By Amber Lynn Natusch
Unborn
The Caged Series
Caged
Haunted
Framed
Scarred
Fractured
Tarnished (novella)
Light and Shadow Trilogy
Tempted by Evil
Undertow
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2014 Amber Lynn Natusch
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by 47North, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and 47North are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781477824290
ISBN-10: 1477824294
Cover design by Damon Za
Cover photo by Dannielle Gleim Damm
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014932943
To Shannon Morton, who truly understands the need for a fictional bad boy.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19p>
20
21
22
23
24
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PROLOGUE
It was not time for me to go yet—I had only just returned home.
The fiery pits I flew past blurred in my vision, painting everything around me the most vibrant orange. It was often said that there was nothing beautiful about my home, but I disagreed—vehemently. I much preferred it to where I was headed.
The unseen force that held me hostage moved me through the air at incredible speed. His attempt to pull me from the depths and eject me as quickly as possible was nearly accomplished, though the reasons behind his mission remained completely inexplicable. I had five months left before I was to leave—why had he come for me? Even more baffling was why he had come at all. The transition was never supposed to happen that way.
I knew the Dark Ones were fearsome creatures, capable of traveling between worlds, but, in all my centuries, I’d never seen one. The Fallen, Father called them, warning me of their merciless nature. For that reason, he’d kept me well-hidden from them—at least until that day. Even Father had been powerless to stop the one who ripped me from his protective hold.
“I feared this day would come,” he yelled as his grasp on my arm gave way to the strength of the one sent to take me. “Take her where he won’t find her. You owe me that much!”
Those were the last words I heard before the sound of the Dark One’s wings drowned his wails completely.
I will miss him, I thought.
He loved me so.
Water from the Acheron boiled and spit, stinging my face as we crossed it. I knew it wouldn’t be long before the familiar light of the world would start to permeate the darkened tunnel we were rocketing through. I’d never seen spring before; that was never part of the deal. The favored one spent the fertile seasons on Earth, and I the seasons of death and darkness. I wondered why I did not pass her on the journey—it was the only time I ever saw her.
When the Dark One broke through to the world above, my hopes were smashed. The eternal cold of my existence was not to be broken; spring was not awaiting my arrival. Instead, the bitterness of a lingering winter surrounded and engulfed me, magnified further by our blistering rate of ascent. As the air thinned around me and the chill burrowed deeper, the irony that I was always cold struck me. I never understood how a person could be so perpetually frozen, even when surrounded by fire and flame. Father wondered if it was because I did not belong in the ed Underworld—that my soul repelled the warmth that the torment of the damned provided.
When I snapped my attention back from my wandering thoughts, I saw that I wasn’t being taken to meet my mother at all. I would normally have been entrusted to her care upon entering the earthly realm, delivered to where she always stood waiting, but never with open arms. Instead, I was being flown far and fast in the opposite direction, and, as my body shook and my breathing failed me, a faint sense of calm overtook me. Wherever I was headed, whatever fate I was destined for, I reveled in the knowledge that I’d finally be rid of her.
And that was a fate worth dying for.
1
The stench surrounding me when I awoke was insufferable. It coated the inside of my nose so thickly that I thought I could taste the rotten decay that made me want to retch. My eyes were clouded and heavy, my body catatonic. My mind was fuzzy, and I remembered little of the journey I had been on prior to my passing out. I did recall thinking I was destined to die. In some ways, that would have made my current situation far easier.
I felt like those I had spent half my life surrounded by: the lost, the broken—the damned. My body was as cumbersome as theirs, moving awkwardly as I attempted to pull myself up to stand. It would not comply with the majority of my commands. When I finally managed to force my eyes to take in my surroundings, my heart stopped, if only for a moment.
Where am I, I wondered, the words a whisper in my mind. I looked around, breathing shakily in the cold night air—and it was night, wherever I was. Either I had been unconscious for longer than I could have imagined, or I was somewhere so far away that the sun rose and set on a schedule much different than the one I expected.
I also was not expecting to see snow on the ground. The green of spring should have been emerging from the deadened earth by then. What place is this that remains so barren and lifeless long after its time?
I brought my focus to the claustrophobic setting I found myself immersed in. Towering walls of untextured concrete entombed me and paved the road beneath me. A city, I thought. I’d seen countless images of them in my life but had never been in one; I was far from impressed. I did, however, find comfort in the familiar gray shades of the buildings. They reminded me of the rock that housed the Underworld.
A sudden gust of wind blew down the alleyway, tossing my long auburn hair in my face. While I unsuccessfully willed my arms to untangle and retain the wild and unruly waves, a voice called to me softly. I almost missed it.
“Are you lost?” he asked, approaching me slowly. The light from the street behind him cast a glorious glow around his form but darkened his features entirely. I could not see his face.
My body still refused to move, so I stood firmly affixed to the snow-covered spot I had awoken in. I was not afraid of death. Father always said there were fates far worse.
Unable to find my voice, I merely stared at him blankly as he methodically advanced toward me. His moves were not cautious, but calculated, indicating that nothing about our encounter was friendly or chance. He had sought me out.
“Can I help you?” he asked essas he stopped only feet away from me. I saw his hand draw slowly behind his back while the expression on his face warmed slightly—a ruse. He was a warrior for certain. “Tell me your name.”
My tongue lay limp in my mouth, unable to move. Whatever had happened to me before I landed in this godforsaken place had rendered me utterly useless in every way. My body remained unreactive when he pres
ented a knife far larger and blacker than any I had ever seen, and I silently cursed, knowing that I would die without properly saying good-bye to my father. He had always maintained that I would never go to him when I died—convinced my soul was bound to a lighter place.
When I did not respond, the warrior’s expression darkened ever so slightly.
“You shouldn’t have let them take it all,” he said mysteriously, drawing back the blade.
I did not flinch when he lunged at me.
The dagger danced before my face, closing in for a killing thrust, before it suddenly stopped. My attacker’s hand encircled my left arm, tightly holding me in place, and his grip shook violently.
“You can’t be . . .” he whispered to himself. I knew not of what he spoke, nor did I have the ability to speak myself, but he did not appear to be looking to me for answers. His eyes were far too wide and unfocused for that. When he regained his composure, his jaw tensed harshly, scowling at me for a moment as if deeply contemplating his next move.
As he continued to stare at me, his curious expression bleeding slowly to one of disbelief, the oddest sensation coursed through me. I felt I knew him, though I could not explain how. What I did realize was that the longer he held my arm, the more I seemed to regain command of my body. I delicately pulled my feet off the ground one at a time, then turned my head from side to side. I flexed my hand as I bent my arms upward. He looked on silently as I did.
“Khara,” I replied with the slightest of slurs. He looked at me strangely in response. “You requested my name. It is Khara.”
“You’re not an Empty?” he asked, expression unchanged.
“I do not know what you mean by an ‘Empty,’ but I do not believe I am one.”
“Do you know who you are . . . what you are?”
“I am Khara, adopted daughter of Demeter and ward of Hades,” I told him, regaining more clarity of speech. “And who are you, warrior? Why have you not finished your task?”
He released his hold of me, looking pained, then did the strangest thing of all. He embraced me.
“There has never been a female born of him. Not since . . .” he said disbelievingly as he pulled away from me just enough to look into my eyes. “And yet here you stand. We must go tell the others.”
“What others?”
“Your brothers,” he replied with a wink.
“And what will we tell them?” I asked, feeling as confused as I had when I first regained consciousness. A genuine smile broadened across his face, softening the harshness in his eyes. He was happy—truly happy.
“We will tell them that Ares was wrong,” he said. “We will tell them they have a sister.”
2
He gently draped his coat around my shoulders, adjusting the substantial amount of fabric to his satisfaction. As he 160did, I assessed him. Tall and formidably built, his dark blond hair was a tad unkempt, hanging over his eyes slightly while he fastened the top button. Crystal-blue eyes then met mine, and he nodded once in approval before taking my hand in his, leading me out of the alley and onto the adjacent street. I trailed him silently, processing all that he’d just told me.
I have brothers.
My father is the god of war.
Why had Hades never mentioned them or my father? How was I kept secret from them for so long? And why, presumably out of nowhere, was I suddenly dropped into my brothers’ city—and into their lives?
“Your name, warrior,” I asked again, remembering that he had successfully evaded my earlier question. He looked over his shoulder at me, as I trailed behind him slightly, and smiled yet again. He was the happiest person I had ever encountered—at least after deducing who I was. I wondered what gave him such occasion to smile.
“Drew,” he replied, still grinning. There was something most pleasant about his face when he wore that expression. “And it’s brother, not warrior, to you.”
“You said that I am the daughter of Ares?”
“You are.”
“And you are his son?”
“Yes, all of the brothers are, though we come from different mothers.”
“And where, Brother Drew, are we meeting these other brothers of ours?” I asked, trying to look straight ahead and avoid taking in too much of my urban surroundings. I found it overwhelming to be dwarfed and hemmed in by the buildings around me, which was ironic given that my favorite place was miles below the surface of the earth, with only one way in or out.
“A club. It’s not far from here,” he replied, slowing his pace slightly. “Are you cold? Do you need to eat something? Would you rather I just take you home to rest?”
Home . . .
“I cannot return home. I have no one to take me,” I explained as though that fact should have been painfully obvious to him. As his expression hardened, I saw that he was starting to comprehend my point.
“Did Hades cast you out?”
“No. He would never do such a thing. I am his dearest . . . he adores me.”
“Then how did you come to be here? It’s not like someone can come and go as they please from the Underworld . . .” he said, sounding uncertain, as though he wanted affirmation of his statement.
“A Dark One,” I said, watching his eyes widen instantaneously. “He came for me. I do not know why.”
A growling sound came from deep within his chest.
“And he just left you here?”
“So it would seem, though I do not know where ‘here’ is, geographically speaking,” I replied.
“You don’t even know where you are?” he asked, coming to an abrupt stop. “The Dark One said nothing about where he was taking you?”
“His grip on me was such that I could not see him, nor easily speak to him. He had me by the throat, though not tightly enough to harm me.”
Again, he made a low, rumbling noise. I was uncertain how to interpret it.
“Detroit,” he said, pressing his eyes shut while he breathed in deeply. “You’re in Detroit. It’s in Amerno ’s inica.”
“I know where that is. Though my experiences in it are limited, I am not uneducated about the world above,” I said defensively. I had not realized that I would be offended by such a comment.
“Sorry,” he said, starting to guide me back through the city. “I wasn’t sure . . . I didn’t know.”
“You did not know what I knew of the world above. That is understandable, given what little you know of me. I am certain you meant no offense.”
He flashed me another smile.
“So you never answered my question before. Do you need to sleep? Eat? Warm up?”
“I am fine, thank you.”
He searched my face for something, waiting for a sign of sorts. Eventually his smile faded, and he brought his attention back to where he was taking me. Had he wanted a smile in return?
I had never had much cause for overt affection in my life, though it was not completely foreign to me. The few times I could recall had involved Hades. His station was one that demanded the respect of all who surrounded him, and over time that hardened him into a militaristic leader—the god of the Underworld. It was only with me that a softness in him emerged—with me and with his bride.
Hades had not asked for me—never chose to have me in his life. Instead, I was thrust upon him, though, once he met me, Hades easily made amends with the situation and accepted me without prejudice. He raised me as his own. My only fond memories were of him and me together; now, I feared that I may never get to see him again.
And there were few things in life I feared.
We were deep in the heart of Detroit when we arrived at our destination. The buildings had grown ever taller and closer together, and there was an element of danger in the darkness around us. I had seen such places in periodicals and read about them in books, but I had never been to one in person. It was seedy, shady—criminal.
The façade of the club we entered was nondescript, just a redbrick wall with a heavy metal door—no demarcation of any sort t
o denote to a passerby what waited within. Drew tucked me in close behind him as he pushed us through a crowd of humans huddling near the entrance.
“Stay close,” he told me under his breath before he dragged me into a cramped and poorly lit foyer. All that stood before us was a steep stairwell descending into a black abyss. It seemed to go on infinitely.
I had a sharp pang of longing—the black and claustrophobic nature of the hallway reminded me in the smallest way of home.
“Are you okay?” he asked as I hesitated at the top. “Maybe I should just take you home; you’ve had a long—”
“No,” I protested. “I would like to meet my family. Besides, I enjoy the feel of being underground.”
“Then I guess you’re going to fit in around here just fine.” He was smiling again. I failed to see what he found so joyous.
I had heard virtually no noise when we stood at the top of the stairs, but as we descended the music started vibrating the walls around us. By the time we made it to the true entrance of the club, we were easily fifty feet below ground level—I had an excellent sense of depth.
He swung the door open wide, and I was instantly assaulted by the cacophony and heat that the steel barricade had withheld. Before me was a massive open space full of wepace fu humans, writhing and undulating shamelessly as one, hundreds, maybe even a thousand, deep. That was only the first level. As I inspected the establishment further, I saw that this den of sin had another floor that encircled the main area, also populated by dancing bodies. Lastly, I saw a raised section off to our right, which was devoid of the chaos and commotion that had overtaken the rest of the establishment. From where I stood, this section appeared completely unoccupied, though its purpose was plain. It was for those who wished to enjoy the debauchery from afar—on high.
It was for spectators.
The bass pulsed through the building, making the entire place vibrate softly while the sheer volume of the music was near deafening. I hadn’t heard Drew talking to me while I inspected the club.