The Wishing Hour

The Wishing Hour

J. Adams

Copyright © 2010 J. Adams

Second Edition - December 2012

Jewel of the West Publishing

All Rights Reserved

ISBN-13 978-0615425207

ISBN-10: 0615425208

Library of Congress Control Number:  2010918012

Take my heart into thy care,

and I shall leave a wish upon thine own,

that it lay open to me,

never hesitating to merge its beats with mine,

and in return,

my soul shall be thine for eternity.

S. G.

Zero

Venice, Italy

Standing on the steps of St. Mark's Basilica in the pouring rain, the warrior heaves a tired sigh and watches the battered creature from Lord Derth's army force its heavy body up and stand once again. The rain dilutes the sulfuric odor of the canal, lending a subtle freshness to the air. He inhales deeply, taking the cleansing scent into his lungs, carefully watching the creature.

The square is devoid of life, and if not for the storm, the only sound would be the gentle-flowing water of the canal. The fight has been brutal. It started at two am. It is now three. His sinewy muscles ache and his silky white shirt is streaked with blood, but his cuts have healed and his strength is quickly regenerating. Taking a calming breath, he pushes the long strands of inky black hair from his face. A leather thong holds the rest in place. His brilliant, blue cat-like eyes hold excellent night vision and clearly see the Urchin crouching, readying itself to spring once again. The creature's hands are like a hawk's talons and black leather stretches over the large round body. Its head is bald and pointed top teeth protrude over the bottom lip of the twisted and deformed mouth. Scars in different shapes and sizes cover the Urchin's face and neck, and the acidic green mucus dripping from its mouth is foul enough to turn the strongest of stomachs.

The warrior takes all of this in for a moment, then clears his mind. Closing his eyes, he calls upon the power living deep within him–a power summoned only when absolutely necessary. A rush of adrenaline fills his veins, heating his body to the core. Eyes snapping open, he lunges, meeting the Urchin in the air. He lands a fist in its chest, a great current of power surging from his hand as it makes contact with the Urchin's heart. As it cries out, the ear-piercing screech echoes throughout the square. No longer able to stand, it falls to the ground, writhing on the pavement.

He approaches the creature and stares down into its half-closed, blood-red eyes.

“This isn't over,” it croaks in a gravelly voice.

“It is,” he says, his voice conveying surety and strength. Standing as still as a statue of stone, the warrior watches the Urchin close its eyes and release a final rattly breath. It turns to dust and disintegrates before his eyes, the remains washed away by the rain. This is the second time this week he has witnessed such a sight, and he is sure it will not be the last.

Heaving a deep sigh, his gaze moves to the body lying a few yards behind him. Scooping the unconscious woman up in his arms, he cradles her against him. Once again he has succeeded in protecting her, only this time it had been a closer call than before. His eyes take in the soaked features of the woman he has come to know as his true mate. Every time he touches her, the mark of the Ki Talimai, the soul's bond, glows and tingles in his palm. Now, as he stands holding her in his arms, the eternal mark burns.