by Erin Hayes
She slowly slid the strap of her dress off her shoulder. I sucked in a breath. It felt like I had waited an eternity to be with her.
"Don't be dramatic," she said, smiling, as she lowered the other strap. It fell to the floor leaving only her bra and panties.
I grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to me, my mouth covering hers. I gently walked her backward and laid her on the bed. I fell on top of her, careful not to crush her beneath me. I smoothed her hair back and stared into her eyes. "I will love you forever."
I took my time, consuming every part of her until we were one. I had never experienced true joy before until now.
As we lay facing each other, Moira's eyes slowly closing, an itch began in the outer skirts of my mind. I shoved it away. I wasn't going to let any bad feelings ruin this moment for me.
But as the night wore on, I tossed and turned. That little scratch had turned into full on pain, and it wormed its way through my body until it reached my gut.
I slipped out from bed and paced the room. Why was I feeling this way? The Dark Prince was gone and the vampire population had been almost eradicated. We were safe. Plus, I'd installed our house with the best security system money could buy.
I walked down the hall to the back door in the kitchen. I flipped on the porch light and peered into the darkness. Only shadows stared back.
I'm being silly, I thought. I'm just nervous because I'm truly happy and afraid it will be taken from me. I shook my hands out as if to shake the dread from me.
After making some hot chocolate and drinking it down, I returned to bed and snuggled up close to Moira, my arm wrapped tightly around her. Everything was as it should be.
The next morning I woke before Moira. I glanced over at her. Long, brown hair spilled across her pillow in great waves. I shook my head in disbelief. I was the luckiest guy on earth.
I snuck out of bed and headed into the kitchen to make breakfast. While the bacon was cooking, I reached into the cupboard above the fridge where Moira couldn't reach and removed a small box. I opened the lid and stared at an antiqued necklace. I had purchased it for her a couple of days before our wedding. Her birthstone, a dark Emerald, shined from the center of a silver clasp. I closed the lid and tucked the box into my pocket.
"Charlie?"
Shoot! I was hoping to surprise her. I quickly arranged the food on a tray and called, "Stay right there! I'll be right in."
I picked up the tray and carried it into the bedroom.
Moira was sitting up, her back against the headboard and smiling ear to ear. "Did you make me breakfast in bed?"
"The first of many." I set the tray on her lap and sat next to her.
She stared at me in awe. "This is the first time anyone has done this for me. Thank you so much."
I leaned over and kissed her mouth. She grabbed me behind the neck to deepen the kiss, but I pulled away. "There will be plenty of time for that later. Eat first."
She stared down at all of the food. "I don't know where to start."
"Start with the Eggs Benedict. They are my specialty."
She rubbed her hands together and picked up a fork.
We chatted while she ate, and I couldn't believe how wonderful everything was, how wonderful she was. That dark feeling inside had dulled.
When she was finished, I reached inside my pocket and pulled out the small box. "I want to give this to you."
She shook her head. "You are too good to be true. Seriously. I don't deserve you."
I handed it to her and watched her expression as she opened it.
She gasped. "It's gorgeous!"
"Do you really like it?"
"I love it so much, Charlie. It's perfect! Will you help me put it on?" She swooped her hair to the side as I picked up the necklace and secured it around her neck.
"It's beautiful on you," I said. Wicked thoughts came to my mind as I pictured us together again.
She grinned back just as wickedly. "I'm happy to do that."
I jumped to my feet and hurried into the shower, nearly tripping as I tore off my clothes.
She laughed. "I'll be right there."
I turned on the shower and called to her, "I was thinking we should go on a hike later today. Maybe have a picnic. There are some really cool trails that lead to a waterfall not too far away." I continued to talk even as I got in the shower.
A couple of minutes went by. The water was hot and steam filled the air. I opened the shower door and called, "Are you coming?"
I listened closely but didn't hear anything.
I swallowed and called again, "Moira!"
My heart began to pound. I shook my hands again. Everything was okay.
I waited another few seconds, but when I didn't hear her, I grabbed a towel from off the rack and wrapped it around me. "Moira?"
I opened the bathroom door and stepped into the bedroom.
Moira was on the bed. Naked. Except for my necklace around her neck.
The green emerald looked more like a ruby. The crimson color covered her neck, her breasts and ran over her stomach. Her head was slouched nearly onto her shoulder.
I stared.
And then I yelled.
I ran to her and took her in my arms, her head nearly falling off. I grabbed it with my hand and pressed it back on and screamed for help. Tears burned my eyes and ran down my face, as I said her name over and over.
With my free hand, I reached for my cell phone on the nightstand and called Henry.
"Help me," I cried when he answered.
He appeared in my bedroom a moment later. He rushed and took hold of Moira examining her wound. His face paled and he looked at me, his eyes sad.
"You fix this!" I yelled. "I don't care how, just heal her!"
He shook his head. "It's too late. There's nothing I can do."
I grabbed him by the arm and jerked him close to me. "Turn her. Anything. Just bring her back."
"I'm so sorry." He stepped away from me.
I cradled Moira to my chest, my shoulders shaking.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Henry pick up a torn piece of paper from off my bed. It didn't look familiar.
"What is that?" I growled.
He handed it to me. I read the words several times.
I finished what I started. Congratulations on your recent wedding! She's a beautiful bride.
I crumpled it in my hand and let out a terrible roar. The Dark Prince.
"I'll find him," Henry said. He disappeared from the room.
I held onto Moira tightly, swearing revenge upon the Dark Prince. He had taken my true love. I would never rest until I found him.
No matter what devils may come, this one was mine.
THE END
Thank you for reading the prequel novel to The Devil Series! To continue on with the story, read book one, The Devil's Fool.
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Changed
Debbie Herbert
Changed © 2016 Debbie Herbert
Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Changed
Tara is on a mission to lift the
curse placed upon her, and then true love awaits—if all goes as planned.
Cursed to reap over a thousand lost souls, Tara is almost finished. She’s worked hard the past year and wants her life back. More important, she wants Andrew back.
But part of the curse stipulates that she can’t tell him anything about where she’s been and what she’s been doing. How long will Andrew wait for her after being forced to live his life in limbo with no answers? The last two soul collections have been especially brutal and complex. Worse, Andrew has reached the limits of his patience.
Chapter One
One Year Before
In the space of one month, Tara’s world had shifted. She’d gone from the goal of world domination to a much less ambitious desire—to live in a small cabin on Booze Mountain with her new love.
All because of Andrew.
Well, mostly because of him. Her uneasiness had been building for some time with the coven.
Lucas, their leader, would be furious when she announced her intention to leave the coven coalition tonight. For a few seconds, she’d entertained the thought of asking Andrew to escort her, but then immediately dismissed the notion. This was a problem of her own making, and she’d soldier through this evening’s danger alone. Besides, Andrew was leery enough of witches without exposing him to the darker magic that Lucas insidiously injected into every coven meeting. Andrew’s feelings about them—about her—were understandable since witches had the power to bind immortals like him. Once bound, an immortal was the binder’s to use until the binder’s death. Sure, they lived forever, but a human lifetime was still a long span to be bound against their will.
Tara squared her shoulders as she strode through the gloam in the Appalachian hollow. Already, the nearly full moon cast dark shadows through the tangled limbs of pine and oak. Normally, this was her favorite time of day, when night and day met and melded. The setting sun cast a coral and violet haze as it ceded power to the moon’s more subtle glowing dominion.
Around a bend in the dirt path stood the members of the coven in a semi-circle under an ancient oak, dressed in long, scarlet robes or in kilts. A fairly even mixture of forty immortals and witches, male and female. Lucas stood at the center, clothed in a purple robe.
Tara breathed deeply and grounded herself to the earth’s base. She was strong and sturdy and based in magic. Wind tousled her red hair, and her tresses whipped in the breeze like flames. Fiery resolve mixed with the vital spirit of the wind as it moved through the air and tingled her skin. She removed the vial of blessed, charged water from her jeans’ pocket, uncorked the lid, and dipped her fingers into its liquid caress. Swiftly, she dabbed the water on her forehead, third eye, and lips, chanting,
By all four elements I am strong
Powered to deny the coven’s wrong
Earth, wind, fire and air
Provide a shield and make me dare
For love’s true sake will I fight
Stand my ground and not take flight.
Lucas’s sharp blue eyes glowed like the blue center of a candle flame as he noted the subtle shift of energy and pierced her with his gaze. He frowned as his eyes swept down her body, evidently noting that she had not donned her ceremonial robe. The others followed his stare.
Tucking the empty vial back in her pocket, she strode forward, chin lifted. She might be trembling like an orphaned fawn on the inside, but damned if she’d let them see her cower. She was Tara Ensley, daughter of Maura, one of the most famous, powerful witches these hollows had ever known.
“What’s this?” Lucas asked in a stern voice that ripped through the air.
She did what must be done. Tara stepped into the middle of the circle and faced him—the man who’d misled her for far too long. The charming gentleman who possessed power over both immortality and the magic of witch blood. The only one of her kind who did. She’d been blinded by his promise to share that power with all coven members. She hadn’t known that meant stripping power from every other witche and immortal who was not one of them. That all his plans would lead to a bloody battle, and that lives would be ruined or even lost. Maura would have given her a good tongue blistering if she were still alive.
Over the past year, Lucas had done this so gradually, and Tara had made so many small concessions along the way, until she no longer knew her own soul.
Now she knew better.
Andrew’s love had done that for her. Once again, she believed in the path of light and goodness. Immortals were not their natural enemy, or prey meant to be tamed and bent to their will. At first, Tara thought Andrew must be an anomaly of his kind. Everyone knew immortals lived only to hunt each other down and steal their conquests’ power until they were the last man standing. But Andrew had explained that their world was changing. A new breed of immortals had emerged that were willing and able to still the violence in their soul and the instinct to kill.
Tara surveyed the male immortals in the coven group. They all dressed in kilts—it was believed their kind had originated in the Scottish Highlands. Most sported long, brown hair and fierce blue eyes, and down to the last man, their faces bore an implacable, stoic rage. They’d joined together to defeat this new breed of peaceful immortals, but Tara had no doubt that once this mission was accomplished, they would turn on one another like a pack of angry jackals.
But they didn’t worry her as much as the witches. The women glowered at her as though she were a traitor of the highest order.
In a way, they were right.
“Where’s your robe?” Lucas asked from the dais.
“I’ve come to say I’ll not be joining you in tomorrow’s battle.”
“Why?” Lucas stepped down and walked toward her. “It’s that immortal you’ve been staying with, isn’t it?”
“I’m capable of making my own decisions.”
“You were fine with everything until you moved in with him.”
It had been the best two weeks of her life. She could only hope their arrangement would one day be permanent.
“The reason doesn’t matter,” she said, shifting the focus away from Andrew. “I’ve been disillusioned for some time now. I don’t wish any others harm.”
“Too late. You can’t quit on us.”
“I’ve already done so.” She turned and faced the long walk back to Andrew’s cabin, but Lucas materialized in front of her, blocking the path. Of course, she knew leaving wouldn’t be so easy as making a pronouncement and returning home entirely unscathed.
“You gave your word. Is this any way for a daughter of Maura to act?”
“That won’t work,” she snapped. “If my mother were alive, she’d have counselled me to leave your coven long ago.”
His mouth thinned to a grim line. “Stay and fight.”
“No.”
Lucas raised an arm and pointed an ash wand in her direction. “If you think I’m just going to let you go—”
She braced herself, envisioning a purple light surrounding her body. Tara called on her mother, the first time she’d done so in the eight years since Maura had passed into Summerland, the witches’ afterlife. Help me, was all she had time to think. But it was enough. Tara felt Maura’s breath upon her, a whisper of air as her mother touched her cheek.
I’m here.
A mere arm’s length away, the night air sizzled as Lucas’s magic clashed with Tara and her mother’s. Orange and white flashed in speared bolts and crackled like fire.
“Damn it!” he screamed, outraged. He dropped the ash wand to his side. “Maybe I can’t kill you—”
Elation danced up and down her spine. Thanks, Mom.
“—but I can curse you.”
“Curse?” How medieval. She imagined a pox on her name and house. Boils and warts and other unsightly skin mishaps.
The edges of his lips curled in a cruel smile. “I know just the thing. Betrayal like yours is best rewarded by indentured service to the Grim Reaper.”
She gulped. That sounded horrifying.
“And if I refuse?”
He shrugged. “Death.”
There had to be a way out. She couldn’t accept such a punishment without a fight.
“I won’t reap.”
Lucas raised his wand again. “Yes, you will. Last chance to change your mind and join us.”
Tara mustered all her energy and magic. It danced and leapt around her aura field. “Never,” she vowed.
The wand descended and crashed against her magic. It sizzled and burnt. Ash against fire. The scent of burnt electricity buzzed and hummed. Tara raised her hands, palms out, warding off his dark magic. Her flesh warmed and burned and her ears ached with the humming that vibrated all the way to her brain.
It was no use. She was no match against the wizard.
Tara dropped to her knees, hands over her ears. “I accept the punishment,” she said with a dragged cry.
The noise and pain ceased and she stumbled back to her feet.
“Thought you’d see it my way,” Lucas said, his face a grim mask of displeasure.
She gathered her composure, unwilling to show how much he’d shook her. “How long does this—um, service—last?
“Until you collect a thousand and one souls.”
That sounded like a whole lot of souls. She thought of Andrew. “How long will that take?”
“Could be years.”
Her heart pinched at the news. She’d found Andrew such a short time ago. Bad enough his girlfriend was a witch. How would he react when he found out she also now reaped souls?
“When do I start?” She kept her voice flat and tried to keep her face stoic. She didn’t want Lucas taking pleasure in her pain.
“At once.”
“But—what do I actually do? How am I supposed to collect these souls?”
“You’ll know what to do when the time comes.”
She said nothing and stepped forward, skirting around his large, bulky frame. I’m alive, she reminded myself. Whatever the price, she would pay it. Andrew might not like what she’d become, but he damn sure would leave her if she fought against him in tomorrow’s battle instead of suffering the curse.