The Severed Thread by Dione C. Suto Read Free Book Online

threat, and that could get you killed when dealing with vampires.  They were all a threat; the less threatening they appeared the more dangerous they were, because you invariably misjudged them based solely on appearances.  Even the most helpless looking, petite one-hundred pound female vampire could bench press a pick-up truck, completely defying the laws of physics.  Definitely not someone you wanted to physically underestimate.  Yes, these two dichotomous men were sent here as a pair for a reason.   I suspected that it was because their master knew I was an elf, but did not have a good handle on my skill set.  Someone was being careful.
    Most elves were immune to glamour, which meant that I was not completely at a vampire’s mercy.  Additionally, everyone was wary of confrontations with elves because our anger could be unpredictable.   While renowned for our moderation and affinity for nature, we were also feared for our tendency to be overcome by our inner berserker when pushed by grief or anger to a place well beyond reason.  Once the berserker was in control, we were unrestrained, mindless really, in our thirst for retribution and justice. 
    The lore of the Wild Hunt found its origins with the Elves.  That was when we could still come back from the abyss if the rage took us.  In moments of need our berserker would come to the fore, bringing with it strength and boundless courage to mete out punishment.  Once the thirst for justice was sufficiently sated the berserker would recede, allowing the elf control once more.  But a plague nearly three hundred years ago changed all of that, and it spared no one in the elven community.  The illness caused irrevocable damage to the psyche of our entire species, the virus somehow separating us from the ability to control our alternate selves.  Now, if the berserker was freed – even once – it could never be suppressed again. 
    The plague’s origin is unknown, but the resulting devastation was infamous.  It was the start of a dark age in elven history where we were feared and hunted by the other races.  Only our ability to finally contain the rage within the walls of our minds stopped the deaths – on both sides.
    I think it was shock alone that had kept my beast at bay earlier today.  I said a little prayer of thanks for that small favor, even though I was worried about how much longer my containment would hold.  I had been working to strengthen the walls around my rage and grief since this morning.  All elves are taught as children how to visualize a barricade around our alternate selves.  We took yoga and meditated to create the quiet minds necessary for the task.  It was effective when one had sufficient time to get a good handle on it.  Unfortunately, I had not really had much opportunity to do more than a patch job today.
    I considered my options.  It might have been possible to make a run for it, if Seamus hadn’t been standing in front on the doorway to the kitchen.  A vampire couldn’t outrun me, even without the berserker’s aid.  I assumed that was why Seamus was by the entrance to the kitchen and subsequently, the back door.  His position effectively eliminated that as a viable escape route.   It was highly probable that there was one more fanged lackey around here somewhere, making sure I did not bolt out the front. 
    Boxed in like this I knew I wouldn’t stand much of a chance if I tried to make my escape on foot.  I’d never get past them in the confined space.  Besides, they would just be back tomorrow – and again the next day – so it seemed better to just find out now what they wanted.  Since it did not appear they wanted me dead (or I already would be), I opted for cooperation.
    “So, what is it that you want exactly?”
    “Mr. McCallister would like to discuss a few things with you,” Lok informed me. 
    Liam McCallister was the local clan master.  He was officially responsible for all the vampires in the City