooth he always promised would wind up in my stomach—that scared the most out of me as a kid. The memory of childhood giggles mixed with his hearty, deep laughter hit me.
I jumped out of bed and fell on my knees, hugging him.
This was my five minutes.
This was my moment of goodbye.
“Listen, Leslie,” he said. “Hear me. You have a grand destiny before you. Don’t let anyone tell you if you have a seat at the table. I might not have been the father you deserved, but I never forgot you. I never didn’t love you—I always loved you—even in my own warped way. There can never be enough apologies. You are my special child, like no other.”
He hugged me back, and I held him as tightly as I could. Tears raced down my face.
This would be our last goodbye.
“I now dare you to live and live victoriously. You deserve the best, and I am rooting for you. I wish I could be there to see you step into your destiny, but I can see it there for you. You have that optimism from me. And Gran will take care of you to keep you on track. You will be happy.
“Take your place at the table, Leslie Marie. Take your seat. No one will give it to you.”
“Goodbye, Dad,” I sobbed.
Life chaffed against me as if I wore ill-fitting clothes. I’d wanted to run away my entire life. I’d longed to be more, do better, find a tribe where I could just be me. And I thought I’d found it in the pages of my creations.
Destiny is a flame fueled by hope. It pushes us to greatness. Despite seasons changing, the metamorphosis requires discomfort until we no longer feel the need to retreat.
He couldn’t be there when I skinned my knees, when I’d broken bones, or when life became overwhelming and miserable, and love seemed cold. For years, we’d danced around each other, walking the tightrope between beloved and despised, or fire and ice.
Crying on his lap, I realized the truth. No matter what separated us, the father-daughter love we shared would continue.
In death there is pain, life-stealing grief, but there can also be forgiveness.
The gods had given me a gift, and I wasn’t going to waste it. They’d heard my prayers, renewed my hope. They’d tossed me a lifesaver. What else did they have up their sleeves?
With one final tight hug and kiss on the forehead, Dad’s body slowly returned to its incorporeal form until all that remained holding me, was the chair he’d gifted me long ago.
He disappeared.
With a slight knock at the door, a letter was slid under my bedroom door from my literary agent, Maurice, demanding a meeting.
Could this be the destiny Dad was talking about?
This is not THE END.
Continue reading with Once Bitten
About the Author
TINA GLASNECK enjoys creating stories that combine history, mythology, Norse Gods, and dragons. Someday she might just fancy a trip to Asgard too, and find out what all the fuss is about! Read More from Tina Glasneck at www.TinaGlasneck.com
Also by Tina Glasneck
Check out these other amazing reads by USA Today Bestselling Author Tina Glasneck.
* * *
Dragons Series: Origins
Marked by the Gods: Norse Gods of War
Cursed by the Gods: Norse Gods of War
* * *
Dragons Series
A Dragon’s Destiny
A Dragon’s Desire
A Dragon’s Heart
Dragons Series Boxed Set
A Dragon’s Witch
* * *
The Hell Chronicles Series
Hellish
Hellbent
Helltown
Hellbound
Hell for the Holidays: A Lady Hel Short Story
Hunting the Undead: A Hell Chronicles Novella
The Hell Chronicles Boxed Set
Hellraiser
* * *
Order of the Dragon Series
Zero Hour
Once Bitten
Twice as High
* * *
Blood Sealed
* * *
Find out more about Tina Glasneck and her books by visiting her website: www.TinaGlasneck.com.
Did you love Zero Hour? Then you should read Once Bitten by Tina Glasneck!
A reader cruise? What could go wrong?
Death by accident, vampire by design!
When romance author Leslie Love falls overboard while on a cruise ship, she's rescued by a creature who shouldn't exist. Taken to a castle full of magic and danger, she must embrace her destiny as a powerful vampire seer -- or fall victim to a deadly menace...
Read the USA Today bestselling novel, Once Bitten, where Tina Glasneck offers a hilarious mix of mystery, romance, magic and mayhem.
Readers who enjoy the paranormal, supernatural and mythological creatures, such as vampires, wereshifters, dragon shifters, and ghosts, as well as romances set in Scotland, will get a kick out of this paranormal adventure.
Grab your copy now, and start the adventure.
Read more at Tina Glasneck’s site.
Tina Glasneck, Zero Hour
