Short Stories from the Network Series Read online

  Merrick emerged from a shallow darkness within seconds. Voices wavered over him. With a groan, his eyes fluttered open. Pain reverberated through his head. Yanno stood above him, grinning.

  “I won. Ya lost.”

  He disappeared. With a growl, Merrick pushed to his feet. The Brotherhood murmured in the background, silencing when he straightened. A witch with short gray hair and a furry mustache stood in the ring, waving him over.

  “Merrick, meet Terry.” Derek motioned between them. “Please, get to know each other.”

  Merrick pulled in a deep breath—wincing from an ache in his left rib—and prepared to spar again.

  The Protectors showed no mercy. He accepted none. With every blow, Merrick’s abilities waned. His energy flagged. He stumbled from one opponent to the next in a tortured haze until Derek stepped into the ring.

  “You lost, Merrick. To every single Protector.” Derek’s gaze moved around the circle. “There wasn’t even a moment when we thought you might win. That’s pretty bad. Maybe the worst I’ve seen so far.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Merrick peered at him through a swollen eye. He shifted his weight to his other leg, certain he’d sprained his right ankle. A rib on his left side smarted with every breath. Blood filled his mouth.

  “Now you fight me.” Derek tilted his head back. “Do you want to fight me?”

  Merrick swallowed.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Derek’s eyebrows rose in amusement. “Really?”

  He nodded, afraid that if he spoke, he’d quit. The slight movement sent his balance reeling. One more blow and he might never rise again. But he wouldn’t quit.

  Fight until you can’t fight anymore, son, his father would have said. Fight your heart out.

  “A wise decision,” Derek said, rolling his long sleeves back. “Let’s fight.”

  Derek stooped, hands at the ready. Merrick’s mind spun. He needed to do something, he just couldn’t remember what. Did he wait for Derek to attack? Rush first? The artistic form of hand-to-hand combat eluded him. It had rules. Best practices. Methods. He’d forgotten all of it.

  Something in the glint of Derek’s eyes caught Merrick’s gaze. In his hazy state, it looked like a challenge. Merrick raised his hands to guard his face. He’d probably die.

  But at least he’d die fighting.

  Summoning the last of his energy, Merrick released a guttural yell and charged. Within three strides, he slammed into Derek, taking them both to the ground. His breath left him. Merrick’s fists flew in a fast staccato against Derek’s chest. He became a seething ball of desperation and pain.

  Derek’s fist connected with Merrick’s jaw. A spray of white lights broke before his eyes. His body went slack. He disappeared into the waiting oblivion for the second time.

  This time, he welcomed the reprieve.

  Merrick woke to the sting of a slap.

  His arms, heavy as iron, struggled to move. When he moved, his muscles clenched. Snippets of recollection came back at him one at a time. Derek. Fighting. Blackness. Mortification swept through him.

  I lost, he thought. I lost horribly.

  “Ah. The handsome lad is awake again. He’s never looked better, has he, Brothers?”

  Merrick’s right eye flew open—the other wouldn’t respond. A blur of faces floated over him. Derek emerged from the hazy mass, wiping a bloody nose with the back of his hand.

  “You lost, Merrick.”

  Merrick nodded. His jaw ached too much to speak. Derek grinned.

  “But you punched my pretty face. That’s impressive enough.”

  “And knocked you to the ground!” another voice called, amidst a ripple of laughter. Derek grunted.

  “Impressive enough. What do you say, Brothers? Shall we let him try to be one of us for a couple of years?”

  A low murmur rippled through the crowd. The Protectors backed away. Derek extended a hand to Merrick. Tentatively, Merrick reached for it and stood. A buzz took the edge off the swarming pain. He’d lost consciousness twice, possibly a tooth, and wanted to die. Not a bad start before breakfast.

  Derek motioned to the Brotherhood with a jerk of his head. “You lost to every Protector, including me. But we weren’t expecting you to win. Hell, if you did, we’d have to replace that Protector as well.”

  Derek slapped him on the shoulder, nearly knocking him to his knees. Merrick grunted, nostrils flaring in pain.

  “Just wanted to make sure you’d get back up once you’d fallen down,” Derek said. “Most who try out don’t keep going. We value determination over raw talent. In the beginning, anyway. We’ll see if you can keep it up.”

  “Yes, sir,” Merrick mumbled, a hand on his jaw.

  Derek held out his hand.

  “Welcome to Protector training, Merrick. It’ll be fun trying to defeat you a second time.”

  M—

  The Majesties were pleased to hear of your successful entry to the Protectors’ training program. Farah appreciates the difficulty of your task and the decisions you made while under uncertain pressure. Although you face a disciplinary council upon your official return, she will allow you to remain without dishonor. She expects you to continue placing your home Network above the Central Network and providing us with needed information. Your binding of silence is still active.

  You are welcome to visit home on your first available break.

  —W

  Answering a summons from the High Priestess made Merrick’s heart spin like a top.

  Too early, he thought, ascending the black-and-white marble stairs two at a time, passing Guardians on each floor. Derek can’t be kicking me out of Protectors’ training yet. He wouldn’t need the High Priestess to do that. And it’s only been a year and a half. I have six more months.

  The cumulative logic didn’t ease his nerves. Why else would he be summoned to the High Priestess’s office? He hovered between worlds here. Not a Captain anymore, but not a Protector either.

  He hurried down the Royal Hall. A girl with wild black hair and bare feet stood at the High Priestess’s door, her ear pressed against the wood. Merrick stopped.

  Ah, he thought with a glimmer of amusement. This had to be the infamous Bianca Monroe.

  He’d seen Derek’s daughter around the castle—when he’d sought Derek for help with a mission gone awry or attended meetings with her father in their apartment. But they’d never spoken or made eye contact. She’d walked around in a bit of a daze since she’d come to the castle. Derek had told all the Brotherhood—Merrick included—the truth about Mabel murdering Marie, even though the Chatterer reported it as an accident. Whispers of Marie’s death swirled amongst the servants in Bianca’s wake. He thought of his own father’s passing with a pang of understanding. Even Ana’s memory didn’t hurt so much anymore.

  “Merry meet, Bianca.”

  She whipped around so fast it would have startled him if he hadn’t expected it. Like Derek, she had a natural, athletic finesse with honed instincts and a sharp edge. A hand flew to her chest.

  “Oh. You startled me.” Her eyes narrowed and darkened at the same time. “What are you doing here, Merrick?”

  A very good question, he thought, wondering if he should ask the same.

  “The High Priestess summoned me.”

  He withdrew his hand from his pocket, producing the note from the High Priestess. If Bianca lingered outside the door, eavesdropping on whatever went on inside, perhaps he hadn’t been called for dismissal.

  Would it be disloyal of him to hope that someone caught her? One flash of her gray eyes—such a strange mix of shadows and a hint of sorrow—made him regret the thought. Bianca fulfilled her reputation of a wild young girl raised in the forest, but he admired her spunk. Who else would have the courage to eavesdrop on the High Priestess in broad daylight?

  He certainly wouldn’t.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, looking to the door. In the distance, he could just make out a shuffle of soun
d. With a quick, silent spell, he expanded his hearing. Footsteps closing in.

  Bianca’s mouth bobbed open and then closed. She hesitated, studying him.

  “Ensuring the success of my future,” she quipped. He smirked. Whatever that meant, it would soon be comical if she remained this distracted.

  “You may want to step back then,” he said. “Or else your future is going to involve a black eye.”

  She stepped back just as the door cracked open, sending him a grateful look that took him by surprise. A flash of curiosity stirred within him. Who was this girl indeed? She had Derek’s spunk and drive to prove herself, only in feminine form.

  The High Priestess’s voice spilled into the hallway, pulling him from his thoughts.

  “Both of you may enter.”

  Merrick stepped back, allowing Bianca to go before him, and followed her inside. Plucky, he thought as he closed the door behind them. She’d make a great sword fighter.

  The Network Series

  Mildred’s Resistance (prequel)

  Miss Mabel’s School for Girls

  (winner of IAN 2015 Outstanding Fantasy)

  The Isadora Interviews (novella)

  Antebellum Awakening

  The High Priest’s Daughter

  War of the Networks

  The Network Series Complete Collection

  (includes all the above books in one edition)

  Short Stories from Miss Mabel’s

  Short Stories from the Network Series

  And when you’re done reading The Network Series, there’s more...

  • THE DRAGONMASTER TRILOGY •

  Flame

  Flight

  Freedom

  • THE ANTEBELLUM COLLECTION •

  The Witch Without Magic

  The High Priestess

  The Swordmaker

  The Weavers of Magic

  About Katie

  I write fantasy books so you can seize the light. Hold magic in your fingertips. Command dragons. Throw yourself at the mercy of an attractive stranger. You’ll forget the shadows of real life to live your wildest adventure.

  And remember that you are the hero of your own story.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  The Network Series

  Title Page

  Rights and Disclaimers

  •••

  Introduction

  •••

  The Other Side

  Her Greatness

  Heritage

  You and Me

  All I Have

  Utter Madness

  Great Together

  The Wrong Decisions

  Someone Who Cares

  Uncertain Pressure

  •••

  Read More

  About the Author