by May Dawson
Table of Contents
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
A Note From May
About the Author
Also by May Dawson
Fierce Angels
Lilith and Her Harem
May Dawson
Contents
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
A Note From May
About the Author
Also by May Dawson
1
I was no angel in my old life, but I’d never woken up in bed with two men before.
I stared up at the white ceiling above Levi’s bed. A crack zig-zagged across the corner. It reminded me of the first room I’d slept in with these brothers. In the haunted asylum, I’d lost control in my nightmares and set the room on fire. One corner of the ceiling had collapsed in the flames. It was amazing that they still wanted to snuggle with me after that.
Ryker’s broad shoulder was my pillow. My head seemed to fit in the crook of his shoulder as if his powerful body had been sculpted just for me. While Ryker slept on his back, his big, scarred arm flung across the bed, Levi slept on his stomach like a mirror-image. Levi tucked one muscular arm underneath his face when he slept. His eyelashes rested on his chiseled cheekbones, his lips faintly parted, which made his rough, masculine face look boyish and sweet in sleep. His hard-muscled calf lay over my ankle, as if he had to sleep touching me.
I was cozy and content with them.
I probably didn’t deserve to be. I was keeping a secret. Mr. Joseph had my sister’s body, kept on life support, and he claimed he could bring her back. But I’d have to pay for Ash’s life. He had ordered me to go into the Far and bring back his murdered wife.
He’d also said that Ash, still a ghost until her soul was reunited with her body, was haunting me and reporting to him. Ash would never hurt me willingly. He must be forcing her.
Unless she hated me now. I didn’t remember what had happened the night she died, and when I tugged my few wispy threads of memory together, my head began to ache like it had the night of the accident. The doctors had diagnosed me with a concussion. I had to wonder if it was magic that blocked my memories and made my skull pound.
He said my mother wanted to die, with Ash gone. I could believe that. He said that he would make sure Mom had her wish if I told anyone Ellis was alive. I could believe that too.
I’m not stupid. I wasn’t going to keep secrets from my guys. But I couldn’t tell them when Ash might be haunting the edges of the room, listening to my whispers.
Restless with anxiety, I drew my bare legs out of the blankets and scooted across to the foot of the bed, where Levi’s quilt had been kicked askew. It pooled in blue-and-yellow across the hardwood floor. I gathered the quilt into a cozy weight in my arms to toss it back on the bed. I could imagine Wendy stitching each square by hand, the quilt draped over her pregnant belly, never imagining how the supernatural would tear her sons away from her. She’d had to send Jacob away to protect him from the demons, and I couldn’t imagine what that had cost them both.
What had happened to the fourth brother? The one we needed to master the Far? She must have hidden him away somewhere too.
I pulled my jeans on, wincing at the whisper of denim over my skin as Levi stirred slightly. But the two boys went on sleeping, and I slipped out of the room, latching the door softly shut.
The hallway was dimly lit by the first rays of dawn trickling in through the windows above the stairs, and I made my way down to the living room. This place looked homey, filled with sunshine and books, cozy fireplaces and comfortable furniture. But it wasn’t my home, not yet. I felt a sudden ache for the house I’d left behind, imagining the stairs I’d clattered down so many mornings. I was always running late. Ash was always waiting for me in the car, so she was the one who got to drive. I remembered lunging across the car for the keys as she jangled them above her head. I protested that I was never going to learn if I didn’t get practice too, and Ash had laughed. “What you really need to learn is to be punctual.”
These days, I wished that was the most complicated thing I needed to learn.
The living room was warm and filled with light from the two-story high windows and the glass doors to the deck, which looked out on the sweep of pines. I breathed in the scent of fresh coffee.
God damn it. Jacob was up.
I slipped through the kitchen, glad he wasn’t there, and into the dining room, where the long table was always covered in books and the walls were lined with shelves. Hunters researched as much as they slayed.
That was probably why Jacob was already up, his head propped up on his hand, leaning on one elbow, as he turned the pages of an enormous tome. This room always smelled like old books. I stopped in the doorway. I felt a jolt of the usual nervousness that cool, recreationally-hostile-and-undeniably-handsome Jacob always provoked.
“You going to come in and make yourself useful?” he asked, without looking up at me.
“Yeah.” This was where I had planned to be, anyway; I had come down here to start working.
But my list of topics to research was long: how to communicate without my dead sister overhearing, how to find the Fourth, how to rescue my sister from the misery of purgatory. Jacob, for all his faults, was a good teacher. Even if he annoyed the hell out of me.
I pulled out a chair across from him. “I’m trying to figure out where to get started.”
He finally looked up. Golden eyes, not quite human, met mine evenly. “As much as I’d like help sifting through the hay, I’d suggest you start with The Lilith Verses. Knowing how you came to be here might help going forward.” He half-stood to reach across the table for a book. His sweater clung to his broad shoulders and tapered waist; he was even taller than Levi, more slender than the other brothers, but still powerful.
I expected him to throw the book at me, but he set it in front of me reverently. I remembered the shelves of books in his room. I’m trying to learn how to be human, he had said, and it ha
dn’t sounded like a joke. I’d misread him again. He might hate me, but he loved his books.
I opened the book. It was written in English, but older English, the pages densely packed with finely-printed words. I turned each feathery-thin page from the cover, looking for where the book came from. It was a translation of a much older Hebrew text into English, and the translation itself dated back a century.
Levi had given me the quick-and-dirty version of Lilith and the Four before, and this version also began with Lilith’s death. Human stories began with a birth; supernatural stories always seemed to begin with a death. In the beginning, God had created the Heavens and the Earth, and it was good, but lonely. So he made Samael and Lilith, the first man and the first woman. But they were petty and jealous and quarrelsome, unable to see the beauty of the lush gardens or to enjoy the wild animals that slept in peace under the stars. The gates to Heaven stood open then, and God and the angels walked freely among us. God blessed Samael with the gift of music and blessed Lilith to travel into Heaven, since she would channel God himself with her ability to bear life.
Samael grew jealous and lay down his lute and bashed Lilith’s head in with a stone, and so sin was born into the world. Staring down at the page, I could imagine the animals screaming as predator turned on prey, and the first green leaves withering, and Lilith’s horror as she tasted pain and fear for the first time, choking on her blood. And then the angel, leaning over her, golden eyes aglow, bringing her back to life. I could imagine it all, as strong as a memory.
“Do you want your coffee black?” Jacob asked me abruptly. He stood from the table and picked up his coffee mug.
“Oh. Yes, please.” I was slightly thrown by the fact he hadn’t asked me if I wanted coffee. But then, it was a safe assumption to make. I did always want coffee.
When he was gone, I tried to return to studying the Verses, but the small writing hurt my gritty eyes. I felt sick after imagining that murder so vividly. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. Time to take a break.
I dropped my hands and began to look at the titles on the stacks of books, curious what books the boys thought might hold the answers we needed. A Garden of Beasts. Dark Witchcraft Revealed. Massachusetts Hauntings, 1650-1751. There were books from the fourteenth century and books written a few years before, though even those most recent volumes were obviously bound by hand too. I slid my thumb across rough stitches binding a cover. These secrets were too precious to trust to anyone who wasn’t a Hunter.
There was a stack of journals, all with different colorful covers, stacked up among the piles of printed books. I picked up the first one and flipped it open to a random page. I squinted at the loopy, dashed-off handwriting. It was hard to read, and I slowly puzzled out the letters. I think it just might be time to retire from the business. No one with kids needs to be slaying vampires.
I flipped to the front of the book. Sure enough, the inside cover said Wendy Kerr Alexander in that same impossibly loopy and twisted cursive. The mother of the Four. My Four.
“What are you doing?” Jacob demanded, his voice cross. He stood in the doorway, a steaming mug of coffee in each hand, and he set one at my elbow impatiently. “Priceless texts all around you, try not to be clumsy.”
“I’m not going to spill on the monks’ handiwork,” I promised, since some of these books were hand-lettered. “These books belong in a museum.”
“They belong used. There’s no better purpose for a book than being read.” He held his hand out to me, making a give-it-here-gesture with his long fingers. “Except for my mother’s journals. Those you can stay out of.”
“Why? We’re trying to find her son. You’d think the journals might have a hint or two.”
“Ryker and Levi and I have all read them. We’ve been trying to find the Fourth as long as we’ve been trying to find you.”
“I thought you didn’t want to find me,” I shot back.
“I didn’t, and that was before I even knew what a brat you were, Princess.”
“You’re the brat, Jacob Alexander.”
He rolled his eyes, taking his seat again. “Very mature, Ellis. And my last name isn’t Alexander.”
I had nothing to say in response to that. My cheeks flushed slightly at the misstep. Of course he had a different father than Ryker and Levi. I hoped he didn’t notice that I was embarrassed to have blundered tactlessly into their weird family dynamic, though. I didn’t want to hurt him. I also didn’t want Jacob to think I cared one bit if I hurt him or not.
I took my seat again, pulling the Verses towards me. I could barely focus on the page, though. Those tiny letters required my exact attention, and that was hard to summon with Jacob just across the table from me, leaning on his elbow again as he paged through the book. He always wore that thick leather bracelet on his wrist, sliding down the black tattoos that marked his tan skin, and a chunky white-gold watch that didn’t square with the punk bracelet.
“You’re not going to ask what my last name is?” He didn’t bother to look up from the page.
But his tone was teasing. I didn’t expect teasing from Jacob.
“I’ll just call you Jacob Jerkface in my head.”
The tiniest grin curled up one corner of his lips. Well, that was unexpected.
“I know, I’ll say it for you,” I said. “Really mature, Ellis.”
“I just figured you would want to know. Since you said curiosity revives you.”
His tone was mild. That was really unexpected.
It was interesting that he remembered exactly what I had said a few days before when I was exploring his room. Perhaps every word I spoke annoyed him so much that he couldn’t help committing it to memory. Or perhaps he felt as much of a pull towards me as I felt towards him.
I smacked my palm on the book. “Is there a part of this that tells me exactly how the Lilith-and-the-Four thing works?”
“More or less. In the back, there’s a concordance with all the different Lilith-and-the-Four pairings. I always find it fascinating.” He came around the table, and I felt him lean against the back of my chair as he flipped to the end of the book. This close, I breathed in his scent, which was all black coffee and spice.
“How long have you known about the Four?” It always bothered me that I had no time to adjust to this whole reincarnated-Lilith business, but he had known that he and I would be bound together for years. And yet, he was the one who was so damn irked by the whole thing. I was trying to take my mystical destiny in stride.
He hesitated, as if he didn’t want to answer, and then he said, his voice clipped, “A year.”
“A year? Why didn’t Ryker and Levi tell you earlier?”
“Because I found them a year ago,” he said. He traced his finger across the page; he had big fists, scarred across the knuckles, but his fingers were long and delicate, like he should have been a musician. “There. The concordance makes for interesting reading. The Lilith and the Four, all through time, trying to make sure souls get to the afterlife they deserve in the Far, trying to unfuck things in the world. Trying to kill Hitler and stop the Ripper and end the inquisition. And plenty of times they did turn the course of evil and save the world.”
“Makes us sound like heroes.”
“It’s a lot to live up to, Ellis.” His voice, for once, wasn’t mocking.
I rubbed a hand over my face. “Makes it seem like I shouldn’t just be wrapped up in saving my sister.”
There was a pause between us. Then he said, “I don’t understand why you’re willing to help me get loose.” His voice was low and rough, as if those words had been hard for him to say. He must be afraid I’d back out of my end of our deal. “In case we don’t have the juice to go into the Far without that…bond.”
“You’re right, I’m a terrible sister.” My voice came out acerbic.
“That’s not what I said.”
“No? You’ve told me over and over again how selfish I am. Now here I am, I should be single-minded wor
king to save her. And I’m distracted trying to cut you loose so I don’t have to deal with the awful way you look at me.” All the anger I’d felt at him seethed to the surface, and the minute the words had left my lips, I felt like I could choke on them.
Jacob stared at me, his lips slightly parted, his eyes troubled. He said nothing, nothing to comfort me or to condemn me.
“I don’t want you to be trapped with me,” I said. “You’re not going to just leave, though, are you? You’ll help save my sister?”
“Of course.”
“Then why does it matter to me if you’re in my harem or not?” I met his eyes evenly.
“You don’t feel anything?” he asked. “For me?”
I stared down at the verses. Nope, I wasn’t answering that question. “What’s it like for you guys? I want to understand what we’re dealing with… since we need to understand it to defeat it.”
He shook his head, but a faint amused smirk was written across his lips.
“What?” I asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it any more than you do, Princess.”
I raked my fingers through my hair, pushing back the dark strands that had fallen in my face. “Neither of us chose this, Jacob. But we can un-choose it.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“What’re you going to do with your freedom? Once we break the…” I wasn’t sure what to call it, so I trailed off.
“Curse?” Jacob suggested.
“Is it a curse? Isn’t it from God?”
His eyes flickered to the book in front of me. “Read on. You tried to kill yourself. God wouldn’t let you. Do you think he blessed you when he sentenced you to try life again, reincarnated every generation?”