Elfin, Book 1 The Elfin Series Read online

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  Trik entered Sanctuary through the back door. In the bowels of the large manor that the Dark Elf King and his mate occupied, was what humans might call a club though his kind called it a refuge. It was a place for the dark elves to gather. Food, drink, and other pleasures flowed through the room. Music, seductive to the senses ran across his skin. He cast a shield over himself to keep the hypnotizing notes from drawing him in. He was looking for someone and didn’t have time to stay and play. Several of the females vied for his attention but he declined with a smile and kept walking. At the very back of the room in a dark corner he found the man he was looking for.

  “Trik, to what do I owe this honor?” Myrin, the wisest of the dark elf elders, asked him.

  “I need to speak with you in private,” Trik told him, making sure to keep his tone respectful, while trying to impress upon Myrin the urgency of the situation.

  Myrin must have seen the earnestness in Trik’s eyes because he stood without a word and motioned for him to follow.

  He followed the elder out of Sanctuary and down a dark corridor. Finally reaching a door, Myrin pushed it open and stepped back for Trik to enter. Trik, being the suspicious assassin that he was, didn’t move. He would never allow a powerful being such as the elder at his back. Myrin rolled his eyes and stepped into the room first.

  “What is so urgent that you would pass up the company of the lovely she-elves that so eagerly offer their company?” Myrin asked as he lowered himself onto a very worn overstuffed chair. Trik chose to remain standing.

  “What do you know of humans being a Chosen?” Trik asked bluntly.

  Myrin’s eyes narrowed as he watched the King’s greatest assassin and spy.

  “I know that it can happen, though it is extremely rare.”

  “Why?” Trik asked tersely.

  “Why can it happen or why is it rare?” Myrin leaned back deeper in the chair and crossed one leg over the other.

  “Yes,” Trick answered as he began to pace.

  “I’m not sure why it happens, or how. However, I believe that it is rare simply because we limit our interactions with the humans. I think that it would probably happen much more often if we spent more time in direct contact with the humans in their realm.”

  “How do you know if one is your Chosen?”

  “There is one thing; and one thing only that determines if a human is a Chosen.”

  Trik waited for an explanation. When it didn’t come, he huffed. “Well, out with it.”

  Myrin chuckled. “I don’t believe that I have ever seen Lorsan’s great killer so out of sorts.”

  Trik’s eyes flashed menacingly. “I respect you old one, but my patience is wearing thin.”

  “Tsk, tsk, Trik. There is no need for idle threats,” Myrin sighed. “If she is your Chosen, then she will be able to see you in your true form without your help,” he continued, deciding it was unwise to goad the assassin further.

  Trik sat down hard on the couch opposite the elder as the words echoed ominously through his mind. A string of profanities in his own language poured from his lips as he considered the consequences.

  “Trik,” Myrin leaned forward watching him closely. “You’ve met your Chosen.” It wasn’t a question.

  “She’s human, practically a child,” Trik ground out through clenched teeth.

  Myrin sucked in a breath. “Well that is impossible. A child can never be revealed as a Chosen, even if she were meant to be one. She has to have undergone her maturing.”

  Trik looked up, his eyes narrowed. “What do you mean maturing?”

  “I’m not totally sure what it means for humans, but for our kind she has to be matured to the point of being able to bear a child and be free from the shelter of her sire and mother.”

  “She still lives with her parents, but I swear by the King that there was nothing childlike about her, other than a certain innocence,” Trik added the last as an afterthought.

  “You are sure that she is your Chosen?” Myrin asked.

  “She saw my natural form while I was in my human guise,” Trik answered.

  “Have you told Lorsan?”

  “No, I needed confirmation,” Trik stood and looked down at the elder. “Speak of this to no one.”

  Myrin nodded and watched as the impenetrable assassin left his apartment.