Letter to Readers
Dear Readers,
If you have purchased this copy of Secrets of the Hollows (The Hollows 1) by Nicole Morgan, she would like to offer you a heartfelt thank you and happy reading wishes that you enjoy the story. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.
I’d like to dedicate Secrets of the Hollows (The Hollows 1) to my readers, and anyone out there who understands the magical ride that our imaginations can take us on. This series, the characters and their back story are unlike any I’ve written before. I fell in love with the struggles these characters face and hope you will to.
Special thanks goes out to Louisa Lo for believing in me, being a trusted friend and colleague during me bringing The Hollows to life.
To paranormal fans, and romance readers alike I have tried my very best to give you a journey that will leave you breathless and on the edge of your seat wishing for more.
And lastly, as always this book, as with my others before it, would not be possible without the continuous support and love of my family.
I love you all!
Happy reading!
Introduction
One of the Great Marquis of Hell, Andras, resided underneath the most powerful of all, Lucifer. His loyalty to the Prince of Darkness and ability to sow discord among all those he encountered, Andras was favored by Lucifer for ages and was given thirty legions under his command by his master.
With the body of a winged angel and the head of a raven, Andras rode upon a strong black wolf and wielded a sharp, bright and powerful sword. As one of the seventy-two spirits of Solomon, Andras was considered to be highly dangerous and those who knew him in the underworld approached with caution. Of all his powers, his most diabolical is that of being able to stir up trouble and dissension where there is none, and in many cases convincing his subjects to kill on his behalf.
Lucifer once said about Andras, "His power is great, and should be feared."
Prologue
Sometime long ago, deep within the bowels of hell, a demon set the course for generations to come. This is their story…
Marquis Andras stared down at the Duke of Flauros from where he stood. How dare he question Andras authority? He was the Grand Marquis of Hell. Appointed by Lucifer himself to ensure to the hierarchy of hell, and the demons that live among them in the cavernous wasteland deep beneath the molten earth's crust, he held the higher power.
Flauros slowly picked himself up and off of the floor, moving slowly as he glared at Andras. “What is happening to you?”
“Another question?” Andras shook his head in disbelief of Flauros continuous insubordination. “Tell me, my friend. What did I do to you, mere minutes ago when you dared to question my authority?”
“Andras this is insanity. You can’t do this. You shouldn’t do this.”
Growing tired of Flauros continual challenge of his plan, Andras did what every powerful demon would in his position. He decided to remind Flauros exactly who he was and where his place lies within the ranks among hell.
Andras furrowed his brows and drew his eyes in and on his prey. The fiery reds of his eyes lit up like the spark of a flame as he darted his power out into Flauros direction.
“Andras, please. No!” Flauros pleaded with his master.
Ignoring the man’s cries of desperation and weakness, he lifted his hand and flexed his fingers in the air, wrapping them around the throat of his victim without even touching his skin.
The sound of choking and gasping echoed off of the rock walls which surrounded them. Flauros eyes bulged from his face as he began to turn purple. Andras loved this part, that single moment when his martyr was about to take his last breath.
He could kill him with little more effort than that of squashing a fly, and doing so would give Andras much pleasure. But damn it if he didn't need the ungrateful bastard for his plan. He needed allies more than he needed dead demons lying amidst the floor of hell.
Begrudgingly, Andras dropped his hand, loosening his hold on Flauros windpipe. Flauros fell to the ground with a thud as he held his throat and gasped for air.
“An…dra…s…. why?”
“Do not ever challenge me again, my pawn. You are nothing. Do you understand that? Nothing. I could kill you with little force and effort. Don’t test me again. Next time I will not be so forgiving.”
Flauros pushed himself up and stepped back away from Andras. “Yes, Andras.” He replied obediently, but in a shaky and raspy voice.
With a wave of the hand, Andras shooed him away. "Now go. You've angered me enough for one day."
Nodding, Flauros agreed and quickly exited the room.
Andras sat down in his stone throne, tapping his fingers against the pitted engravings that adorned each arm of his regal seat. A smirk of pure evil formed on his face as he had just completed step one of the plans he'd set into motion. His meeting with Duke Flauros might have gone as well as Flauros might have thought, but to Andras it had played out exactly as he'd meant it to, and he was quite pleased with the results.
His plan was in motion. Soon he would have the power over it all. Every inch of the darkness they called home, the place they knew as hell, would be his and his alone to rule. He'd be more commanding than any demon before him, especially their current prince of darkness.
His trusted wolf, Noctis lie by his feet, curled up but ready to act at a moment’s notice.
"It won't be long," Andras spoke only to himself in his cavernous lair.
“Won’t be long for what Andras?”
The maniacal and evil voice that roused him from his thoughts needed no introduction. Andras spun his head around and found his real leader standing over him with a look of ire.
“Lucifer. My Prince, what are you doing here?"
With his fingers drawn up together, Lucifer tapped his long nails against one another and glared at Andras with a side eye of disapproval.
“I think it is I who should be asking you that. Don’t you?”
Andras began to stand when he felt the sheer force of Lucifer’s strength.
With nothing more than the lift of his hand, Lucifer pushed Andras back in his seat without even touching him.
“Sit! I will tell you when you can stand.”
“Lucifer what is troubling you?”
A genuinely demonic laugh filled the stone walled room as Lucifer laughed at his question. "Do you think I am a fool, Andras?"
“No Lucifer.”
“No? Then tell me, why is it that you treat me as such?”
“Lucifer I –.”
“Silence!”
Andras did his best to hide the fear he felt building up inside. He may be the Grand Marquis of Hell, but Lucifer was their master and far more powerful than even he.
"I've heard some rumors going around. It would seem that my ever loyal appointed Marquis has been trying to recruit other demons for his plans to overthrow his leader. Would you care to comment on these rumors, Andras?"
Just as he was about to respond Lucifer squeezed his hand in the air, effectively crushing Andras' larynx preventing him from not only talking but breathing as well.
“Enough! I do not want to hear your words. Your pathetic voice disgusts me. Nothing you say interests me. There is no excuse for your betrayal. You’ve not only betrayed me, but you’ve betrayed the brotherhood we’ve built down here in the inferno.”
“Please.” Andras fought through the crush on his throat.
Lucifer dropped his hand, releasing Andras from his death grip. “You were one of my strongest and most trusted demons. And it is because of that why I must do what I am about to do.”
“What? Lucifer, please…”
Lucifer walked over to where Andras sat. Holding up his nails, he wiggled them in the air and swiftly swiped across Andras' face, drawing blood instantly.
“I am not going to kill you.”
“My powers?”
“Oh, no. I won’t strip you of those either.”
> Andras had never known such fear. The past weeks he’d spent greedy and hungry for the power that Lucifer had seemed like a distant memory now as he sat within inches of his maker, taking in his piercing stare.
“Then what?” he shook his head in confusion. “What are you going to do to me?”
Lucifer cocked a brow and smirked. “I shall let you keep your powers, but I shall give you some more.”
“More?” Andras feared for what Lucifer had planned. It was clear that whatever it was wouldn’t be good.
“Yes. I shall give you the one thing that I never gave to all of you. Compassion. Empathy. Love.”
“What?” Andras stood up, trying to put as much distance between himself and his master as possible. “That would make me almost human.”
“Exactly. You will live your life daily with the constant conflict of free will."
“But… That would make me almost human.”
“Ahh… not quite. But it is a good thing you’ll be living amongst them.”
“You’re banishing me? No! Lucifer, please I beg you. Please don’t do this!” Andras pleaded with him.
The more he begged, the more Lucifer laughed at him. "You, my servant, my demon, are asking me for a favor after you spent weeks attempting to overthrow me from the place that is mine. A place that belongs to me and me alone?”
“Lucifer, I was wrong. It is because of my evil that I behaved in such a way. Give me another chance. Let me prove to you that I can be loyal. Please don’t banish me.”
“Hmm.” Lucifer walked around, pacing Andras lair and whistling.
“Lucifer, please.”
Lucifer spun around. “Very well. I’ve considered your pleas.”
“And you’ll give me another chance?”
He stepped forward and physically placed his hand around Andras' neck. "Do you think me a fool, Andras? I do not give other chances. I am the prince of darkness. Evil exists because I allow it to. Everything that you are, all the evil inside of you, is only possible because of me. How dare you think you can overthrow me and get away with it? I'm sending you where you belong."
Lucifer pushed him away where he landed in the grips of two of Lucifer’s highest guards. “Take him away.”
“Lucifer, no!” Andras screamed.
"May your time with the humans be filled with dissension, pain, heartache, sorrow and the unrelenting emptiness of feeling hollow inside.”
“Luciferrrrrr!” Andras' voice trailed off as he felt himself being sucked into a vortex until he felt nothing.
Surrounded by blackness, Andras clenched at his chest and grabbed at his stomach. He had sealed his fate from his greed. All he could feel now was… hollow.
Chapter One
Xavier Currington pounded his fists against the leather. One right after the other as sweat dripped from his body onto the dusty concrete floor beneath him. The chain which was suspending the bag from the ceiling rattled against the onslaught of violence he had been bringing upon it for the past half an hour.
The hard rock tunes from AC/DC played in the background. His body tried to keep in rhythm with the beat as he took his aggression out on the inanimate object before him, bloodying his knuckles with every blow.
Everything that they were was somehow not as important anymore. It seemed he could no longer separate himself from their mission and his fury. Like a bull in a ring, he would only see red and charge the offender that appeared to him as if they wore some sort of a target.
Earlier that night after going out on another one of their nightly hunts, he'd quickly separated himself from the others and made a beeline back to his loft. He didn't know what had come over him so instantly in that alley, but if Lars hadn't stopped him, he knew there was little chance he would've done so on his own.
It had been the fifth night in a row that he’d gotten back from the streets with an unnerving itch that he just couldn’t seem to scratch.
It was a sickening feeling, one of feeling helpless and alone. It clawed at him, gnawing away at his confidence in his abilities. And being vulnerable was not who he was. He may be many things, but weak had never been one of them.
He'd be thirty in one week, and if there was any truth to the rumors handed down from his ancestors, he knew there was a good chance he could be changing. Not necessarily for the better either.
It was why he’d kept himself a loner for so long, why he led their kind and worried little about involvement with anyone else. He knew they all thought he was hardened, much more than he needed to be. But, he would be damned if he’d allow himself to be the victim to his legacy. He’d rather be alone than allow himself to be turned into the type of evil that Andras was.
He heard a door open behind him and he quickly ordered whoever it was to leave. “Get out!”
“We need to talk.”
Dante, damn if his voice wasn't the very last thing Xavier wanted to hear at that moment. He knew what was coming and he had little patience for his younger sibling's irresponsible carefree ways.
“I said…get…out!” Xavier exclaimed each word louder than the last as he continued to beat his fists hard against the leather bag.
The door slammed causing Xavier to swing around in anger. “I told you to leave me the hell alone. Trust me when I tell you, you don’t want any part of this right now.”
“Why because you’re so angry?” Dante asked with a challenging glare in his eyes.
“Don’t push me, Dante. I mean it. Not now. Go home.”
“Nah. I don’t think so. I think I’ll stay right here.”
“You always were a pain in the ass. Now leave. Or you’ll –.”
“I’ll what? Be sorry?” Dante shrugged. “Whatever, bro. Do your worst. But, I ain’t leaving.”
Complete frustration fueled his already hot temper. “What the hell do you want, Dante?”
“I told you. We need to talk.”
“And I told you that I don’t want to talk. Now get out!” Xavier began pounding against the bag so fiercely that the beam from which it hung shook the rafters above.
“Why? Because you don’t want to talk? Or is more because you cannot control your anger any longer?”
Xavier took three long strides, instantly closing the distance between them and shoved a pointed finger in Dante’s face. “Do not test me. I swear to you, do not! I am still the one in charge around here.”
“Yeah. You are. At least for now anyway.”
Xavier didn’t care for the challenge he saw reflecting back at him in Dante’s stare. It infuriated him to no end that the young kid dared to question his leadership.
“For always, Dante. And don’t you forget that.”
Dante stepped away from Xavier and grabbed an apple from a bowl sitting on a nearby table. He blew on it and brushed the outer skin on his shirt, all the while returning Xavier’s glare.
“Hungry?”
With a shrug, Dante sat down in the old rickety lawn chair which doubled as living room furniture and propped his feet up on an old crate.
Before taking a bite of the apple, he asked, “What’s happening to you?”
“I said to get out.”
“Yeah. I heard you. But I’m still here. And I’d think by now you know that I am too stubborn to do what I’m told. By you, or anyone. So again, I ask. What’s happening to you?”
“Damn it, Dante.” Xavier shook his head, reminding himself that hitting his brother was not what their mother would have wanted. “I don’t have the time or the desire to have this discussion with you. So please, just leave me alone okay?”
“Nope. I think I’ll stay right here until you decide to talk to me.”
Xavier’s blood began to course through his veins as his heart rate crept higher with each passing second. He bit down hard, grinding his teeth together in an effort to hold back some of the anger he knew was about to blow through his exterior.
With a swift kick of his feet, Xavier knocked the crate out from underneath Dante’s relaxed posit
ion and pierced him with a menacing stare.
Slowly Dante allowed his feet to rest down on the concrete floor. “Look, man. You can keep telling me to get out. You can even keep isolating yourself and pretending like nothing is happening, but that’s not going to make the obvious any less true.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Xavier snapped.
Dante let out a sigh and tossed the apple across the room, barely making it into the large barrel trash can. He stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles while lacing his fingers together behind his head.
“So that’s how it’s going to be? You’re just going to play dumb and pretend nothing’s going on with you?”
“For the five hundredth damn time, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but I seriously wish you’d spit it out and be done with it so I can be left alone.”
“Unfucking believable. So what? If you ignore it, it’ll just… what? Go away? Cease to exist? I mean what the hell is your game plan. How do you see this playing out?”
Xavier worked his jaw, grinding his teeth together to keep from losing control. “There is nothing to talk about. Nothing is going on! Nothing is happening to me!”
“I see.” Dante offered a sarcastic nod. “And you’re sure about this?”
Xavier didn’t say a word. He just stared his brother down.
“Oh come on, X. This is me you’re talking to. I know our history just as well as you do.”
"There is nothing happening to me, and our history has nothing to do with this!" he shouted his reply, his anger building.
“Really? Is that so?”
“Yep.”
“I disagree. I think it’s got everything to do with what’s happening to you. Because the way I see it, you’re becoming more and more volatile with each passing day. Every time we go out you become more unpredictable. You used to be the voice of reason. Now you’re almost chaotic.”
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