Believing in the Traitor Read online

  Into the Paranormal World: One man’s lie is another man’s truth.

  Walter wonders if he made a mistake. One minute, he’s helping his boss recapture stolen animals. The next, he realizes everything is not as it seems. A split second decision completely changes his life, and he takes a bullet meant for someone, something, else.

  Awake and lucid after months in a coma, Walter discovers the true depth of his boss’s treachery. Now, he knows myths and legends are real, and his boss had even been holding some of those creatures captive. The animals hadn’t been stolen, they’d actually been freed... by gargoyles!

  One such beast, a black-winged, golden gargoyle named Treatise, fires his blood like no one ever has. Except, Walter is a traitor. Can anyone truly trust him, even the gargoyle who claims him as his mate?

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Believing in the Traitor

  Copyright © 2015 Charlie Richards

  ISBN: 978-1-4874-0556-4

  Cover art by Carmen Waters

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books Inc or

  Devine Destinies, an imprint of eXtasy Books Inc

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  www.eXtasybooks.com or www.devinedestinies.com

  Believing in the Traitor

  A Paranormal’s Love: Book Fourteen

  By

  Charlie Richards

  Dedication

  The trust of the innocent is the liar’s most useful tool.

  ~Stephen King

  Chapter One

  Pain.

  Floating on a river of pain.

  Swept away.

  Walter felt as if he were being swept away, carried along by a flood-swollen stream. His mind couldn’t seem to find purchase. Images flashed, memories, so fast, but he was unable to grasp any of them.

  So, he drifted.

  Suddenly, Walter thought he heard something. A wisp of sound that could be a voice echoed over the roaring of the water. He tried to focus.

  “How—feeling—” There was a pause, then more sounds reached him. “Chest—well—head—”

  Walter wanted to respond. He wanted to reply. Struggling to get his mouth to work, he cried out, “Wait! Please wait.”

  He didn’t receive a response, so maybe it was all in his mind.

  “How are you feeling today, buddy?”

  Walter heard the voice, clear as day. Trying to force his eyelids open, he felt more lucid than he had in... he didn’t know how long. Unfortunately, he couldn’t seem to manage it. His lids seemed to be stuck.

  “I know, I know. Hanging in there, right?” the same voice continued, obviously not expecting a response.

  Except, Walter wanted to respond.

  “I know your head injury gave you a bit of a scar, but that’s no reason to keep hiding from the world,” the soft-spoken man chatted on. “It’s really not that bad and if you style your hair a certain way, I’m certain it’ll be thick enough to cover it.”

  Injury? Scar?

  Suddenly, some of the half-formed images made sense. They weren’t distorted. They appeared with crystal clarity. He’d seen them. Creatures with wings and claws that could talk and reason, coordinate and fight.

  Walter had never believed Bud’s ghost stories. While making his security rounds of his boss’s curiosity show, he’d overheard all kinds of tales by the other patrols. Until he’d joined Bud on a trip to reacquire stolen property, he hadn’t believed them.

  The second Walter had seen the creatures, however, he’d realized the extent of the lies. He’d stayed on with Bud to make certain the animals were well taken care of. While he’d occasionally had to use his own funds to see that they’d had enough food to eat—almost—they’d always had medical care.

  Now, the medical care made sense. Some of the animals weren’t animals. They were something else.

  Just that fast, something inside Walter had rebelled. Call it his Native American upbringing, the tales he’d learned as a boy, or just human intuition. He’d known he was on the wrong side of the fight.

  I was shot. Bud shot me.

  Admittedly, Walter had stepped between Bud and the creature, but shouldn’t his boss have lowered the gun? He remembered Bud’s wild, crazy-looking eyes. Walter didn’t remember falling, but he recalled the sky... blue as a robin’s egg broken up by the occasional wisp of Cirrus clouds. A chill had worked through his body. Just before his vision swam, Walter had seen a horned, mottle-brown face appear above him.

  Walter had just enough coherence to think the beast’s green eyes held concern... then there had been nothing.

  “You sure you’re not going to wake for me today, handsome?” the male voice prodded softly as cool fingertips slid over Walter’s brow. “You know I’m going to keep pestering you every day until you wake up.”

  Walter realized that he was lying on a soft bed, not floating in a river. That must have been from whatever meds they had him on. He needed to tell them to cut that shit out.

  He tried to open his mouth, but he couldn’t seem to manage it. Frustration filling him, he curled his hand into a fist and jerked his arm, wanting for all the world to slam his fist into the blanket covering him. He didn’t think he’d succeeded, but—

  “Hey, buddy,” the man soothed. “Did you just move your hand?” The stranger—nurse, maybe—slid his fingers into Walter’s. “Can you squeeze my hand? Just a little. Let me know you’re listening.”

  Walter focused on the feel of the calloused fingers tucked into his own. Willing his hand to squeeze, he attempted to obey. He didn’t feel like he moved at all, but he must have.

  “Ha, you are awake,” the man cried excitedly. “Can you open your eyes for me?” His other hand rested on Walter’s head and ran his fingers over his brows. “Come on. Just a flutter, maybe. I know it’s hard. You’ve been lying here for months, so your muscles probably don’t want to cooperate,” he explained softly. “But I know you can do it.”

  Taking long, slow breaths, Walter focused on his eyes. Once more, he tried to open them. This time, he actually felt his lids move.

  “That’s the way,” the stranger urged. “Let’s see those pretty brown eyes. With your coloring, I bet they’re stunning.”

  Maybe it was the continued compliments, because Walter sure hadn’t ever heard another man calling him handsome or complimenting his eyes. This time around, he successfully lifted his eyelids. He even managed to blink a couple of times and clear his vision.

  “Hey, there you are.”

  Walter peered up at a smiling dirty-blond male. His hair was arranged into some kind of gelled, spikey style. The man’s warm brown eyes twinkled with pleasure as he peered down at him, and his full lips were curved into a wide smile.

  Focusing on the man’s oval-shaped face, his lips spec
ifically, Walter drew his brows together. Was the nurse wearing lip gloss? He swept his gaze over the man’s face again, then down his torso.

  Yep, definitely a male.

  Outside of a gay club, Walter had never seen a man wearing make-up. Discomfort filled him. Just where the hell was he?

  Walter had assumed he was in a hospital upon hearing the man’s earlier words. Now, glancing around, he knew he wasn’t. He lay on a large bed in an even bigger bedroom. The furniture was a heavy wood with dark metal pulls. The comforter lying over him was pale green with black lines that could be trees.

  “W-Where—” Walter’s dry throat prevented him from managing any other words.

  The stranger must have recognized his confusion. “Just relax, man,” he encouraged. “For now, just know that you’re safe. My name is Nurse Leroy Wilde.” Evidently, Walter must have made some expression of disbelief, for the slender male grinned. “I know. It doesn’t look like a hospital, does it?” He winked. “A right nicer, though, huh?”

  As Leroy spoke, he turned and grabbed a pitcher that had been on a nearby dresser. He picked up a plastic cup as well, then poured fluid into it. Bringing it back, he slid his hand under Walter’s head and brought the cup to his lips.

  “Have some water,” Leroy urged. “We’ll try to soften up that dry throat. Just a sip now.”

  Walter swallowed the little bit of liquid Leroy tipped into his mouth. He sighed and tried to lift his head further on his own, wanting more. Leroy gripped his neck tighter, helping him, as he poured a bit more into his mouth.

  Pulling the cup away, Leroy soothed, “Easy, now. Can’t give you too much. I don’t want your empty stomach to rebel.” He set the cup aside as he pulled out his cell phone. “Can you tell me your name?”

  While he wondered at the wisdom of sharing any information with the man, he realized he didn’t have much of a choice. “W-Walter,” he whispered hoarsely. “Walter Duhubite-bungu.”

  Leroy chuckled. “I’m not even going to try to repeat that. It sounds pretty though,” he complimented. “Matthew thought you might be Walter, but I didn’t want to make any assumptions.”

  “It’s Shoshone,” Walter whispered. “Means black horse.” He sighed and allowed his eyes to slide closed. “No more meds. I’m not in pain. Just tired.”

  “Well, you better get your rest now, Walter,” Leroy urged, his voice already sounding as if coming from a distance. “I’m gonna let the doc know you’re awake.”

  Walter might have imagined it, but he thought Leroy mumbled, “Then there’ll be all kinds of questions and explanations.” He didn’t have the energy to try to make sense of the possible words as sleep swallowed him under.

  This time, at least, it wasn’t the empty nothingness caused by the river of meds.

  “Walter? Walter Blackhorse?”

  The deep voice calling the Americanized version of his name cut through his dreams. All too happy to get away from the haunting visage of Bud’s crazed-filled eyes and the hollow desolation of the animals of the curiosity show, he focused on rousing. To his relief, this time he found it easy to blink his eyes open.

  Sweeping his gaze over the room, Walter found a number of occupants. He saw Leroy standing near the dresser, arranging a tray. On it was a steaming bowl as well as a mug. It, too, steamed just a little.

  However, it was the large forms in the shadows that truly caught his attention. Walter stared at the silhouettes. The wide shoulders and heavy-looking bodies reminded him of the creatures from the battle.

  Suddenly, the answer to Walter’s initial question seemed about ten times more important. “Wh-Where am I?”

  One of the dark forms pushed away from the wall it leaned against. It separated from the shadows, revealing something other than human, and slowly crossed the floor. Muscles rippled under its mottled, dark blue hide. Long, straight, black hair flowed over the odd-looking black cloak he wore.

  “You are in my home, Walter,” the creature stated, closing the distance between them. “You took a bullet for me. I don’t know if the second was meant for me as well, or if Bud’s shot just went wild, but it grazed your skull.” He smiled grimly, and while his lips remained sealed together, his canines could still be seen peeking over them. “I thank you. And I’m glad it did not cost you your life.”

  The... creature settled in a chair beside the bed that Walter hadn’t even noticed. That was when Walter spotted the tail that slipped around the male’s left leg. And it was definitely male, considering the way the creature filled out its loin cloth.

  “Am I dreaming?” Walter asked softly, amazement filling him. “Am I still in the inbetween... the place between the living and the dead? I know no tales that would explain what you are.”

  While his people told ancient tales of men who shared their spirits with beasts, he could not think of a single one that would explain... these things.

  “Unless you are demons?” Walter whispered.

  “I and my people are gargoyles,” the creature told him. “I am Chieftain Maelgwn.”

  Maelgwn crossed his arms over his chest as he settled more comfortably into his chair. He lifted his left ankle to his right knee... except, he didn’t have toes, he had claws. His—

  “You have been in a coma for over three months, Walter,” Maelgwn continued, pulling Walter’s gaze away from the man’s foot. “We haven’t heard of anyone looking for you. Do you have family we should notify?”

  Confused and more than a little disoriented, Walter glanced around the room again. He saw the shape of another... gargoyle... leaning in the doorway that led out of the bedroom. There was a second male seated in a chair at the foot of the bed. Both those areas of the bedroom were too dark for him to make out any identifying features since the only light in the room came from a lamp on the nightstand to the left of where he lay.

  “Who, uh, no, I—” Walter didn’t know what to say, uncertainty setting in.

  “Okay, gentlemen,” Leroy interrupted, coming closer. “Walter just woke up and while I understand you need information from him,” he paused close to the chair near Maelgwn, making shooing motions at the other forms behind the big male. “I need him calm.” He focused on Maelgwn. “If it’s okay with you, I’d prefer it if you’d return when Perseus arrives. Please?”

  Maelgwn dipped his chin in a slow nod. “Of course, Nurse Leroy. I did not mean to aggravate your patient.” He rose to his feet, adding, “With the way he took that bullet for me, I thought he knew more about us.”

  Leroy smiled, his brown eyes sparkling. “Well, he did get shot in the head,” he reminded, his tone teasing.

  “Of course,” Maelgwn responded, his tone wry.

  Maelgwn strode toward the doorway the other males had already disappeared through... and much to Walter’s shock, he no longer thought they wore cloaks. Upon seeing the pair’s backs, he realized they were actually wings.

  Pausing at the doorway, Maelgwn turned back to face Walter. “I do need to know if someone is looking for you. Do you have family, Walter?” he asked. “Someone I should notify? It’s been months, but better late than never.”

  “Yeah,” Walter whispered. “My sister. Ilial.” While they didn’t get along, what with her selfish ways and his secrets, she might look for him... eventually. “But she lives in Cheyenne, Wyoming.” Well, last he’d heard that’s where she was.

  “We will look into her whereabouts,” Maelgwn promised. “If she’s looking for you, we will let her know you’re in a private hospital.”

  With those last words, the big creature spun and headed out of the room.

  “Okay,” Leroy murmured, returning to the dresser and grabbing the now not-so-steaming tray. “You are going to drink this broth and tea, then sleep some more.” He set the tray on the bed next to his leg. “Come on,” he urged, dipping the spoon into the liquid and bringing it to his lips. “Open up.”

  Walter had to admit, Leroy was a hell of a nurse. He might be a sma
ll man, but he knew how to do his job and get exactly what he wanted. Within fifteen minutes, Walter had drank the chicken broth and tea and his eyelids were too heavy to keep open.

  Chapter Two

  Treatise paused just inside the doorway of the dining hall. He took in the several clusters of gargoyles, their heads together, and a buzz of conversation filling the place. He wondered what was going on.

  Heading toward the wall that backed up to the kitchens, Treatise caught the occasional segment of conversation. From that, he pieced together the hot news. Evidently, some human had woken from a coma.

  Racking his memory for an injured human in their care, Treatise could only come up with one. As he placed six pieces of bread on his plate, then slathered mayonnaise on one side of three of them and a light coating of ranch dressing on the others, he thought about the human known only as the one who’d taken a bullet for their chieftain. He heaped bacon, lettuce, and tomato on the mayo-covered bread, then slapped the other side on, completing his BLT sandwiches. Helping himself to several side dishes—green bean casserole, a handful of cheddar flavored Pringles, and some mashed potatoes and brown gravy—he pushed away the irritation he always felt when thinking about that battle.

  Treatise had been in roost, his body a stone statue as he slept the sleep of a gargoyle. He’d never had a problem with it before, but with their foes being human, it meant he was vulnerable many hours out of the day. While he trusted his clutch-brothers, Treatise would prefer to be out there fighting.

  Still, he knew that was an impossibility until he found his mate. At four-hundred-fifty-two years old, he was eager to find his other half, too. He’d been alone a long time, or getting by on one night stands. Watching other members of his clutch find their special someone caused a dull ache to open up inside himself.