Devon seeking guidance, p.1
Devon Seeking Guidance, page 1
Devon Seeking Guidance
Kerrigan Presidents Series, Volume 3
W.J. May
Published by Dark Shadow Publishing, 2023.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
DEVON SEEKING GUIDANCE
First edition. July 15, 2023.
Copyright © 2023 W.J. May.
ISBN: 979-8215658253
Written by W.J. May.
Copyright 2023 by W.J. May
THIS BOOK IS LICENSED for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the arduous work of the author.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
All rights reserved.
Devon Seeking Guidance
Book 3 of the Kerrigan Presidents
Copyright 2023 by W.J. May
Cover design by: Book Cover by Design
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.
Kerrigan Presidents Series
Leaders in Control
Director on a Mission
Devon Seeking Guidance
Gabriel’s Vanishing Light
President on Edge
Agreeing the Future
Kerrigan Memoirs Series
The Chronicles of:
Devon
Angel
Julian
Molly
Gabriel
Rae
Have You Read the C.o.K Series?
The Prequel series is a Sub-Series of the Chronicles of Kerrigan.
The prequel on how Simon Kerrigan met Beth!!
Download for FREE:
THE CHRONICLES OF KERRIGAN: PREQUEL –
Christmas Before the Magic
Question the Darkness
Into the Darkness
Fight the Darkness
Alone in the Darkness
Lost the Darkness
The Chronicles of Kerrigan
BOOK I - Rae of Hope is FREE!
Book Trailer:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gILAwXxx8MU
Book II - Dark Nebula
Book Trailer:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ca24STi_bFM
Book III - House of Cards
Book IV - Royal Tea
Book V - Under Fire
Book VI - End in Sight
Book VII – Hidden Darkness
Book VIII – Twisted Together
Book IX – Mark of Fate
Book X – Strength & Power
Book XI – Last One Standing
Book XII – Rae of Light
THE CHRONICLES OF KERRIGAN SEQUEL
Matter of Time
Time Piece
Second Chance
Glitch in Time
Our Time
Precious Time
The Chronicles of Kerrigan: Gabriel
Living in the Past
Present for Today
Staring at the Future
Kerrigan Chronicles
Book 1 – Stopping Time
Book 2 – A Passage of Time
Book 3 – Ticking Clock
Book 4 – Just in Time
Book 5 – Time in the City
Book 6 – Ultimate Future
The Kerrigan Kids Series
Book 1 - School of Potential
Book 2 - Myths & Magic
Book 3 - Kith & Kin
Book 4 - Playing With Power
Book 5 - Line of Ancestry
Book 6 - Descent of Hope
Book 7 – Illusion of Shadows
Book 8 – Frozen by the Future
Book 9 – Guilt of My Past
Book 10 – Demise of Magic
Book 11- Rise of the Prophecy
Book 12 – Deafened by the Past
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DEVON SEEKING GUIDANCE Blurb
Who doesn't love a good mystery?
When Devon and Gabriel return from America and unlock Kraigan's cryptic clue, they think they can put the mess of his “'abduction'” behind them. But one clue leads to another, which leads to another, which takes them to a place where neither one of them is sure they want to go.
The more layers they unravel, the deeper the mystery. What they'd thought was a harmless prank soon turns into something darker, and before they know it, the gang is in a race against time to find the truth.
The shadow organization is growing stronger by the day. Trouble is brewing within their own ranks. Is it possible to fight a war on two sides? Or do all their spinning questions lead to the same thing...?
Contents
Kerrigan Presidents Series
Kerrigan Memoirs Series
Have You Read the C.o.K Series?
The Chronicles of Kerrigan: Gabriel
Kerrigan Chronicles
The Kerrigan Kids Series
Find W.J. May
DEVON SEEKING GUIDANCE Blurb
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Kerrigan Presidents Series
Kerrigan Memoirs Series
The Kerrigan Kids Series
TUDOR COMPARISON:
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The Chronicles of Kerrigan
PREQUEL –
SEQUEL –
The Chronicles of Kerrigan: Gabriel
More books by W.J. May
Chapter 1
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,” he whispered, turning with a sudden burst of inspiration to Gabriel. “I can’t believe I’m saying this...but I just figured out Kraigan’s clue.”
“What is it?” Gabriel asked Devon and when his partner had just stared at him smugly, he glared back. He wasn’t much one for patience. “What is it?” he hissed, using his ink to tighten Devon’s seatbelt another notch.
“I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to forget it the second I’ve told you.” Devon swallowed and shifted in his seat as Gabriel watched him suspiciously. “A few years ago in Belfast...Kraigan and I went out for lunch.”
Gabriel and Devon were sitting in opposite seats on an airplane, staring at each other across the empty chair in between. They’d opted to fly back to London on a commercial flight—one that was filling to the brim with normal, everyday people. It was the kind of place where they’d usually be careful, the kind of talk they’d usually postpone. But this particular conversation couldn’t wait.
Lunch? With Kraigan?
The assassin blinked twice, then shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
Devon let out a slow breath, like it was costing him to explain. There were deep shadows under his eyes from their night in Texas, and no matter how long he’d drowned himself in the shower, Gabriel knew there were still loops of henna stained around his wrist.
“We shared a meal together,” he finally replied.
There was a beat.
“Socially?”
A nod.
“Willingly?”
Another nod.
A thousand possibilities raced through Gabriel’s head. A thousand explanations to explain the image. Not one of them didn’t involve Devon with a gun to his head.
“I don’t understand,” he repeated.
The fox let out another breath, as if trying to organize his thoughts. “Not only is this a story I vowed to keep to myself, but I’ve tried to suppress it almost immediately after it happened—banishing every moment to the furthest corners of my brain. Even from there, it could do a lot of damage.”
“Just tell me the damn story.” Gabriel sighed.
“Rae had been talking about him,” Devon began quietly, “regretting the way things had played out between them, wishing she’d made more of an effort instead. At first, I thought she was just trolling me. She routinely tests our loyalties, and things had been quieter the last few months.” He hesitated a moment, drawing in another breath. “But she didn’t press it any further. She just...she just got really quiet.”
Gabriel pursed his lips. Never a good sign.
They’d learned to worry when things got quiet.
“So you invited Kraigan out for lunch,” he surmised.
Devon’s eyes flew up, as a blush flamed over his cheeks. “Out of the country, to Belfast, where no one could see us. I thought I could just...I don’t know. Test out the waters. See if there was any way that we could...” He trailed away, shaking his head. “Long story short, he ended up scaring our waitress and then dashed into the courtyard, where he pretty much impaled himself on this statue of Margaret Thatcher that was rusting by the fence.”
Gabriel opened his mouth, then closed it again. “This story never seems to be going where I think.” He tiled his head, trying to connect the dots. “Margaret Thatcher in Ireland? Really?”
The fox nodded fervently. “That’s kind of what I was thinking.” He loosened his seatbelt and turned slightly in his seat. “The locals seem to enjoy throwing snowballs or snow cones or whatever at it. Anyways, after Kraigan had bludgeoned himself on the Iron Lady, and I was pretty sure we were going to have to pay damages to the pub—you know how he gets, when he’s asked to pay damages—so I was preparing for the worst. But when he picked himself off the ground, he was laughing. Like”—Devon smiled in spite of himself—“laughing like you wouldn’t believe.”
For a fleeting moment, the conversation paused and it was hard not to see the feelings that had led Devon to Ireland. For a fleeting moment, it was hard to justify why on their list of priorities, the possible kidnapping of Kraigan Kerrigan hadn’t made the top three.
Fortunately, the moment passed.
“So you think he means, this...this statue?” Gabriel asked incredulously.
Devon’s eyes lit up with excitement, but a second before he could answer, a massive pet carrier swung just an inch past his face. Their heads snapped up to the hulking man who wielded it, a man who had so obviously surpassed human proportions, it was a miracle he’d fit on the plane.
Did Devon call for backup? Gabriel’s eyes lifted slowly up. And then higher, and higher. The guy was massive. Did this guy eat the backup??
“Pardon me,” he barked in a Cockney accent. “I think I’m sitting in between. Apparently sitting in first class in an unassigned seat isn’t allowed.”
They stared a split second, then pushed swiftly to their feet. Devon squeezed past and waited in the aisle, while Gabriel pressed as close as he could to the glass behind him—suddenly terrified he would hear it crack. He tensed in a mild panic, only to see the fox watching with a vindictive smile.
Yeah, yeah—this is what happens when I insist on the window.
“Just heading back home to London,” the man continued, shoving the carrier into Gabriel’s chest, “could you hold that a second—thanks, mate.” A furious-looking Chihuahua appeared in the frame, snarling with all of its quivering might. “That’s just Lucille, my support creature.”
Gabriel stared a moment, then gestured to Devon. “That’s mine. Mind if we switch chairs?” he continued, gesturing between them with a suggestive nod. “You could have the window? Or else he’d be happy to sit in the middle?”
Devon flashed an angry look, clearly unwilling to sacrifice arm-space for the length of the Atlantic, but the man had already cleaved to his chair, shaking his head with an oblivious smile. “No, I’m fine right here.”
Whilst I’m developing claustrophobia.
The men shared a look.
“Great.”
“Great.”
With a bit of painful shuffling, the threesome settled back into their seats. There were a handful of precarious moments—most of them involving the Chihuahua—but they were able to find a delicate balance. Of course, that was when the man began unfolding the world’s most cumbersome coat.
An empty sleeve flapped into Devon’s face. The dog started snarling.
“Where’s the statue now?” Gabriel asked, trying to bring them back on point.
There was an awkward pause as the fox threw a quick look at the man in between them. But his ears were crammed with headphones, and he was already halfway through a cooking program. Even the dog on his lap seemed to be watching through the cage.
It had been a long few days, and the adrenaline was flowing. Gabriel nodded his head for Devon to continue.
Devon leaned forward and lowered his voice. “That’s the thing,” he answered, eyes sparkling with excitement. “He donated it...the statue...to the British Museum. He’d had the thing gilded in Renaissance gold, they kind of had to take it.”
Of COURSE he did.
It was a favorite strategy of the other-Kerrigan: to plate things in precious metals and make them so absurdly expensive, they would buy him all the favor and acceptance that usually fled from his grasp. He’d once stolen Gabriel’s laptop and used the exact same tactic, lacquering the entire thing in a coveted sheath of palladium. Of course, it had inadvertently melted all the circuitry inside.
“So what...?” he asked quietly, trying to ignore when their seatmate dropped his tray table and began to gorge himself on cheese puffs. “You think this is some kind of demented scavenger hunt? We break into the British Museum, find this statue, and that will lead to the next clue?”
Now that I’m saying it...that sounds EXACTLY like something Kraigan would do.
“I doubt we’ll have to break in,” Devon answered, glancing distastefully the puffs. “It’s decorative, not historical. They probably stuck it in front of the gift shop, or something.”
The assassin let out a breath, slumping back in his chair.
He wanted to refuse. He wanted to catch his breath, have dinner with his wife, and rinse the Texas grit out of his hair. But his adopted family had come with a certain set of challenges, and he’d learned to accept that. They’d certainly done a hell of a lot worse for him.
At any rate, it wasn’t entirely bad news.
“It certainly speaks to the fact that he’s doing this himself,” he murmured, playing back each singsong verse of their first clue. “The two things I know for certain about Kraigan are to never offer him a canapé, and he’s overly-fond of rhyme. It doesn’t explain the phone call—”
“That was probably his Uber driver,” Devon interjected with a roll of his eyes, edging his shoe away from the dog’s rattling cage. “He probably gave the guy twenty pounds and the direct line to PC headquarters. He’s done worse things before.”
It might have been impossible to predict the movements of Kraigan Kerrigan—the man was a whimsical nightmare, as spontaneous, as he was utterly random—but there were certain favorites, certain targets he preferred. One of them was the school. The year that Luke started teaching, he’d applied for a federal land grant in an attempt to rezone the campus as agricultural. Grazing for my bison, he’d told them. Only a year before, he’d gotten swept away in a surge of environmentalism and terrorized the student population by donating several colonies of tenuously-secured bees.
“You’re sure he’s talking about this statue?” Gabriel pressed, trying to remember the last lines of the couplet. “Didn’t he say something about opening a tomb?”
“Open her tomb at the chime of a bell,” Devon recited automatically, pointing upwards as the fasten seat belt icon dinged again. “I went there a few years ago to chaperone a history trip for the school. That’s the same sound they use for a shift change. Guards rotate every five hours.”
The dog was still yapping—reaching a wiry paw through the cage and dragging back any puffs that had fallen within reach. Several rows back, people had already begun complaining. But the friends were strangely immune, slipping into a shorthand that excluded everything but themselves.
“Every five hours,” Gabriel repeated, sharpening to attention. “What about a crossover?”
