Hope For More (Trinity Book 3)
Page 1
Table of Contents
Prologue
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
Epilogue
HOPE FOR MORE
TRINITY SERIES BOOK 3
DEVIN FONTAINE
Copyright © 2017 by Devin Fontaine
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design- Deranged Doctor Design
Cover Image- Deposit Photos
Editing- Robin’s Red Pen
Created with Vellum
CONTENTS
Trinity Bible
Trinity Dictionary
Prologue
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
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Devin Fontaine
TRINITY BIBLE
HALF-DAEMON COUSINS
Dante Vittorio— Son of Lust. Owner of Inferno, Inc.
Davin Cassavetes— Son of Pride. Owner of Immortal Image.
Joshua Catillatio— Son of Greed. Runs mafia-type syndicate under the guise of legitimate business ventures.
Maximus Corvinius— Son of Wrath. Arranges MMA type fights and other violent events for entertainment.
Trevor Grant— Son of Gluttony. Owns and operates many restaurants in Eastlake Falls.
Dermot Livius— Son of Envy. Uses cash businesses to run petty theft ring.
Lex Ignavus— Son of Sloth. Owns almost every marijuana dispensary in Eastlake Falls.
SAINTS
Anthony (Tony) Martins— Patron Saint of Lost Items. Detective in Immortal Crimes.
Joan Puella— aka Joan of Arc. Patron Saint of the Military. Partners with Tony.
Lukas (Luke) Christos— Patron Saint of Physicians. Chief of Emergency and Trauma at Eastlake Falls Hospital.
Dominic Savio— Patron Saint of the Falsely Accused. Assistant District Attorney.
Thomas More— Patron Saint of Lawyers. District Attorney of Eastlake Falls.
Mary Mackillop— Patron Saint of Abuse Victims. Sexual assault counselor.
Yves (Justice) Helory— Patron Saint of Lawyers. Assistant District Attorney.
Joseph Davidson— Patron Saint of the Dying. Coroner of Eastlake Falls.
Jude Thaddeus— Patron Saint of Lost Causes. Uniformed Police Officer.
OTHER IMMORTALS
Jack Bellamy— Wraith. Dante’s best friend.
Balor Daegon— Djinn.
Donovan Bryne— Angel of Protection. SWAT at Eastlake Falls PD.
Sam Allard— Sitri. Receptionist at Immortal Image. Half-brother of Grady.
Grady Henson— Sitri. Receptionist at Inferno, Inc. Half-brother of Sam.
Honor Ward— Watcher.
Bastien Wentworth— Watcher.
PRACTITIONERS
Duncan Harris— Sorcerer class 5.
Cressida Summers— Divinator. Owns Otherworld Divination and Sorcery. Mother to Faith.
Dionysus Albericus— Master of Practitioners. Unique in that he can perform abilities of more than one type of practitioners.
HUMANS
Faith Summers— Assistant at Inferno
Verity Fairchild— Faith’s best friend. Works at Immortal Image
Hope Hartley— Stripper at Dante’s club, Indecent.
ARCHANGELS
Michael Caelum— Archangel of Protection. Patron Saint of Police Officers. Chief of Police of Eastlake Falls.
Raphael Angel— Archangel of Medicine. Patron Saint of Physicians. Chief of Medicine at Eastlake Falls Hospital.
Gabriel Evangelos— Archangel of Guidance. Patron Saint of Messengers.
Uriel Miran— Archangel of Peace.
Azrael More— Archangel of Death. Helps the souls of the deceased cross over.
Raguel Adalet— Archangel of Justice. Patron Saint of Judges. Judge of Immortal Crimes in Eastlake Falls.
Chamuel Amor—Archangel of Love. Patron Saint of Relationships.
TRINITY DICTIONARY
VOCABULARY
Aether— The energy which surrounds everything on the Earthly plane. The strongest Practitioners can tap into it to increase their power.
Altara (m.) Altarasha (f.)— soulmate
Amicus— friend
Angelen/Angelus— angels/angel
Aura— Emotions surrounding a living being.
Cor meum— my heart
Dulcedo— sweetness (pet name)
Fidelitas— faithful, loyal
Fortis— strong
Halla— love, my love
Infernum— Hell
Kanata— warrior
Nephilim— offspring of a daemon and human
Ritus— ritual
Sancten/Sanctus— saints/saint
Signum— seal (to break a seal)
Veritas— truth
PLACES AND THINGS TO KNOW
Great Battle— Angels and saints aligned with the nephilim cousins to banish the Daemon Kings.
Trinity— A coalition of the three factions of immortals: Underworld, Hereafter, and Earthly Plane (daemons, angels and saints, and practitioners)
Domus Desiderii— House of Lust. Inherited by Dante from the his sire, the Daemon King of Lust. Given to the Trinity to use for meetings.
Four Horsemen— War, Famine, Death, and Pestilence. Goal is to open enough seals to bring the apocalypse to the Earthly plane.
Hereafter— Ruled by the five Fates, it is where angels and saints are created.
Underworld— The place where daemons and evil are spawned.
Banished— Sending an immortal to the Underworld.
COLORS OF THE SEVEN SINS
Pride—Violet
Envy— Green
Gluttony— Orange
Lust— Navy Blue
Wrath— Red
Greed— Yellow
Sloth— Light Blue
COLORS OF AURAS
Black— Stress
Brown— Troubled, restless
Red— Rage, anger
Orange— Aggressive, irritated, hungry
Gold— Hope
Yellow— Confused, curious. greedy
Yellow-green— Worried
Lime Green— Shocked
Emerald— Triumph, energetic, mischievous
Dark Green— Disgusted, ill, nauseous
Teal— Alert, anxious
Ice Blue— Fear, panic
Light Blue— Sleepy
Blue— Relaxed, calm, lust-filled
Dark Blue— Bored
Blue-violet—Serious, confident
Violet— Happy, prideful
/> Light Purple— Excited
Magenta— Embarrassed
Dark Pink— Drunk, silly
Light Pink— Amused, playful
White— Hollow, blank
Grey— Sad, bereft, hopeless
“Two evils, greed and faction are the destruction of all justice.”
“If we lived in a state where virtue was profitable, common sense would make us saintly. But since we see that avarice, anger, pride and stupidity commonly profit far beyond charity, modesty, justice and thought, perhaps we must stand fast a little, even at the risk of being heroes.”
“The heart that has truly loved never forgets but as truly loves on to the close.”
—All quotes by Thomas More (b. 1478 d. 1535)
PROLOGUE
W ith ceremony complete, Famine’s mouth curled into a macabre grin as he relished the power that coursed through him. Cleaning up after devouring his fourth human soul in as many days, never in his long, long existence had he experienced such a heady response. It felt as if his entire immortal being sang with energy so potent it extended beyond the reaches of his imagination. The candle, cloth, and twine went in one pocket. Then he effortlessly kicked up a breeze to scatter the remains of the chalk sigil in the wind. Refreshed from feeding, Famine was energized, yet to his consternation, remained hungry. Disturbingly, as of late he found it nearly impossible to keep up with his bloody Earthly form’s near constant demand for souls, to the point it had become inconvenient and quite frustrating.
Leaving human corpses strewn about the city couldn’t be avoided, but Famine was hardly naive. Eventually, the bodies would lead that relentless Archangel prick, Michael, and his pathetic little band of angels, right to his door. Mayhap he should consider taking his leave. It would be simple to disappear, mayhap visit Europe or Asia, and satiate his ravenous appetite there for a spell. Allow the scrutiny of the immortals in Eastlake Falls to dissipate before returning to his mission.
Only, Famine was loath to do so. The thought of any more postponing in his quest to free his brothers from the Underworld sent a tsunami of rage pulsing outward from his coal-black core.
He’d waited enough. Centuries. But… Famine tilted his head, deep in thought. If Michael were to catch up with him and he himself also ended up banished, the Horsemen’s final chance at reuniting and bringing about the end of this pitiful plane would die and none of them would set foot on this bloody pathetic dimension again.
The familiar hum of energy and sharp scent indicative of an immortal materializing nearby grabbed his attention and Famine froze. His senses pricked sharp, prepared for the unexpected.
“Greetings, Horseman.”
Slowly, and without a drop of fear, he turned toward the voice, ready to call upon his dark energy to destroy, should the owner of said voice so much as dabble with offending him. The ring on Famine’s left hand vibrated, its pure evil hum starting as a low pitch in the darkness of night. The buzzing broke the silence in the desolate alley, the filthy and appalling locale where Famine was forced to devour his most recent meal. He grinned as the slender band of metal quivered faster and the low pitch rose to a shrill sound that penetrated to the bones. Whilst his ring sang, no immortal would dare come close. Hmm, save mayhap a select few. Those with no common sense of which to speak. The amount of power Famine wielded in his ring could easily crush whoever dared to speak to him, and he wouldn’t break a sweat in the process.
Famine adjusted his stance to fully face the pitch-black corner of the alley where he knew an immortal hid in the shadows, and laid out his threat.
“Identify yourself, or I shall destroy you.”
Unruffled, not the slightest bit concerned, Famine stared at the intruder who stood a good ways away. Despite the distance and dark of night, he knew his guest to be not only immortal but also female. Of those he was certain. All else remained concealed beneath an inky cloak that hugged her shoulders and skimmed the ground around her booted feet. The female showed to possess a modicum of intelligence as she thought to keep her face carefully hidden within the folds of a hood tugged low over her brow. Based on the height of a nearby door, the opening slightly depressed in the brick wall to her left, Famine deemed her tall for a female. Smaller than his own six-and-a-half feet, but that was to be expected.
The female held up a hand.
“Peace, Horseman. I give my vow that you shall find what I must needs say to be of great interest.”
What gall this female possessed! To not only insist Famine listen to her nonsense, but to dictate how he must needs feel about it. He let out a haughty snort. There wasn’t a single word the immortal could utter that would convince him to lower his defenses. He was far from a stultus. Magic rolled off the female in waves. He could sense it. The female’s abilities were palpable despite a dozen yards of strewn garbage and stained concrete between them.
A practitioner, then.
Well, practitioner, you’re about to discover exactly how little you intimidate me.
He took a step forward and snarled, his gaunt face twisted with rage. “You interrupt my sacred ritual, turn up unannounced and unwanted, and then bloody dare to order me to listen to your nonsense?” A growl rumbled low in his throat and the unbalanced scales of his ring began to shift. “What kind of fool are you, a mere practitioner, to believe you are worthy of giving orders to a Horseman?”
“You need not attack. I am simply here to offer a deal.” The female must needs be dumber than he thought because she came to him, delicately picking her way through scattered debris on a pair of teetering, spike-heeled, leather boots. She stopped a “safe” distance away, though no amount of space would protect her should Famine choose to attack. The practitioner’s hands lifted and she lowered the hood to reveal her face.
A very familiar face, indeed.
“You?” Famine had no difficulty recognizing the female’s stunning features or the shiny fall of raven black hair, her dark waves illuminated by a tiny sliver of light that shone from the half-moon high above. When he closed his mouth, his teeth clacked and he quickly fixed his expression from surprise to calculated evil. “Why come to me, sorceress? We are not, and never were, allies. You need not follow my whims as I no longer hold any power over you,” he lied.
Centuries ago, before the Great Battle in which the Archangel Michael banished Famine’s brothers to the Underworld, he had this sorceress, Circe, under his control. The use of a charmed stone with a hex embedded deep within, a stone he retrieved from an ancient elf, gave its owner complete control over whomever the spell was cast against. In the case of Famine’s stone, the sorceress, Circe was the unfortunate recipient of the powerful hex. It turned out an ancient curse had been set upon her by a crossed lover. He was a powerful sorcerer and spent decades creating the stone. Famine knew not what happened to the lover, and cared not. But the stone…. with hit he could call upon Circe whenever he so desired, then use its power to compel her to follow his every whim.
It was one of Famine’s most treasured possessions.
In truth, Circe so happened to be the only reason Famine wasn’t banished with his three brothers. Because of the traitorous half-daemon whelps, the battle against the angelen had turned against their favor. Knowing he had the sorceress at his fingertips, when Famine felt the powerful wards around the barn flicker for a fraction of a second, he called upon Circe to pull him out.
Over time, Famine concluded the sorceress’s constant whinging to be a large enough detraction compared to the power she provided. As a class eight, in truth, Circe could open the portal to the Underworld, but the effort would be sloppy at best. She could not only not guarantee his brothers’ freedom as she lacked the ability to pick and choose which immortals escaped, but there was the very real possibility that daemons as powerful as Famine—or terrifyingly, more so—could mayhap be released. Deeming her useless, as the risk—and the way she grated upon his nerves—no longer worth the reward, Famine buried the stone and hadn’t used it, or thought about
it, in roughly five hundred years.
Circe despised him and made no secret about it. So why is she here?
“Remember, Horseman, I know what it is you seek, and you…”
She swung her curvaceous hips as she closed the gap between them and Famine was transported five centuries in the past. Nothing had changed about the sorceress. Her feminine wiles didn’t work then, and wouldn’t work now. Horsemen cared not about sexual relations. In truth, the thought disgusted him. He sneered as Circe continued her pathetic attempts at seducing him into submission.
“You know I can help you get it.” She stopped in front of Famine and pulled her full lips into a mischievous smirk. One he recalled having a strong desire to backhand right off her face on many an occasion. “The only question is,” she purred. “What are you willing to pay to get what you desire?”
Payment? Ha! The female must needs be delusional.
Famine relaxed—though not enough to let down his guard. Not around a female as cunning and devious as Circe—and the corners of his mouth twisted upward. The slight flinch of her features when she took in his hideous grin delighted Famine all the way down to his pitch-black core.
“I need not make deals with you, sorceress. All I must needs do is use the stone to—”
“Oh.” She pulled a filthy leather pouch from the folds of her cloak and dangled it between her thumb and forefinger. “You mean this stone?”
“How—?”
“It matters not.”
Famine’s blood boiled at the ease with which she dismissed him. Not only was her insolence disrespectful to his station as a Horseman, but for Circe to possess the stone meant she trespassed upon his private quarters, a cave hidden high in the mountains north of Eastlake Falls. It was a reprehensible crime. One he could not overlook.
Yet, without the stone, Famine was in truth, now vulnerable. Mayhap Circe wasn’t as powerful as a full class nine, but as a class eight, she could inflict serious damage should she so desire. Famine not having his ace up his sleeve did not sit well with him.