Page 1 of Starry with a Chance of Nightshade

PartI

Then

“Life and death appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour a torrent of light into our dark world.”– Mary Shelley, Frankenstein, 1818

ChapterOne

Stratton

Tarrytown,NY, thirty-six years ago…

Stratton Bright of the Nightshade Fae Clan stood just inside the Gothic manor, feeling as if he’d stepped back in time. There were several wall-mounted sources of light with Edison bulbs lining the foyer. The day was dreary and overcast with night fast approaching only adding to how dark the room felt. None of the electricity looked up to code or anything like what was popular now. The home was virtually untouched by any other modern amenities that he could see or sense. It reminded him more of a museum. One created to preserve a snapshot in time. When electricity in homes was a new invention.

Connected to nature, Stratton was able to sense it at all times. His system craved nature, needing it to recharge the magik he’d been born with. He could store reserves of power within himself for several days, but without the aid of the ring he wore, he couldn’t go much longer than that without being out in nature once again.

Out of habit, Stratton slid his thumb along the underside of his Nightshade Hunter ring. For centuries it had been with him, something he was never without. The cushion-cut purple amethyst gemstone lay cradled in a frame of sigils. Each sigil had a meaning. Some were for healing. Some were there to ward off evil. Others were there to help channel his magik, amplifying it even should the need arise.

One side of the ring held the Nightshade Fae Clan’s crest. On the other side of the ring there was a word stamped into the metal with Fae words beneath it, announcing him to be of the Hunter’s Guild. Additional markings gave his ranking in the guild. In human terms, his ranking was the equivalent of a major in the army. It took centuries to achieve such a level.

The stone on his ring had a purpose beyond aesthetics. It had calming properties. In combination with the sigils, the ring acted much like a portable battery. One that was able to recharge, giving its wearer stores of energy it had at the ready.

With modern advancements came many things that got in the way of a Fae’s ability to recharge from nature. Things like concrete, electric wires, tall buildings, and the absence of grass or forest areas, all hindered a Fae. It made living in large cities challenging but not impossible for his kind. It’s why Stratton hated assignments that left him having to live in a sprawling metropolis.

Sadly, his placement was out of his hands, and he seemed to be in a permanent state of getting sent to one.

He’d been stationed out of New York City for the past five years and absolutely hated it. He had only himself to blame for the assignment. His propensity for talking back to superiors and questioning nearly every directive left Stratton at odds with those in power within the Nightshade Clan. The ones who made the rules and handed out placements for the Fae, who served in what was best described as government roles.

As a hunter his role was basically a bounty hunter, a tracker, a police detective, parole officer, a marshal, and a social worker, all wrapped into one. There were other duties involved in what he did, but those were the highlights. He left a lot to be desired on the social worker front. He wasn’t what anyone would label as being good with people. Thankfully, that duty would be off his plate soon.

In addition to everything that was required of him on the Fae side of his life, the human side, the one that allowed him to live among them without raising too many eyebrows, was that of a homicide detective. Stratton’s human coworkers were blissfully unaware of the truth of what he was and of what else existed in the world.

Humans couldn’t handle the truth.

The minute someone broke social norms or showed any signs of being different from the rest of the sheep, they panicked, tried to kill it, and then dissected it to learn all its secrets. There were days Stratton honestly had to wonder why it was he fought so hard to keep their kind safe.

Were they worth the effort?

He wasn’t so sure anymore.

All they seemed to do was find new ways to destroy the planet, and they were constantly at war with one another. Too stupid to realize the real enemy wasn’t another country or another religion. It was certain factions of supernaturals who would just as soon eat a human than bother to protect it.

Case in point, last night Stratton had been dealing with a supernatural-related kill. There was no way a human had been behind the attack. Not with the scene he and his cousin had walked in on. Some poor guy who had been working the night shift at a small burger joint in the city had been attacked. A customer had found him—or what was left of him—when he’d gotten tired of waiting in the drive-thru line and decided to go into the restaurant to speak to a manager.

That’s when he saw it.

The burger guy’s body had been shoved into the fry warming area. A spot that was far too small for a fully grown man. Whatever had done it had wrapped the man like a pretzel and crammed him in.

It had taken the responding medical examiner techs nearly an hour to get the man out of the machine, and even that had involved cutting the body into pieces. The fire department’s help had been required. Every one of them looked traumatized for life.

Stratton had seen worse.

Far worse.

Once the body (or rather the parts of the body) was extracted, the death investigator was quick to point out the massive hole in the back of the man’s head as the possible cause of death. Though it could have been the fact the victim’s left leg was missing, as was his right hand. Whatever had taken them had used something sharp, making a clean cut on both appendages. Within seconds it became clear to everyone there was something else missing from the victim.

His brain.

The brain hadn’t been removed surgically. It had looked more like the assailant had treated the victim’s head like a coconut. Cracking it open with blunt force and then scooping out the gooey inner filling.

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