Devil Hath Come (an FBI/Romance Thriller ~book 7)

by Kelley, Morgan

  Devil Hath Come

  By Morgan Kelley

  © Copyright 2013 by Morgan Kelley LLC All rights

  reserved. No parts of this publication may be

  reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any

  means, electronic or mechanical, including

  photocopy, recording, or in an information storage

  or retrieval system without written consent from

  the author. All characters are fictional

  and any similarity to real life or individuals is

  coincidental.

  Cover art © Elisanth. Purchased rights from

  Dreamstine.com on June 7, 2013.

  Other works by Morgan Kelley:

  FBI stand alone Thrillers

  The Junction

  Serial Sins

  FBI Thriller Series

  The Killing Times (Book 1)

  Sacred Burial Grounds (Book 2)

  True Love Lost (Book 3)

  Deep Dark Mire (Book 4)

  Fire Burns Hot (Book 5)

  Darkness of Truth (Book 6)

  Devil Hath Come (Book 7)

  Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Series

  Celestia is Falling (1)

  Vegas is Dying (2)

  Vampyre Series

  The Blood Betrayal (1)

  The Blood Redemption (2)

  The Blood Vengeance (3)

  The Blood Retribution (4)

  ~~~~ About the Author ~~~~

  Morgan Kelley lives in the beautiful Pocono Mountains with her husband and two children. After attending college at Penn State University and studying Criminal Justice, Morgan knew here only true passion in life would be murder and books. She put them both together and began her career as a writer. Other than books and writing, you can find Morgan hanging out in her garden and digging in the dirt.

  Her other works include: The Junction, Serial Sins, The Blood Betrayal, The Blood Redemption, The Blood Vengeance, The Blood Retribution, The Killing Times (1), Sacred Burial Grounds (2), True Love Lost (3), Deep Dark Mire (4), Fire Burns Hot (5), Darkness of Truth (6), Celestia is Falling (1) and Vegas is Dying (2)

  Please feel free to visit Morgan at her website: www.morgankelley.com or www.morgankelley.blogspot.com.

  Dedication:

  To all the women (and men) who read my novels. Thank you for being open minded and seeing that these books are far more than a threesome. They are about love and how important it is to accept it when it comes knocking.

  To you all, I owe much love and respect.

  To my conscience- Thank you for always keeping me grounded and on the straight and narrow. You keep me smiling, even when the world has me down.

  The Beatles were wrong. All you need is friends…

  I owe you more than words can ever express.

  Much Love,

  MK.

  Fate.

  It has a path.

  Follow it with no remorse.

  ~ Morgana Belladonna

  So begins Christopher and Cyra’s story...

  ~ Prologue ~

  Sunday Midnight

  Eight nights until Halloween

  The darkness came and swallowed all of the surroundings in its inky blackness.

  When the night became so dark that its wicked tendrils reached for any iota of light to consume them too, he knew it was time.

  He was ready for the ritual.

  The witching hour was upon him.

  It had all come down to this. He was prepared to make sure that it all was done correctly and to the specifications of his dark Lord. After all, there was no room to screw this up.

  There was too much at stake.

  As he began his journey, he knew that he’d risk it all and offer anything that he could in order to reach his final goal. Now, it was time to prove his dedication and love to the master. This would be the perfect homage to the dark that he loved so much. The evil had given him strength and focus, and it was time to give back the ultimate gift.

  Standing in the circle, he began by calling the quarters to offer himself protection. It was the first step and vital as he allowed the energy to flow through him and offer guidance.

  It was ancient power and ultimate supremacy.

  First, there were the guardians of the north. He lured them in with promises of the events that were yet to come. Once he could feel them present and surrounding his beloved circle, he moved to the next element. One by one, he began calling for the watchtowers of west, south and finally east. As they arrived to meet and bless him, he knew he was ready to begin.

  Giddiness filled him as he glanced around at what he was creating in the seclusion of the woods.

  It was perfect.

  Learning to master the circle had not been easy. He had been forced to do online research and ask questions of those who would offer unsuspected tutelage. Once he had received his answers, he was careful to invert it all. The way of the witch would only get him so far. Now, he was crossing into a whole new realm and there, ignorance wasn’t bliss.

  It had taken time to learn it all. Although he’d studied up in the Wiccan principles and was somewhat familiar, he was well aware that worshipping the darkness was the direct opposite. Where there was light, now must be dark. Everything needed to be reversed, if he wanted to beckon forth the master.

  Finding the way to his ultimate path was incredibly cathartic. Gone were all the intentions of dabbling in the white magic of the witch, and here were the beckoning of the darker, more sinister beings he longed to please.

  No, there could be no Wicca tonight.

  Witchcraft had served its purpose, and now it was dead to him.

  It had been consumed and devoured by the true power in life. Everything had morphed from light and airy to black, evil and full of gloomy foreboding. Tonight, it would be all about giving his Lord a gift as he stole away life from the woman waiting inside the circle at his feet. Something powerful was growing and it would rupture from him in victory.

  It was the age old battle of good and evil.

  The ugliness lived in him and begged for release.

  For the victim tonight, it was coming to an end.

  He could hear her whispering useless spells to the Goddess, and yet he gave her no mind. Tonight, it was about doing everything by the book. Well, sort of… It was about kneeling before a powerful deity and not pretending that a Goddess could give them anything but entertainment.

  Here was the proof, as the strong survived and the weak crumbled under the weight of reality.

  The silly witches- if they only knew and understood what they were missing by their rule of threefold. The journey into the darkness was far more rewarding.

  If they would just cross that line, then they might see the truth. There was so much more power and things to be offered by worshiping at the altar of the dark Lord.

  It was immeasurable.

  It was fulfilling.

  It was his destiny.

  Lighting the black candles, he extinguished the match in the cauldron full of cemetery dirt. Everything on his altar was handpicked to be special for this evening. There was plenty of Mandrake, Hellsbane and Belladonna. With it, he would call for the most powerful darkness that he could muster.

  All those who tried to stand against him should quake in fear. This would mean their death.

  He was finally coming for them. After months of careful preparation, the time had come to make his move. With the holiday approaching and the new moon on the horizon, it was the start of what was meant to be.

  Deep within the recesses of his mind, he could hear his master urging him to begin. There would be no sa
ying no. He pushed away all rationale and gave in to the quiet urgings in his head.

  ‘It is time,’ the voice whispered.

  He knew it to be intervention from the darkness. This was his sign that he needed to make that first step into his new life.

  Sprinkling the altar with salt, he stared down at the woman on the ground. “Are you ready, witch?”

  She fought to move away from him with all her strength. In her mind, she believed that if she broke through the protective circle of salt, she would earn her freedom. But to no avail. He was stronger and the look of madness across his twisted features spoke of her fate.

  All that was left was to fight.

  As he leaned over her, she grabbed the chain around his neck and yanked. If he were to win, at least she would have a piece of his identity. When the chain snapped from his neck, he didn't even flinch.

  The man seemed possessed by something so dark.

  “Stop fighting me, or I’ll make sure your death is as painful as possible!” he hissed as he backhanded her across the face. The gasp from her only fueled him more, as the woman’s pain offered additional glory to his Master.

  The strike rendered her motionless, as the vicious sting registered through her body and the tears began to fall. Out loud, she began calling to the Goddess Nyx, begging her for protection. Surely, her mistress would grant her this one thing. This invocation would be her final chance. If it was meant to be, she would be saved from his madness. If not, then it was her time.

  As evil stood above her, he mocked her and the little ‘prayer’ she sent out. With his ravings, he tried to break her faith. Sadly, he was succeeding. The fear filled her, as she called to the deity who she believed would protect her. She would be heard; it wouldn’t end like this.

  Right?

  Ripping through the offensive clothing on her body, he rendered the gauzy material as if it was nothing. For what he had planned, he would need access to her flesh.

  Lifting her into his arms, he placed her across the altar. All that remained was to securely bind her. First, he went to her feet and used the roots of the tree to hold them in place. Once they were bound, the witch wouldn’t have a fighting chance.

  It was inevitable.

  Her end was coming.

  There was no doubt in her mind that before she departed this world, she must leave a clue. Since her life was coming to a close, she would give the police something to use against him. Kicking her legs to make him work harder, she forced the focus on her feet until the deed was done. Maybe one of the coven members would recognize the necklace and help the police find her killer. Tossing the broken chain into her mouth, she nearly retched as she fought to get it down.

  She prayed the Goddess would lead the authorities to the coven of witches.

  Among them, they would find the truth, or at least, she prayed that they would.

  His temper began to rise as he had to fight to control her. Striking her again, this time in the abdomen, he stole her breath and found her more manageable.

  “You must like pain, witch,” he hissed angrily.

  Her words were gone like her breath.

  After subduing her, he moved to her arms to do the same, only this time he stared down into her tear filled eyes. “You will be a wonderful gift for my master.”

  She turned her head as he fastened her arms in place. Already in her mind, she’d begun to acknowledge her fate. These were her final moments among the living. Soon, she would be crossing into the unknown.

  “So mote it be,” she whispered as the closing to her final prayer.

  His laughter filled the night, as he’d found her demise amusing. “When I came across the stump, I knew it would be the perfect spot to take your life.” There was pride in what he’d found and put together all by himself. Who would have thought he could pull it off? “It was meant to be, witch. It was like nature created this altar just for this occasion.”

  She offered no reply. Calm had settled over her as the peace of her beliefs took root in her soul and heart. She would pass, but it would be into the arms of her religion.

  This was only the beginning.

  Fate had already written this chapter in the book of her life.

  She was ready to meet her maker, as he would one day too. His judgment would be coming; it was only a matter of time.

  Once he’d finished binding her, it was time to begin the ritual and offer up the woman to his God.

  “I would have preferred a virgin, but you’ll have to do,” he taunted as he opened the small cage and pulled out the raven. He’d picked that bird specifically.

  “Why are you doing this?” she whispered, struggling against the bonds as the chilly air drew goose bumps across her flesh.

  “I’m giving my Lord a present in hopes that he’ll give me what I desire most in life. I wish to be strong and have power!”

  She spat in his face. “You’re insane and out of your mind. There is no devil!” and then she began chanting more.

  His wicked laughter filled the night. “You have no idea what lives in the darkness, witch. You’re naïve as you pray to your elements and dabble with your herbs.” With those words, he too began chanting in the ancient Latin he had studied.

  In his one hand, he held the bird over her body. With his other, he used the athame to decapitate it. The splash of blood covered her pale flesh as it ran across her naked torso in sick rivulets.

  “Tonight, I offer you this woman for your pleasure my Lord. I ask that you send me the one I desire, and I will find a way to make her an offering like none before,” he promised as he chanted over the weeping woman.

  It was too late, and her tears wouldn’t matter.

  As of now, he was in control.

  He lifted the athame with the horned God on the handle and held it to her throat. “I give you this woman for your pleasure, master. I offer her life with the swift hand of violence! Take her!” With the words, his hand moved efficiently and made one single slice deep into her throat. The shower of blood arched through the air in a sickly spray. It covered the ground in droplets and splatters as life leached from her to fill the night with the scent of death.

  There was a scream and then a gurgle as life oozed and bubbled through the gouge in her throat.

  Her eyes went huge from the shock of his actions.

  Breath hissed in release from her lungs.

  All sound around them ceased, as death entered their presence to claim yet one more young life.

  The chanting in Latin continued, until every drop of her blood had spilled at his feet. When she was spent, so were his words for the dark Lord.

  Once he was finally sure that there was no life left in the body before him, he cut the ropes and placed her in position to begin the carving. Now, he’d leave the symbol and finally the note. It was the most important part of the production and bound to get her attention.

  His master had promised him so.

  When he had seen the woman on the news, it was obvious that she needed to be his final offering. With her eyes so icy and her inky curls, he knew it was a sign. She was the one.

  This beautiful woman would be the chosen bride for the darkness. Everything pointed to her being the perfect offering. When he slept at night, he could see her in his dreams.

  It had to be a message from his Lord. She was to be both his final obstacle and ultimate reward. If he defeated her and stuck to his goal, then she would be the one who brought him his glory.

  It was only a matter of time until she arrived.

  Oh, he had a way to assure that it would be happening.

  It was rather simple. He was well aware that ego would win every single time. No one could resist a chance to prove they were the best at the game and somehow, he believed she would love the opportunity.

  He had done his research on her.

  If anything, finding and tracking her had been easy, especially to her home. When he had followed her, she was never alone. Since she didn't live more than t
wo hours away, it was like a field trip and could be done quite often.

  It had been so easy to slip away to track his prey.

  He had loved every second of it too.

  Stalking her had been a great learning experience. He went as far as purchasing a day pass to watch her run at the gym with the men. In sheer jealousy, he had watched her kiss one partner and then the other. He had been forced to witness her being playfully tossed back and forth between them, as they walked to their car. It fed the rage in his body.

  She was his.

  Once, he had even followed the threesome through their day. They had left that mega-plex office building and ventured home, and he was right behind them. When they pulled into the garage of their big stone house, he was envious that he couldn’t see inside. He wanted to know everything about her.

  What did she eat?

  Where did she sleep?

  What were her favorite things in life?

  Part of that he already knew. All three liked tattoos a great deal, and had them plastered all over their bodies. He had been forced to watch as she absently stroked them on both men’s bodies. It almost made him want to run out and get one.

  It was hard to not notice that she loved Indians. They were everywhere. From the two men she was always kissing to the older one who took walks with the children. She had her own little tribe, but not for long.

  Soon, she’d see that he was a far better male specimen. The men in her life would fall away when she finally learned the truth.

  She was destined to be his.

  He couldn’t wait to just tell her why he was doing all this. Wouldn’t she be surprised?

  How could he explain that she had caught his eye? When the media called her the best, he knew she was the one.