Pieces of Twelves

Pieces of Twelves Twelve to Midnight Series Book Two By M.L. Bullock Text copyright ©2023 Monica L. Bullock All rights reserved. Dedication This book is dedicated to the wolf that comes in sheep’s’ clothing. I see you. Contents Dedication Chapter One—Lucien Chapter Two—Stephen Chapter Three—Lucien Chapter Four—Stephen Chapter Five—Mary Chapter Six—Stephen Chapter Seven—Lucien Chapter Eight--Mary Chapter Nine—Father Alexander Chapter Ten—Lucien Chapter Eleven—Stephen Chapter Twelve—Stephen Chapter Thirteen—Mary Amelia Epilogue—Mary Author’s Note M. L. Bullock’s Book List Chapter One—Lucien “I smell predators, Mary Amelia. Killers have a particular scent, you know. If you were to find a predator here, what would you look for? What kind of predator would be on this ship?” Lucien sniffed the air suspiciously. Typical predators reeked of gunpowder and sweat. The hunter sniffed again. Yes, he could also smell the spiced aroma of the ship’s kitchen. A hint of mint and menthol cut through the smell of death that hovered above us. Atypical predators put off a strange fragrance. If he had to describe it, he would say that it reeked of copper and burning hair. She smirked at him, “A rat? A very large rat?” Lucien Reilly ignored her attempts at mocking him. One day she would thank him for this seemingly mundane commentary. “Predators have a kind of musk, an odor that cannot be concealed no matter how they pretty it up. It’s different with prey animals. No perfume, no cologne can hide the sinful nature of a predator.” “Father, really. The predator and prey relationship keeps us all alive. I should think a carnivore such as yourself would appreciate this.” He squinted at her in the gloomy cabin. “I’m not speaking of what’s normal, Mary Amelia. I’m describing to you the aroma of the most amoral killers, the devilish kind. Their sinful natures make them put off a discernable smell if you’re keen to detect them.” “Got it, father. Smelly, sinful nature.” Lucien’s daughter plucked the last grape from the wooden bowl. It was a withered grape and long past ripeness. He wondered how she could stomach eating it. He had not eaten anything in days. “Even in a crowd of a hundred, I can smell a predator. Some wolves walk on two legs, Mary Amelia. They are the worst kind of beast, daughter. They are devilish creatures. Clever. Seductive. Remember what I am telling you. Burn it into your brain. You may believe me to be a doddering old fool but I tell you these things exist. I have protected you for too long, Mary Amelia. I have kept the truth of it away from your tender ears. I do not have that luxury anymore.” He sighed remembering his failings. “Consider it burned into my brain, father. Wolves on two legs. You know, I think I have met those types of predators before,” his daughter murmured as she flipped the page of her leather-bound book. At least it wasn’t a romance novel that seemed to be all the rage these days. His daughter’s current choice of reading was Galileo’s Permanence of Space. “Wait a minute. Do you mean like a deer or a raccoon? I read a fascinating article about the use of scents for gaining an advantage over predators. Do wolves put off a scent too? What kind of wolves are we talking about? Are there wolves in the southern states?” Lucien muttered a dull answer and after a few sighs of exasperation, she appeared to completely ignore him. Her nose was firmly back in her book. What was he thinking, bringing his only daughter across the Atlantic Ocean to this wild place? Mary Amelia belonged in a finishing school, in an esteemed English college. Not traveling with her old father in search of werewolves and the like. Not that she took him seriously. But then, it was her scandalous deed that caused her to be evicted from Mrs. Woolworth’s School for Young Ladies. Occasionally, when Lucien experienced the need to be understood, to seek someone to share his burden with he turned to his daughter. This was a weakness of his. Lucien hoped she would read between the lines since he could not directly confess to her his status in the church. He’d taken an oath to maintain his vow of silence on the matter but truthfully, he’d long since broken that vow with Mary Amelia’s mother, Martha. Poor Martha. I should never have burdened her with these dark secrets. Lucien hoped his daughter would seek to find the truth on her own but Mary Amelia seemed disinterested. She continued to believe that he spoke metaphorically and had no appreciation for his very real burden. Did she never wonder why her father traveled with silver-tipped arrows and knives? Once, he remembered, when she was not yet thirteen, she asked rather rudely if he were an assassin. Lucien was forced to disappoint her. No, dear. Merely a hunter. She was highly unimpressed as Mary Amelia was one to crave excitement. That love of adventure worried him no end. But traveling around with him was no life for a young woman. Traveling across an ocean in search of evil with her old father. No life at all but the alternative--leaving her home with her neglectful great aunt--seemed the lesser of two evils to Lucien. And some secret part of him hoped that she would figure this out without his confession. Maybe she would want to join him in his heavy burden? Lucien’s enemies knew him and likely knew that he was coming for them. They would certainly seek to tear him limb from limb—and Mary Amelia too if she were too involved in his tasks. But then they may wish to do the same even if she were not, just because she was his child. His only child. Yes, he waited too late to include her in his true mission. Lucien was now working against time. Sad to think that when he began this godforsaken career, he believed he was doing God’s work.