Lost Girl: Hidden Book One

by Vanderlinden, Colleen

  I glanced at Brennan, Ada, and Stone, nodded to the group around the two demons. We could remove that threat while Nain had his playtime with Astaroth. They nodded, and we ran, together, into yet another group of nutjobs who wanted to kill us.

  Just another day at the office.

  As we got closer, I could hear Nain and Astaroth snarling at each other, taunting each other. They were both in pain. I considered ending it right then.

  Not yet, Molls. Give me more time, Nain said in my mind. I was both irritated and pleased that he knew me so well. I watched as he pummeled Astaroth. He seemed to be enjoying it. His rage flooded me, fed me.

  Astaroth backed away from Nain, and his eyes landed on me. He smiled. “What are you going to do, little demoness? This is not a fight you can win.”

  Nain punched him in the face, hard, and that was the end of Astaroth’s taunts for me. I destroyed a few more of his demons in response. I surveyed his remaining crew: demons, a few more supers with powers I could take. And witches, who he must have been keeping in reserve for something exactly like this. Shit.

  Astaroth laughed. “Just die quietly, demon bitch.”

  “I don’t do that type of thing. Only one of us is dying today,” I said, making sure that I kept Nain in sight. This was coming to an end, very soon.

  I felt confusion from Astaroth. “Doesn’t she know–”

  And Nain punched him in the face again, ending whatever he was going to say. At that moment, I felt something beautiful from Astaroth: fear.

  I lost track of how long we fought. I threw fire only to have it turned to flame moths by the witches. Stone bashed into the witches, but never quickly enough to save my fire. Nain rampaged against Astaroth, fighting his old friend and worst enemy in a dizzying barrage of hits, kicks, avoiding Astaroth’s attacks as best he could. But he was cut, and weakening. Brennan ran through the crowd of witches and warlocks, gnawing out throats, snapping at tendons. He bled. Ada tried to shield us from the attacks, both magical and physical, coming at us while trying to keep herself alive.

  The crew was weakening.

  I was the only one gaining strength, just as Nain had planned it. The pain around me, the fear, the amount of power I had consumed filled me. I gritted my teeth against it. I felt like I was about to split. And I knew that Nain knew it, too.

  I can’t hold anymore. I’m about to lose it, I thought desperately at him.

  He looked across the factory at me, our eyes meeting for just a moment through the chaos of battle.

  I felt determination, anger from him. Resignation. It’s time.

  I turned toward Astaroth. Watched him swing an axe toward Nain. Nain just smiled at him, a feral, terrifying smile. Victorious.

  He winked at me, then he looked at Astaroth again. “Check mate, motherfucker.”

  Now, Molly.

  And I raged. I unleashed everything I had on him. Fire, energy, mental knives, fear. I threw it all at Astaroth and heard him scream.

  And then I felt Nain’s anguish flood through me. Pain, terror, loss.

  I love you Molly. I’m sorry.

  Agony. Burning, searing, ripping pain.

  And then I felt him drift away.

  I halted my attack on Astaroth, ran to where I’d last seen Nain, just moments before.

  All that was left of him, and of Astaroth a few feet away, was ash, still smouldering.

  Nothing.

  Gone.

  I stared at it for a few panicked seconds in disbelief. I bit down hard on my lip, trying to control myself, hold it together. I failed. I screamed into the emptiness of the factory, my anguish reverberating off of the walls, steel girders above. The building shook around me, chunks of concrete falling from the deteriorated ceiling. I felt part of my soul hemorrhaging — such a physical thing I swore I’d be able to see it if I could just open my eyes.

  Emptiness.

  My scream lasted for what felt like an eternity, ending only when I’d shredded my vocal chords beyond use. I buried my hands in the pile of ash that had been the man I loved, squeezed it in my hands as if wishing hard enough would bring him back to me. As if I could feel close to him one last time.

  Nothing.

  When I opened my eyes, I saw the team staring at me, at what was left of Nain, in horror and sadness. Their ears were bleeding.

  “Honey,” Ada said, tears streaming down her face. “I saw it, Molly. You didn’t do it. When you hit Astaroth, whatever was happening to him happened to Nain. You didn’t do that. Astaroth did,” she said desperately. “You didn’t do it.” She started crying, gasping.

  “I saw it too,” Stone said through a voice choked with emotion. “Oh, Christ.” And then he broke down. Brennan, still in wolf form, howled mournfully into the emptiness.

  The Guardians soared into the building, freed Nain and Astaroth from the mortal realm. Eunomia stayed after her sisters left, watching me.

  I felt my rage growing. Pure rage, something wild, fatal in its intent. Astaroth’s minions were running out of the warehouse.

  They did not make it out alive.

  It only took an instant. No effort at all. Instinct. Bodies burned around me.

  “Molly!” Ada called. I turned to her, caught a reflection of myself in the remains of a broken window behind her. My eyes glowed white. A snarl on my lips, and fire flowing over my body, part of me and ready to do my bidding. I turned away.

  “Molly, no!”

  I looked down at my hands. The hematite ring he’d placed on my finger, the one that signified our unending devotion to each other, was cool against my skin. His ashes stained my palms.

  My heart was gone.

  Vengeance would be mine. I walked out into the night, my imps and Eunomia following me.

  I turned to her. “You will not interfere.”

  She shook her head. “I will not. The Nether will be a busy place this night.”

  I nodded, stalked out into the night powered by nothing but rage and loss. It was all I had left.

  Epilogue: Lost Girl

  “We’re receiving reports of a massive fire in the Morningside neighborhood of Detroit, where investigators say they’ve uncovered several bodies of what look at this point to be wild animals…” (Fox 2 News, Detroit)

  “Molly. You should eat something, baby girl.”

  “I can’t even describe the scene here in East English Village. This house, which neighbors claim was a quiet place, now something out of a nightmare. Police this morning found the bodies of several women, at least a dozen according to latest reports, of various ages. An unidentified Detroit Police Department official tells us that there were several satanic ritual items in the home, and police are considering this the scene of a mass suicide, possibly a cult ceremony….” (Channel 7 Action News, Detroit)

  “Mistress must feed. Wifey and I find demon for you. Gotta get strong.”

  “It’s really impossible to say what happened here last night. There are fifty-three men in the apartment building behind me. All dead, and, from what investigators are telling us, there is no visible sign of death. One theory is that a gas leak is to blame….” (Channel 4 News, Detroit)

  “Molly. Come on kid. You’re needed. He wouldn’t have wanted this for you.”

  “I’m telling you: there’s something freaky going on around here. Those fires? Heard some guy saying he swore he saw The Angel leaving the area, she hasn’t been seen since. Where’s she been?” (Caller, WDET’s “The Craig Fahle Show”)

  “Molly, we were thinking of having a memorial service. There are so many who want to pay their respects…is that okay? Father Balester thinks it might be good for you.”

  “You know what I think? There’s more out there than we realize. I think all sorts of beings walk among us, and maybe we’re just getting our first glimpse of what they can do.”

  “All right. Thank you. Very interesting viewpoints from downtown Detroit. Back to Bob and Kelly in the studio.”

  “Well, Bob? What do you say? Ar
e we surrounded by supernaturals?”

  “Sure. Just today, I saw a witch on Woodward! *laughter*” (WWJ Radio, Detroit)

  “I remember when they stopped fighting, all of a sudden, you know? Nain asked me if I could lift the enchantment from him, but I wasn’t able to. I didn’t know what it did. All I knew was that it seemed to end their constant battles. I wasn’t strong enough. I should have tried harder, done more. Damn him.”

  “Police chief Jones says today that he will be looking into the possibility of supernatural activity in the city of Detroit.”

  “Something’s not right here. I’m going to find out what it is. I swear it to the people of this city. I will find out.” (Fox 2 News, Detroit)

  “I know you want to follow him. We need you, Molly. We can’t lose you too.”

  Dear Molly,

  If you’re reading this, then that means that I’m not with you anymore. I want to destroy, just thinking about this, knowing it’s coming and that I’m going to hurt you in the worst way possible.

  I warned you that you would hate me for the things I’d ask you to do. I am fine with you hating me. You’re alive, and that’s all that has ever mattered to me. I tried to think of a way out of this. There is none. Astaroth does not give up. I’ve seen him when he has a grudge. You never would have been safe. That is not acceptable to me. He had to die so you could live, and, as you’ve now undoubtedly figured out, if he dies, so do I. Fucking demon and his fucking enchantments.

  I hate this.

  We never had a chance to do so many things. Time wasn’t on our side. Why couldn’t I have found you a few hundred years ago?

  I love you. I am shit at showing it sometimes. I wish I’d spent more time being the man you deserved.

  So many times, I told myself to stay away from you. Once it was clear that it was Astaroth we were dealing with, I knew this was the way it would have to end. And I knew it would destroy you when it did. I wasn’t strong enough to stay away from you, to leave you alone so this would hurt you less when it happened.

  I’ve never wanted anything, anyone, as much as I want you. I never knew that I could need someone the way I need you. It would have been so much better for you if I had kept my distance.

  I always have been a selfish bastard.

  Do not blame yourself. I know you. You’re blaming yourself for this, and you’re the only one who doesn’t deserve any blame. Blame Astaroth. Blame me for making you do something I never would have been strong enough to live with if the situations were reversed. Blame the witch who put the enchantment on us. Blame any of us. Not you.

  You are amazing. You are sunlight streaming through the clouds, warmth on the coldest night. There is nothing like being wrapped in your arms, or those moments when your eyes meet mine and I forget to breathe because I’m lost. The curve of your lower lip when you smile, the contented way you sigh when I kiss you. It doesn’t even matter that demons have no chance at “heaven” or whatever the afterlife is called. I’ve already had mine, because of you.

  I love you so much, Molly.

  Always,

  Bael

  “It is not your time yet, demon girl. I am sorry.”

  “Be with me always – take any form – drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul!” (Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights)

  END OF BOOK ONE

  Continue reading for a sneak peek at

  Book Two in the Hidden series: Broken

  Broken: Chapter One

  My name is Molly Brooks.

  Vigilante.

  Demon.

  Mindflayer.

  I killed the man I love. Ended the lives of every enemy he’d had, in one fiery, bloody night.

  It did not bring him back to me.

  My friends, the team of supernaturals who followed the demon they knew as the Nain Rouge, tiptoe around me. They want me to eat. They want me to tell them what to do, where to go, the way my love used to. They want me to feed.

  I will never feed from another.

  I will keep this city safe, in his honor.

  I will die trying.

  I can only hope that it happens sooner, rather than later.

  My wrath is absolute, my lust for death, pain, fear, unending.

  I have lost myself.

  I have been lied to, used, left behind, by the being I loved most in this world.

  And this thing I have become…this is exactly what Nain always knew I would be.

  Damn him for making me do this without him.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Six months, exactly, since the day I lost Nain. The day I destroyed him. The day I realized how far he would go to get what he wanted. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hate him. I’d also be lying if I said I didn’t love him, didn’t miss him so much it hurt.

  I’d spent the first two months like a zombie. I stayed in his room, surrounded by his scent. I didn’t speak. I didn’t eat. I didn’t feed.

  And, yet, here I am.

  Death would not come for me, the way I hoped it would. So I did the one thing that would make me feel better: I hunted. My imps found demons, warlocks, vampires for me, and I destroyed them. Each kill momentarily made me feel better.

  But they didn’t ease the pain I felt when I laid in bed at night, alone.

  The gaping wound in my soul, the one left when our marriage bond had been severed at his death…well. It never stops hurting. It is eternal pain. This is the cost of the marriage bond between demons.

  I am living a half-life.

  That night, I fed, took powers by force. I truly became a mindflayer, a nightmare among nightmares. Power flows through my body, and I can kill in dozens of ways with little more than a thought. But it wasn’t just my mind, my powers, that changed under the stress of losing Nain.

  I changed.

  I am afraid of myself. I will not use my powers anymore. The temptation to do more of what I did that night is overwhelming.

  But I still hunt. I go back to the way I used to do things: blades and fists. The only difference now is that I have no qualms about killing my prey. I destroy those who would cause harm to the people of his city.

  Tonight, six months after Nain’s death, I hunt werewolves. I revel in their pain and fear, and their deaths fill me, for a time. Their blood stains the ground around me, bodies litter the street. The Guardians arrive and claim their souls, even before I’ve left the scene.

  And then I go home, and I am alone, hungry, and afraid again.

  Sleep is not the friend it once was.

  It won’t come easily. And when it does, I am not granted the deep, dreamless sleep of the peaceful.

  There are the nightmares. Nain dying, over and over again in slow motion as I realize what I’ve done. Brennan rips my limbs from my body. My friends stare, mutter “murderer” over and over again.

  But I’ll take these nightmares over the sweet dreams.

  The dreams in which I am wrapped in his arms, my legs tangled with his, and it feels so real I swear I can smell him. And then I wake up. For just a moment, I am happy. And then reality sets in, and I’ve lost him all over again.

  I finished hunting werewolves, and retreated to the roof of the loft. Ready to spend quality time with my punching bag. Another thing that always made me feel better.

  I don’t know how many hours I spent whaling away at the punching bag Stone installed for me after Nain’s death. When I wasn’t beating up on bad guys, this was my place.

  My knuckles bled, healed, cracked, and bled again. My arms were tired, but not tired enough to make me stop. Constant motion, hitting, was the only thing keeping me sane. I stopped punching, looked up at the sky. It was probably a little after three A.M. I’d been at it since I got home from taking out the werewolves a little after midnight.

  I punched the bag again. Harder. I would not cry.

  Before Nain, I’d been so good at avoiding feeli
ng things. I had managed to keep emotions, mine and others, in their own compartment. I recognized them, but they didn’t affect me.

  He changed everything.

  I stopped punching for a minute, rested my forehead against the punching bag. The air around me was frigid. It didn’t matter. My breath formed clouds in the dark night.

  I tried to remember to breathe. I wished I could stop. Stop breathing, stop feeling, stop living. Just, stop.

  I felt Brennan’s presence nearby. Shook my head, tried to pull myself together, and started punching again. Sure enough, within seconds, the roof door was opening, and he strolled out, dressed, as usual, in jeans and a flannel shirt. I glanced at him, continued whaling on the bag.

  “Are you going to sleep at some point tonight, or spend all night up here, hitting things?” he asked, leaning against the wall.

  “Am I keeping you up, Bren?” I asked, well aware of the snarl in my voice.

  He shook his head, watched me for a while in silence. I kept punching, hoping he’d go away.

  “You’ve been up here every night for weeks. You’re busy the rest of the time with meetings and keeping this place running and fighting big bads. Everyone has to sleep sometimes.”

  “I sleep when I need to.” This, along with everything else in my life, had changed with Nain’s death and its aftermath. Meeting Nain had helped me tap into my powers, and losing and avenging him had taken them a step further. Or, a few hundred steps further.

  I barely felt human at all any more.

  “You’re going to eventually lose your temper and incinerate that one,” he said, gesturing at the bag I was hitting. “And then Stone will put another one up for you, and he’ll be happy because it gives him something to do for a while and he can feel useful again.”