Shattered Heir (Broken Gods Book 1)
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
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Marked by Dragon’s Blood
About the Author
Also By N.M. Howell
Shattered Heir
Broken Gods - Book 1
N.M. Howell
Edited by
Teresa Hull
Illustrated by
Fajareka Setiawan
Dungeon Media Corp.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any means – by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise – without prior written permission.
Copyright © 2017 Dungeon Media Corp.
All rights reserved.
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
Marked by Dragon’s Blood
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
About the Author
Also By N.M. Howell
1
RHEA HUMMED QUIETLY TO HERSELF AS SHE WANDERED the muddy streets of Detroit. The tune was so time-worn and familiar, she barely registered her own humming. Instead, she heard her beautiful mother singing it to her as she had so many times.
Six years had passed since she fled the Otherworld, seeking refuge in the human realm. Yet rarely did a day go by where she didn't miss her mother. Her mother had sung her to sleep every night after filling her mind with stories of magic and adventure. Stories of princesses destined for greatness. As a small girl, Rhea had dreamed herself into her favorite story; imaging she was the beautiful and brave princess who defeated the evil magician with the help of her seven magical stones of power. But she wasn’t powerful. And she wasn’t a princess anymore.
The stones were a myth of course, but it hadn't stopped her from picking up every shiny rock she'd come across and bringing it home to show her mother. Is this one? she'd ask.
Thick, effervescent air shimmered in Rhea’s periphery, the cool autumn wind suddenly replaced by scorching humidity and the sound of wings flapping overhead. The sound grew louder, thunderous to her sensitive ears.
She looked up, confused. Panic coursed through her veins as she ducked, her arms flying above her head to protect herself from the low-flying creature. Its hooves nearly grazed her head. Her hair flew around wildly, nearly blinding her as it whipped violently across her face from the wind created by the thing’s massive wing span.
Rhea blinked and did a double take. What the hell was that?
“Impossible.”
She cursed and ducked again as the winged horse flew back toward her.
The surrounding energy pulsated through her body like an electric current as the out of place creatures around her fueled her magic. The power of the pegasus that circled above surged through her, intoxicating in its presence. Her heart raced in her chest as she looked frantically around, her surroundings slowly changing into something foreign yet recognizable. The crumbling brick buildings were suddenly replaced by a forest canopy, dull reds turning to brilliant greens. But she was still unable to gather her bearings or understand exactly where she was or what was happening.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” she whispered to herself.
A car horn honked. The loud screeching of tires snapped her attention back to reality. The streets of Detroit surrounded her once more.
Goosebumps appeared on Rhea’s freckled skin as cool winter air wrapped itself around her. The shimmer was gone and what had briefly appeared to be a stream was now back to a wide city road. Birds chirping turned into the violent rage of the car’s horn and the babble of the brook transformed into filthy road spray as a large red car came straight at her.
Sucking in a gasp, Rhea dove toward the sidewalk. The car barely grazed her knee as she jumped just in time, painfully landing on her shoulder as she sprawled onto the wet pavement, her back flat against the concrete.
Just as she landed, the car swerved through a deep puddle, soaking her as the driver sped down the empty city road. He leaned out his window and shouted profanities.
“Screw you, too, buddy,” she shouted after him, her body aching and her shoulder skinned and bloody. Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession, adrenaline coursing through her veins.
Heaving an angry sigh, Rhea wiped dripping strawberry-blond hair from her face. She lifted a tendril in front of her face to inspect it, immediately letting it fall back down when she was satisfied that it remained dull and faded. She ran her hand through her tangles, forcing her fingers through the endless knots that matted her once luscious hair.
Filthy water from the car’s splash dripped down her forehead and into her eye. She blinked through the sting and wiped it with her torn sleeve, smearing her already smudged eyeliner. The black residue from the makeup added to the already stained surface of her tattered clothing, the red of her sweater nearly undiscernible through many layers of grime.
Rhea rolled over onto her back, propping herself up against her skinned elbows on the concrete. Her torn jeans dampened in a puddle, the moisture wicking up the torn fabric and soaking her up to her knees. A shiver crept up her spine from the damp and she shook out her arms in response.
She could feel the heat drain from her face as she stared after the car that disappeared behind a nearby building at the far end of the long street. She let her head fall back, staring up into dark sky as she cursed herself for losing control.
Night had fallen, but the city never seemed to understand that. Detroit never quieted, but rather hummed with a different tune once the sun set. She had grown fond of the noise, the constant hum in the back of her mind reminding her of her place among the other filthy no-goods on the street.
She rubbed her eyes as she tried to process what had just occurred. One minute she was on the sidewalk, then suddenly found herself somewhere in the Otherworld, before returning back again. She could still feel the muggy air clinging to her arms, despite the near-freezing temperatures of the autumn night.
Rhea had spent the last six years of her life
doing everything in her power to prevent something like that from happening. Why the hell would it happen now?
Exhaling, she looked back down at her willowy, rag-covered frame and wondered just how she had let her life unravel in such epic proportion. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, dissipating the strange and unfamiliar tingle of magic that felt like electricity against her skin.
“Just a daydream,” she told herself. “No need to panic.”
Easier said than done.
Rhea rested on her elbows for a long few minutes. She allowed her head to fall back and her eyes to gaze up into the dim, flickering glow of the overhead streetlights. She couldn’t see the stars, but a trace of the moon shone in the distance. Her lips twitched up into a small smile as she closed her eyes and let her breath and heartbeat return to their normal rhythm.
A deep chill pulled her from her reverie. She tugged at her sleeves and pushed herself up from the cold ground, looking frantically around for the belongings she had strewn across the sidewalk in her leap from the car.
Groaning, she fell back to her knees and peered under a nearby dumpster, reaching desperately for the one thing that would improve her mood. Her arm stretched far, but her fingers only just grazed the small cardboard box.
“Dammit,” she swore, extending her arm as far as she could under the metal bin, her cheek plastered firmly against the wet, filthy pavement. Her shoulder popped as she reached farther. Fingers finally hooking around the top of the box, she pulled it to its freedom.
She rolled again onto her back, clutching the small box to her chest as if it were the most valuable thing in the world.
To Rhea, that night, it was.
The first snow had fallen the night before, blanketing the city’s gritty appearance with a softness that she had grown to love. It was her favorite time of year, when the first snows fell. It felt peaceful, almost as if all the crime, murder, and grit got washed away and replaced by a blank slate. For a brief time, it felt quiet and safe. Even though it was just an illusion, she reveled in it nonetheless.
Only, this time of year didn’t last long. She knew, before long, she would have to find a new place to live. Somewhere underground where she could brave the harsh Detroit winter without suffering frostbite and losing a finger like some of the other local street kids.
Pushing herself up from the cold ground, Rhea rolled her shoulder back into place, the joint settling with a soft pop. The rains from the morning had washed away her beloved snow, replacing it with a thick layer of gray, icy sludge. She glanced down at her clothes and did her best to wipe away the chunks of mud and ice, shivering as her clothing began to soak through.
Her fingers began turning blue as she clung to her box with an iron grip. Sighing loudly, she glanced both ways down the winding road and made her way across, running down the dimly lit sidewalk toward the place she called home. She was still a solid fifteen blocks away.
Rhea had been saving every penny she could find over the past few months. She could live off the handouts and freebies from the local shops and cafes well enough, but she wanted to treat herself to something special. Something gourmet, for once, and the best place in the city for what she wanted was on the other side of downtown from where she lived. Running her thumb delicately along the bottom edge of the box as she ran, she could hardly wait to get home and open it, her attention fully consumed by its contents.
“Well, well, well,” a deep voice sounded from in front of her. She collided with a solid mass, stumbling backward onto the wet pavement once more. “What have we got here?”
“Watch it, asshole,” she cursed, desperately clinging to her box as she scrambled back to her feet.
“Oh, it’s got a mouth on it,” another voice said.
Rhea pushed her hair from her face and turned toward the sound of the second voice, glaring. She was about to open her mouth to tell them off, but her voice caught in her throat. She had just run into the very people she had trained herself to avoid since arriving on the streets of Detroit six years earlier.
A large, beefy-looking man who looked to be about thirty stepped right up against her, his breath hot against her cheek. He wore a scowl across his face, and a deep scar cut across his left cheek, contributing to his terrifying looks. A bandana held his long, greasy hair back and large metal knuckle dusters studded his flexing hand.
She stepped back and squared her shoulders, gritting her teeth as she glared up at him.
She caught a glimpse of a red skull and crossbones stitched into the sleeve of his leather jacket, the symbol of one of the local gangs. They were dangerous and she recognized the symbol from the local newspapers. These were not men you wanted to get involved with.
Rhea swallowed and took another step back, her back suddenly pressed up against the brick wall. The bandana-wearing gangster in front of her cracked his knuckles and mimicked her step, coming nose to nose with her. She glanced to the side to scope out her escape, but more men stepped forward, surrounding them.
“What’s that behind her hair?” a smaller tattoo-covered man asked, his voice hoarse. Likely from years of smoking, she assumed, based on the two cigarettes tucked behind his ears.
The heavily-muscled man pressed up against her chest, his fingernail running across her chin. She cringed, turning her face so her cheek was flat against the wall. She clung to her box in her left hand, allowing it to hang down to her side, hidden from the attacker.
“I’ve got no money,” she wheezed, “so screw off and leave me alone.”
They all laughed. The man slid his finger up past her cheek and lifted her hair away from her face. She glared and gritted her teeth, pressing herself back into the brick as hard as she could, feeling smaller than she had felt in years. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
“Look here, guys,” the man whistled. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a little fae bitch.”
Well, shit, these men knew about the magical world.
Rhea’s eyes went wide. She dropped her box and raised her hands to her ears, horrified when she felt the large tips on both side of her head. She pushed her hair forward, inspecting it, and was confused when she saw that her dampening spell had worked on her hair, but not her ears. She had let her guard down, lost focus. Something she vowed she would never do since arriving in the human world.
She panicked. The men surrounding her all stepped forward, taunting her, reaching out to touch her. She had a feeling she knew what they wanted, and there was no way in hell she was going to give it to them. She would have to outsmart them. She had to get away.
The fact that they recognized her as fae meant they were familiar with her kind. That was rare among humans, and it suggested they were likely involved with other magical races. Just like the human world, her world had its fair share of baddies, too, and she did not want to hang around to find out who they were in cahoots with.
Raising both hands to the man’s chest, she pushed as hard as she could. He stumbled back a half step, his face an expression of shock. Her wrists ached from the impact. His lips curled up to a grin as he stepped forward once more.
Okay, so she wasn’t going to win in a battle of strength, that was for sure.
“Back off,” she cried, reaching down to grab her precious box and preparing to sprint away.
Before she could run, he grabbed her by the throat and slammed her back against the wall. She choked and sputtered, clawing at his strong hands with her free fingers, desperately trying to pry them away so she could suck in a breath. Her face grew hot and pressure built in her temples as she fought for air.
“Grab the box,” the man growled.
The smaller tattooed man bent down to pick it up.
A newfound fury raged through Rhea’s veins as she watched him squish the box in both hands. She squeezed her eyes shut as she gasped for air, fearful that she would lose consciousness, when a strange surge of strength blasted its way through her body. She reached out for the strength, unsure where it even came
from, and lashed out with everything she had.
Her skin glowed hot and her muscles throbbed, and she kicked her leg forward, sending the man who had her by the neck flying back across the full width of the street. He slammed against the far building, his breath leaving him as his body crumpled to the ground.
“Holy shit,” one of the other men swore. “How the fuck did you do that?”
Rhea had no idea. She was just as shocked as the rest of them.
“You’re going down, bitch.” A tall, leather-clad man pulled a knife from his back pocket. The rest did the same with their own weapons of choice.
“Shit.”
But before the gang had a chance to attack, she lunged forward, snatched her box away from the shorter man’s hands, and bolted down the street as fast as her weak legs could carry her.
Her lungs burned. She glanced back as she rounded the corner. The men were gaining on her. She swore under her breath. Rounding another corner, she hopped a chain link fence and the instant she landed on the other side, she bolted forward.
A loud roar sounded from behind her. The awful noise echoed, filling her ears with dread. She didn’t dare risk turning to look back. She focused all her energy into her legs, propelling herself forward as fast as her frail, starved body could manage. She barely had the strength to gasp for air as she ran.
A louder roar and the sound of screaming reached in her ears, eliciting a whimper from her lips as she ran. As she came to a red light in a busy road, she was forced to a reluctant stop, furiously looking around her for the source of the sound, ready to bolt into traffic at a moment’s notice.