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The Shield
The Shield
The Shield
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The Shield

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Martin Hayes has grown up since his adventures in Savannah. He’s about ready to launch into his own life and he’s finally found a girl he wants to see more than once. Everything’s coming up roses.
Except someone is trying to kill him and his girl and they are both not ready for what the world is throwing at them. All he can do is hold on to Allie and pray some days.
Allison Robertson has had a lot heaped on her very slender shoulders with the deaths of her parents and having to take care of her brother, Brion. Then her life takes a turn for the decidedly weird when she goes to get ice cream.
Join Martin and Allie as they try to navigate their way through just trying to live their lives, as well as deal with the unexplainable stuff that always seems to happen whenever Martin is around.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 17, 2018
ISBN9781370864478
The Shield
Author

Severine Wolfe

Severine Wolfe is a pen name. It's also a name I've used across the gaming world for nearly 20 years. I answer to, "Hey, Sev!" just as easily as my birth name.I am married and have four grown children and three grandchildren. I love to read and I read everything from treatises on philosophy to theories on the speed of light to the most bawdy of bodice rippers. My interests are varied but reading, knitting and gardening are my top three. Extreme knitting, not for the faint of heart.I've had stories running around my head for years and I'm just now letting them out to put themselves on the virtual page. I hope you enjoy the characters as much as I have over the years. You can contact me at sevwolfe@gmail.com.

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    Book preview

    The Shield - Severine Wolfe

    The Shield

    Urban Paladins Book 2

    By Severine Wolfe

    The Shield

    Copyright © 2018 by Severine Wolfe

    First E-Book Published May 2018

    Cover design by Melody Simmons

    Proofread by Stephanie Taylor Flores

    ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission from the author.

    All characters, places, and events in this book are fictitious or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is strictly coincidental.

    License Statement

    This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    Dedication

    I have to dedicate this story to my beta-reader, Stephanie Taylor Flores. She has selflessly read this book for me. Not just once. She’s stuck with me over the years it’s taken me to get Martin’s story told. She’s been great and really good sport. I could not do this without her.

    Acknowledgements

    Unlike most of my books, I did not have to do tons of research for The Shield. But I have to acknowledge here the help of SE Smith with this book. It’s taken me four years to write and has gone through so many revisions and vision changes that it almost got tossed in the recycle bin. She has guided me and been patient while I was full of angst and idiocy over Martin and Allie. She just reminded me that a Happy For Now was good, too. The Shield would not be here without her sage advice. Thank you, Susan. The Shield would be a bad memory if not for you.

    CHAPTER ONE

    Hard work and perseverance. Those two concepts are what drive most human beings. We believe that through these two things we will receive some reward here on Earth and in some ephemeral, poorly defined version of heaven. Believe it or not, your version of heaven tells me far more about you than years of therapy could discern.

    You would think that given my avocation, I'd be a big believer in things like God and Heaven. You'd be laughably wrong. I was brought up Catholic, and I'm still forced to attend Saturday evening mass with my former guardian, Ceilidh and her family. I say forced, but it's not at gunpoint. No, it's much more insidious. It's in the face of almost parental disappointment that I refuse to attend. It wasn't that I'd had a horrible experience with a priest. No, my horrible experience had been with a normal human being. If being a greedy, buggering asshole is normal, I mean.

    My parents had died in a bad car accident on one of Houston's notorious freeways when I was only thirteen years old. William Channing was my parents' choice to be my guardian and he was a nice guy right up to the point where he drugged me in preparation to rape me and take my insurance settlement money. That was the night I found out what I was.

    I'm a modern-day Paladin. And, before you even start, no, I can't whistle and get a horse, but I can usually find a mode of transportation when I need it.

    Eight years later and I'm still trying to figure this thing out. It doesn't help that no one seems to know how I do what I do and why I can't do it on command. I learned how to summon my sword at will, but the other thing? No one has died around me since Ceilidh five years ago. It could have been a one-off, a fluke.

    Ceilidh Hastings née Masterson, was appointed my guardian after William Channing disappeared and his wife decided she didn't want to raise a boy my age all by herself. Ceilidh had been there that night. She's also a Paladin. Her call to fight evil is on the sexual harm of children and innocents. She sees auras around people that tell her who they are when no one is looking.

    She'd seen William Channing at mass and knew he was up to something. I'd been so drugged that I didn't even realize that The Creep, how I refer to him in my head, had taken off my pajama bottoms and was getting me ready. It sickens me to think about it, even eight years later.

    Ceilidh had been prepared to turn him to ash, but I finally got conscious enough to realize what was happening and my sword manifested and I ashed him myself.

    Yep. Thirteen. Drugged. Freaked out.

    Ceilidh went into automatic damage control and cleaned up the ash and told me to sleep in the tent we'd put up out back to pretend to be camping in the Houston suburbs. She immediately got on her phone to her parish priest, Father Tim, and they had ramrodded her guardianship through the courts. She was way too young to be a mother-figure to me, but more like a big sister. I love her like that. I'm twenty-one now, but Ceilidh and I have been through some shit and we are tight.

    Her marriage to Brook Hastings was the best thing for her and they have two kids now. The Little Crumb Crunchers love to attack me whenever I visit, well Patrick does. He's three and at that stage where any male is his personal jungle gym. Felice is just a baby, and she's a girl, so we don't share a lot yet.

    As if the mere thought of them had rung a bell in their heads, I get a phone call from Ceilidh. I sighed and rolled my eyes as I waited in the line at the coffee house on the Rice University Campus. I knew I had to answer it, because if I didn't answer, she would have Brook start calling me, demanding to know why I was making his beloved wife cry, and where was I so he could come pound me into the cement.

    What's up, Kay? I asked as cheerfully as I could, even pasting a false smile on my face, even though I knew she couldn’t see me. I always felt like she could see me.

    I was calling to make sure you were up, Ceilidh sighed. It's the first day of classes for fall…

    Kay, I'm a postgrad, our classes never freakin' end. You know that. She'd gotten her doctorate at the tender age of 21, just as I was going to do, if I could get the last of my research done.

    I just wanted to make sure you were… there, she kind of faded off, which meant either she was kissing Brook goodbye for his commute into the city or one of the kids was doing something she needed to pay attention to. When I heard a curt, See you this evening, will call you later I knew it was the former.

    You've got to stop worrying about me, Kay, I said, ordering my coffee and moving on down the line. You've got your own, real kids to worry about.

    That's stupid, Martin, Ceilidh scolded me and yes, I went right back to being that thirteen-year-old boy, afraid of saying a curse word. You mean every bit as much to me as Patrick or Felice. I love you. Oh, she was playing so dirty.

    Kyle and I are running through some programming I did over the weekend to see if we've fixed that glitch he was having.

    The phone remained silent.

    Really, Kay. I'm doing fine.

    She sighed, and I could hear she was shaking her head in typical Ceilidh fashion. Just be careful, she said. I've got a bad feeling.

    That shut me down. I trusted Ceilidh's feelings more than I trusted hurricane forecasts. I'm not a trusting person by nature. Perhaps it has something to do with the things I've seen and experienced. If she had a feeling, I needed to heed it.

    What kind of feeling? I asked with a touch of caution. If it was horrible, I really did not want to see it coming.

    She was quiet, and I could hear the head shake again. I don't know. It's just a strange feeling and it's about you.

    What's it say in the manual? I tried to interject some humor into a conversation that was quickly turning bleak.

    She did laugh. The manual doesn't cover forebodings and augurs.

    I should know that, I'd helped her write the damned manual.

    Well, I need to get my coffee and get to the lab, Kay. I'll call you later.

    Love you, she said and hung up.

    I heard my name and looked over to see two coffees in front with my name on both. I looked at the barista and told her I'd only ordered one, she shrugged and ignored me. So, I took both. As I walked outside I figured I would drink one on the way over to the lab and save one to heat up later. Don't judge me. I write programming for mechanical engineers. I design programs to run robots, in the mad dash we're all making for Artificial Intelligence. We have not yet achieved AI and anyone who says we have either doesn't know what AI is or is trying to get you to buy something.

    As I turned the corner and seriously considered dumping the extra coffee in one of the trash cans along the sidewalk, I saw a very pretty girl sitting at a table with two guys. I'd never seen her before, but it was the first day of classes, so it was possible she was a freshman. I never touched freshman meat, not even when I had been a freshman. Some of the girls at Rice University were pure jailbait. Jailbait or not, she was compelling. There was a stubborn set to her mouth and face. Whatever the two jocks at her table were laying down, she was not picking it up.

    No means no, guys, I heard her say, and that decided where my second coffee would go.

    I walked over to the outside table where she was sitting and called out, Hey, babe, got your coffee. I held up the extra cup and smiled at her in what I’d hoped sold as besotted. She looked up and a slight look of shock flew past on her face, then she broke out in a smile and stood up, grabbing her backpack.

    Thanks, Tiger, she grinned and took the coffee from my hand. She looked back at the two jerk jocks and tipped her cup at them. See you 'round campus, boys. And we walked away.

    Hi, I said sotto voce, that's Latin for whispering. I'm Martin Hayes, and I'll be saving your virtue today.

    She looked up at me with her bright blue eyes twinkling through her glasses, strings of her honey-colored bangs were hanging in her face, the rest of her hair in one of those messy bun things that girls can do at the drop of a hat.

    Hello, Martin, saver of virtue, she giggled. I am Allison Robertson, but savers of my virtue can call me Allie. I had a good chuckle at that. Allie Robertson was a very happy soul and I did not come around many of those in my computer and gaming nerd circles. My personal theory is that we think brooding made us appealing to the sex we wanted to attract.

    What building are you going to, Allie Robertson? I asked, praying we were going in the right direction since my lab was on the other side of the campus, but if you find a parking spot on campus, you take it, regardless of where your classes may be.

    Today is a core studies day, so boring old English is first, she said, heading over towards the quad.

    What's your major?" I asked. I was also praying that she would not be some liberal arts major. They really didn't like the progress that my major in computer sciences connoted.

    She kept walking and slowed as we neared a building. I am in astrophysics, Martin Hayes.

    I turned to her and went down on one knee.

    Marry me?

    We both laughed, and she reached down to help me up to my feet.

    She tilted her head in that way girls do when they're trying to figure something out, looking me right in the eye.

    And what is your major?

    Computer Science generally, and I'm currently working on my doctorate in AI. I waited to see if she fled in panic, grimaced and friend-zoned me or liked what she heard.

    Doctorate, she chuckled and shook her head. Then you're far too old to consider for lunch.

    I'm only twenty-one! I protested reflexively.

    She stared at me. Well, I'm only nineteen, Allie Robertson explained. That's not such a great gulf.

    Hardly even a puddle.

    Perhaps we could eat lunch at that burger joint on the west side of campus at say, one? She patiently waited for my answer. I've heard the term fancy before used to indicate that someone liked someone but never experienced anything that brought that word to my mind. Also, it's never polite to keep a lady waiting.

    I'll meet you there, then, she said just before she headed into the building for her class. I looked down at my watch and saw I was already late meeting Kyle, but it wasn't a class, so no harm, no foul.

    I definitely fancied Allie Robertson.

    CHAPTER TWO

    Kyle looked up from the small insectoid-like robot he'd made and gave me a blank look.

    You're early, he said.

    I shook my head and set my backpack down on one of the tables we used for working on the robots, taking out my laptop and getting it set up.

    I'm late, Kyle, I pointed out while gesturing to the clock up on the wall. You here all night again?

    My lab partner nodded. I'm working on the ones who have bent their legs and making sure that they're all ready for the new upload.

    Did you bother to call Melissa? I had to ask. Kyle's wife was a school teacher and they had just found out she was pregnant.

    He nodded. Yeah, she wasn't happy, but I have to get this up and running, get the doctorate finished so I can start looking for work.

    This was also a new development. Before, Kyle had never worried about the fact that Melissa was the breadwinner and he lived on the generous stipend from our research grant. I didn't need mine, but Kyle showed he was no pushover when I'd offered it to him. Like I said, those two concepts of hard work and perseverance.

    He looked up and squinted at me through his thick glasses, which I suspected needed a new prescription.

    Melissa says you're invited to dinner Saturday night. She wants to regale you with the antics of her new batch of fourth graders.

    I smiled and nodded. Melissa always made her homemade lasagna when I came over and I always brought a ridiculously fantastic bottle of Chianti and fresh garlic bread from the bakery near the campus. They'd rented a house nearby where post-grads languished as they worked towards their doctoral dissertation. I already had mine written and all I needed was to drop in the data from the work Kyle and I were doing with our walking insect robots.

    Lasagna, right? I asked. I had to make sure.

    Yes, he droned as if I'd asked the question a thousand times. She said to be there by seven-thirty and she's making cannoli.

    I will admit, I drooled. My mouth watered like a Pavlovian hound at the mere mention of Melissa's cannoli. She was a second-generation Italian. Her parents owned a restaurant somewhere in California. Melissa had worked there in school and would make up their cannoli and house salad dressing. She knew her way around Italian cuisine.

    Oh yeah, I will be there with bells on, I muttered as I logged into the departmental network and began uploading the new programming to the servers that fed it to the robots. Kyle was busy making sure none of them were online while I did this. After I was done we would turn them on and Kyle would begin testing the commands.

    I hope you're wearing way more than bells, Martin, Kyle grunted out as he sat down next to me, practically pouring his bulk into the chair. Kyle seriously needed to eat a salad, but it was junk food here on campus or high calorie, high carb comfort food at home. I probably ate worse, but I got exercise. Lots and lots of exercise in the form of sword and martial arts practice. He could use it though. He really could.

    Hey, Kyle, you want to go to martial arts with me tonight? We could work out a little, get you into shape for the little guy coming soon.

    Kyle shook his head before he opened his mouth.

    I can't do that stuff, Martin, you know that.

    What's the worst that can happen? This was not our first time at this dance. You learn how to defend yourself and get a little exercise. What could go wrong?

    He gave me an arch look.

    Hey, that could have happened to anyone, Kyle. Seriously, it has happened before.

    I pulled a muscle, Martin, He sighed. Putting on my work out clothes.

    I heard about a chick dislocating a knee putting on yoga pants.

    You did not!

    No, for realsies, saw it on YouTube.

    He sighed and began tinkering with the robot.

    I'm not the workout type. You know that. My dad tried to get me to go to martial arts classes, so I could learn to protect myself from bullies, but I always got hurt.

    I nodded while I uploaded my work and waited for the all-clear to start turning on the robots, so the new changes would take place. Kyle was the unlikely offspring of a football jock still living in his glory days of a high school championship and his beauty-queen mother. How Kyle got genius genes is as much a mystery of the universe as Boson Particles. I'd met his parents when they'd come to visit, and he'd showed them the lab. They exuded fear in the face of so many things they didn't understand. Kyle's dad had asked, more than once, how the football team was doing.

    The Rice University Owls were never going to be a power in the conference they played in. Rocks for Jocks was a graduate level course here. We simply didn't take the brain-dead applications unless it was for the Liberal Arts department, but those kinds of kids usually went to the University of Houston or the University of Texas at Austin. We have a football team, but nobody really cares. Those guys had brains and weren't looking for an NFL career instead of heading to a post-grad program somewhere.

    For a purebred scientist, like Kyle, his entire life had been spent running from bullies and jock types. I can only imagine what it had been like growing up in his home. He had confessed to me at his parents' visit that he had prayed for a sibling, that was hopefully just like his parents, to take the heat off him. He'd hated his one season in Little League and the one season he'd played football in the peewee league, he'd warmed the bench well. After that his father had given up and ignored him. From what I'd witnessed, it wasn't that his father didn't like him, it was simply that they had nothing in common but shared genetics.

    The fact that Kyle had agreed to go with me just once, was a huge thing. The fact that he pulled his hamstring getting into a gi, well, that is because he was tense, nervous, and nowhere limber enough to try more than walking across campus to his parking space. He was a Mathlete, not an Athlete.

    We both sat on the floor, watching the scroll across my laptop screen. When it finally stopped, Kyle began turning on the little machines. They were finally all turned on, and I loaded the new software and hit enter. We both watched as they began walking around the table where we had set up an obstacle course, of sorts, and we watched as they fell over and learned to turn themselves upright. This was basic AI type behavior, but we were telling it what to do, it wasn't confronted with a situation and deciding on a course of action. We were ages away from that sort of autonomy. Even your basic Roomba has less AI than these little guys. Right now, we just time how long it takes them to get back upright then learn how to navigate the course with no falls.

    We sat, watching our creations, talking, shooting the shit, while they did what they were programmed to do. We didn't have to be there to observe this, but what else were we going to do?

    I met a girl at the coffee shop today, I said after a rather long silence.

    Kyle turned his head and stared at me, open-mouthed.

    You?

    I looked at him with a frown. Yes, Kyle. Even I can meet a girl.

    He laughed. You know what I mean. You are the epitome of the hit it and forget it male.

    I wanted to retort, but I couldn't. Not honestly.

    And this is where my tale gets tawdry. After Ceilidh got me, she made sure I had the best counselors that Houston had to offer. I had spoken with them honestly and we had all thought I was okay. But, inside, the deepest part of me worried. I worried that William Channing had made me gay, and I, at the age of fifteen, didn't want to be gay. Yeah, I know, this should have told me something, but remember, I was a teenager, I still knew everything back then.

    So, I found a girl who would let me, and I had sex with her. It wasn't great. It's hard for anything to be great when you're scared out of your skin. But I liked the experience enough to want to try it again. Because if I did it again it meant I wasn't gay, right? Teenagers are such great thinkers it's a wonder we don't let them solve all our problems. Ceilidh said this over and over when I was a

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