Devil’s Luck
Page 27
She flicked her eyes up to his and smiled. “No. I’m taking it from my kit. I’ll restock it later.”
“Ah, I see,” he said with a touch of sarcasm. “Thank you for making my kit adequate again.”
“It was for me,” she said. “I don’t want to die because you didn’t have something I needed.”
“Smart move. Anything else?” He was disappointed to see her tug the shirt down over her head and pull on pants.
His eyes traced the last visible stretch of skin between her shirt and hip. “Will you lie with me? I want to tell you what I learned about La Loon.”
She crawled into the bed beside him.
* * *
Lou hadn’t missed the shiver that had run through him at the mention of La Loon, and she wondered if he’d ever view the place as anything but a nightmare. To Lou it was a haven, strangely familiar, and yet she understood that no one else would ever feel that way.
“The plants on La Loon, including that strange grass we saw, don’t photosynthesize. They likely feed on fungi in the ground, parasitically. And the fungi probably feed on carcasses. Perhaps those left behind by your pet or whatever washes up onto the shore.”
Lou said nothing. She watched his face as he spoke, tracing his jaw with her eyes.
“The air is 27% oxygen, 71% nitrogen, 1.4% argon and 0.06% carbon dioxide. There are dust particles in the air, but no pollen. There are some other solid particles but nothing we can identify. The soil is volcanic and rich in iron, calcium, magnesium, sodium, potassium, phosphorous, sulfur, and silicon. I wonder if the cliffs we saw were an extinct or dormant volcano.”
“Why?” Lou asked.
“The soil shows no sign of eruption. There would be…” He seemed to search for the word. Lou liked his voice, low and soft like a melody. “Sediments. Maybe there are caves underground, carved by lava. I want to try a GPR.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Machines that can send pulses into the ground to show us pictures of what’s beneath. There could be miles of caves under there.”
Warm and relaxed beside him, she began to feel the effects of the Vicodin she’d taken before coming. She hadn’t wanted to take it, but her shoulder needed the relief. And so did she.
After two nights of endless assault, Lou could barely move it at all and the swelling had returned.
She hoped she would fall asleep quickly and wake to find her mobility had returned.
Sometimes, after a hard night, the exhaustion of the fight would take her completely. Other nights, the adrenaline pulsing in her veins would fight against sleep. She hoped it wouldn’t be that kind of night.
His fingers were in her hair.
“I think the evidence shows your world is not Earth,” he said. He said this gently, as if the news might disappoint her.
“You think it’s an alien planet?”
“I do. We can never know for sure, but I do.”
Her eyes traced the soft, swirling plaster in his ceiling. After a long stretch of silence she said, “I guess that’s no stranger than the idea of going forward or back in time.”
“No,” he agreed. “But are you disappointed?”
He must have heard the hesitation in her voice.
“No,” she answered honestly.
“No? Why?”
In truth, Lou’s mind had trailed off to other things. “I’m worried about the boy.”
“Which boy?”
Lou adjusted herself against the pillow. “The one we saved in the raid.”
Konstantine turned on his side so he could look at her face. They lay like that, thighs touching, nearly nose to nose. “Do you think he is still in danger? Do you feel it?”
“No. Not right now.”
“But?”
“But…” Diana said they come back. Predators remain predators. Their hunger and lust will always drive them to find the kids, the vulnerable and afraid.
Someone out there would love to find Shai, hurt him, and relive their sick fantasies at his expense.
Shai’s father was dead, but how many had seen the videos? Who might recognize his face on the street and want Shai for themselves?
“He’s so small,” she said.
Konstantine pushed the hair back from her face. “You can always check on him.”
He was right. She could keep Shai on her radar as well as the others: Piper, Dani, King, and Mel.
Konstantine.
Would it keep extending like this? Her circle?
And why should she prioritize one person above another? One cause above another? Did abolishing the drug trade mean more than saving children from those who’d prey on them?
Was Piper, Dani, King, Mel—or Shai—more inherently valuable than any of the other seven billion people on the planet?
No. But they mattered to her.
And that was better than the alternative. The alternative was to be Diana Dennard, or something like her. To care about nothing, no one, but herself.
She had her hunger. She always would. But she also had more.
“You said you understood a woman like Diana?” Lou stared into those green eyes. “Is that because she’s like me?”
“No.” Konstantine placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. “There’s no one on this planet like you.”
Epilogue
Shai shot up in his bed, his heart pounding in his chest. Whatever dream had been on him the moment before was already fading. What was left was the funny tickle on the back of his neck. Sometimes it kept him awake at night, this tickle. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he saw his father’s face, felt his father’s hands on his body.
“Are you there, angel?” He wet his lips. “It’s me, Shai.”
Shai spoke to the dark, waiting, listening.
As one moment stretched into two, his hopes sank.
She’s probably busy. Angels must be very busy.
He’d slid beneath the blankets when he felt a tight pop between his ears. It was like the time he took an elevator to Mommy’s work. She worked in an office in a very big building. On the hundredth floor, she’d told him.
His eyes slid to the corner of his bedroom between his closet door and bookcase.
For a moment it was only black. The thick, unyielding shadows were complete.
Then she stepped into the light. The orange haze from the lamps outside his window cut across her face like tiger stripes.
“Angel!”
His elation threatened to erupt from his chest. He suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands or his body. His legs bounced under the blanket as he reached out for her.
She pressed a finger over her lips.
He covered his mouth and stifled a laugh. He wanted her to come closer. He wanted to touch her again and remind himself that she was real.
She did. She sat on the edge of his bed and placed a steadying hand over his jittery legs.
He tried to make them be still.
“How are you?” she asked.
He liked her voice a whole lot. It was lower than his mother’s.
“You came.”
“Were you afraid?” she asked. “It felt like you were afraid.”
She knows how I feel. She knows everything.
“I was. I get scared in the dark sometimes.” He wanted to be honest with her. He wanted to tell her everything. He lay back down. “But you like the dark.”
“I do,” she said, pulling his covers up and draping them across his chest.
“When I was littler, I used to think there were monsters in the dark,” he said. Then he smiled at her. “Is that why there’s angels in the dark too?”
Her smile faltered. It hurt his feelings to see it, like maybe he’d said something wrong.
“How do you know I’m not a monster?” she asked.
“No,” he said, relieved that it wasn’t something he’d said. “Monsters are scary. You don’t scare me.”
“I don’t?” she asked, running a hand through his hair.<
br />
His body relaxed against the pillows. “No.”
“A little bit of fear is okay,” she said. “Sometimes, fear keeps us smart.”
“Really?”
She tucked the blanket around his chest, placing a hand on top. “Yes. If we didn’t have any fear, we might go too far.” She frowned. “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” he said. He didn’t, but he wanted to make her smile.
And she did. “You’re a smart boy already.”
A door creaked overhead and soft footsteps started down the hall. Shai knew his mother was coming to check on him. The angel must’ve known it too, because she stood, her eyes sliding between the door and the dark corner of his room.
“Will you always come when I’m afraid?” Shai whispered.
Please say yes. Please.
“If I can,” she said. “Close your eyes.”
He shut his eyes.
When his mother opened the door, Shai was lying perfectly still under his blanket. Through his lashes, he saw that the place where the angel had stood a moment before was empty now. Now it was bright with hallway light pouring in over his mother’s shoulder. It haloed her wild hair and thick robe as she lingered in the doorway, watching him sleep.
With a sigh, she pulled the door closed. A second later, the hallway light clicked off and the thin strip of light beneath the door disappeared. He listened to her steps weighing heavy on the stairs before shuffling down the hall overhead, and heard the slight click of her own door closing again.
In the dark, a cool hand pushed back his hair, tracing his forehead and neck. He knew it wasn’t his mother’s, but he also didn’t open his eyes.
Anything to keep her with him for a little longer.
Did you enjoy this book? You can make a BIG difference.
I don’t have the same power as big New York publishers who can buy full-spread ads in magazines, and you won’t see my covers on the side of a bus anytime soon, but what I *do* have are wonderful readers like you.
And honest reviews from readers garner more attention for my books and help my career more than anything else I could possibly do—and I can’t get a review without you! So if you would be so kind, I’d be very grateful if you would post a review for this book.
It only takes a minute or so of your time, and yet you can’t imagine how much it helps me. It can be as short as you like, and whether positive or negative, it really does help. I appreciate it so much and so do the readers looking for their next favorite read.
If you would be so kind, please find your preferred retailer at ➜ https://www.korymshrum.com/devilsluck and leave a review for this book today.
With gratitude,
Kory
Get Your Three Free Stories Today
Thank you so much for reading Devil’s Luck. I hope you’re enjoying Louie’s story. If you’d like more, I have a free, exclusive Lou Thorne story for you. Meet Louie early in her hunting days, when she pursues Benito Martinelli, the son of her enemy. This was the man her father arrested—and the reason her parents were killed months later.
You can only read this story by signing up for my free newsletter. If you would like this story, you can get your copy by visiting ➜ www.korymshrum.com/lounewsletteroffer
I will also send you free stories from the other series that I write. If you’ve signed up for my newsletter already, no need to sign up again. You should have already received this story from me. Check your email and make sure it wasn’t marked as spam! Can’t find it? Email me at ➜ kory@korymshrum.com and I’ll take care of it.
As to the newsletter itself, I send out 2-3 a month and host a monthly giveaway exclusive to my subscribers. The prizes are usually signed books or other freebies that I think you’ll enjoy. I also share information about my current projects, and personal anecdotes (like pictures of my dog). If you want these free stories and access to the exclusive giveaways, you can sign up for the newsletter at ➜ www.korymshrum.com/lounewsletteroffer
If this is not your cup of tea (I love tea), you can follow me on Facebook at ➜ www.facebook.com/korymshrum in order to be notified of my new releases.
Acknowledgments
Every time I write a book, there is always a point (usually around the 60-70,000 word mark of the first revision), that I begin to feel hopeless. Impossible! This book will never be finished!
I step away. I take a nap. I walk the dog. Maybe I start to eat a lot of carbs, and drink extra tea. Passing an entire afternoon with a box of truffles, casting despairing looks at my ceiling begins to feel perfectly normal.
It is in these moments, that I need the most help. The front-line supporters arrive right on time: Kimberly Benedicto, Kathrine Pendleton, Angela Roquet, and Monica La Porta. They tell me to take showers, to eat something, to get some sunshine and air. They read the pages and assure me there is something there worth sharing.
With their encouragement, slowly, I get back into the swing of finishing the unfinishable and more help arrives! Daily notes from people who love the series and want it to continue. Christian Bentulan provides another gorgeous cover. Toby Selwyn lends his keen editorial eye, and Alexandra Amor swiftly executes all formatting and creeping business tasks that threaten to distract and overwhelm me.
And when I think I can’t possibly find any more help and support, there’s my street team! They arrive, giddy with excitement, wrench the pages from my (proverbial) hands and eagerly devour the “final book”. Within days they dutifully report those stowaway typos, and dispatch the first round of reviews.
Then the curtain falls and I find you. Yes, you, the reader. Somehow you found this book and decided to read it. You liked it enough to keep thumbing through the back pages, searching for a little more and discovering instead that you’ve been a star in this production the whole time.
And here I am, pinning a ribbon to your shirt, shaking your hand vigorously, thanking you for coming, and encouraging you to join us for the cast party.
Because, really, all of this was for you.
About the Author
Kory M. Shrum is author of the bestselling Shadows in the Water, Welcome to Castle Cove, and Dying for a Living series. She has loved books and words all her life. She reads almost every genre you can think of, but when she writes, she writes science fiction, fantasy, and thrillers, or often something that’s all of the above.
She can usually be found under thick blankets with snacks. The kettle is almost always on.
When she’s not eating, reading, writing, or indulging in her true calling as a stay-at-home dog mom, she loves to plan her next adventure. (Travel).
She lives in Michigan with her equally bookish wife, Kim, and their rescue pug, Charley.
She’d love to hear from you!
korymshrum.com
Also by Kory M. Shrum
Dying for a Living series (complete)
Dying for a Living
Dying by the Hour
Dying for Her: A Companion Novel
Dying Light
Worth Dying For
Dying Breath
Dying Day
* * *
Shadows in the Water: Lou Thorne Thrillers (ongoing)
Shadows in the Water
Under the Bones
Danse Macabre
Carnival
Devil’s Luck
* * *
Design Your Destiny Castle Cove series (ongoing)
Welcome to Castle Cove
Night Tide
* * *
Learn more about Kory’s work at: www.korymshrum.com
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places have been used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book shall be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior writt
en permission of the publisher. Although every precaution has been taken in preparation of the book, the publisher and the author assume no responsibility for errors or omissions. Neither is any liability assumed for damages resulting from the use of information contained in this book or its misuse.
* * *
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-949577-30-3
Copyright © 2020 by Kory M. Shrum
Cover design by Christian Bentulan
Editing by Toby Selwyn