CRITICS RAVE FOR MELANIE JACKSON!
THE WILDSIDE SERIES
“Innovative and erotic!”
—New York Times bestselling author Christine Feehan
“An alternative universe that can match Laurell K. Hamilton’s.”
—Everything Romantic
“An excellent combination of fantasy and romance!”
—Romantic Times
“Sizzling romance and ghoulish thrills at a breathtaking clip!”
—Publishers Weekly
DIVINE FIRE
“Jackson pens a sumptuous modern gothic. . . . Fans of solid love stories . . . will enjoy Jackson’s tale, which readers will devour in one sitting, then wait hungrily for the next installment.”
—Booklist
“Once again, Jackson uses her truly awe-inspiring imagination to tell a story that’s fascinating from beginning to end.”
—Romantic Times
STILL LIFE
“The latest walk on the ‘Wildside’ is a wonderful romantic fantasy that adds new elements that brilliantly fit and enhance the existing Jackson mythos. . . . Action-packed.”
—The Midwest Book Review
THE COURIER
“The author’s imagination and untouchable world-building continue to shine. . . . [An] outstanding and involved novel.”
—Romantic Times
MORE PRAISE FOR MELANIE JACKSON!
OUTSIDERS
“Melanie Jackson is a talent to watch. She deftly combines romance with fantasy and paranormal elements to create a spellbinding adventure.”
—WritersWrite.com
TRAVELER
“Jackson often pushes the boundaries of paranormal romance, and this, the first of her Wildside series, is no exception.”
—Booklist
THE SELKIE
“Part fantasy, part dream and wholly bewitching, The Selkie . . . [blends] whimsy and folklore into a sensual tale of love and magic.”
—Romantic Times
DOMINION
“An unusual romance for those with a yen for something different.”
—Romantic Times
NIGHT VISITOR
“I recommend this as a very strong romance, with time travel, history and magic.”
—All About Romance
AMARANTHA
“Intriguing . . . Ms. Jackson’s descriptions of the Cornish countryside were downright seductive.”
—The Romance Reader
MANON
“Melanie Jackson paints a well-defined picture of 18thcentury England. . . . Manon is an intriguing and pleasant tale.”
—Romantic Times
THE MASTER & THE PROMISE
“I don’t know why he’s doing this, or how he can even be,” Zee said. “I don’t understand it at all. Hobgoblins are like a myth to us, something to terrify naughty children. The legend says that they were created by the first great goblin king of France—they were then lutins’ servants and the king’s bodyguards before they trained trolls. But the king had to kill them all because they were too violent and they tried to overthrow him. I thought they were all dead. That’s what they taught us—that King Gofimbel and the Dark Faerie Queen executed them all.”
She swallowed, then continued. “But this one isn’t dead. And he hates goblins. Humans, too. The rage in him was so terrible that I fainted in the parking lot. The children had to drag me away from the mall—away from his aura. It was like I had breathed in his poison, his hate—and he saw me. Nick, he looked inside and knew who and what I am. He knew about the children, too, and wanted them.”
Nick reached for Zee’s hands, folded them in his own and brought them up to his mouth, where he breathed over their chilled flesh. He rubbed her skin lightly, part of him marveling at its texture.
“Don’t worry.” He looked into her eyes. They were different—beautiful, but not human—he could see that now. And it didn’t matter. “We’ll find your Jack Frost and we’ll stop this monster. Then I will take you and the children far away to someplace safe where no one bad will ever find you.”
Other books by Melanie Jackson:
DIVINE FIRE
STILL LIFE
THE COURIER
OUTSIDERS
TRAVELER
THE SELKIE
DOMINION
BELLE
AMARANTHA
NIGHT VISITOR
MANON
IONA
MELANIE
JACKSON
THE MASTER
In loving memory of my cousin, Linda Southwick.
DORCHESTER PUBLISHING
Published by
Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
200 Madison Avenue
New York, NY 10016
Copyright © 2005 by Melanie Jackson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either 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.
Trade ISBN: 978-1-4285-1698-4
E-book ISBN: 978-1-4285-1697-7
First Dorchester Publishing, Co., Inc. edition: September 2005
The “DP” logo is the property of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
Printed in the United States of America.
Visit us online at www.dorchesterpub.com.
IMPORTANT DATES IN FEY HISTORY
37 BC—Mabigon becomes Queen of the Unseelie Court after killing her mother.
39 BC—King Finvarra assumes throne of the Seelie Court after his father is assassinated.
10 BC—Abrial is born.
14 AD—Abrial becomes executioner for the Unseelie Court.
212 AD—The Fey retreat underground begins.
1367 AD—Gomfibel, Dragon Slayer, becomes the first goblin king of all European hives.
1692 AD—Qasim is created.
1710 AD—Qasim finds Wren.
1713 AD—Wren is murdered by Gofimbel.
1778-1792 AD—At the death of Gofimbel, the Goblin Wars resume.
1793 AD—The human Expulsion of goblins from Europe begins.
1805 AD—Qasim, the hobgoblin leader and master, is imprisoned by Mabigon. Nyssa is born.
1806 AD—The other hobgoblins are imprisoned or executed and replaced by trolls.
1973 AD—Humans Under Ground is formed.
1991 AD—The Great Drought kills off all pure-blooded fey, including Queen Mabigon and King Finvarra.
2001 AD—Jack and Io cripple Detroit hive and reopen fey stronghold of Cadalach.
2002 AD—Thomas and Cyra destroy the Sin City hive, along with all of Las Vegas.
2003 AD—Roman and Lyris kill the goblin and master-vampire, King Quede of New Orleans.
2004 AD—Lilith and Fornix are destroyed by Abrial and Nyssa, but Qasim escapes.
2005 AD—Nicholas Anthony and Zee Finvarra join the fey resistance.
2006 AD—Kris Kringle is found.
WHO’S WHO IN THE WILDSIDE
From Traveler:
Io Cyphre—half-siren
Jack Frost—death fey, and leader of the faerie folk of Cadalach
Mathias—Jack and Io’s two-year-old son
Zayn—a healer
, former member of Humans Under Ground
Chloe—sister to the leader of the Detroit chapter of H.U.G., mother of a half-troll child
Clarissa—Chloe’s half-troll daughter
Horroban—late goblin king of Detroit Hille Bingels—current leader of the Detroit hive
From Outsiders:
Cyra Delphin—half selkie, half kloka (a powerful elf conjurer)
Thomas Marrowbone—part jinn, part wizard, part peri, part dragon, all computer hacker
Meriel—Thomas and Cyra’s infant daughter
Lilith—former hive master of Sin City
From The Courier:
Roman Hautecoeur—pooka and survivor of attack by vampire-goblin King Quede
Lyris Damsel—half-sylph
Innis—Lyris and Roman’s infant son
King Quede—late hive master of New Orleans, and master vampire
Father Lobineau—current hive master of New Orleans
From Still Life:
Abrial—nightdemon, executioner for the Unseelie Court
Nyssa Laszlo—dreamwalker, ghost-talker; daughter of hobgoblin leader, Qasim
Qasim—Nyssa’s hobgoblin father; imprisoned leader of the hobgoblins
Bysshe—Nyssa’s mother
Farrar—Pied Piper of Hamelin, Abrial’s uncle
Ahriman and Az—Abrial’s father and aunt
King Carbon—L.A. hive master
Humana Vox—Carbon’s second in command
The Master:
Wren—Qasim’s murdered child-bride
Nicholas Anthony—ER doctor, half-pixie
Zee Finvarra—Nick’s lover; a goblin/human/fey mix
Hansel and Gretel—Zee’s half-brother and sister
Nicholas’s ghost—the Ghost of Christmas Future
Sienna—daughter born to Nyssa and Abrial
Other People and Places:
Gofimbel—ancient king of goblins
Mabigon—late queen of the Unseelie Court
Cadalach—home of the fey
Goblins—known as lutins; six-armed, greedy and odoriferous
Trolls—goblin thugs, stupid, slow, and vicious
Hobgoblins—super-goblins, meaner, faster, bigger, and smellier
THE MASTER
Contents
I: How Monsters Are Made
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
II: A Haunted Man
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
III: The Last Stand
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Epilogue
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I
HOW MONSTERS ARE MADE
Chapter One
Nice, France, 1713
Wren loved Nice. It wasn’t home, but it was not a bad place to hibernate while she waited for her real life to begin. She had at first been frightened to be sent so far away from her family and her lover. But she had grown to like it here, especially in the spring and summer. And because she was living among humans, no one thought it odd that she had only one set of arms. She was accepted.
Every day Wren walked with the other kept women along the beautiful crescent that lined the shore called La Belle Promenade, and with those of the nobility who were brave enough to stroll along with them. She loved watching the courtiers and the would-be courtiers as they conducted their flirtations and arranged their affaires.
There were other entertainments, too, in which she could still indulge. Wren loved pigeon-shooting, races, gambling and concerts. Of course, as a woman of mixed blood—they thought her part Egyptian— and as a courtesan, she was not welcome in the homes of the well-born white human ladies, but that did not bother her. She liked being thought one of the human demimonde. There was so much to do out of doors, and she wanted to embrace every activity before her pregnancy advanced to the point where she could not conceal it. When that happened, she would have to go to Qasim’s home in Chatellerault and live quietly until giving birth. After that, she would have to care for their baby. It would be very special, she was sure.
But that was for later. Today was now. And society, all but one stratum, welcomed her. She had learned that wealth could open many doors. Her lover had encouraged her to be extravagant in her wardrobe, and she wore her gowns as badges of honor and a proclamation of her lover’s status. At first she had worried, but Qasim seemed to have an endless supply of money, and he doted on her: supplying her with servants, seeing that she had every frippery her heart desired. She had clothes for balls, clothes for riding, clothes for hunting, clothes for singing and drawing and strolling. In all ways but one, she was part of the beau monde that surrounded her.
Some days she was lonely, of course, but she understood why Qasim could not often come. He was bodyguard to the great lutin, King Gofimbel, and could not be spared from his duties. He had told her that he would, when the moment was right, approach the king and seek permission to marry her. But that might not be for a while. The king had forbidden Qasim to marry—even a lutin—because he did not want to lose any of his guard’s attention when there was so much unrest in the hives of Europe. And, of course, marriage to a human was absolutely out of the question. There was talk of war between the races, and King Gofimbel would risk no open antagonism with the human church.
There was something else, too—something about the Dark Queen and the politics of the Unseelie Court—but Qasim had told Wren not to worry about anything, to just go to Nice and forget that she had ever lived in Grasse. To forget that she was half-lutin. And to help her be less lonely, he had given her a cat—a sleek black feline he called Bastet. This was an amazing gift because Wren had never know any lutin who had a cat.
Wren and Bastet had gone, and obediently made human friends. The courtesans of Nice were very educated women, and kind to others of their class. They had offered her books and helped her engage tutors and coaches to teach her to read and sing and paint and dance. And she, in turn, sometimes acted as a go-between for interested but shy parties when well-born visitors did not feel they could approach her friends directly. Often she was entrusted with missives by these men, and though she knew it was a breach of privacy if the letters were not sealed, she read them aloud to Bastet, who also seemed to enjoy them.
There were two that she recalled vividly. One was from young de Sévigné. The letter had been sweet, almost shy, which was odd in a man who was such a bold sportsman and gambler.
Sweetest Clotilde of the Roses–
So infinite are your allurements, your famed beauty so great that it hath drawn me to Nice. It is my deepest hope that you shall grant me an audience that I might contemplate your loveliness firsthand . . .
The other letter had been a letter of farewell. It was sterner, more passionate. A man suddenly plagued with impotence had written to his seemingly indifferent mistress with an impetuous hand, scattering ink carelessly over the parchment and in places tearing it with his quill.
Fair Louise—
I plead with thee! If thine eyes are attracted to some other in my absence, shut them against him. Do not let those beautiful windows to thy soul conduct another to your heart. Fortify thine ears against sweet speeches lest they enchant thee. Do not linger long with other men, for though they desire you, they do not love you as I do. Their fierce affections shall lead only to profane lusts. T
hey are shipwrecks of virtue and unworthy of you. For now, farewell. But know I shall come again when I am well.
Yours, Scarron
Would Qasim ever write her a letter like that? One filled with so much emotion? Perhaps. If their child lived. When she was his wife.
A tiny fluttering touched Wren’s belly, soft as butterfly wings. It told Wren that their child was still alive, that she was not pregnant with the dead as her mother feared when her condition was discovered. Her mother hadn’t said anything then, but Wren had seen the terror in her eyes. Wren wished that she could write to her mother, but Qasim had forbidden it. Her mother wouldn’t have been able to read Wren’s letters anyway; she wasn’t an educated woman. Neither were Wren’s siblings or father. Perhaps Wren could teach them someday. She would like that.
She sighed happily and looked at the sky. Life was good. A brilliant future lay ahead of her. She was only fourteen, after all. There was so much she could do once she and Qasim married.
Qasim.
When would he come again? Wren sighed again, less happily.
If she were truthful, she would have to admit that he had frightened her a little when they first met. He was so fierce-looking, so much bigger and stronger than any goblin or human she had ever seen. And she had thought that maybe her family was in trouble when he was sent to their farmstead outside Grasse, arriving in the middle of the night during a terrible storm. She had been only twelve then, young but not naïve. The family had been ostracized for years. Not everyone was pleased that her father had married a human girl. Not every goblin had been understanding about them having children—especially when it turned out that the whelps favored their mother and had only two arms. And as for the humans who lived nearby . . .
Wren shivered and pulled her lace wrap tighter. She didn’t like to think about that. There were terrifying rumors about goblins being burnt at the stake by the Church.
But her family had not been in trouble, and the stories of Qasim being a ruthless killer had proved untrue. He had instead been kind to her and arranged for her parents to have money for her education and clothes. He had visited twice in the two years that followed, paying court to Wren in the traditional way. Soon after her first molt, they had become lovers. And the instant he had heard of the conception, he had arranged for her to go away to Nice, where no one would hate her because the impossible had happened, because she was pregnant with a hobgoblin’s child.