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  LIGHTBRINGER

  Book One of the Celestial Affairs

  by

  Frankie Robertson

  Praise for Frankie Robertson

  “Quick, supple writing—an unusual and gripping tale—and did I mention sexy?”

  ~Melanie Rawn, best-selling author of Diviner, and Spellbinder

  “Kept me guessing until the very end.”

  ~Jordan Summers, author of Red, Scarlet, and Crimson

  “Frankie Robertson creates detailed worlds, vivid characters, and intricate, well plotted stories. The mixture of fantasy and romance is perfectly balanced and an utter joy to read.”

  ~Jill Knowles, author of Concubine and A Pirate’s Primer

  “Ms. Robertson combines a lush prose style with a sharp eye for characterization and detail. You will not be disappointed.”

  ~Jody Wallace, award winning author of “Field Trip” and “Cooley’s Panther”

  “If you haven’t yet heard of Frankie Robertson, just wait, you will. She is destined to be a star. And for those of us who eagerly anticipate Frankie’s next story, what we really want to know is: What the hell is she cooking up now?”

  ~Dennis L. McKiernan, Bestselling author of the Mithgar and Faery Series

  LIGHTBRINGER

  Book One of the Celestial Affairs

  by

  Frankie Robertson

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright © Frances R. Gross, 2011

  Cover design by Kim Killion of Hot Damn Designs

  Castle Rock Publishing

  Tucson, Arizona

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions of this book, 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, products, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Castle Rock Publishing.

  http://www.CastleRockPublishing.com

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Every writer has enough “thank yous” to fill an Oscar acceptance speech, and I’m no exception. This book is better due to the generous advice of the Working Title critique group: Brian Gross, Larry Hammer, Jill Knowles, Roxy Rogers, and Janni Lee Simner, and has benefitted from the attention of the Tanque Wordies critique group: Dennis L. McKiernan and John Vornholt while Martha Lee McKiernan plied us with delicious desserts. My editors Rochelle French and Kecia Dilday at Edits That Rock helped me put the final polish on LIGHTBRINGER, and Kim Killion of Hot Damn Designs designed a great cover for it. Lucinda Campbell and Cheryl Perez made this book readable by doing the digital and POD formatting for me.

  There are a bazillion authors of books and blogs about self-publishing from whom I learned. I talk about many of them on my blog: http://FrankieRobertson.wordpress.com. In particular, I’d like to thank two of my peers: Kris Tualla, for showing the way, and Roxy Rogers, for making the journey with me.

  Most especially I want to thank my husband Brian for his encouragement and support. I couldn’t ask for a better cheerleader.

  CHAPTER 1

  JARED PRICE NAVIGATED the crowded parking lot of the Mi Corazon Restaurant, searching for a space, the windows of his Mercedes down. The late October sun had set thirty minutes ago, but Tucson’s fall weather was mild compared to some of the other places he’d lived. He spotted an opening on the next aisle over and circled around. When he was mere inches from pulling in, a faded green Volvo zipped into the spot.

  He jammed on the brakes, only his superior reflexes preventing a crash. “Son of a bitch!”

  A curvy blonde in a too long skirt got out of the car and lifted one hand in an apologetic shrug. “Sorry!” she called out. Her expression was contrite, but she didn’t stop moving toward the entrance or offer to move her car. She clearly didn’t make a habit of trading on her appearance.

  The pleasure of watching her gently swaying hips supplanted his irritation. He resumed his search for a spot.

  A few minutes later Jared sat at the bar, staring at fake Halloween cobwebs, plastic spiders, and cardboard jack-o-lanterns while savoring a margarita. The drink was the perfect blend of tequila and lime, salt and sweet. Most of the other patrons clustered at the far end of the bar, focused on a television blaring a football game, but Jared paid no attention to it. He took another sip, and glanced at his watch. Where the hell is Gideon?

  The Guardian had asked for this meeting, but he was late. As Jared had almost been, thanks to the blonde. He’d had to park in the auxiliary lot, across the alley.

  The saloon-style doors separating the bar area from the restaurant lobby squeaked open, but it was the young woman who’d stolen his spot who hesitated in the entry, not the man he was waiting for. He didn’t know what appearance Gideon would assume this time, but he was sure it wouldn’t be that of a pretty, curvaceous woman—though Gideon would happily steal his parking spot. Jared again admired the gentle sway of her rounded bottom as she made a circuit of the room, searching for someone, frowning. She was a little too zaftig to suit the current fashion, but she would have been considered beautiful fifty years ago, back when Jane Russell and Maureen O’Hara were stars. Just the type a man could take to his bed and enjoy a good romp with, without fear of breaking her.

  The woman completed her survey of the room and sat down two seats away. The bartender put a napkin down in front of her and asked what she wanted.

  She thought about it for a moment, as if this were a special treat. “A Black Russian, please.”

  Up close she was even more lovely. Her emerald eyes were set in a heart shaped face, surrounded by soft amber curls that tumbled down to her shoulders. In a calf-length skirt and light sweater she wasn’t dressed to allure, but that didn’t matter. Blatant sexuality was over-rated. Even from six feet away, Jared ‘s enhanced senses brought him her scent, a mix of soap, jasmine, and woman. The fragrance curled through his head and made his pulse pick up speed.

  When the bartender brought her drink, Jared put a ten on the counter. “Let me,” he said, raising his voice enough to be heard over the game.

  Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, then widened in recognition. “Oh! It’s you! I’m sorry about cutting you off. I hate it when someone does that to me, but I was really late. Or I thought I was. I’m waiting for someone.”

  Jared leaned back on his stool and gave her a soft smile. “No harm done. I’m waiting for someone too. Perhaps we could wait together?”

  She paused for a moment, as if reading between the lines of his question, then inclined her head and gestured to the seat beside her. “Okay.”

  He was careful not to move too quickly as he joined her. “I’m Jared Price.” He offered his hand.

  “Cassie.” She hesitated, then took it.

  At their touch, a tingle danced over Jared’s skin, and his cock took notice. The long muscles in his back twinged as if his wings ached to unfurl. What the hell? He didn’t even have wings in this form. Realization hit, throwing his heartbeat into overdrive.

  Damnation! She’s Progeny!

  “Oh!” Cassie jerked her hand ba
ck. Touching Jared had sent a vibrant heat rushing through her, bringing every nerve fiber alive. Casual touch usually wasn’t a problem for her. Most of the time she could restrain her gift. She didn’t read people accidentally. Only this hadn’t felt like reading someone. This was better. Lively sparks still zinged up her arm, and her hands itched to touch him, just to see if it would happen again.

  Instead she took a sip of her drink.

  She didn’t trust that tingle. Maybe it was because GQ perfect men in two thousand dollar suits didn’t hit on someone like her. Maybe it was because Jared’s dark good looks had her pulse pounding and her nipples aching. Maybe it was because the parts of her body that were usually quiet were perking up and clamoring for attention.

  Cassie shifted on her stool and played with the straw in her drink, dismayed by her sudden surge of hormones. Get a grip. She didn’t usually react to men this way, and the last time she had…well, she wasn’t going to think about that now. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to flirt a little, at least until Linda arrived. Her friend had been nagging her to be more adventurous. This was a safe enough way to start—with someone she’d never see again. She made herself meet his eyes.

  “Looks like we’ll have good weather for the trick-or-treaters next week,” she said, then winced inwardly. Was that the best she could do? Talk about the weather?

  “Do you have children?”

  “No. But I enjoy decorating and handing out candy. This year I’m dressing up as my namesake.”

  Jared’s gaze swept over her, frank appreciation in his eyes. “I’m sure a chiton will become you.”

  Cassie tried not to squirm under his heated appraisal. “You’re familiar with ancient Greek clothing?”

  “History is a hobby of mine. But why Cassandra? I can’t imagine you’d enjoy predicting doom.”

  “Not at all. But history and myth are only as accurate as the men who recorded it. Cassandra probably made a lot of happy predictions no one remembers.”

  Jared tilted his head, conceding her point.

  Cassie tried to think of something to say, and settled for the safest. “So what do you do when you’re not studying history?”

  Jared shrugged. “I dabble in the stock market.”

  Which means he either lives at home with his mother, or he’s fabulously wealthy. Or he needs to launder his drug money. She would have to touch him for longer than a handshake to read that level of detail.

  “And you?” he asked.

  “I’m a psychic.” Cassie waited for the usual queries: Do you talk to the dead? See the future? Use a crystal ball? And her favorite: How much do people pay for that crap?

  But Jared just lifted a brow and said, “That sounds exhausting.”

  Cassie blinked in surprise. “It can be.” She watched Jared take the last sip of his margarita and waited for the questions, but they didn’t come. “You’re either being very tactful, or you’re the most incurious man I’ve ever met,” she finally said.

  Jared grinned. “I’ve never been accused of either of those traits. What should I be more curious about?”

  Anything she said now would sound like she was fishing for attention. But she’d already stuck her foot in, so she might as well go wading. “Psychic abilities. Most people have lots of questions.”

  “Questions you must enjoy answering since you don’t hide what you do.”

  Cassie shrugged, hiding her surprise. He was right. “I’m not ashamed of what I am. Psychic gifts aren’t demonic or weird.”

  Jared answered her comment with his own steady gaze. His dark eyes seemed to look inside her, seeing more than she wanted him to know. Her pulse quickened. Could he tell she wanted to run her fingers through his rich brown hair? To push her hands beneath that perfectly tailored suit? She glanced away.

  Is this the way I make other people feel? As though I’m rummaging around in the hidden places of their souls? She took a sip of her drink.

  Across the room a man at one of the tables shouted “Yeah!” in response to the game on the TV. Cassie jumped and choked, coughing violently. Tears burned her eyes as she struggled to catch her breath. Crap. Nothing like spraying a drink out your nose to impress a guy. Not that she was trying to impress Jared, but she didn’t want to make a fool of herself, either.

  Her companion gestured to the bartender and asked for water. Cassie gratefully sipped from the glass he brought.

  “Are you all right?” Jared asked as she cleared her throat.

  Cassie nodded and took another swallow. “Sorry about that,” she croaked.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked when she was breathing normally again. “You seem anxious. Is it me?”

  “Oh, no!” Cassie face heated. Again. He’d hit a little too close to the mark. She put out her hand in reassurance, then drew it back before actually touching him. “I’m just a little worried about my friend. She was supposed to be here”—she glanced at her watch—”fifteen minutes ago.”

  “That’s not so bad.”

  Cassie shook her head. “You don’t know Linda. She’s never late.”

  “Have you tried calling her?”

  “On the way here. To let her know I’d be late. Again. But she must have her phone turned off.” She smiled ruefully. “This is the first time I’ve ever gotten someplace before her.”

  Behind Jared, a tall blond man entered and scanned the room. His gaze came to rest on them, and he started their way.

  “I think your date is here.” She tilted her head in the new man’s direction, a little disappointed their conversation was about to end.

  Jared glanced behind him and grimaced. “Hardly my date. More of a business associate.”

  Not his date. Not gay, and no ring. Not taken? Get a grip, girl. Cassie chided herself, but she couldn’t keep from feeling a little surge of delight. Her lips curved upward.

  Jared turned just as the other man arrived. “Gideon, allow me introduce you to Ms…?”

  “Lewis,” Cassie said, smiling at his formality. She shook Gideon’s hand. Again, that strange tingle danced up her arm, but although this man was handsome, and oozed “Presence” with a capital P, he didn’t make her question her control the way Jared did. “But please, call me Cassie.”

  Gideon inclined his head in an old fashioned gesture, holding her gaze with pellucid blue eyes. “A pleasure.”

  “I should let you two get down to business. Thank you for the drink.” As Cassie slid off the bar stool, Jared also stood. He was as tall as his friend, and she found it hard to look away from him as he gave her a slight bow.

  “You are most welcome. Another time perhaps?”

  I doubt it. It wasn’t likely they’d cross paths again, though she wished they would. Cassie smiled and headed for the lobby.

  She had just reached the saloon doors when a man shoved through them. She took a sudden step to avoid a collision, but her foot caught a chair. Arms flailing, she began to topple backward.

  An instant later the man snagged her hand and wrapped a strong arm around her back steadying her. His compact body was muscular, and his face weather-worn. But his rough masculinity barely registered as a vision swamped her senses.

  Darkness. Screams. Gunfire. She stepped over a dead child. Her P-90 submachine gun was a comforting weight in her hands as her body jolted with the familiar discharge of the weapon. A man ran through a narrow village street, hunched over a young woman, trying to shield her with his body. They fell together as the man next to her fired a short burst, his bullets bringing them down.

  “Are you okay?” the man asked.

  Cassie gasped and shivered, trying to blink the bloody images away.

  “Maybe you’d better sit down.”

  The scent of gunpowder and hot metal seemed to hang in the air. “Pankrit?” she blurted. “Afghanistan?”

  The man’s grip on her hand grew tight, and his intense gray eyes locked onto hers like laser-guided missiles. Cassie shivered again, afraid. She didn’t usually babble things out like
that after a vision. But then she didn’t usually have visions of blood and mayhem.

  “There you are!” Linda’s voice came from behind her.

  Cassie turned, happy for the distraction. “Here I am. And here you are, too. I can’t believe I got here first.”

  “You didn’t. I’ve been here for twenty-five minutes.”

  Cassie deflated. “But I looked—”

  “I must have been in the loo,” Linda said, then stared pointedly at the man still holding Cassie. “Are you going to introduce me?”

  Cassie pulled free, suddenly wishing she could teleport far away. But Linda took over, offering her hand with a smile. “Hi, I’m Linda Fallon.”

  The man took his attention off Cassie only long enough to say, “Nice to meet you.”

  “Have you known Cassie long?”

  The man’s sharp gaze bored into her. “We only just met.”

  “Well then, let me make the introductions.”

  No. No. No. Cassie didn’t want to be introduced. She didn’t know what that vision was all about and she didn’t want to know. She just wanted to get away and have dinner with her friend. She squeezed Linda’s arm and shook her head slightly. But Linda was on a roll. She’d been trying to get Cassie to date more for months.

  “This is my friend, Cassie. Cassie, this is…?” Linda looked the question at the man.

  “Dave.”

  Cassie didn’t offer her hand again, but she forced a smile to be polite. “Thanks for catching me.”

  “No problem.” Dave finally shifted his gaze away from Cassie and turned to Linda. “Keep an eye on your friend, I think she’s had enough to drink.” Then he stepped through the doors.

  Linda looked closely at Cassie. “Have you?”

  “Of course not! He nearly knocked me down.”