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    Tawny: #2 Melusine's Cats
    Tawny: #2 Melusine's Cats
    Tawny: #2 Melusine's Cats
    Ebook233 pages5 hours

    Tawny: #2 Melusine's Cats

    By Chris Quinton

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    About this ebook

    Melusine, a deity of rivers and seas, long ago lost the Battle of the Betrayal and is imprisoned in a nexus centred on the source of the Lynn River. She can only travel in the flowing water of her river, and cannot set foot on her banks. Her cats are not so bound. Neither pets nor familiars, they move freely between the realities, her agents among the humans who live along the Lynn.
    When Melusine's enemies come to the valley in search of revenge, she needs to rebuild the war band she has lost over the centuries. Her cats are the keys to this. Each one is a guardian, and formidable in its greater avatar. A guardian, along with two chosen warriors, form a triad. All three must come into the triad willingly, and as willingly give their oaths of loyalty to her. But Melusine is both prisoner and prison-keeper, and now must gather triads to guard that other dungeon at all costs.
    Hal Rayner enjoys his job at Greenlynn's Black Dog pub. He gets on well with the locals, and has been adopted by the usually standoffish pub cat. Then the dreams start, a red-headed stranger turns up, and before he knows it, Hal is caught up in other-worldly danger and weirdness. The cat, Tawny, is right in the middle of it, and Hal can't understand how a common or garden mog can become something out of a prehistoric nightmare.
    Gryffyth, the son of Nodens Silverhand, has been released from long imprisonment, and despite the unhealed wound given to him by Melusine in that distant battle, the years haven't blunted his hunger for revenge. He is still loyal to Gronw, and when Morgan sends for him, he willingly gives his aid. Gryff is determined to find and free his imprisoned liege lord. Then he meets Hal and Tawny, and suddenly the rules have changed.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherChris Quinton
    Release dateMar 1, 2016
    ISBN9781310341625
    Tawny: #2 Melusine's Cats
    Author

    Chris Quinton

    Chris Quinton  Chris started creating stories not long after she mastered joined-up writing, somewhat to the bemusement of her parents and her English teachers. But she received plenty of encouragement. Her dad gave her an already old Everest typewriter when she was ten, and it was probably the best gift she'd ever received – until the inventions of the home-computer and the worldwide web. Chris's reading and writing interests range from historical, mystery, and paranormal, to science-fiction and fantasy, writing mostly in the male/male genre. She also writes the occasional male/female novel in the name of Chris Power. She refuses to be pigeon-holed and intends to uphold the long and honourable tradition of the Eccentric Brit to the best of her ability. In her spare time [hah!] she reads, or listens to audio books while quilting or knitting. Over the years she has been a stable lad [briefly] in a local racing stable and stud, a part-time and unpaid amateur archaeologist, a civilian clerk at her local police station and a 15th century re-enactor. She lives in a small and ancient city not far from Stonehenge in the south-west of the United Kingdom, and shares her usually chaotic home with an extended family, three dogs, a Frilled Dragon [lizard], sundry goldfish and tropicals

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      Book preview

      Tawny - Chris Quinton

      TAWNY

      by

      Chris Quinton

      Melusine’s Cats #2

      Copyright - Chris Quinton 2016 - 2021

      Cover Design - Meredith Russell

      Editor - Gayle C

      With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced

      or used in whole or in part by any means existing

      without written permission from the Author, Chris Quinton.

      Piracy is Theft

      The royalties from the sale of my books help to support my family

      and pay essential bills.

      If you like this story, please spread the word and tell others about it,

      but *please* don’t share it or pirate it.

      Contents

      Dedication

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      About the Author

      Bibliography

      Dedication

      Thank you to all the Usual Suspects.

      You make writing even more enjoyable and your help is invaluable -

      as are the nags, bribes, whip-cracking, encouragement,

      and your confidence in me.

      Chapter One

      The morning sun provided a surprising amount of warmth, given winter crowded on the horizon. Hal Rayner drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. In this secluded corner of the inn’s beer garden, the cold wind couldn’t reach him, making it the ideal spot for his morning sessions of Tai Chi.

      After twelve months of working at the Black Dog on the edge of the village of Greenlynn, Hal had no urge to move on. Which was a first. Since he’d left school at eighteen he’d spent ten years going from job to casual job, travelling the country on his trusty Kawasaki motorbike. Until he’d applied for the barman’s post at the Dog on the spur of the moment, the longest he’d stayed anywhere was seven months.

      Now he had a spacious studio flat above the inn’s converted stable block for a peppercorn rent as a perk of the job, friends throughout the valley from Greenlynn to Portlynn on the coast, and a gig teaching Taekwondo in Barnstaple one evening a week, and whenever he could swing a Saturday afternoon off for a master class. All in all, life was good.

      This early in the day no one else was about. Except the large ginger tomcat who sauntered at will in and out of the inn and its gardens. The animal was known to be standoffish with most of the patrons, but it seemed to have decided Hal was all right. Of course, that might be because from their first meeting, Hal had shared odd titbits from his meals.

      The cat’s acceptance of him mirrored that of Betty Morris, the formidable landlady, her kitchen and bar staff, and the locals alike. That hadn’t changed when he’d stepped out of the closet with a deliberately throwaway mention of an ex-boyfriend. Hal had been wary about revealing his sexuality at first, unsure how a small rural community would react. Regardless of equality laws, homophobia still existed.

      Hal’s concerns had been quickly laid to rest. Will Blake, one of the local policemen, was a frequent visitor, using the inn as a rehydrating stop on his training runs. Hal had already noticed the man—he was lean, fit, and decidedly attractive in his shorts and singlet—but Betty’s greeting of, ‘Morning, dearie, when are you going to bring that man of yours back here? had taken him by surprise.

      Mike and I have split up, came the cheerful reply, and Betty had shaken her head.

      Long distance affairs hardly ever work. I’m sorry, though. He was nice. What you need is someone nearer to home.

      Betty, my love, have a sex change and I’ll carry you off like a shot. Hal’s ardent declaration, complete with hand on heart, earned him snorts of laughter from the customers and the landlady herself.

      You’ll need a sight more muscle, laddie, someone had called from the back of the saloon bar, raising more mirth. After that, Hal’s own revelation was something of a non-event, for which he was duly thankful.

      For a while Hal had contemplated hooking up with Will, but something held him back from offering anything more than casual friendship. He’d had a few weird dreams that started off with Will’s grey eyes smiling at him. Each time, however, a quiet voice had said, He’s not for you. Grey eyes had morphed to a familiar citrine gold with narrow vertical pupils. Why his hind brain had taken on a feline persona, he didn’t know, but Hal accepted that his subconscious knew something his conscious didn’t. His instincts were vindicated when, a few weeks ago, Will showed up with a mountain of good-natured muscle named Jesse Adams. Not long after, the fact that Will and Jesse were dating had become common knowledge up and down the Lynn Valley.

      Hal’s love life wasn’t a complete desert. The occasional casual hook-up in Barnstaple or Ilfracombe was enjoyable enough, but increasingly unsatisfying on an emotional level. He wanted something more, even if he wasn’t sure what that something was. Even so, North Devon was a great place to be, and he could easily see himself settling in the area, especially given the accepting attitude of the Lynn Valley people.

      Seeing Will and Jesse together was a bittersweet pleasure, reminding him of what he lacked. The two men were obviously close, without being sentimental or demonstrative. They just seemed to fit together, like pieces in a pattern, complete and perfect in its symmetry. One day, Hal promised himself, he’d have a relationship like theirs.

      These days, the closest he came to matching it was with a certain ginger scrounger, who seemed to find his company irresistible. The cat was the latest in a long line of ginger toms to take up uninvited residence at the Black Dog, according to Betty. The animal wasn’t the usual strongly-marked tabby-orange. The patterns of tiger-like stripes were faint along its body, but showed clearly on its face like terracotta war paint. It had a variety of names, from Tom, Marmalade, Tiger, or Ginger. It had answered to all of them, depending, apparently, on a whim.

      As far as Hal was concerned, none of them had felt right. Soon after he started work at the inn, he’d decided the cat needed a more distinctive name. Nothing suitable sprang to mind, of course, but his daily crossword puzzle provided one in the clue for Six Down: the colour of a lion’s coat. Tawny was the only word that fitted with the letters he already had, and somehow the word fell into place and became a name.

      From then on, the cat was Tawny, and with it came acknowledgement of gender and personality. Betty told Hal he was just plain soft as a bucket of warm tar, but Tawny always acknowledged the new name with either a twitch of his tail or a quiet sound that wasn’t quite a purr or a chirrup. The name caught the regulars’ imaginations, and soon previous names had been forgotten. Tawny still kept an aloof distance from people, with the one exception. Hal had yet to discover how the damned animal got into his studio flat when doors and windows were closed. Not that he minded, since his visitor seemed to be housetrained. Tawny was there most mornings, peering at him from the foot of the bed or the windowsill. Often, if Hal woke in the night, the cat would be a quietly purring presence in the darkness.

      He found Tawny’s presence oddly comforting, especially when the dreams began to get really weird and unusually easy to remember in the mornings. Even more peculiar was the number of times Tawny featured in them. Hal had the starring role in the nightly action-adventure entertainment, along with the strangely transformed cat; Tawny had become a huge prehistoric feline, almost the size of a horse. But there was an empty space in those dreams. A hollow place that ached to be filled and left him feeling bereft as he struggled to wake up.

      Right now the cat lounged comfortably on the stone steps up to the beer garden, vivid eyes slitted in a feline smile, and watched him flow through the forms. As usual the exercise left him invigorated and ready to begin work. But a good start to the day didn’t mean the remaining hours would follow suit. Midmorning, it changed.

      Hal, Betty said quietly as he brought up a crate of bottled cider from the cellar. Apprehension put sharpness in her voice and he looked up, startled.

      What’s wrong, Betts? He pushed the crate under the shelf and ran his gaze over the neatly stacked glass-fronted chiller. All stocked up; the lines of glasses were full as well, and nothing needed to be done for now.

      We might have some trouble, she said. Four yuppy yobs turned up a little while ago and they’d already started drinking before they got here.

      It happens, he answered, offering her a reassuring smile. It wasn’t like Betty to be uneasy with loud patrons, but she certainly was now. He could hear raised voices and raucous laughter from outside in the beer garden, and some of the regulars were silent and scowling into their tankards.

      But from what they’re saying out there, those gits know our Jesse, and they aren’t his friends. Will you keep an eye on them for me? Some of the lads in here are getting restless and I don’t want any trouble. I know you can take care of yourself if they start anything, she added apologetically.

      Not a problem, Hal assured her. It wouldn’t be the first time his martial arts skills were needed to control an overly stroppy drunk. He walked to the window that overlooked the garden, and peered out.

      Four men stood grouped around a fifth, and the contrast between them struck Hal as odd. The quartet looked to be city-types in their mid and late twenties, were well-dressed in Barbour jackets, smart jeans and leather shoes. The fifth man was a fair bit older, in his late forties maybe, dark-haired, and with a rugged, unshaven appearance that matched his serviceable but well-worn clothes and boots. His air of authority was palpable, and made the four seem like posturing schoolboys. A large black and tan dog that might be a cross between a German Shepherd and a shaggy bear lounged at his feet. The scene seemed off to Hal, and tension began to gather in his belly.

      Who is he, Betts? he asked over his shoulder. I haven’t seen him around here before.

      She joined him at the window. No idea, sweetie. He’s a stranger to me. Is he ticking them off?

      No, I’m pretty sure not. Hal frowned. It’s more like he’s telling them something. I’m going to see if I can hear what’s going on. A few empties on some of the picnic tables gave him a valid reason to be outside, so he picked up a tray and walked casually into the beer garden. He collected the glasses and bottles from one table and edged nearer to the group.

      —and wait behind the hedges, the dark man was saying. Go now, they’ll be here soon.

      Okay, and we can do what we like, right? one of the four said with an eagerness that set Hal’s hackles up.

      You can, the man drawled, and two hurried away, laughing and jostling each other.

      You said you’d make sure there won’t be any repercussions, another said, no matter what.

      I did. But only if you are victorious. Fail and I won’t be able to protect you.

      We won’t— A rumbling growl from the dog cut over the words and Hal glanced down to see he was the focus of the animal’s gaze.

      Hal didn’t hesitate. He approached their table, ostensibly relaxed, his expression easygoing and friendly.

      Sorry to interrupt, folks. Let me clear away your empties. He reached in front of the dark man and began to gather up the bottles and glasses. Can I bring you refills?

      Fuck off, yokel! a burly blond snarled and shoved him. Hal swayed easily with the push, and the man caught Blondie’s wrist and held him back.

      That’s enough, Harry. Thank you, no, he continued, his smile for Hal genial and unthreatening. We’re about to leave.

      Have a good day, he responded, stacked the last glasses on the tray and left. Before he reached the door of the inn, the three of them were on their way out onto the footpath, the dog at their heels.

      Thank God for that, Betty said as he entered. Did you hear anything?

      I think they’re planning to ambush someone, and I don’t think it’s supposed to be a joke. If they’re already slagging off Jesse, perhaps—

      Oh, damn! What do I do? But she was already reaching for the mobile phone in her pocket. I’m calling the cops. I’d sooner have Bob Henshaw tear me off a strip for wasting police time than leave our lads to get a beating from those little shites.

      Good idea. I’m going back out there to see what they’re up to.

      Take care.

      Hal gave her a swift smile and hurried out to the garden. He didn’t get far. Tawny stood in his path, back arched, fur on end and ears flattened.

      No. The word punched into his brain with enough force to rock him back on his heels. Stay here. This is not yet a fight for you.

      Not for a second did Hal doubt where that message came from. He gaped at the cat, but before he could rally himself, Betty rushed out of the doorway and grabbed his arm.

      Bob and Ayesha are on their way—he says stay out of it and leave it up to them.

      As if. He snorted and started for the door.

      No! Another mental blast struck him, and Hal flinched. At the same time, raised voices came from down the path. Jeers and laughter reached him, then shouts of consternation, and Betty gasped in alarm.

      Oh, heck! I heard Will just then.

      Hal swore under his breath. Jesse and Will ran together most days, and showed up at the Black Dog on a regular basis. If the strangers were here to duff Jesse up, he and Will would need all the help they could get. This time, Hal didn’t get that silent rebuke, and when he looked down, Tawny had disappeared.

      More yells and howls followed, along with what sounded like the snarling of a large beast. He started forward, but Betty clung on tighter.

      I have to help them, he insisted, but she wouldn’t let go of his arm. Betty’s grip was surprisingly strong and she weighed more than he did, anchoring him in place.

      Please don’t! Let Bob handle it, love. In any case, if it’s our Will and Jess down there, those yuppy pillocks might have bitten off more than they can chew.

      The sounds signalling a battle royal cut off abruptly, just as a police car screeched to a halt in the inn’s car park. Bob Henshaw and Ayesha Wallace piled out and sprinted across the beer garden and down the path, batons out at the ready. Hal took advantage of Betty’s slackening hold and broke free to run after them.

      The scene he saw as he rounded the bend was almost funny. Four men, all of them promising vengeance amongst profanities, lay face down on the trampled grass. Will and Jesse, bruised and bloodied, were finishing off tying their assailants’ wrists behind their backs with their own belts. Knives, a kitchen cleaver, and wooden staves littered the ground.

      Shit, Hal said. They really did want World War Three. Who are they, for God’s sake?

      Harry Crendle and his arse-lickers, Jesse replied briefly. The ones who framed me for that phony assault charge back in Warwick.

      And the Warwick police are looking for them, Will said, immense satisfaction in his voice. I’ve been wanting to get in a little payback ever since Jesse told me his side of the story.

      Never mind that, Bob snapped. How badly are you hurt?

      The ambulance is on its way, Ayesha cut in. Looks like all of you need a trip to A&E.

      Won’t say no. Jesse grimaced in pain. But I fancy these bastards need it more than we do.

      I’ll have you for this! Crendle spat. Police brutality! I’ll sue you faggot sods for every penny you’ve got!

      Oh, yeah? Will drawled. How are you going to claim that, when you’re the ones who brought weapons to the dance?

      Bob cleared his throat and stepped in front of Will and Jesse. Harold Crendle, he said. I am cautioning you in relation to this offence of wounding and causing grievous bodily harm with intent, contrary to section 18 Offences Against the Person Act. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in Court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?

      Fuck off!

      Bob ignored him, and got on with helping Ayesha with exchanging belts for handcuffs on the others, and reciting the same caution to each man.

      Hal watched for a short while, feeling a little like a spare at a wedding. No one needed his help, though Jesse and Will were pale under the blood, cuts and abrasions. Then he remembered the snarls he’d heard, the kind only a very large and very angry animal would make. The sounds had been nothing like the average dog could have produced, not even the oversized crossbred that had accompanied the dark-haired man. Of whom there was no trace.

      There was another guy, he said. With a dog.

      Yes, Jesse said. Morgan. We’ve run into them before.

      He’ll get his comeuppance sooner or later. Will gazed around. No sign of him, though. He scarpered pretty damn quick.

      The ambulance has just arrived, Betty said from behind Hal. He turned to see her standing there with a can of pepper spray and a determined expression. Bob, Ayesha, if you want statements, I have a saloon bar full of witnesses who heard those pieces of shite mouthing off about our Jess and what they were going to do to him, let alone what Hal overheard.

      What I don’t understand, Jesse said, is how they thought they could get away with it.

      That other man, Morgan? Hal replied. "He said he’d

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