A WOLF FOR CHRISTMAS

  Toni Cox

  Copyright © 2020 Toni Cox

  Cover design by Silvana G. Sánchez

  Editing by Sam Talarico

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the written permission of the author constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are all used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales or persons living or dead, are coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to everyone who helped me with my research about Alaska, Canada, Huskies, and dog sledding - not only did I learn so much, but it was also so much fun.

  I love all animals, and I love writing about them. This book gives a bit of a different perspective…not quite animal, but not quite man, either. It was really fun to write.

  This is my first ever full Christmas novel, but my usual team of backers had no doubt I could pull it off. So, my thanks must go to Darren Cox, Sian Claven, and Robin Ash for always believing in me.

  Feel free to subscribe to my newsletter:

  https://www.tonicoxauthor.com/subscribe

  This book is for all who still believe in Christmas

  For those who still believe in miracles

  For those who still believe in love

  And for everyone who still believes

  There can be good in this world

  1

  Chapter 1

  The streetlights come on behind me as I rush through the darkening alley. My heart pumps a steady staccato as my feet pound the tarmac. Anchorage isn’t a big city, but I know every square-foot of it.

  “Logan, there’s no point in running.”

  I can hear the cops behind me, but I don’t stop. They have a shoot-to-kill order, and I’m not about to test it.

  The alley behind the supermarket reeks of rotten fish, and I hope it’ll disguise my scent as I heave myself up a wall and scramble off over the rooftop. My sneakers don’t make a sound on the concrete roof.

  “Logan,” they taunt again, but their voices sound further away.

  I hate that I’m running. It’s not in me to give up, but Leah wants it this way. We’ve been locked in this battle for over a month, and now the cops have the upper hand.

  We don’t have another choice. They won’t lock me up - they’ll kill me.

  My zigzag path takes me closer to the warehouse district, but I make sure to lose the cops before I reach it. They are on my turf now.

  As the light fades, so does the temperature. It’s the first week of October, and the warmer weather of summer has long gone. I shiver in my light windbreaker and hurry down the long side of a warehouse.

  The wind howls through here, channeled by the big buildings on either side, and I duck my head against my chest as I run. At the end of the warehouse, I turn a corner down a passage.

  The wind immediately drops, and it’s quieter. I fumble for the key in my pocket and then unlock a battered door to my right. It leads to a small storage unit I’ve rented for the past five years.

  All sound ceases as I close the door behind me, and I briefly lean against it, catching my breath before switching on the light.

  Everything I need to survive is right here, but I can’t stay for long. I must take what I need and leave as soon as possible. I promised Leah.

  The square room, with its shelves on three sides, is dusty. The single, bare light bulb hanging from the center casts a harsh glare over everything.

  I haven’t been here in a while, but I know the essentials are in their place and ready to go. All of us have a place like this - for emergencies - it’s our nature, and living in Alaska has made us this way.

  My chest shudders one last time as I shake off the sadness of leaving my family behind. It’s for the best, I guess. My sister can be persuasive, but, heck, I will miss her, especially over Christmas.

  Our kind is not meant to live alone - we need family in our life. We need a pack. If I can find a way to return, I will, but for now, I need to get as far away from the cops as I can.

  I push myself off from the door and take the folding cot out of the corner. I will sleep here tonight, pack my things, and then leave in the morning.

  The tiny gas cooker whooshes when I light it, and I put a small pot with water over it to make coffee. While I wait for it to boil, I rummage along the shelves.

  First on my list is my light-weight hiking rucksack. Everything goes in there - sleeping bag, clothes, food, first aid. I pack systematically, knowing my weight limitations.

  My passport goes into a hidden, waterproof compartment under the top flap. I’m taking it with me, but I doubt I’ll use it - it would just be a way for the cops to track me.

  The coffee is hot and doesn’t taste quite right with the powdered milk, but it warms me. Everything is ready for tomorrow…except me. My heart aches at the thought of leaving.

  I’ve lived in Anchorage all my life, roamed the wilderness and the mountains around it, and the only time I ever left was to visit an uncle in Juneau for a week.

  My coffee cup is empty, and when I check the time, I realize that roundabout now you’d be able to hear the wolves howl, and I hate the fact that I am stuck in this concrete prison.

  The metal cup crashes against the wall as I throw it in frustration, and I have to remind myself why I am running. Leah, Hazel…my sister and my mother are the most important people in my life. And the rest of the pack.

  Maybe what I did was foolish, but I did it for them…for Leah. I can’t help the growl that rises up my throat, and it vibrates along my vocal cords, straining them.

  Because of my actions, I now have the Anchorage Police Department hunting me. More specifically, detectives Johnson and Moore, and if that’s not playing dirty, I don’t know what is.

  Well, the die for my fate is cast, and, for now, I have to make the best of it. I enjoy the relative comfort of the folding cot for the night, for I don’t know what will await me tomorrow night.

  ‡‡

  I yelp in fright as a strange dream wakes me even before my alarm goes off. It’s pitch black in the storage unit, and all my senses are on high alert as I try to orientate myself.

  “Get it together, Logan,” I tell myself.

  As I switch on the light, I try to forget the yellow eyes that hunted me in my dreams, which took my family from me. My hands still shake as I dress and then shoulder my rucksack.

  If only it didn’t make me feel like such a coward for running from the cops. My growl builds from deep within my stomach and rises up my throat. It hurts as it roars out of my mouth.

  I wish I could stay and fight.

  “Argh.”

  The small storage unit explodes into noise as my fist connects violently with the steel shelving, sending it crashing to the floor around me.

  Anchorage used to belong to us – the Turners used to rule Anchorage. Then the Barkers came - filthy rich investors - and they brought the cops with them. We don’t stand a chance.

  Leah and I spent hours going over this. We fought so much. Our mother was just sad. Either way it ended, it would mean our mother would lose a child. Now, I am the one on the run.

  If only that bloody Barker’s asshole had left my sister alone. She said no. Why didn’t he get the message?

  With a final sigh, I lock the door behind me and step out into the cold morning air. It’s still dark, and the tangy saltiness from the ocean hangs heavy in the air.

  My heart aches as my feet crunch over the loose gravel on the side of the road as I head out of town. The mountains ahead still lie in darkness, and the city behind me glitters with lights.

  I shouldn’t have done what I did, but it cannot be undone, and now I must pay the price. The road ahead of me is long and lonely, but if I don’t leave now, the Alaskan winter will catch me before I get a chance to get away.

  It’s about four hundred miles to the Canadian border. It will take me a few days hiking offroad and remaining off the grid, but I can slip through undetected.

  That’s the plan, anyway. My strides lengthen as the sun rises over the mountains, blinding me. I put my sunglasses on and doggedly forge ahead to my new life, hating the Barkers with every stride I take.

  I know this wilderness, but I’ve never had to navigate it by myself - I’ve always had my pack at my back. Now, they are better off without me because I was foolish, rash. Because I let my emotions get the better of me.

  The growl rumbles up my chest, vibrating in my throat. I can’t help it - it’s second nature - but if I am to survive alone, I will need to learn to control that, too.

  The partly overgrown dirt road I am on stretches into the distance ahead of me; muddy puddles dot its surface. The scent of pine and salt and a promise of rain lingers in the air, keeping me company.

  The main road is several miles to the north, and I can stay on this track for days before I need to change my tactic. There is nothing else for me to do but walk…and think about what I’ve done.

  My actions haunt me, and I wonder if I would do the same again. I did it for Leah. For my mother. And, for the rest of the pack. At least, that’s what I tell myself. I hope they are safe now.

  The Anchorage Police Department has issued a warrant for my arrest, and Johnson and Moore have made it their perso nal mission to bring me in. That’s the official version, but I know I will never make it back alive if they catch me.

  My anger fuels my steps, and I eat away at the distance, putting many miles between me and my home city. I only notice how far I’ve come when lights behind me highlight the fact that it’s getting dark.

  I turn around to see a pickup heading my way, bouncing over the uneven track of the rugged dirt road.

  My heart jumps into my throat.

  Johnson and Moore.

  Want to read more of A Wolf for Christmas?

  Get the book here: My Book

  The Fae Prophecy

  Prophecy

  Copyright © 2020 Toni Cox

  Cover design by Julie Nicolls

  Editing by Sam Talarico

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the written permission of the author constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are all used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales or persons living or dead, are coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Acknowledgments

  In 2019, I knew I wanted to write a series for 2020. I knew that I wanted to make it at least four books, and that I wanted to do a rapid release.

  What I didn’t know, was which story to write. On my wall above my laptop I have a list. On this list I have the names of all the books I still want to write.

  There are the series, the trilogies, and the stand-alones from the Elemental universe. There is the set of books for the Andromeda Galaxy. And, the dark fantasy series Dragonlore.

  I also have a list of Urban Fantasy books I want to write, as well as some more post-apocalyptic type fantasy.

  My heart was torn, but it was at that point that I took a ‘series mentorship course’ with Rebecca Hamilton. The way her teachings made us lay out each of our ideas, cemented my decision.

  So, it is with thanks to Rebecca, that I bring you The Fae Prophecy Series this year.

  Working throughout 2020 has not been easy. This has been a year of many challenges, as I am sure, many of you can attest to.

  Those of you who subscribe to my newsletter will know the difficulties I’ve faced throughout 2020, but it did not detract from the joy writing this series has brought me.

  In all the ‘dark’ that 2020 brought with it, there were some bright beams of light in my life that helped me along the way. They were the ones that made it possible for me to carry one.

  Darren Cox, my husband, my constant pillar of strength… and supplier of cappuccino!

  Sian Claven, my #AuthorBestie who I can always rely on for advice, story ideas, and moral support. She’s also my beta reader, and my worst critic.

  Ashleigh Giannoccaro, my other #AuthorBestie, who is always there for a motivating chat, donuts, and bunny cuddles.

  My beta readers, Larouchelle Leveuvre and Chriss Prokic, who remain encouraging, even when brutally honest.

  And, then, my #AuthorMentor, Erika Bester, who guided me throughout the series, helped me flesh it out, make it stronger, and make it the best it could be.

  My amazingly beautiful covers are the artwork of the talented Julie Nicolls, who took my ideas, and magically turned them into colour.

  Editing was done by my new editor, the lovely Sam Talarico. So much patience, understanding, and heart has gone into these books from her, and it shines through.

  Thank you to my readers, and everyone who has waited patiently for the series to be released. I hope you love it as much as I do.

  Feel free to subscribe to my newsletter:

  https://www.tonicoxauthor.com/subscribe

  This book, and the series, is dedicated to my ‘kids’

  Joshua, Jamie, and Wendy

  For no matter how old they are

  They will always be my children

  2

  Chapter 1

  A storm of dark magic raged around me, disturbing my dreams. It seeped into my veins, cold as ice, burning.

  I sat bolt-upright in my bed, grabbing a post with a white-knuckle grip as another blast of magic rocked the palace.

  “Rosalie,” I called for my handmaiden, but she’d be in her own room, now.

  I cowered under my blankets as another piece of the ornate ceiling crashed to the floor, exploding in a cloud of stinging fragments and dust.

  Even through the covers, the clattering of plaster on marble rang painfully in my ears.

  The shaking didn’t stop, and I coughed in the dusty air as I lifted the blanket, trying to see even a few feet ahead of me as I scrambled off the bed.

  My room crumbled before me. Even as I watched, my precious pearl-and-crystal night light crashed to the ground.

  “No!”

  Instinctively, my hand flung out, issuing the magic for the vines along the wall to grow, to catch my night light, to save it.

  Not fast enough. It crashed to the floor, shattering into a million pieces ~ as did my heart. My mother’s light. One of the few things I had left of her.

  More of the ceiling fell around me. I raised my arms to shield my face.

  The dust was now so thick; I could barely see. Trembling, I held out my palm and let the blue glow that emanated from it guide me to the door. It was a foreign magic, but I could really use it now. I didn’t matter to me right now that it was forbidden for the fae to use any other magic than fae magic.

  I couldn’t breathe. Pain in my forearm. Blood dripped from it where the fragments from the ceiling had bit into it.

  My hands shook as I tore a strip of fabric from my tattered nightdress to tie around the stinging wound. I audibly sucked the air in through my clenched teeth.

  A dull rumble alerted me, and I darted to the door before the rest of the ceiling collapsed into my chamber.

  In the long passage leading from my room, the walls already crumbled. Centuries-old paintings fell from their hangings to crash and splinter on the marble floor.

  Screams came from all directions, people scrambling to safety, but no-one came to rescue me. I just hoped they would all be safe.

  I took a deep breath to steady myself and balled my right hand into a fist to dull the strange glow. It just would not stop glowing.

  Then I ran, dodging bits of falling debris on my way.

  The royal chambers were not far from mine, but I knew I needed to get there soon ~ they wouldn’t help my father. Not now. They had in the beginning, but now they blamed him for these attacks.

  I passed the ivory carvings ~ winged nymphs, mounted archers, flying horses, delicate lilies; all of which shook precariously.

  “Hmph.”

  The wind got knocked out of me as one of the servants crashed into me as I rounded a corner. The knock opened my fist and exposed some of the light. Hastily, I hid the strange magic.

  “Pardon, my Lady,” the servant managed to say before scampering off, but not before eyeing my hand suspiciously.

  “Guards,” I called, hopeful, but there were none in sight.

  Tears shot into my eyes, and not just because of the dust hanging in the air within the crumbling palace. Was there no-one left who believed their king was as helpless as everyone else?

  The dark magic wormed its way into our fae home, tearing down its defences, bringing down its foundations. I trembled at the thought of it.

  “Father,” I shouted into the darkness of his room. “Are you here?”

  His chamber was not as dusty as mine, with most of the ceiling still intact. Ivy still curled around the woven lattice on the walls. A chandelier had fallen, and the floor cracked.

  “Father,” I tried again, and this time, I heard a groan. “Guards,” I yelled again, even as I sprinted forward into the dark room.

 

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