Born to Raise Hell: The Owl Shifter Chronicles Book Three

by Qatarina Wanders

  Mrs. Russo stepped forward. “You can’t go there.”

  Marion was in no mood to be stopped by a cranky middle-aged woman. “Why do you suddenly care?” Something was off about this—she no longer looked timid and scared as she did moments earlier.

  “Because regardless of what you do, she will still die . . .” The woman’s whole face changed—morphing into a disturbingly sinister expression. “The Adoption is complete. That was the last piece.”

  It wasn’t her tone that alarmed Marion. Even though that was terrifying enough. It was what she said. How would Mrs. Russo have that information?

  Marion reacted as fast any rove in his situation could have. But he was not fast enough. The fire he conjured from his hands, encircled with raging electricity, blasted toward the woman.

  The ‘woman,’ who was now metamorphosing into a man, spun around with a burst of wind and swatted the blast away. The entity landed a few yards away, his morphing still in progress.

  Marion took a few steps back, his magic alive and raging. His heart pounded in his chest, as though it were about to burst right out. He swallowed hard.

  Thick black smoke covered the creature as it finalized its metamorphosis.

  Marion had heard of this magical ability. It was different from shifting. While shifting only allowed you to change shape from human to some creature—and always the same one—this ability was a learned skill. It allowed you take the form and voice of another person. And it didn’t require an actual visceral change of bone structure or skin color. It was magic.

  He knew of the concept. But he had never known anyone powerful enough to perform the spell. Except one.

  The black smoke cleared. Standing before him was a man robed in crimson red.

  “Astaroth,” Marion muttered.

  “The one and only.” The man bowed his head as if being polite.

  At that moment, Marion could have conjured a knife and slit his throat. It would have made little difference. Just seeing the demon rove alone meant he would die a horrible death.

  Marion’s mind went blank. The presence of evil the demon rove standing before him exuded was so strong he couldn’t open his mouth to speak. Marion tried to look in the direction of the battle.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that,” said the demon rove. “It’s supposed to happen. I’ve seen it. Just like I’ve seen both their deaths.”

  Shock exploded in Marion’s mind.

  Astaroth must have sensed it because he said, “Yes. Even right now, Michael lies unconscious in my chamber, brought to me by his sister’s father.”

  Emily’s father? Marion thought. John?

  “And very soon, I shall have the fire demon as well,” said the demon rove. “Brought to me by your father.”

  Just then, an ear-splitting sound rocked the town. It threw Marion to the ground, deafening him and sending him into a wavering state of unconsciousness. Fear and understanding filled his mind as he recognized what had happened. It was his father’s signature move. A spell he used in times of extreme peril, when extreme action was needed.

  It was a spell that disabled every living creature for a one-mile radius and disoriented those within ten miles in all directions. It was blast that was sure to disable the fire demon, who was unprepared for it.

  And sure enough, seconds after the blast, a profound silence fell upon the town. The roaring sound of the pillars of fire was gone. The sound of gunfire was gone. New Haven had become as silent as a graveyard.

  All Marion could hear was the sound of his strained breathing as he fought the dark spots blossoming in his vision.

  The demon rove came to stand over him. He shook his head in pity. When he spoke, he sounded like he was speaking down a hollow well.

  “I had high hopes for you,” the demon rove muttered, shaking his head. Then he snapped his fingers and a spasm of pain descended on Marion.

  Marion cried out for only three seconds before losing consciousness.

  Marion never thought he’d ever open his eyes again. Not after he’d seen the demon king. Not after their conversation. So when he opened his eyes, he was first confused.

  He was sprawled on the ground in the center of the town. The fountain in the middle of the town center had been removed. A large altar-like slab had replaced it. On the slab was the motionless body of Michael. There was space for one more.

  Marion was slightly relieved not to see Emily lying there. Until he saw John Davies standing at attention on the side. Around him was an army of supernaturals, all standing erect and staring straight ahead. Beyond them was a wall of fire that encircled the town center.

  “Mr. Davies?” Marion moaned, confused.

  “There’s no need for that, Marion,” came the voice of the demon rove.

  Marion craned his neck to see Astaroth standing to his right, waiting. Marion tried to sit up, but it was no use. He was bound to the ground by invisible chains. He tried to access his magic to break the bonds, but he had no magic. It was gone. And this time, it seemed to be permanent because there were no markings on the ground like the last time.

  “He’s under my control,” said the demon rove.

  Marion was about to speak when the demon rove laughed out loud. Marion paused.

  “It’s almost ironic that the same tool the vigilantes used to smite people like us is the tool we’ll use to smite them back.” Astaroth turned down to Marion. “Won’t you ask why I’ll do the sacrifice here and not my lair?”

  “Why?” Marion indulged the creature of darkness.

  “Simple,” the demon rove said. “The blood of all supernaturals that have died here has seeped into the ground. They, even right now, cry for vengeance. There’s a lot of power in this location. What better place to open the gates of hell than here?”

  Marion didn’t reply.

  “Nadarog Maragog,” said the demon rove. “Literally translated from the tongue of hell means ‘Reaper of reapers.’ It’s a call for the beast whose name is Leviathan to arise and reap a billion souls to break the barrier shielding this realm from the realm of damnation. Pure souls—those of angelic descent—can’t even bear to hear the sound of the name.”

  As Marion heard all this for the first time, he was terrified beyond measure. A billion souls obliterated? It was beyond overwhelming.

  There was a flare of magic somewhere beyond the wall. Marion stiffened as he recognized his father’s magic. This gave him hope that he still had his magic even though he couldn’t access it. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to feel the flare from his father.

  The demon rove felt it, too. He turned slightly to the right where the wall of fire parted and Gregory Alfred came in, carrying a body in his arms. The man was covered in ash and blood. His face twisted in pain.

  “Aha . . . ,” Astaroth voiced, a smile curling up his lips.

  Marion watched with gut-wrenching horror as his father laid Emily’s motionless body on the slab. Gregory came to stand before them, only sparing Marion a brief, emotionless look.

  Gregory fell on one knee and said, “But I have brought you your prize. I am your humble servant. Do to me as you please.” And then he bowed his head.

  Astaroth glanced down at Marion and winked. Just then, something glinted in the demon rove’s hand.

  “Father!” Marion screamed as he caught a glimpse of the serrated knife.

  Before he could respond, the demon rove jabbed the knife into Gregory’s chest and yanked out what looked like a lung. He jabbed again and pulled out the other lung. He jabbed again and pulled out the heart. Then he kicked the lifeless body to the ground. Dead. Very, very dead.

  Marion stared, horrified. He looked at the organs still pumping blood on the sandy ground. He looked at his father’s lifeless body, blood now pooling around him.

  Animal-like rage flashed through Marion’s mind. Stifling the urge to vomit, he focused on the demon rove.

  And Astaroth was ready. He simply shrugged, cleaning the knife with a kerchief he’d conj
ured.

  “At least it was painless,” the demon rove muttered. “His sacrifice was the last sacrifice I needed. The blood of a willing servant spilled into the ground of this town. He gave me permission just now.”

  “I’ll kill you!” Marion screamed.

  The demon only laughed, shook his head, and walked to the altar. He pulled out an ornate, glowing red knife from his robe and began speaking incantations.

  Marion screamed and thrashed all in a bid to break from the demon rove’s magic. But no matter how hard he tried, the magic that held him bound was too powerful.

  Astaroth continued chanting. It was the tongue of the damned, the language of hell. Marion understood nothing of what was said. He only felt the tremor of the ground and the rising temperature.

  The demon rove’s incantation only increased in intensity and pitch. As he spoke, the knife glowed brighter and seemed to grow longer. The ground tremoring became a full-blown earthquake. All around, in the distance, Marion saw houses sink.

  The knife took on the shape of a full-blown broadsword, and the demon rove stabbed Emily in the heart. Marion felt the pain, screaming and pushing at the demon rove’s magic.

  He was snapped back to the ground, still bound.

  The demon rove chanted as Emily’s body jerked like a fish out of water. The sword sucked out all the blood in her body, turning her into a very pale white corpse. Then Astaroth pulled it out and stabbed Michael in the chest next. The same thing happened. When the demon was done, Michael’s body was also pale white and dead.

  Astaroth next turned to Marion, his eyes shining a very crimson shade of red. His mouth was still moving. Words still flowed around him. The ground trembled as though the earth was being split in two. Then there came the shrill screams of the damned. Horror-filled voices from beyond the veil between the living and the dead.

  Marion felt a darkness slide around his legs, up his thighs, around his abdomen until it was wriggling around his neck.

  I can help you defeat him, a feisty voice slithered into his mind.

  Marion knew it was a demon, so he ignored it.

  I can help you get her back, the voice said again. I can help you make him pay.

  Marion’s rage clouded his judgment. He already felt loss and grief beyond reasoning. And he knew that no magic could defeat the demon rove except another demon’s magic. That’s why the demon that had made it out of hell earlier than others and latched onto his body seeking entrance was his only choice.

  Can she be recovered? Marion asked.

  Yessss . . . ,the demon’s snake-like voice hissed.

  Of course, the demon’s words were as good as the word of a thieving lying scum. It was worth nothing. Still, hope was a powerful thing.

  What do you need from me? asked Marion.

  Your body. Your will. Your life.

  Marion glanced back at the Astaroth. The knife he held was a darker shade of red than before. And there were twin tubes around the hilt that bubbled with a red substance—Marion immediately knew those were what remained of Michael’s and Emily’s souls.

  Astaroth’s incantation came to a crescendo, where he stopped. And then yelled, “ARISE!”

  A thick black smoke exploded from the demon rove’s glowing sword.

  “Take me!” Marion screamed, too, just as the black smoke overshadowed him and the world around him.

  Marion felt the demon sink into his skin, penetrating right through his memories, his desires, his will, his emotions, his everything.

  Just as that was happening, an eardrum-shattering sound, like a war horn sounding, exploded from below them. In the dark smoke that covered everywhere, a massive pit opened right where the slab was, and it sank into hell, taking Emily and Michael with it.

  What came out was the creature. The Beast. The reaper of reapers. Leviathan. And all of hell’s host followed after him.

  TO BE CONTINUED...

  The Story Continues…

  Book 4 : The Dual Adoption

  It looks like they failed . . .

  . . . But Marion isn’t ready to give up.

  Emily and Michael were sacrificed on the altar, just like everyone dreaded they would be.

  Now the apocalypse is upon them.

  But it's not over yet.

  There is still a chance to save her—to save the whole world.

  But it requires joining forces with a demon, traveling into the depths of hell, and finally performing the Adoption—the ritual they were purposely avoiding because it would destroy Emily altogether.

  Can Marion really bring back the young woman he loves only to put her right back in mortal danger all over again?

  Get the Prequel FREE

  Before Emily or Selena even existed. . .

  . . .there was an owl shifter named Bernice.

  She was expecting the prom night of her dreams.

  But instead, it turned into her worst nightmare.

  Bernice and her sister Anastacia come from a long line of supernaturals.

  Even so, Bernice convinced herself that the curse of supernatural blood had ended with their father’s death.

  But now that she is sixteen, her true nature manifests.

  And what better occasion than prom night? Especially when her boyfriend happens to be Everet Winter, the son of the top supernatural-killer in town.

  Not only does Bernice discover, to her horror, she can now transform into a massive bloodthirsty owl, but also that Anastacia has been hiding her own magical powers the entire time as well.

  Now who can she trust?

  Will the young man she loves really stand by her when he finds out her secret?

  Or will he turn her over to the vigilantes, ensuring her violent death?

  Sign up for my email list and get The Curse of The Owl, the prequel to The Owl Shifter Chronicles FREE eBook HERE.

  Also by Qatarina Wanders

  Winds of Winter

  “She wakes up after dying for the eighth time…but now she must fight to the death to release her true form…”

  Read more about the shifters of New Haven in Qatarina Wanders’ contribution to this short-story anthology, Ninth Life, where we get to know more about Nikki Albright, Emily’s cheerleading teammate, who also happens to be a cat shifter!

  ***

  “Druidic prophecies, a galactic space adventure, a cabin of horrific secrets—and a mysterious white cat that seems to walk through the very stories themselves.”

  Whether you’re in the mood for a fantastic adventure, an edge-of-your-seat horror tale, or a budding romance, Winds of Winter is the perfect read for this holiday season. If you'd like to support us, we're donating 100% of the proceeds to SaveACat.org!

  Acknowledgments

  Continuing gratitude to everyone who showed support for this project in any way. My daughter and fellow fantasy author Ora Wanders for always reading my rewrites and helping me rework my stories. Ramy Vance for teaching me how to plot. My team at Wandering Words Media for polishing my words: Kachi Ugo for helping me with the outline and continuing ideation; Rachel McCracken and Dee Turner for rocking my editing; and Allison Goddard for being my favorite proofreader and final set of eyes. Everyone on my launch team, all my beta readers, and last—and MOST importantly—everyone who buys and reads my books. I couldn’t do this without you! MWAH!

  About the Author

  Qatarina Wanders is a former circus performer turned author with a unicorn and pug obsession. When she isn’t writing or editing books about unicorns or pugs (or owl shifters, vampires, werewolves, faeries, witches, angels, or succubi), she is likely eating sushi with her daughter or jumping out of a plane in the Rocky Mountains.

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