Hunt the Darkness
An Order of the Blade Novel
Stephanie Rowe
SBD Press
Contents
The Buzz
Copyright
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
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Cover Reveal: Edge of Midnight (An Order of the Night Novel)
Cover Reveal: Darkness Revealed (Order of the Blade)
Sneak Peek: Leopard’s Kiss
Sneak Peek: Dark Wolf Unbound
Sneak Peek: A Real Cowboy Never Walks Away
Sneak Peek: Irresistibly Mine
Books By Stephanie Rowe
Acknowledgments
About the Author
The Buzz
“Rowe is a paranormal star!” ~J.R. Ward, #1 New York Times Bestselling Author
“DARKNESS POSSESSED is a story that will keep you on the edge of your seat, with characters you won’t soon forget!” - Paige Tyler, USA Today Bestselling Author of the X-OPS Series
“Hits the spot.” ~Publishers Weekly, on KISS AT YOUR OWN RISK
“Stephanie Rowe has really outdone herself! DARKNESS POSSESSED is the perfect paranormal. Sexy, dark, and with enough twists to keep you glued to your seat with breathless anticipation. Zach and Rhiannon set the pages of this book on fire!” ~ Kerrigan Byrne, International Bestselling Author
“Stephanie Rowe writes with a wit reminiscent of bestselling author J.R. Ward, and an imagination that authors envy.” ~Romance Fiction on Suite101.com
“Positively scorching! A gem from beginning to end.” R.E. Butler, Bestselling author
“This is escapism in full force!” ~Romantic Times on DATE ME, BABY, ONE MORE TIME
“Suspense, danger, evil, life threatening situations, magic, hunky Calydons, humor, fantasy, mystery, scorching sensuality, romance and love – what more could you ask for in a story? Readers – take my advice – do not miss this dark, sexy tale!” ~Romance Junkies on DARKNESS POSSESSED
Copyright
Hunt the Darkness (an Order of the Blade novel). Copyright © 2017 by Stephanie Rowe.
ISBN 10: 1-940968-49-6
ISBN 13:978-1-940968-49-0
Cover design © 201 by Kelli Ann Morgan, Inspire Creative Services.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, disseminated, or transmitted in any form or by any means or for any use, including recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the author and/or the artist. The only exception is short excerpts or the cover image in reviews. Please be a leading force in respecting the right of authors and artists to protect their work. This is a work of fiction. All the names, characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel or on the cover are either products of the author’s or artist’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author or the artist. There are excerpts from other books by the author in the back of the book.
Chapter 1
Vladimir Hawkings wasn’t a real sunshiny kind of guy.
Flawless blue skies weren’t high on his list either.
And laughter? That infectious, bubbling mirth that was so contagious that it could turn an entire battlefield of bitter, bleeding warriors into giggling idiots? He could honestly say he absolutely hated laughter.
Not because he was a bitter, miserable, antisocial bastard (well, okay, he was, but that was beside the point). He despised those things because every single one of them reminded him of Sophie Flanagan, the most irritating, sassy, unapologetic, irreverent female he’d ever met.
Sophie was also the only person he’d ever fallen completely, madly, hopelessly, and eternally in love with.
She’d been his best friend. His only friend really, due to his not-so-endearing antisocial bastard tendencies.
She’d been his partner in crime since they were small enough to crawl through the slats in his kingdom’s main gate and sneak out into the woods.
And, most significantly, she was the girl he’d married in a secret ceremony when they were sixteen, binding her to him in a magical, unbreakable promise to always protect her…which he had then failed to do.
She’d died twelve hours later because he’d failed her.
Even after two hundred years, every time he thought of her, a dark cesspool churned inside him. Since her death drove his actions and thoughts pretty much every second, of every minute, of every day, that meant he was basically one rotting pile of darkness these days. Which was good. It drove him relentlessly, turning him into a merciless hunter who never abandoned what he took on.
He never stopped to think.
He never stopped to feel.
He just kept going, head down, trying to stay ahead of the ghosts haunting him so ruthlessly. Usually, he succeeded. Usually, he was an automaton, swooping in to rescue a missing or kidnapped kid here or there, and depositing them back where they belonged to the waiting families who actually cared if their kid was dead or alive. Usually, he was a machine.
Except when he slowed down, looked around, and noticed that life was real. When he heard someone laugh. When the sun’s warmth managed to penetrate the cold shield he kept wrapped around him and began to thaw the icy barrier encasing his soul.
Like today, when he had nothing else to do. No one to save. Nothing to distract him.
That’s when life got shitty.
Vlad slouched lower in the battered wooden chair, watching the scene in the street through half-closed eyes. A man and his wife were arguing about something. Nothing, probably. People argued about such dumbass things. The fools didn’t get it. They never got it, not until they’d been to hell and back. It was then that they’d sometimes finally realize how much time and energy they’d wasted on stupid shit that didn’t matter. But since most people didn’t survive hell, it was a lesson few people learned in time to find meaning in life, including him.
He knew it now, but it was too fucking late.
Scowling, he leaned back in his chair, glaring at the other diners to make sure no one was crowding his space, but everyone was keeping their distance.
As he liked it.
He took a sip of his beer. It was warm, close to hot even, stripped of its chill by the humid heat swirling through the brutal Midwest summer weather. He stretched out his legs, his heavy, black motorcycle boots thudding on the old wooden deck of the weather-beaten cafe he’d graced with his presence for lunch. As he moved, the chains that wrapped around the boots clunked against each other, a dull soun
d of metal against metal. It was too hot for his leather jacket, but he didn’t care. He liked having it on. The battered leather, creased and shiny from so many years of gruesome living, made people avert their eyes and scurry to the other side of the street. As if a few yards gave them any hope of survival if he ever decided to go after them.
People’s delusions of safety were a crock, and sometimes he wanted to shake them down and bellow at them for being so stupid as to think that their measly precautions actually ensured their safety. Why weren’t they ready for the knife to stab them in the back? Why weren’t they looking over their shoulders? Why did they trust that life wasn’t going to rip their foundation out from under them? Why the hell did they trust the people they loved?
He used to try to warn people. He used to try to help. He didn’t anymore. People saw the world they wanted to see, and that was it.
“Is this seat open?”
Vlad looked up slowly, his trademark scowl in place. An old man with grizzled, gray hair was standing next to him, holding a bottle of the same beer Vlad was drinking. His hair hung in tangled mats down his back, and his beard was the same, reaching almost to his waist. His blue eyes were vivid, sunk deep into pits in his heavily wrinkled skin. He was wearing a black wool cape pulled tight around him, obscuring all but the tips of what appeared to be battered cowboy boots.
Vlad was kind of impressed that the old man had dared to speak to him. Not many people did these days. Sophie had always had a soft spot for old people, so he sighed and decided that practicing courtesy once a century wouldn’t be a bad thing. Vlad responded, lifting one shoulder in a shrug, granting the old man permission to take the chair to another table that was overcrowded with pompous self-absorbed bastards pretending to be friends.
“Great.” The man pulled out the chair and sat down beside him.
He sat down.
At Vlad’s table.
Beside Vlad.
What the hell? Clearly, Vlad had made a strategic error by showering this morning. Apparently, he smelled too good. Or maybe it was his hair. It always got shiny when he washed it. He had to stop doing that. Shiny hair wasn’t antisocial enough.
The old man set his beer on the table with a solid thud.
Vlad couldn’t remember the last time anyone had sat next to him. It was irritating to have someone so close, but at the same time, the boldness of the old man was mildly interesting.
Not many people surprised him, and he found he was intrigued by the old man who’d ignored every sign Vlad had sent to stay away. “Seat’s taken,” he said, testing the old man, but weirdly, not really caring if the guy stayed. “Move.”
The old man grinned at him and wiggled his bony ass more deeply into the chair, flashing yellowed teeth that hadn’t had a close enough relationship with basic hygiene over the years. “Nice day, isn’t it?”
“Nice day?” Vlad repeated in disbelief. Was this guy actually making idle conversation with him? “Nice day?”
“Yep. Sure is.” The old man took a long sip of his still-frosty beer. “What’s going on? Anything good?”
Vlad’s head began to pound. He wasn’t sure he could recall the last time someone tried to make small talk with him. Or even spoken to him voluntarily. Yeah, he got emails with names, descriptions, and info about missing kids from people who’d heard about him in whispered conversation in dark alleys, but he never actually spoke to anyone, other than the kids he’d rescued. Even then, he did only what was necessary to get them to go with him. He worked hard to make it that way, and now he remembered why. Conversation made him think, and he didn’t like to think anymore. His mild curiosity retreated, replaced by annoyance. He wanted his space.
So, he didn’t answer, turning away to check out the progress of the street fight. The husband and wife who had been gearing up for a throw-down fight were now standing close together, their heads bent toward each other in earnest discussion. As Vlad watched, the man took his wife’s hand and squeezed it gently. It was a moment of perfect harmony, a triumph over an argument, and it made Vlad even more pissed off than he’d already been. “It’s a lie,” he said aloud, muttering to himself.
The old man raised his bushy eyebrows. “What is?”
Vlad jerked his chin toward the couple. “That. They act like they care, but one day, they’ll betray each other. Why do they lie like that? Why don’t they just lay it out there and say, ‘look, you’re hot, and I know that I promised to love you forever, but I’m going to fuck you over in a major way at some point, so all this shit is just a lie.’ That way, everyone knows what to expect and you can prepare yourself.”
His tablemate tilted his head. “Two reasons.”
“It was a hypothetical question.”
“There’s no such thing. Every hypothetical question is a thinly veiled cry for illumination. I am happy to provide.”
Vlad raised one eyebrow. “Yeah, that was definitely a thinly veiled cry. I do that a lot, you know. Cry, beg for philosophical clarity, and shit like that.”
The old man was undaunted. “So, you have no theories about why humans offer love and support to each other, even if the future could be bleak?”
Vlad snorted. “I know all I need to know about how pathetic human nature is.” But he had to admit he was mildly curious what this old man had to say. It had been a long, damned time since anyone had offered an opinion to him. It felt strange to be in an actual conversation, but at the same time, something about it felt familiar, like he’d been here before with this guy, waiting for an answer. Weird, but he’d seen enough not to be surprised by anything. “Do I know you?”
The old man ignored his question. “The first reason people declare their love and make promises is because not everyone fucks their loved ones over. Some people actually fulfill their promises.”
“Seriously?” Vlad snorted in disdain. “You’ve lived as long as you have, and you still think that? What kind of fairyland did you grow up in?”
“I’ve lived for over three hundred years,” the man said. “I’ve seen far more than you have, young man.”
Three hundred years? So he wasn’t entirely human? Vlad narrowed his eyes, not sure what he thought of the fact he wasn’t the only immortal at the table. “I’ve seen plenty in two hundred years. Not sure another hundred makes that much of a difference.” His mind flashed back to a day long ago, the one that had changed his life forever. Sophie. For a split second, grief washed over him, a ruthless, overwhelming grief laced with guilt so sharp he couldn’t take a breath. Swearing silently, he shoved his emotions aside and glared at the old man. “I learned enough about human nature in my first sixteen years. Didn’t need any more than that.”
The old man spun his beer between his hands, his blue eyes focused on Vlad. “Would you like to know the second reason people open themselves up to love, even if there is no guarantee of a happy ending?” he asked conversationally.
Vlad sighed, and took a sip of his near-to-boiling beer, almost grateful for the distraction from his memories. If this old man’s inane conversation gave him even a tiny respite from them, then he’d take it. “Yeah, sure. Lay it on me.”
“Because being ready for someone you love to betray you doesn’t make it any easier to face when it happens.” The old man tapped his beer against Vlad’s, as if he were toasting his brilliant words, then took a long drink.
“Huh.” Vlad contemplated that statement for a moment, then shook his head. He knew damn well what it was like to be sucker punched by someone he trusted. “No way. If you’re prepared, then you can be ready when they screw you over, instead of letting it paralyze you until it’s too late.” Too late. Too late. Too late. He’d been too late for Sophie, because he hadn’t been ready. He’d believed in the wrong people, and she had paid the price. He should have been smarter. He should have somehow realized what was going on. But he hadn’t. “No one can get to me now, and I like it that way.”
“Do you?” There was disbelief in the old man’s voice tha
t rankled Vlad. “Is it really so fantastic to live in isolation, decade after decade, with no one noticing or caring whether you take your next breath? Having no one that matters to you? Having no reason to wake up and face another day? Is that really the life that burns in your veins to be lived?”
“Enough.” Vlad glowered at him, all amusement gone. “Nothing burns in my veins, and I like it that way, so—”
A child’s shout caught his attention, and Vlad instinctively looked across the road for the source of the noise. Three boys were skateboarding, and a fourth had fallen behind. He was smaller, younger, maybe a kid brother, and he couldn’t keep up.
“I make no promises I can’t keep.” Not anymore, at least. He never responded to the emails asking for his help. He just took off in the middle of the night to see what he could do. Sometimes the parents woke up to find their kid crawling into their bed. Sometimes, they didn’t. But he never promised anything.
Vlad watched the smaller boy approach a divot in the sidewalk that the other kids had jumped. It was almost a foot wide, a hazard that would send the younger one flying. “No one gets disappointed, and I don’t owe anyone anything. It’s the way it should be.”
“You don’t want to be a hero?”
“I’m no hero.” Vlad leaned forward, watching the scene more closely. The kid was getting closer to the broken sidewalk, but he wasn’t slowing down. He was looking ahead, yelling at his brother to wait up.
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