by Kiersten Fay
The Demon’s Possession
Shadow Quest Book 1
Kiersten Fay
This book is dedicated to Steven for your amazing love and support.
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
Keep Reading
Note from the author
Extended excerpt of THE DEMON SLAVE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Note from the author
Other Books By Kiersten Fay
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Chapter 1
Analia crouched in the shadows of the docking bay—shaking with fear, anticipation—hidden behind a large pile of cargo. Heavy adrenaline coursed through her veins. Damp blond curls tangled around her face, falling toward her ragged excuse for clothing and dirty bare feet. She struggled to steady her breathing, afraid someone would hear her. Her body threatened to collapse under the weight of the ship's artificial gravity, as fatigue began to set in.
The sounds of the ship, like a living thing, enveloped her. Embracing her, both as an old friend and hated foe.
Soon she would be free.
She hoped.
It was the only thing that drove her on.
She’d known a merchant ship would be docking today. Two or three ships were scheduled every few days, in order to maintain a variety of stock. In space, no two merchants offered the same supplies, which meant many ships were often commissioned simultaneously.
She watched with frustration as the blond guard stood sentinel mere feet from her. She mentally retraced her steps, hoping she hadn't left evidence of her spontaneous and unplanned escape.
As usual, she'd been in the middle of a punishment. Locked in a room for two weeks—no food and little water—with another week of the same to look forward to. The punishment had been the result of trying, and failing, again, to refuse Darius' advances.
Captain Darius of the Extarga, a.k.a the Hell Ship, had become full of rage at her continued resistance and ordered her locked away until she could accept her lot…accept him. Something she would never do.
She could never give her heart, body, or soul to someone like Darius. He was heartless and brutal.
As she had crouched on the floor of her cell, a man entered. She'd seen him before. He'd tended to her many times. Each time, she attempted a conversation, with no reciprocation.
She couldn’t fault him, though. Darius strove to keep her isolated on Extarga, hidden away from most of the crew. Those few who had come into her presence—to bring her food or a fresh change of clothes—were ordered not to speak with her, or be disciplined. None had risked themselves for her conversation. Not that she didn't continue to try.
“How is your day?” she would say to whoever had been sent to her room. It was a phrase she'd heard before, through stolen moments from the ship's surveillance. “What is your name?” she would ask, hopeful for a response.
When they ignored her, she would only continue as if the conversation were two sided instead of one, telling them anything that popped into her head: her thoughts of whatever room she was in at the time or how she missed the view of space. She hadn't been allowed to see it in decades.
She drew some satisfaction from the one-sided conversation, if only a little. It always meant something to her when they lingered slightly, as though they were listening.
But in that moment she hadn’t been interested in conversation, eyeing the scraps of food the man had brought for her. Scraps not even fit for an animal, but she'd take it. She was growing thin from hunger.
Though the man hadn't said a word, he had watched her as she ravaged the scraps. The first bite of food she'd eaten in a week and it had not been enough to fill her belly. She'd barely tasted it, which, by the way it had looked, hadn’t been a bad thing.
Wiping her mouth, she had looked up at the man, surprised he was still there. There’d been something in his expression she had never seen before. Was it sorrow? Shame? Did he pity her? Probably. Who wouldn't?
She’d wondered what she must look like, unwashed in her tattered dress. Her feet were bare, her nails were dirty and bitten, and her hair hadn't been properly brushed for some time.
When the man turned to leave the room, he hadn't left as normal: by closing the door tight and double checking the lock. Instead, he opened the door wide and withdrew in a rush. Without even a backward glance, he had allowed the heavy door to fall closed from its own weight.
Analia didn't know what had compelled her to act in that moment, just that she had. Rushing forward, she inserted her fingers in the doorway, just before it shut her in. She stifled a scream when the heavy door came crashing down on her.
Grinding her teeth, she resisted the urge to cradle her hand and waited.
One heartbeat. Two. Three. Her breath was labored. The first rush of adrenaline entered her system, followed by the spark of an idea. Her heart began to race at the possibilities.
What do I do now?
Then she'd remembered that several merchant ships were scheduled to dock. Perhaps…if she were lucky. If she could only make it to the docking bay. If a ship was even there, it was possible she could escape Extarga.
That's a lot of ifs.
She thought of the consequences if she went through with this and failed. A stream of horrific images entered her mind. She would suffer for days, weeks, maybe longer if she was caught. Never had she done anything so bold as to try to escape.
But if she didn't at least try, she knew she would regret it for the rest of her life, no matter the consequences. There may never be an opportunity like this again.
Hope flooded her, made her feel light. The idea of freedom, a better life, possibly being within her reach was a heady thought.
What if I do get free and it's worse out there?
The idea spread through her like a poison. If she did escape, and found herself on a merchant ship…what if the people on board were worse than Darius?
She pushed the thought from her mind. It couldn't be possible. Could it? Dark images swirled in her mind, picking at her resolve.
Or, what if they found out about her gift? Perhaps her unusual pointed ears were a clear sign of what she was, even if she didn’t know.
Maybe under different circumstances she would have embraced her ability, but for so long she’d suffered because of it and only wished it gone. Unfortunately, as far as she knew, that was impossible. It was a part of her, through and through, blood to bone. And it was the reason Darius kept her as isolated as he did. To him, she was but an object. A piece of machinery at his disposal.
It could be that her gift was a normal trait of her people. If so, it was the only connection she had to them. She had no idea what she was or where she came from. No memory of her people. She’d been but a child when Darius had claimed her.
Analia knew what awaited her here on the Hell Ship—a lifetime of suffering until Darius siphoned every last drop of her will in his attempt to break her. Eventually he would succeed
.
When she was sure the hallway was empty, she braved a peek. Then she prayed for the luck of the gods and eased the door shut till she heard the soft click of the lock move into place. Any decision she might have made to turn back disintegrated in that moment.
She glided through the corridors, toward the docking bay. Her bare feet made little noise as she went. She knew this ship better than anyone. She knew it better than Darius himself.
When Darius hooked her up to the ship, Analia had the ability to tap into the ship's heavy surveillance system. It was as though the images from the cameras were displayed directly into her mind, and she could see everything all at once. As far as she could tell, it was the only real benefit of her gift.
Though it wasn’t much of a tradeoff, considering the pain of being hooked up to the ship was nearly blinding. The sensation of her energy being drawn out of her body and into the ship’s power storage system was agony. To take her mind off it, she watched the crew through the cameras, envying their freedom.
It was her only joy, but right now it was her greatest enemy.
Making her way to a small control panel, she went to work infiltrating the system. For once, her ability would benefit her.
As she hooked herself up to the ship, she felt the moment she became part of it, like one colossal machine working in unison.
Analia shook her head and frowned in disgust. She really was a piece of equipment.
Everything in the ship’s database was her playground. Every piece of information, every secret, and every code belonged to her. If Darius ever found out about the extent of her ability, he would surely use her to spy on his crew. There were not many under Darius' command who spoke highly of him in private conversation.
With the ship at her command, she proceeded, first, to clear an easy path to the docking bay by unlocking any door that might be sealed, and checked to see if any crew members would be in her way. After ensuring a straight path, she erased two solid weeks of recorded surveillance. Then she shut it down completely and locked the system, changing the codes before continuing toward the docking bay.
The system was only checked once every few months, and anything recorded was only viewed when there was a discrepancy. No one would think to check it until long after she'd gone. If they wanted in, they were going to have to hack the system in order to gain access. And because she was the system, she knew they would have a hell of a time of it.
Only once, as she carefully traversed the maze of passageways, did she come across trouble—a couple crew members, advancing toward her. She heard them before she saw them. They walked confident and loud, boots thudding on the hard shiny floor, ready to turn the corner that would put her in their line of sight.
Dread engulfed her, almost overtaking her senses. But after her moment of panic, she was able to calm her emotions, and dove for a door to her right.
Inside, the room was small and dark like a closet, but empty and unused. Her body had begun to tremble with worry; her hands were the worst, shaking uncontrollably. Opening, closing, and rubbing them together, she tried to relieve the tremors.
The voices became loud, just outside the door. She froze. Her breathing stopped. Only when the voices and footsteps continued past did her body relax.
She was tired, so tired.
Those couple of weeks without food had greatly weakened her. And she had slept badly on that cold iron floor, sometimes only falling asleep when exhaustion overruled the chill in her bones.
She pushed into the now empty corridor and continued with caution. The hallways remained quiet.
The path she had hacked allowed doors to open at her approach. With each threshold, her anxiety was reborn. Each hallway was like a repetition of the first. There was nothing distinguishing, nothing but grey walls illuminated by dim overhead lights.
With her nerves grated, she had finally made it to the docking bay.
A merchant ship was indeed docked, both ships connected and open to each other. She'd almost cried out with a surge of an unfamiliar mixture of emotions.
Joy. Relief. Anticipation.
That is, until she’d spotted the guard blocking her path. A large, strong looking male, a bored scowl etched in his features. Spiky blond hair framed his face and a black short sleeved shirt revealed his muscular arms and chest. Black pants and a pair of black boots covered his lower half. He leaned against the wall of the ship, wearing an aura of danger. Like he could rip you apart with his bare hands while maintaining that look of boredom.
Luckily, he hadn't seen her. She was already halfway hidden behind large piles of cargo. The stack of boxes towered high enough to hide a body three times her size.
She had to hold her nose to contain a building sneeze as she caught a whiff of spices.
She didn't know how long she remained in her semi-hidden position, but the time dragged. Any minute now, the docking bay would be flooded with workers, sent to gather the goods. She could only wait and hope for an opportunity, the perfect moment when no one was watching so she could hide herself away on the merchant ship. She prayed for a distraction.
The docking bay was a huge room. The ceiling stretched high overhead, and the walls were covered in white. Three floors tiered around the great round chamber. Massive machines used for lifting heavy cargo loomed above her, bolted to the thick retaining walls.
No one was currently manning them.
Usually a slave or two was brought with each delivery, though she didn't see any this time. Darius liked to acquire things, people included. Although most of the crew were free, many were slaves, and of those, mostly women. And though they were treated just as poorly as Analia, they were rarely kept as isolated.
Each crew member, slave or not, had two things in common. First, they were all handpicked by Darius, selected for their great strength, knowledge, or beauty. He demanded only the best at his command. Second, they feared their leader.
When he wasn't punishing Analia for some perceived infraction, he often forced her to watch as someone else suffered. In order, she suspected, to frighten her into submission.
It worked.
She was once forced to witness a group being disciplined. One of the men had been condemned to death. The other three were ordered to take his life or die themselves.
Analia never learned what they did to deserve such a punishment. They were given no weapons to carry out the act. Horror-struck, she watched as they pounded at the condemned man with only hands and feet to save their own lives. If she didn't watch, if she’d closed her eyes, then she would be on the receiving end of her own punishment.
She shook the memory away. This was her first real attempt at escape. She'd thought of it many times before, dreamt of what it would be like to be in possession of her own life. To do what she wanted when she wanted.
Oh, how she craved freedom.
To think, act, and speak with no fear of consequence. No one forcing her to use her ability until her body, drained of almost all its essence, gave out in exhaustion. No man to encroach on her body, when she hadn't the energy to fight him off.
She shook her head.
Focus.
She peeked from behind her hiding spot. The guard was still there, blocking her escape. He hadn't moved from his position since she last chanced a look. She'd never seen the man before, which meant he was a member of the merchant ship and was standing there for the sole purpose of keeping people, such as her, from trespassing.
Her plan had been simple, well…in theory. She planned to sneak onto the merchant ship, hide until it next docked, and then sneak off again, disappearing forever from Darius' reach. Easy, right?
She just needed a little more luck, just a little to get her on that ship, one step closer to freedom. She deserved it, dammit! How much more should she be made to suffer? How much more could she take?
“Calic!” a male voice shouted.
Analia jumped at the sound. She peeked to see the guard's attention diverted to something inside the
other ship.
“What?” the blond guard snapped.
“The last load is stuck!” the other voice yelled. “We can't get it through the doorway! It won't fit!”
“It helps if you're smarter than the door,” the blond guard muttered before yelling back, “We got it in there, didn't we?” He sighed before disappearing inside.
Her heart beat heavily in her chest. She waited a few seconds, expecting him to return quickly. When he didn't, she sucked in a breath and moved forward, hesitant at first, and then she dashed for the opening. She could hear nothing but the rush of blood in her ears and the quick thud of her wild heart.
Closer. Closer.
Her breath caught when she crossed the threshold onto the other ship. No sign of the blond guard.
She took in her new surroundings. The room was significantly smaller than the docking bay at her back, suggesting that the merchant ship as a whole was a fraction the size of Extarga.
There were two doorways, one to her front and one to her right. As voices came from the latter, she sprang for the opening to her front.
Spying ahead first, she moved through the door and into a long hallway. The air was warmer here, and a cushiony tan carpet tickled her feet. She was shocked by the sight of color on the walls, a mocha brown warmed by the touch of soft overhead light.
Ignoring the exhaustion and hunger that loomed over her, she moved quickly, seeing no promise of shelter. She was exposed, and if anyone spotted her now, all would be lost.
After passing through a few empty halls, guided by instinct alone, she spotted an open doorway. Beyond it, a sight she hadn't seen for a very long time.