In ancient times, a prophecy was spoken, spelling destruction for the gods. In present day, where monsters walk among mortals and the gods still rule the divine realm, signs of the prophecy stir. Evil creatures roam, and the magical veil of Hecate can conceal only so much. In the United States, a brutal attack on mortals draws attention—rumors of rogue werewolves. At the vanguard lies the Veli, hunters of Artemis, sworn to protect humanity from the horrors of the divine realm. Now Elektra, a Veli captain, must investigate the gruesome tragedy and bring the culprits to justice.
Amid schemes, prophecy and betrayal, victory and terror, allies and enemies, the balance of the divine realm hangs in the balance, as each side endeavors to elude the will of the Fates.
Transcending from ancient times to the modern-day sprawl of human cities, A Prophetic Fate tells a story of gods and monsters, vampires and werewolves, who must face thousands of years of conflict. Here a order of hunters execute their sworn duty; a society of mind controlling demons manipulates mortals; a vampire navigates the politics of his kind; and a determined werewolf undertakes tries to understand why her people face troubling accusations.
In ancient times, a prophecy was spoken, spelling destruction for the gods. In present day, where monsters walk among mortals and the gods still rule the divine realm, signs of the prophecy stir. Evil creatures roam, and the magical veil of Hecate can conceal only so much. In the United States, a brutal attack on mortals draws attention—rumors of rogue werewolves. At the vanguard lies the Veli, hunters of Artemis, sworn to protect humanity from the horrors of the divine realm. Now Elektra, a Veli captain, must investigate the gruesome tragedy and bring the culprits to justice.
Amid schemes, prophecy and betrayal, victory and terror, allies and enemies, the balance of the divine realm hangs in the balance, as each side endeavors to elude the will of the Fates.
Transcending from ancient times to the modern-day sprawl of human cities, A Prophetic Fate tells a story of gods and monsters, vampires and werewolves, who must face thousands of years of conflict. Here a order of hunters execute their sworn duty; a society of mind controlling demons manipulates mortals; a vampire navigates the politics of his kind; and a determined werewolf undertakes tries to understand why her people face troubling accusations.
Leonidas pulled out his phone and checked the messages. Noticing his contact had not arrived yet, his face tightened. He spotted a nearby bar as he smoothly walked through the LAX airport and headed over for a seat. As the primary international airport serving Los Angeles and the surrounding metropolitan area, LAX was a hub of chaotic activity. Snake-like queues filled with passengers carting luggage for TSA check-in, airport staff and security personnel scanning their surroundings like hawks.
As he neared the counter, the bartender eyed him, and he heard the faint sound of her heart speeding up. Leonidas politely smiled and seated himself. Dismissing the look of astonishment, she approached.
“Morning. What can I get you?” she asked, batting her cat-like eyes with seductive slowness.
“Morning,” Leonidas said, giving her a noncommittal shrug. “I’ve had a long day. Surprise me. I’m sure whatever you provide will be exquisite.”
She tilted her head to the side and smiled. “I like your style,” she said, pointing at his black and gray, long-sleeve cardigan. “And your accent. You’re British?”
A charming smile spread across Leonidas’ face, and he tilted his head to the side. “I spent a significant amount of time there. Does that earn me a free drink?”
“Coming right up,” she said, smiling, and a blush spread up her cheeks as she pulled out a couple of fresh bottles along with a glass.
Leonidas observed her as she went about her work. She was an artist. Pouring and mixing with the confidence and purpose of a Renaissance master. Her skilled hands wove the concoction like a witch crafting a spell, not spilling a drop. His eyes roved over her, noting that she was quite attractive. He zeroed in on the smooth, sienna-colored skin of her neck to see her carotid artery pumping hard. Her breath came slightly faster. She was wearing a sleeveless blouse, and he could see goosebumps spreading up her arms like a slow-motion wave. Her eyes were smoldering with a lusty intensity.
“What’s your name, love?” Leonidas asked her as she finished his drink.
She looked at him and pushed the glass over with a finger. “Bevin,” she said.
Leonidas picked up the glass and took a measured sip with closed eyes. The smooth liquid slid along his tongue, giving a little kick before it went down. Fantastic. He opened his eyes to find her studying him with a hungry look that bordered on primal.
“You’re an artist, Bevin,” he said. “That was exceptional. This airport doesn’t deserve you.”
She blushed, and a nervous laugh escaped her lips. “Thank you,” she said. “I remind them of that often.”
The confidence made the thirst in Leonidas’ throat purr. Perhaps he needed something other than alcohol. He could hear her heart beating, the swish of the fluid pushing through her veins. It drowned out the sounds of luggage wheels thudding as they hit the spaces between tiles and names being called over the obnoxious intercom.
One of her elegant hands was on the counter, so he slowly reached over and took it gently with one of his own warm, dark brown ones in a courteous gesture, slightly bowing his head simultaneously.
“If you have to remind them, then they definitely don’t deserve you,” he said as he released her hand. A bitter smile spread across her face, as if she didn’t want him to let go. He saw her swallow hard and hesitate for a second before she leaned across the counter on both arms, looking him in the eye.
“The drink is on the house,” she said in a low, husky tone. “Is there anything else I can get you before you leave?”
As he was about to respond, he felt his phone vibrate. Removing it from his pocket, he opened the messages to see a text from an unknown number.
I’m here. Terminal 3. Bathroom by gate 14.
“Sorry, love,” he said, putting his phone back in his pocket. “Duty calls.”
Bevin’s shoulders dipped, and a bitter smile crossed her face. “I understand,” she said.
Leonidas reached over to take one of her hands in his and placed a gentle kiss on her skin. Bevin blushed and bit her lip.
He looked at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Until next time.”
Pulling a hundred-dollar bill from his pocket, he turned to leave without another word. The bustle behind him at the LAX airport echoed through the cavernous halls as Leonidas looked around, searching for anyone who stuck out. His gray, long-sleeved cardigan and black slacks disguised his true nature, allowing him to blend into the sea of oblivious humanity. The fluorescent lights overhead cast an artificial glow, contrasting with the shadows that clung to the edges of the concourse.
As Leonidas neared one bathroom, he felt the unmistakable pull of someone’s mind observing him with a focus that went beyond casual observation. His sharp eyes scanned the area for the source of the curiosity. It was only a moment before Leonidas located the person in question–a man in a sleek black suit, standing casually by the entrance to a restroom. His demeanor suggested a level of confidence that piqued Leonidas’ interest.
Leonidas strode towards the man at a calm pace, his polished boots tapping against the tiled floor. The man’s eyes narrowed as he approached, his expression betraying a brief recognition that he quickly masked. Leonidas read the tune of the man’s mind, finding a calm, controlled, and calculated melody. The man was clearly a professional, and judging by the thoughts Leonidas detected bubbling under the surface of his mind; he was also good at his job.
Leonidas nodded, a silent acknowledgment that they were looking for each other. He halted some distance from him, and rested upon the wall, still observing other travelers within the airport.
“Leo Vasiliás, I presume?” the man said, using Leonidas’ alias. His voice was low and crisp. He kept his eyes on the various people walking past. “I represent Bill Kelly. My name is Gunther.”
Leonidas regarded Gunther lazily out of the corner of his eye. “A pleasure,” he said. “Although meeting at an airport among a crowd of people with the chance of overhearing our conversation doesn’t seem to be the brightest choice. You seem like a man with discernment, so I’ll assume that Bill Kelly preferred this arrangement.”
A vein throbbed in Gunther’s forehead, and his jaw clenched. “Mr. Kelly felt this was an appropriate venue,” he said.
Leonidas smirked and raised his eyebrows. “You mean Mr. Kelly wanted to exercise the power he thinks he wields by choosing the venue?”
Gunther glared, and his true purpose bubbled up from the recesses of his mind. Leonidas’ pulse quickened, and his interest intensified.
The man was here to kill him.
“Perhaps we should take this to a more private location,” Leonidas suggested, not letting on what he saw blaring like an out of tune trumpet in Gunther’s thoughts. “The bathroom, perhaps?”
A hint of contentment lit Gunther’s pupils concerning the proposal, focusing his thoughts. “Won’t there be people in there?” he said.
Leonidas winked and held his hands behind his back. “I’ve arranged for it to be otherwise. Come.”
Gunther’s gaze hardened, and his eyes darted around with caution. Leonidas inclined his head, and together they entered the tiled sanctuary. Toilet stalls lined one side of the wall with urinals on the opposite side, some of which were occupied. The smell of cheap sanitary cleaning agents infiltrated Leonidas’ nose. He reached out with his mind and touched the different mental melodies of all the people present in the bathroom, giving them a simple command to leave. They all wrapped up their business with a chorus of pants being zipped and toilets being flushed. He erected a mental sphere of influence around the entrances to the bathroom, which would cause any human who tried to enter to seek another place to relieve themselves.
Leonidas sensed Gunther’s confusion with the sudden exit of the previous occupants, but he said nothing as the people filed out around them. Soon, it was just him and Leonidas standing alone, the sounds of water dripping from faucets and toilets gurgling as they refilled. Leonidas leaned back against the long white counter that held the sinks and crossed his arms. He looked at Gunther, his head tilted.
“Has Bill Kelly accepted Crossroads’ offer?” Leonidas said.
Gunther’s mouth was down-turned, and he waved his hand dismissively as he answered. “Mr. Kelly is declining the offer from Crossroads. He declared that despite Crossroads’ influence, you would not involve yourself in his matters. Intimidation doesn’t work on him,” he said.
“I see,” Leonidas mused, raising his eyebrows, and fighting the urge to smile. “And why did Mr. Kelly feel he could not have relayed that message through a phone call?”
A slow, sinister smile spread across Gunther’s face, and he reached into his jacket, pulling out a small gun with a silencer. “Mr. Kelly thought it best to send a different message,” Gunther said.
Leonidas tilted his head to the side and pursed his lips. “Mr. Kelly wants to sell us firearms?” he said. “I see his influence could help you get a gun past the TSA.”
Gunther’s eyebrows met, and the skin on his neck turned a mottled red. “It’s time your organization understands who the true power in this world is,” he said, his voice turning low and menacing. “Unfortunately for you, that means you won’t live past this conversation.”
Leonidas sighed and uncrossed his arms. He stood up straight from the counter, turning his body square to face Gunther. He could tell the assassin was in decent shape and skilled, judging from his posture and body control. Gunther undoubtedly excelled against the humans that were his normal targets. But Leonidas was more than human.
“It’s always the same with your kind,” Leonidas said in a low voice with traces of menace, his chin high, and his eyes glaring. “You know, Bill Kelly reminds me of someone I once knew.”
“And who is that?” Gunther sneered.
Leonidas smiled, reflecting on a distant memory. “When Crossroads first encountered him, he was a young French military officer bursting with potential. He had a creative vision. Under our guidance, he rose to prominence before succumbing to the fatal flaw of hubris.”
Gunther rolled his eyes. “And what was his name? I’m sure Mr. Kelly will get a laugh out of it,” he said.
A sinister glint entered Leonidas’ eyes. “Napoleon Bonaparte,” he said.
Gunther’s grip on his gun tightened, and he took an aggressive step forward, coming to within an arm’s length of Leonidas.
“Enough games. I’m really going to enjoy this,” Gunther said, his voice almost a whisper.
“So am I,” Leonidas said. He grabbed the weapon from Gunther before he could blink. With no visible effort, Leonidas squeezed the gun until it caved like soft cheese and let it fall to the bathroom floor, twisted and bent.
Gunther took a panicked step back, and his eyes bulged at the sight of the destroyed firearm. When he looked back at Leonidas, his mouth opened in a speechless gasp. Leonidas’ hazel irises had turned the color of the sun, ringed with a ruby hue, and his snarling mouth revealed three pairs of razor-sharp fangs glistening in his upper jaw. His pronounced brow and cheekbones gave him a bestial visage.
Leonidas watched patiently as Gunther lashed out with a practiced punch that connected with his chin. Gunther’s fist registered as a light tap. Leonidas saw the man’s face change from triumphant to shock as he saw the punch had zero effect on his target.
The tune in Gunther’s mind screamed at Leonidas with cadences of horror and disbelief, like the highest notes of a violin. Gunther opened his mouth to yell, but quick as a snake, Leonidas’ hand shot up to grab his throat and lifted him off the ground without effort. Gunther kicked and fought to free himself, but Leonidas’ strength was far beyond his ability to break. The man’s face turned a deep red as Leonidas’ grip tightened.
“What … the…hell…are…you?” Gunther choked out, his eyes bulging with veins.
Leonidas could hear Gunther’s heart racing inside of his chest, the cadence reaching a beat he could almost dance to. He brought Gunther down closer to his face, his eyes boring into the terrified hitman’s own.
“I am your end.”
With a hard squeeze, a resounding snap echoed through the bathroom, and Gunther sagged in Leonidas’ grip. The vampire observed Gunther as if the man were a curious science experiment. Then, he casually walked over to one of the bathroom stalls, opened the door, and deposited Gunther’s lifeless body on the toilet seat, where it leaned to the side like a dummy with its strings cut.
Leonidas closed the door and telekinetically locked it from the outside. He went to the mirror to check himself, the eyes of his true face, fierce, red-tinged yellow torches looking back at him. His pronounced brow and cheekbones made him reflect on a word commonly used for his kind.
A demon.
He willed his true face to dissipate, his eyes returning to their normal smoldering hazel. Beneath his close-shaved beard, his strong jawline was tense. His dark brown hair rolled over his head in pristine waves emphasized with a meticulous shadow-fade, leaving his sideburns connected with his beard. He smoothed his cardigan, turned to the exit, and walked out of the bathroom.
As he left, he released his hold on the bubble of influence he had erected to deter any humans from entering. People who were looking for a bathroom as they walked by registered a sudden sense of shock on their faces as the bathroom seemed to appear out of nowhere. Leonidas could sense their minds chalking it up to a lack of sleep and alcoholic beverages.
A smile crossed his face at the thoughts, and he casually made his way to a secluded part of the airport, where there was a door marked for allowed personnel only. As he neared it, it opened, and out stepped a middle-aged man in an official LAX uniform, muttering to himself. When he noticed Leonidas stepping out of the shadows, his head jerked back, and he shuffled back a couple of steps.
He said, “Who are you?” before Leonidas reached into his mind and brushed aside the irrelevant question like wind blowing decayed leaves.
“Let me in and go about your business,” Leonidas said.
“I’ll let you in,” the man said. He opened the door.
“Good lad,” Leonidas said, his tone almost cheerful. “Now, off you pop.”
The man walked away under the power of Leonidas’ hypnotism, still muttering about whatever had him distressed before he stepped out of the room. Leonidas moved within the chamber, closing the entrance. It appeared to be a security room with monitors and other surveillance equipment. It was dark except for the light of the screens, and that’s what he needed.
Reaching into the shadows, he called upon the innate power every vampire possessed and, with a flick of a thought, started shadow travel. The sensation of being compressed in a tube of darkness covered his body, and he disappeared from the room.
In the modern world, gods and supernatural beings walk among humans, subtly influencing their lives from the shadows. Vampires whisper into the ears of the wealthy and influential, werewolves protect nature from people's possessive hands, and the Veli, immortal huntresses of the goddess Artemis, defend humans from the more horrific sides of the divine realm.
When a brutal attack on some mortals seems to suggest an unusual collaboration between two supernatural races that have been sworn enemies for millennia, Elektra, a legendary Veli captain, summons her team to investigate the attack. Daughter of Zeus and a celebrated Veli general, Elektra has hidden her immortality and status as a demigoddess among the mortals for centuries. Sworn to protect the innocent, but tired of the vanity and politics of her kind, she begins to feel burdened by her divine vows.
Leonidas is also a demigod, though he doesn't know which god is his father, and his vampire mother died when he was very young. He is tutored and favored by some of the oldest and most legendary vampires in Crossroads, a shadowy organization that seeks to influence powerful humans and change the course of history in the vampires' interest. Hated by the brutal Empousa, mother of all vampires, he begins to pull at the threads of a conspiracy the leaders of his kind are involved in.
Angeline is the werewolf guardian of nature for the region of the United States. Her family were entrusted by the god Pan to protect nature from human destruction - a task that proves more and more difficult each day. When werewolves are the prime suspects in the slaughter of some innocent humans, Angeline is forced to face some unsavory truths about the way her kind has been doing things for millennia.
The three protagonists' lives intersect in a way that seems less random and more fortetold by a cryptic ancient prophecy, as a dark force seems to reach out from the shadows to shake up the established order of things. Elektra, Angeline and Leonidas must overcome their differences and withstand the intricate politics of their respective kinds to see the bigger picture.
A unique mix of mythology, supernatural lore and popular culture, the story has a very ambitious scope. Told by the alternating perspectives of the three main characters, each point of view is a deep dive into the customs and lore of the respective species and the way in which they blend into the modern world. At the same time, the story utilizes this supernatural lens to tackle important topics such as racism and violence against women. Seeing powerful characters call out and successfully fight these two evils is especially healing and empowering.
At times, it seems like the lore is told too explicitly instead of shown more subtly through the actions of the characters, but this is understandable given the grand scope of the story and how much ground there is to cover. One really fun aspect of the story is the way famous historical figures are immortalized as supernatural creatures, each with their own role to play.
The characters are interesting, and it's intriguing to see how they interact and navigate their own respective arcs. The story is very clearly a labor of love, and the author has successfuly built an intricate and immersive world to explore.