Iron Cage: Dark Urban Fantasy Novella (Quest for Shifter Magic Book 1) Read online

  QUEST FOR SHIFTER MAGIC SERIES 1

  IRON CAGE

  A Dark Urban Fantasy Novella

  MELLE AMADE

  IRON CAGE

  Copyright © 2017 by Melle Amade.

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  www.melleamade.com

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  Book design by Derek Murphy @Creativindie

  Cover design by Desiree DeOrto

  First Edition: March 2017

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  Dutch born, Matilde, the estranged niece of Lord Van Arend, barters with her scheming mother to spend the summer with the only friends she’s ever had, the Ravensgaard at Castle Brannach. The only problem is what she has offered her mother is information; information that will break her friends’ trust and begin the downfall of the regime that governs them all.

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  For Alex

  1

  Wild strains of high-pitched guitar strings wail through the blustery Dutch wind that pours over me. “Ch-ch-ch-changes… Turn and face the strange… ch-ch-changes.” I sing at the top of my voice. Just love this new tune by Bowie. Jack and Tomas, my hunting dogs, whine at my side, their ears accosted by my tone-deaf voice. But I don’t care.

  “It’s okay, boys,” I murmur, one hand ruffling Jack’s black ears while my fingers throw sand for Tomas to chase. My crocheted halter top defends nothing against the blustering northwest winds. Good thing I run hot. It’s getting late, but hard to drag myself away from the music and the way it tingles inside my skin. And, there’s no way Papa will let me listen to this at the castle. I’m surprised they even let us have electric lights. You’d barely know it was the 70’s by the way they keep the candles and fires lit.

  “If we don’t keep the traditions, then who will, Agi?” Mama always asks me when I bring it up. But I don’t think they quite realize there’s a whole different world going on outside our castle walls. The world is full of color, electric guitars and protests, yet we stay secluded in Muiderslot, our medieval castle, only allowed to speak with the local villagers, who are all shifters like us. I have no idea why everyone is so terrified of progress.

  “Just ‘til the end of the song,” I push the dogs away and throw a stick down the sand dune to distract them. Any excuse to sit a bit longer on the fringes of human society. The beach at Laarsberg, the town just down the road from our castle, has a rock band on the beach most Sunday afternoons. Humans grab drinks at the pub and whirl out across the sand listening to whatever groovy tunes are hitting the charts that week. Men and women alike have feathered hair, flared pants and tight chest-hugging shirts, if they wear shirts at all. The girls don’t even wear bras. It’s a far cry from the corsets we’ll be wearing over the next few days during the Gathering.

  Stiff and restrained, that’s how I’ll be over the coming event.

  These girls’ hips gyrate wildly, their hands floating through the air in wavy patterns. One blond guy, in nothing except a pair of baggy white pants, holds his arms out like wings and runs in circles on the beach. He pretends to fly, but never leaves the ground. What would these humans do if they knew the truth?

  An eagle screeches overhead.

  “Crap! Later than I thought.”

  I shield my eyes as the sun jabs between the clouds. The eagle turns into circles and then comes down straight at me.

  I smile at the deep brown feathers. Hanneke. Graceful and easy even though she’s brand new to this shifting thing. At sixteen she’s only just had the Bloedhart ceremony that tapped into her blood and gave her access to the ability to shift. But she doesn’t blunder through it like we all did. She’s almost to the ground behind me before she shifts. Her feathers disappear and her arms and legs stretch out until her bare feet touch down in the sand and her wings disappear completely. She lands behind some dunes, well away from the humans spinning around on the beach.

  She stands before me in a simple white smock, her hair wild and loose, a toothy grin shining up at me. We sisters are skilled flyers, though Hanneke has a knack for it the rest of us can’t quite grasp. We’ve had years of training by Papa, but it’s like she just watched our training and absorbed it without any practice.

  But Hanneke isn’t thinking about flying right now. “You have to get home, Agi.” Hanneke rushes up the sand bank, grabs my hand and pulls me into a hug. I point down to the humans.

  “Aren’t they just the wildest creatures you’ve ever seen?” I ask.

  “Forget them,” Hanneke clutches my hands, breathless. “The sentries have seen them! They’re almost at the castle. Come.” She drags at me.

  “Don’t panic, sis,” I say. “We have plenty of time to get back. Lord Van Arend comes every summer and we’re only expected at dinner time.”

  But she tugs on my arm. “Now!”

  I tear my gaze away from the humans. “What’s so urgent?”

  “You don’t understand,” she says, and there’s a very real fear in her eyes. “Lord Van Arend isn’t coming alone.”

  “Right,” I nod, my head bent quizzically at her. “Willem and Annalise will be with him.” But our cousins wouldn’t put this look in her eyes.

  She shakes her head madly. “No.” The word is almost a gasp in the salty air. “The Grand Master. He is with him.”

  “El Oso?” I ask. “Why would he be coming here?”

  Hanneke shrugs. “How would I know?”

  Good point. If I’m not told much, Hanneke is told even less.

  “Jack and Tomas, go home!” I command the dogs, waving them towards the beach path that leads to Muiderslot castle. The dogs yap at my heels, but I’m running with Hanneke down the sand dune.

  “Go!” I shout at them before I push off the ground.

  The center of my heart heats up as I reach for the power to shift and plunge into it. It bursts over me, rising through my arms out my fingertips, down my legs and through my toes. Suddenly my body is shrinking and changing shape as wings form out of me and feathers sprout from my skin. My nose stretches into a sharp beak and shriek erupts from me as we fly out of the sand with the dogs leading us.

  We are eagles.

  Although my hunting dogs are fast, our flight is faster than any dog can run. They say there are some land animals faster than us, though I don’t believe it. Right now, we can’t fly too fast or I may lose Jack and Tomas. It happened once. We got them back, though I had to explain to Papa what I was doing so far away from the castle.

  What I’m more worried about right now is why would El Oso, the Grand Master of the
Order, come to Muiderslot? You’d think we’d get some sort of warning. I mean, I guess Lord Van Arend owns our castle, so he can invite anyone he wants to. With El Oso here, though, who is going to make the decision about the Matching? I thought Willem and I would only have to petition Lord Van Arend to marry. Petitioning El Oso is a whole different kettle of fish and, well, it may be impossible.

  I beat my wings harder.

  El Oso hasn’t been here in five years, not since I was sixteen. I had just done my Bloedhart ceremony and was finally a fully-fledged member of the Order. I could shift and take part in the hunt, such a core part of who we are, the bird tribes. We’re natural predators, the hunt pumps through our veins and sings in our blood. Other clans have their traditions but the Eagles have the Hunt and no others can join.

  That was the year we chased a rabbit. Papa was so proud, showing off my hunting dogs and flying skills. I’m the only one of his four daughters who has his love of hunting. Spying the prey and then doing whatever it took to get to it. Whether it’s a mouse or a rabbit or even another bird, I’m always game for a quest. He trained me hard in the six months between my Bloedhart and the Hunt. The training paid off. I caught the rabbit, but had no idea what would happen once it was captured. In all the training, we didn’t discuss that.

  They stood me on a platform at the center of our manicured, civilized garden. I thought it was to receive accolades, which it was. I didn’t realize I would get a trophy. Two strong Ravensgaard held the rabbit down. El Oso himself handed me the knife and told me I must plunge it into the soft grey fur. One stern look from my father is all it took to make me follow through. I did what I was told. What else could you do when you’re standing on a platform before a gathering of Muiderkring West and South with the Grand Master of the Order standing over you? And El Oso had brought the hulking giants of the Berzerken with him. I was terrified. My hand shook as I plunge the knife into the heart of the poor rabbit. Its bulging eyes white with fear probably mirrored mine. Even now I shudder to think about it.

  Now, Muiderslot castle rises in the distance. Lord Van Arend still owns the castle by rights. Through his generosity he lets my mother, who is his cousin, live here. The brick red fortified walls built by our ancestors and the original seat of the Van Arend family. This is the site where the battle of Muiderslot was fought, my family lost their independence as the shifter rulers and where the alliance of the Order was forged. It’s where Muiderkring West, South, and East formed the alliance of the Order, and Muiderkring North was destroyed.

  But that was centuries ago.

  Now, our red castle sits quiet and peaceful in the center of its square moat, with manicured lawns, hedges, gardens and orchards stretching to the perimeter walls. The two massive buildings sit close together and are connected to the towers by curtain walls that encircle the central courtyard and provide a terrace outside of the main building. The whole complex is surrounded on three sides by high dykes that hold back the waters of the North Sea. It’s protected space that hasn’t changed much since the medieval days, except now we have plumbing and electricity.

  I glanced back at Jack and Thomas. They know the path home and the shortcut across the dyke to get back to the kennels. Hanneke swoops towards me urging me to the castle. The keepers must look after the dogs; its imperative I’m not late when El Oso arrives. Even I know that.

  We fly to the side of the courtyard, but I can see our sisters, Katrina and Mais, are already in their billowing white gowns. They’re a far cry from the bellbottom jeans and halter top I have on in my human form. Our sisters wave their arms frantically at us, motioning us to the tower. But I take one last swoop of the courtyard to see who has already arrived. It’s our cousins. Rolf, the Bavarian, looms darkly in the corner, while Pierre of Lyon leans forward scribbling some notes on a piece of paper. Even from the height and speed I’m flying at, I can see it’s a poem or song lyrics--something about the perfume of cheese. Giancarlo sprawls out on a lawn chair, basking in what little sun there is, sunglasses on fingers studded with gold rings. There are only two of the cousins missing.

  Willem and Annalise.

  Once they arrive, we will be complete, yet all the summers we’ve spent coming together to learn, grow, and bond will be over. This weekend is the Matching, and we will all be paired up with each other and betrothed. We’ll take our designated spots in the shifter hierarchy and fulfill our obligation to the Order by producing shifter offspring. The only problem, we have no idea who will be chosen for each of us. I’ve tried to get information from Papa, however even he doesn’t know. We thought it was in the hands of Lord Van Arend, not El Oso. With him in town, there will be only one shifter making decisions here.

  I start to take another circle, but Katrina points at the tower with a fierce motion of her arm.

  We land on our room’s window ledge and hop onto the perch set up just inside. It makes it easy to get in and out. I sail down to the floor, shifting midway, with Hanneke right next to me.

  “What were you doing all those circles for?” she hastily asks as she pulls her long white dress over her smock.

  “Just seeing who was here.” I was wondering if Willem snuck in early, before the rest of his family.

  “It’s a good thing Mama and Papa didn’t see you.” She tugs her fingers through her hair, trying to get the long brown curls to look a little more orderly.

  “It won’t matter soon.” I throw my halter top on the bed and peel my jeans off.

  “Oh those are ace!” Hanneke squeals as she reaches over a finger and tugs on my tied-dyed undies. “Where did you get those?”

  “Made them.” I grin as I swivel around in the mirror looking at the spirals of green, purple, and yellow that swirl over my bottom. “Used artichokes, blueberries, and lemon peel.”

  “You have got to show me how to do that.”

  I shake my head as I pull my long blond hair up into a ponytail on top of my head. “No way. Papa and Mama would kill me if they found out you’re wearing tie-dyed underwear.”

  “I don’t care,” Hanneke says. “It’ll at least give me something to do when you all leave.”

  My hands stop moving mid-twist. I want to say we’re not leaving, yet we are. There are four men and four women. We’ll all be married off. I can’t say otherwise. I continue knotting my hair until it’s tightly tucked in a pinned bun on top of my head. “You’ll be fine,” I murmur. “And, just think, they’ll marry you off in a few years, too.”

  “Only if they find another eagle somewhere.”

  “There are a ton of eagles.” I pinch my cheeks to bring out the red.

  “Right.” She looks doubtful and I don’t pursue it. The South American eagles are a little wild, but it’s probably going to be the only place Papa will find a match for Hanneke. She was an unexpected extra package, born during a period when the other eagles weren’t having children.

  I shrug. “You never know,” I say. “You might win the hunt tomorrow and be able to pick your spouse this weekend.”

  “Fat chance that’s going to happen. We all know you’re going to win. Just like you did before.”

  I can’t help but smirk a little bit, even though it’s dangerous to be overconfident. “You never know, Annalise might have been training hard.”

  “Why should she train?” Hanneke asks. “Her father is the Lord. I bet he’s made sure she’s matched with someone she wants. I mean, seriously. Would you want her to be matched with someone she doesn’t want? She’d come unglued.”

  “Yeah.” I snicker as I grab my dress out of the wardrobe. “I’d love to watch that.”

  “You’re terrible.” Hanneke swats me.

  “Would you two quit messing around?” Greta, our personal servant, bursts in the room. “You should have been downstairs ten minutes ago!” Her skin is flushed from running up the spiral stairs of the tower, still, not a slicked back hair is out of place.

  Poor Greta.

  I’m sure my mother has her running all over
the place getting the castle ready, especially now El Oso is coming. “The Ravensgaard are already arriving in the courtyard and they are taking their positions for the arrival of the Grand Master. Your parents are beside themselves that you’re not already down there.”

  “Okay, okay,” I grin. “We are at your service.”

  She gives me a bright blue evil eye as she pulls my white corset over my head and yanks at the ribbon. I gasp, but she pays no attention, cinching up my corset, squeezing my waist until I can barely breathe.

  “It’s not going to help if I faint,” I say. “Let it out a bit. I don’t need a 9-inch waist.”

  Greta sighs, but complies. She’s old-school and despises my unkempt, modern ways; or attempted modern ways. Still, she knows how to tread the delicate line between keeping tradition and completely annoying me. She totally gets that if I’m standing in a line waiting to greet El Oso and passing out from lack of air…that’s not going to work.

  “You can tighten mine, please.” Hanneke turns her back so it’s convenient for Greta to start on hers.

  “Goodie two-shoes,” I murmur, leaning towards the mirror to tuck in loose strands of blond hair. My bright blue eyes glint sharply back and I rub at the freckles that sprinkle my nose. Like that’s going to get rid of them.

  She sticks her tongue out at me as the trumpet at the front gate blares.

  “Shit,” I say. “They’re here.”

  “Language.” Greta clicks her tongue.

  I roll my eyes. “I’m 21,” I say. “Perfectly all right for me to say shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.”

  She thinks I’m saying it to annoy her, but the truth is I can’t find my slippers. The ones specially bleached and beaded just for this occasion. The ones that will be dirty and ripped by the time the evening is done. “My slippers!” I tear the blanket off my bed.