He paused at the sight of her, and lowered the volume of the speakers. That right there was why he carried the banner of pain so close to his heart. Not just for his people who had been betrayed, but for the damage done to his beloved only child. Her face should have been flawless and beautiful.
Like her mother’s.
Instead, she bore hateful scars across her left cheek, from the corner of her mouth to her eye, from the claws of other Remnants who’d tried in desperation to feed from her. And a knife wound down the length of her right cheek from a Scrap who’d tried to stop her eating his heart. That attack had also left her blind in that eye and turned it white. A stark contrast from her left eye that was still its natural dark brown, like her skin and hair she wore in Nubian spirals.
Damn them all for what they’d done to them.
He would see them in hell before this was through. “How’s the trace coming?”
“Slow, but we should be able to find Crow and his crew the next time he posts something. We just need one more act of stupidity.”
“Then let us hope he makes one soon.” He jerked him chin toward the body. “And speaking of stupid, find me a new assistant.”
She glanced over her shoulder and sighed. “I’ll try, but it’s getting harder to do so with every one you kill. Really, Papa. Help me out, and cut down on the bloodstains.”
He swiped his hand over the desk to change the channel to a new feed. “I’ll cut down on the bloodstains when our enemies are removed from power and we are in charge again. The earth was made for humanity.”
“Then wouldn’t that be the Relics?”
He chose to ignore her impertinence. “If my plan works, our humanity will be restored, and we’ll be cured. We’ll be the Relics, then.”
“Do you really believe that?”
He had to. The alternative was unacceptable to him. He’d seen too many of them die. Horribly.
Too many of them go mad.
The Drabs thought they were animals. The Scraps thought them monsters.
Sadly, the truth was far worse. They were cursed and damned.
He glanced up at Jennifer and sighed. “Mohani Crow wasn’t just working on a vaccine. She was working on a cure. I saw her research. With our abilities, I know we can complete her formulas. We just have to get to it.”
“They’re never going to let us have her work. You know that.”
“Then I will kill every one of them.”
Josiah pulled up short as he saw Daria waiting for him. The hopeful look in her eyes made his stomach draw tight. He hated that he had to crush her with the latest new, but he had no choice.
“Sorry. We were too late to save them.”
Watching the light fade in her eyes was like seeing a car crash in slow motion. And it hit him just as hard. “Did you see my parents?”
He shook his head. “I’m so sorry. There was no sign of them.”
Daria swallowed hard. “Did you even try?”
Those words hit him like a slap. Josiah recoiled. “How could you ask me such a thing?”
“How could I not?”
Fury stung him deep and it launched his bitterness. He was a fool to think for one minute that she might be different. In the end, she was as black-blooded as the rest of her kind.
“Whatever. I’m not going to stand here and let you put your hatred in my heart, and condemn me like some tabloid working off half-truths gleaned from propaganda you made up out of thin air, and the falsified opinions you gleaned from your friends, because you want to hate me and you’re looking for any excuse to justify it.” He started to leave, then stopped himself. “You know, I could have forgiven you for anything but this unfounded accusation that I don’t deserve. I won’t be condemned for your fears. Only for the actions and sins that I actually do.”
Daria sucked her breath in sharply as Josiah turned into a crow and vanished.
She’d be furious but for the fact that she understood.
He was right. She’d condemned him without a hearing and on assumptions that had no basis in fact.
Still...
Who could blame her? The humans had wrapped themselves in a flag of treachery and bitterness. Was it so much to assume they would strike back at her race any way they could?
They’re going to eat you alive...
Especially now that she’d lost her only ally.
“Here.”
Daria jumped as someone offered her a tissue to wipe away her tears.
Looking up, she met the gaze of an extremely gorgeous human male. One with brown hair and dark brown eyes. His caramel skin was dusted with a day’s growth of beard that added a rugged quality to the perfection of hard, chiseled features. “Thank you.”
He inclined his head to her. “Don’t worry. You’re not the only one who thinks Crow’s an ass.”
Those words both startled and amused her. “Pardon?”
“I said you’re not the only one who can’t stand the smug, sanctimonious prick.” He changed his features so that he appeared to be as Maten as she did.
And not just any Maten. This was one she knew all too well. One she’d never expected to see again.
“Frayne?”
His features dark, he narrowed his gaze on her. “You’re not the only one with secrets, Daria. And there’s a lot of things Xed didn’t tell you.” He brushed his hand over her cheek, causing her heart to race and her skin to burn with a memory of how much he meant to her. How much they’d shared. “I swear, I never meant for you or your parents to get caught up in any of this.”
Her head spun at what she was seeing. What she was hearing.
What she still felt for him.
Was this for real?
Was it really him?
“You’re a Shif?”
He nodded, then leaned down to whisper in her ear. “And if you can forgive me and trust me again, I swear I can get your parents back. But first you have to decide whose side you’re really on.… Ours or theirs.”
THE WITCH OF ENDOR
THE BLACK SWAN SOCIETY
Sherrilyn Kenyon
Chapter 1
Be careful. The devil will steal your soul.”
Shifting the heavy cardboard box in her arms, Anna Carol blinked at the ominous voice. “Excuse me?”
No one was there.
A chill went up her spine as she turned around slowly in her new apartment and glanced around the empty space.
Nothing.
It looked as cheery and bright as it had two weeks ago when the plump little real estate lady had led her through it, and she’d fallen in love with the place. It’d only taken her fifteen minutes to decide that this was where she wanted to start her life over. That this was the right place to begin fresh.
Richmond, Virginia. Childhood home of Edgar Allen Poe. The place where Patrick Henry had given his infamous “Give Me Liberty or Death” speech. This was where they’d passed the first statute for Religious Freedom written by Thomas Jefferson.
At one time, Virginia was America. This was where it’d all began. Decades before the Pilgrims had made landfall at Plymouth Rock, the colonists in Virginia had intrepidly carved out new lives for themselves here in the wilds off the banks of the James River.
So, it was ironic that when she’d dragged out her father’s old road map he’d once used to plan holiday fishing trips, closed her eyes, and randomly placed a thumbtack on a city to move to after her divorce, it had landed squarely on the very city that one of her ancestors had boldly helped to build. It still gave her a chill whenever she thought about it.
Having decided that she was going to pick up everything, and go wherever fate decreed, here she was.
No regrets.
If only she could say as much about her marriage.
Don’t think about it. Rick was a prick. That was her motto.
She couldn’t change her past. Only her attitude about it. And so, she’d sold everything she could, packed up her red Jeep, and hightailed it from Huntsvil
le to Richmond.
To start over. Tabula rasa.
And it certainly didn’t get more blank or Spartan than this apartment with its plain, white walls that stared at her with threatening austerity.
She shivered in revulsion, wishing she could paint them the bright eggplant and green colors she’d used in her old Huntsville house that Rick had managed to steal out from under her.
“I’ll get some pictures.”
Some drapes.
That would help cheer things up a bit more. Especially if one was a picture of her ex with an axe planted firmly between his eyes.
Smiling at the thought, Anna set the box down, then opened her door to return to her car for another load . . . and almost ran smack dab into a young man.
Handsome and ripped, he was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt as if he were about to go running.
“Oh, sorry,” he mumbled. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
She scowled as she caught a glimpse of his pupils through his dark sunglasses. For an instant, she could have sworn they flashed red. Must have been an optical illusion. “No problem. I’m just moving in.”
“Ah.” He glanced at her door. “I’m in the apartment above you. I was wondering if anyone would ever move into this one, again.”
Her frown deepened at the odd note in his voice. “What do you mean?”
He stopped scrolling through his playlist and lowered his phone. “You hadn’t heard?”
“Heard what?”
One brow shot north. “Um . . . nothing. Nothing at all.” As he started to leave she stopped him.
“Do you have a name?”
“Of course.” And with that, he dodged out the doors and down the stairs, toward the parking lot.
Okay then. He’d obviously flunked Southern Hospitality 101 and took an extra course in Rude.
“Ignore Luke. He has a personality disorder.”
She turned toward the stairs behind her to find an impressive short, voluptuous brunette standing there in a pair of ragged jeans and a black tee.
Was there some unwritten law that everyone in her building had to be extremely attractive?
Anna wondered how she’d made the cut, given the fact that she was twenty pounds overweight and approaching middle age at warp speed. Not to mention, she was hot and sweaty, and unlike her neighbors, her sweat didn’t make her glisten.
It made her gross and smelly.
“Which Alphabet Soup label does he fall under?” Anna asked the beauty as she came closer.
“TAS.”
Anna scratched at the sweat on her cheek at one that was new to her. “Never heard of it.”
“Terminal Asshole Syndrome. Not sure if it was congenital or something he contracted after puberty. Either way, he has a fatal dose of it.”
She laughed at the woman. “I’m Anna Carol, by the way.”
“Two first names? Or did God not like you, to curse you with that particular moniker.”
“The latter.”
“Ouch. Not that the Big Guy or mi querida madre was any kinder to me.” She tucked her hands in to her jeans pockets. “Marisol Verástegui.”
“That’s beautiful.”
“Glad you think so. But then you’re not the one who has to try and get it straight at the DMV, or on any legal document. Talk about a nightmare!”
“I can see where that might make you crazy.”
“Oh yeah. But hey, it’s hysterical at Starbucks. I love to make the baristas cry.”
Anna laughed. While Luke might leave a lot to be desired in the friendly department, she really liked this neighbor. “It’s nice to meet you, Marisol. I take it you live upstairs, too?”
“I used to.” A dark sadness came into her eyes.
“Used to?”
Marisol nodded, then turned around and walked through the wall.
Anna choked on a scream.
The entire backside of Marisol’s skull was missing.
Chapter 2
You can’t break your lease, Ms. Carol. It’s impossible.”
Anna gripped her phone tighter. Over the last two weeks, she hadn’t slept, or had a moment of peace. The hauntings that had begun with Luke—who turned out to be a suicide from three years ago, and Marisol who’d died in a murder last year—had only gotten worse and worse.
“Of course, I can. Just tell me how much.”
The realtor let out a low, sinister laugh that didn’t sound like her usual high-pitched voice. “You don’t understand. You entered the agreement of your own free volition. No one forced you into it. The moment you did so, you became one of ours.”
“Pardon?”
“You heard me. You came to me seeking a new life. I delivered it. You have a new job and place to live. I fulfilled our bargain. In return, you signed away your soul.”
This had to be a joke. Was she high?
“Um... what?”
“You heard me,” she repeated. “Read the fine print on the contract. You came here looking to start over. I told you when I handed you the keys, and you crossed the apartment’s threshold that you would be entering a whole new life. Did you think I was kidding?”
“I assumed you were speaking metaphorically.”
“Well you know what they say about assume. It makes an ass out of u and me.” Then, the witch had the nerve to actually hang up.
Hang up!
Demonic laughter rang through her apartment.
Unamused, Anna stood there, grinding her teeth.
Okay. I have sold my soul to the devil.
She had no response to that. Face it, it wasn’t exactly something someone dealt with every day. At least not normal people.
“Well, it’s a good thing I come from a basketload of crazy.”
And that was being generous. Crazy had kind of looped around her family a couple of times. Rebounded back, decided it really liked them and then moved in, and planted some serious roots. Then, because she was really Southern, it had remarried a few cousins, committed incest, and decided to never branch off her family tree. So the lunacy had just quadrupled with each subsequent generation, until it was no longer eccentric, it was downright felonious.
Yeah, that was her family.
And that was her insanity.
In Randolph County, Alabama where her family hailed from, she could get someone killed for a simple keg of beer. No questions asked.
Which was why she’d moved to Huntsville when she married. Although her ex had often claimed that three hours away just wasn’t far enough.
Sometimes, she agreed.
But right now, she needed that kind of crazy. Because they were the only ones who could make this seem normal. And who wouldn’t have her committed when she called them.
Anna started to dial her father, then stopped herself.
After all, she was in Satan’s apartment.
Um, yeah. She’d seen enough horror movies to know how this would play out. It always ended to same for the idiot on the phone.
Grizzly death.
She slid her phone into her back pocket. “I’m just going to the grocery store to get some milk. I’ll be back in a minute.”
As calmly as she could, she grabbed her keys and pocketbook, then headed for the door. “Hey, Satan? Could you turn out the lights for me? Thanks!”
She headed out, and tried not to freak as she got to her Jeep, and saw the lights in her apartment turn off.
Never let it be said that the devil didn’t have a wicked sense of humor.
Trying to stay calm, she got into the Jeep, and drove to the store as if all was right in the world. Just in case she had an unseen visitor keeping her company.
She’d seen that movie, too.
Once she was inside the store, and had found a place where nothing too hard or sharp could fall on her, and where she had a good line-of-sight on anyone who might get possessed and come charging after her, including devil or zombie dogs, rats or insects, she dialed her dad.
Luckily, he wasn’t out bowlin
g with his buds or watching a game. He never picked up the phone on game nights.
“Hey, sweetie. How’s my girl?”
“Hey, Daddy. I have a little problem.” She glanced around the store, and lowered her voice so that no one could overhear her and think her nuts. ‘Cause honestly, she thought she was pretty crazy herself. “Turns out, you’ve been wrong in your sermons lately. The devil isn’t coming up in those hell-pits down in Georgia that’s been causing their interstates to rise up and buckle. He’s actually here in Richmond. Living in my apartment building.”
“Say what?”
“Uh, yeah. Apparently, I accidentally sold my soul to him when I signed my lease.”
Now most fathers would have probably committed their daughters over such a statement. At the very least, would have laughed it off, and thought it a prank.
Lucky thing for Anna, her daddy was a Southern Baptist preacher who specialized in spiritual warfare. In fact, her family came from a long, long line of such men and women who were famed for scaring the devil out of generations of parishioners and farms.
And one old rusted-out moonshine still from back in the days of Prohibition when it’d supposedly gotten possessed by an angry demon who was running amok in an Appalachian hill town . . . but that was another story.
The good news was that when it came to things like this, her father didn’t blink an eye. But he did rush to action, and he always took it seriously.
“All right, baby girl. You know what to do. The cavalry’s coming. You hold tight and we’ll be there by morning.”
“Thank you, Daddy!” Normally, it would take about nine-and-a-half hours to make the drive from where her daddy lived in Wedowee to her apartment in Richmond. But given her dire circumstances, and her father’s propensity for ignoring the posted limitations on speed, she’d expect him in about seven.
Her daddy was awesome that way.
And she knew he wouldn’t bother to pack. He always kept a bug-out sack of clothes and his exorcism bag in his old Army HMMWV for just such emergencies (or a zombie apocalypse, ‘cause one could never be too careful).
Insurrection [Nevermore] Page 7