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  The Circle of Stars

  Book 3 in The Circle Series

  Owen Elgie

  Copyright © 2019 Owen Elgie

  KINDLE Edition

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored, in any form or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

  PublishNation

  www.publishnation.co.uk

  This is for Jade, Linda, Jeanette, Sandra,

  Lyn, and Millie.

  Thank you for believing,

  but also thank you for waiting.

  Also by this Author

  THE CIRCLE SERIES

  The Circle of Fire

  The Circle of Duty

  SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS

  Tall Tales For Dark Nights

  Answers From The Darkness

  1

  Slowly easing the door closed behind me, I turned and made my way down the steps of the home of one of my more enthusiastic clients. An achingly familiar fine rain was swirling around me in the winter breeze and even by the time I’d made it to the footpath, my jacket was already collecting and storing little pools of water for me to discover at a later time. I resisted the urge to lift my hood up against the weather, instead stopping and just lifting my face to the slate sky, closing my eyes to feel the sensation of nature. People were moving around me as I just stood and breathed, drawing as much cold air in as I could with each breath.

  The door opened behind me and a very familiar voice panted into the cold air.

  “Anthony. We haven’t booked for our next session yet.” That voice was a fire and was gasping in the cold air, almost being diminished by the weather. It shook and quavered over the words. My eyes were still closed against the rain as I slowly turned to face the voice and it wasn’t until I’d finished the turn that I finally dropped my face in its direction and unhurriedly opened my eyes.

  “I’m sorry Stephanie, or would you like me to call you Mrs. Jones?”

  Stephanie, stood still and ever so slightly behind her front door, was wrapped fully against the cold in a black bed sheet, and just bit her lip at the suggestion, almost mesmerised by the possibilities those words could hold.

  I could feel my inner beast, the fire of my inner monster, roaring in my ear to do what inner monsters do best, but instead, I turned away and began walking down the footpath.

  “I’ll call you when I know my schedule,” was all I said as I left but even that was enough to have an effect. I could feel the heat, the animal desire, flooding out from her as I walked and I knew that whenever I called, she’d be happy to accommodate me. I could still feel the glow of her as I rounded the corner and merged with the rest of the people who were out and about on yet another rainy London day.

  I was back in the big smoke.

  Back in the good old days, I would have been happy to make my way back to the car after an appointment with a client and then have to battle my way through city traffic as I headed for home. Don’t get me wrong, I still fight through the traffic, but now I do it in a little more comfort.

  Turning onto another side street, I eventually drew up next to my car. Scraping the parking ticket out from under the nearest wiper and hurling it onto the passenger seat, I settled myself into the driver’s seat of my Aston Martin Vanquish before slipping out into traffic and heading for home.

  After years of doing my best to walk just the right side of the line of the personal trainer cliché, spreading the gospel of health and fitness while only very occasionally becoming the potential lothario it seems that so very many people tend to assume I would be, I found myself whisked away to work in a very different field all together.

  It tends to be when I’m driving that my mind wanders a little to try and take stock of the events in my life up to this point, but no matter what avenue I take through my thoughts, there’s no getting away from the fact that as far as left field career moves go, mine had been a belter.

  Anthony Johns, personal trainer, was living a remarkably unremarkable life when he gets tapped on the shoulder and presented with something of an enigma. It’s not every day that you discover all kinds of far off familial connections and previously hidden truths about people you thought you knew but that was just what I got. That on its own would have been more than enough to be going on with but add in all the magic and suddenly, I was in a very odd place indeed.

  By now, as the cars and buses of the London streets swirled and weaved around me making us all a part of an almost living river, I was getting relatively used to the reality of being a Dragon shape shifter but in the past I’d ended up driving my cars into the backs, sides and fronts of other vehicles just because I couldn’t seem to wrap my head around everything. Maybe I did lack focus?

  The ever darkening sky made the lights from the cars around me become that bit more bright and they all shimmered as the water from the rain soaked the city. Being stuck in traffic was an all too familiar element of life in a major city but I just tried to sort through the thoughts in my head and calm myself down, the extended time in the car seeming to be the perfect spot for relative meditation. Oddly for me, as a Dragon, road rage was never a concern.

  I could still feel the touch of Stephanie all over my body, as if each location our bodies had met were linked with the tiniest of static charges. Her smell was in my nostrils and I could hear everything we’d just been doing screaming in my ears as I drove.

  I growled to myself and could feel that raw fire that came from my Dragon side rising in my chest, an animal reaction to the would-be training session I’d just been engaged in.

  This was becoming a familiar state of affairs.

  I gripped the steering wheel and drew in a slow, deep breath, held it for a second, then breathed out as much of the building sensation as I could. And again. And again. Slowly but surely, the fire receded and left me alone again in the car, waiting for the traffic to get under way.

  Since being involved in the life of The Circle, fighting against all manner of monsters and demons, I’d found myself having to take on the unpleasant side effects of the magic inside me. I was the latest in a long line of bearers of the mantle of one of the Fire Dragons of The Circle, a secretive order of guardians which have been charged with the protection of the human race from the monsters out there who would wish to do them harm. Now don’t get me wrong, being able to transform myself into a giant, red, winged lizard who can breathe fire and control the magical forces of the universe can do wonders for your confidence but the practicalities of having to control the maelstrom of character traits of one of the mightiest creatures in mythology can prove to be a little tiresome. The rage which seemed to drive the Fire Dragon onwards was an ever moving, almost living, force which seemed to be treating my body as some kind of meat and bone prison and viewed my mind as the jailor.

  And I swear that I had to work harder each time, just to keep my grip on the keys.

  The traffic started to move again and the attention needed on the road helped me focus.

  After an hour or so, all the time the rain just drumming a relentless tattoo on the city round me, I’d moved far enough away from the popular routes and was almost
home. Swinging the big car into the shared parking area, I did my best to ease her into one of the spaces as close to the front door to the complex as I could but as with all parking spaces in a big city, where available space is at a premium, comfort for the vehicle was only possible if you had a motorbike, and even then it was touch and go. I reversed in really slowly, crossing my fingers that the two cars either side of me were at least breathing in to give me some kind of help.

  Now I’ll admit that when I got behind the wheel back in the good old days before all of this started up, I had my moments where I’d blow up and start yelling at the relative stupidity of the actions of another road user but the parking situation really was getting under my skin. Maybe I just needed to buy two spaces, erase the dividing line and spray ‘Reserved for Anthony Johns’ all over the floor. The Alfa Romeo had been snug but the Aston Martin was just the wrong side of the line. I’d learned the hard way that it meant that I’d be left with no room to actually open the doors after I’d parked so I’d resorted to just opening up a Cascade Bridge and sending myself home that way. At least it meant that I wasn’t going to get wet again.

  The gateway snapped shut above me and, save for that ever so slight stickiness which had been in the gateways since Bress Tal, left me standing happily alone in the hallway of my flat.

  My flat.

  This place had been mine before the Circle had entered my life. I’d filled it with the things that I liked and the furniture that I thought was comfortable and visually pleasing. I’d never really appreciated the reality of it until I’d started up with the magical world but a person’s home is their sanctuary. We all fill our homes with things that are important to us, from objects to pets to people. We do this so we can feel comfortable and welcomed, as if this very place is holding out its arms for an enveloping hug. Unfortunately for so very many of us, this is only truly understood when we find ourselves unable to return to that place.

  When I took my place with the Circle, I’d moved from my welcoming corner of London all the way to the giant mansion in the wooded hills of South Wales. I’d been moved to the pinnacle of power within the whole estate and I had been treated as royalty at every turn.

  But a gilded prison is still a prison.

  I’d seen my uncle living a life outside of the estate in Wales as I’d been growing up. In fact, I’d known nothing at all about the world of battle and magic that he inhabited as I’d been growing up. He’d been able to keep the two things very separate thanks to the help of his Head of House, Lloyd. Lloyd had been able to manage the estate and my Uncle had effectively been ‘on call’ for when the fighting broke out. This was where I found myself now.

  I’d tried, I really had.

  I’d done my best to be the best version of what the Circle wanted me to be but I’d always seemed to end up on the wrong side of all of the questions. All of the others in the group just looked at me like I was the problem child that just wouldn’t pay attention, despite my best efforts to fit in. Add to that I was always doing my best to not betray my humanity as I did, it was a wonder I’d lasted as long as I had.

  It didn’t take long before I was just getting too angry at what was happening every day and that made me more and more isolated. I had to move out.

  I’d been back in London for just over a year and was settling into the same form of life that my uncle had lived. I lived my life in the way I wanted, away from the day to day of the Circle but was ready to dive into action as and when called. As much as you’d expect, it seemed to be working.

  I kicked off my trainers and dropped my kit bag next to them. Flecks of the rain that I’d brought in on my things, jumped off and spattered along the wooden floor. Heading towards the bedroom, I immediately walked through some of the escapee water and soaked my socks through as I went. Cursing, I began peeling myself out of the wet clothes and dropped them into the dirty clothes basket. I plugged my work phone in and checked my messages on my personal phone. Again, there were a few messages from young ladies I’d met along the way, who were after meeting up again, I’d sort them out after a shower.

  The final message was a little more official.

  “My Lord, it’s Mike.”

  I stopped in my tracks at the words. I was in reasonably regular contact with the estate as and when I’d been tapped to re-join the fighting but no matter where I was there had never been a message left. They’d either called me constantly on both phones until I finally answered or they’d resorted to actually sending someone to find me, so leaving a message was quite an unexpected development.

  “I trust I find you well? I’m calling on somewhat official business but I need to have a conversation with you about a potentially delicate matter.”

  What?

  “I will do my best to speak with you in the near future. Please excuse me leaving the news in this fashion but I wanted you to know that you are required but not as a usual part of the Guardian position of the Circle. Well, not directly. Thank you.”

  The receiver was replaced and the message clicked to an end. His tone had been the usual mix of tightly wound deference and attempted friendliness but I could make out easily that there was a great deal more behind the words than he was letting on. I’d call him back, but first, the shower.

  Closing the cubicle door behind me, I turned the water on and just let it cascade over me as a waterfall might a rocky ledge. I just needed to feel the water running over me, feel it sluicing away the touch of the world. The minutes passed by and I found myself becoming too accustomed to the temperature of the water. Steam was everywhere in my small bathroom but I needed the water hotter. My skin may have felt tight under the heat but I could feel all of my muscles relaxing, even the ones I wasn’t aware were tense.

  If you only use your shower as a place for a wash of two minutes or less, then you’re missing out. I’ve been able to feel huge physical benefit from a spell under the jets, but also a mental one too. Under the steaming rods of water, I can let my mind wander and within the calming flow, I can unwind my brain as well. I’d recommend that you try it at least once.

  Ten minutes passed before I was finally finished and turned the water off. Stepping out of the shower, the air was thick with steam, so much so that it was difficult to see the details of the room around me. It felt great though.

  Just standing in the room, totally surrounded by warmth from the steam in the air, I felt totally at ease and for just the barest of seconds, I was free of all of the worry in the world.

  Eventually though, the steam began to dissipate, taking with it the heat, and I was left stood naked in my bathroom with an ever growing puddle developing around my feet. Back to reality it was.

  I dried myself off and got dressed in casual attire before heading out. It had always been something which I’d enjoyed doing in the past but that had been with my uncle David. I’d then been a little busy with activities of the supernatural variety for a while to maintain the pastime so now finding myself able to happily go to the bar and have a quiet drink was a welcome return to at least some kind of normality.

  With a slight concentration of thought, I summoned up another Cascade Bridge in my hallway and nonchalantly stepped though and into the road next to the bar. The rain was still falling but at least I wasn’t going to be outside for that long.

  I pulled the bridge ring in on itself with a deep thump and headed around the building to let myself in.

  The Red Dragon is, on the surface, a very familiar kind of establishment. It has that sort of ‘used to be the norm but was now just antiquated’ kind of look to the place, harking back to a time when the clientele and usage of their leisure time was a different animal to what it is now. The Red Dragon didn’t serve food beyond the platter of sandwiches and rolls that was always chilling in one of the fridges behind the bar and there was never the chance of bumping into anyone younger than eighteen having a drink in there, (well save for the occasional son or daughter of a regular coming in with mum or dad for a pint i
n a relatively controlled environment). There were pictures all over the walls of sports teams from years gone by, both local and more far afield and the whole place had seemed to be reluctant to totally relinquish the most subtle aroma of cigarette smoke even despite the ban. The Red Dragon was a classic ‘local’ in more than just location. It was familiar and all of us who drank in there felt comfortable in its company.

  Didn’t hurt that it was called the Red Dragon, either.

  Pushing the door open, I made my way to the bar and sat down on one of the available stools. You don’t see bar stools anymore do you? I ordered from Jim behind the bar and quickly scanned the room. A few familiar faces nodded in my direction but there were also a few I didn’t recognise. One by one I gave them all the once over and assessed what they were doing in here.

  “Tony!” jabbed Jim from behind the bar, a large glass of honey coloured liquid in his hand and tapping against my arm. “What’s up? You know them?” His voice was every inch the cockney hard man stereotype and when he’d taken over the place six months ago, it had been suggested that I’d been less than welcoming to him. All I’d said was I loved his performance in the Beowulf film every time I saw him. Isn’t that how nicknames and terms of endearment start?

  “What?” I didn’t know what he was talking about.

  “The couple in the window you were staring at. You know ‘em?”

  Turning back, I looked again. I didn’t recognise them. I kept looking. They were quite non-descript in truth, both wearing business attire and in their mid to late thirties but they were clearly having a very heated discussion about something. Still looking on, the guy noticed me and gave a very familiar hand gesture to show his desire for privacy.

  “You alright, sunshine?” Jim asked again.