Katie's Hope (Rhyn Trilogy, Book Two)

by Lizzy Ford

  “Gabriel,” he said.

  Gabriel turned to him. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small black pouch, pouring its contents— two green gems holding the dust of human souls— into his palm. He dropped them onto the ground and crushed them with his heel. His job was done.

  “Gabriel!” Rhyn’s voice turned raw with emotion.

  “Next time,” Darkyn said, agitated. “I kill you both.” He opened a portal and disappeared.

  Rhyn’s head spun with power and emotion. He dropped to his knees, unable to battle both influences for his balance. Pain rippled through him and another wave of power radiated off him, turning the boulders nearby into powder. Gabriel knelt beside him.

  “You have to trust me, Rhyn,” the assassin said. “I have to go, before she comes. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  The words registered slowly. Rhyn sagged to the ground and watched Gabriel walk away and then disappear. Sorrow and rage pierced him to the core. He could think of nothing but Katie and his ultimate failure.

  “Not looking so good, half-breed.” Another form knelt beside him, this one with blond hair. “I had no idea you were that half-breed, the brother of the Ancients.” The demon righted him and tried to heft him but stopped.

  Rhyn blinked himself out of his stupor enough to steady himself. Jared squatted in front of him, looking more bruised than the last time he saw him.

  “Now that we’re friends, I thought you might let me have a taste of your monkey.”

  “She’s dead,” Rhyn whispered. He felt as if he stood outside his body, watching the world around him.

  “And the body …”

  Rhyn grabbed him and smashed him to the ground. He staggered back, unable to control the power within him. Jared lay still for a moment before sitting up.

  “That’s some serious power,” he said. His eyes began to glow again. “We make a good team, don’t you think? We could do a lot together.”

  “Leave me be.”

  “For now, I will, but I’ll be back to talk. I still owe you a favor. I overheard something you might want to know.”

  Rhyn flopped onto his back and covered his eyes with one arm. He was alone, roasting in the sun for a long moment before he sensed Kris approach. He lowered his arm enough to see his determined brother, unsteady on his feet with one arm in a sling.

  “What happened, Rhyn?” Kris asked, sitting heavily on the ground beside him.

  “You’re alive.”

  “I owe you one.”

  “Kill me,” Rhyn said.

  “What?”

  “You owe me. Kill me!” Rhyn snapped.

  “I can hardly walk let alone lift a weapon. At one time, I would’ve probably agreed,” Kris admitted. “What happened here? Where’s Gabriel?”

  “Took Katie to Death.”

  Kris was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Not sure how to break it to Hannah. That would explain why the walls around the Sanctuary are in ruins.”

  Rhyn saw enough to see that what his brother said was true. He could look straight into the courtyard of the men’s wing, and the furious Daniela standing in the middle staring at him.

  “I can’t control it, Kris. Stuff just happens.”

  “I see. And Gabriel won’t come back.”

  “Better not.” Even as he spoke the words, he knew he’d never completely disregard his friend. He had one, now that Katie was gone. Even thinking of her made him feel as though his insides were burning and dying.

  “Come to the Sanctuary. I’ll figure something out,” Kris said. He struggled to rise.

  “I’m staying here.”

  “Fine. I’ll send Toby out to check on you. He’s yours now, Rhyn.”

  “I don’t want a fucking angel dogging me everywhere.”

  “No choice. You were her mate, and Toby was hers.”

  Rhyn said nothing more, aware it was all he might ever have to remind him of the mortal intended to be his mate. If he had it to do over again, he never would’ve unbound her. He would’ve taken her and run away somewhere safe where no one would ever find them, as he initially wanted to do. In all his years in Hell, he’d never known this kind of pain.

  It was too late. He’d failed. He’d lost the only thing that’d ever mattered, and the only person who ever truly loved him. He threw his head back and roared with fury and pain until his throat was raw.

  *

  The waves had pulled her under before darkness took her. She awoke with a jerk and looked around at the tiny cottage, lit only by a candle. The bookshelf was empty and weapons lined the opposite wall. Her heart beat like a hummingbird’s wings as she took in the one-room cabin. The windows were open and the sky beyond the trees dark. She didn’t notice Gabriel in the corner until he spoke.

  “Took you long enough.”

  She jumped at the sound of his voice.

  “What happened?” she asked. “I don’t think I like this place.”

  “Welcome to my home.”

  “Your home? I’m in … Deathland or whatever you call it?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Is Rhyn okay?” she ventured and braced herself for the answer.

  “He is.”

  “Oh, thank God!” she said with a deep sigh.

  “Are you well enough to travel?”

  “Travel where?”

  “At any time, I expect a furious Death to knock on my door. I told you about the loophole, and she won’t like that.”

  “What loophole?” she asked uneasily.

  “When someone sacrifices himself for someone else, the assassination contract is void.”

  “But I’m still dead, aren’t I?”

  “Eh, tough to say,” he said.

  “What the hell does that mean, Gabriel?”

  “It means, if Death finds you, probably. But if I can get you to the mortal world and back to a Sanctuary, then she’ll have to reissue the contract,” he explained.

  “And then you come to kill me again?” she asked with a frown.

  “Nope. Consider not killing you my resignation.”

  She gazed at him, sensing the importance of what he’d done. Gabriel rose and began pulling weapons from the wall and planting them on his body.

  “You sacrificed your soul for Rhyn and your life for me,” she said. “You’re incredible, Gabriel.”

  “No offense, but I did both for Rhyn. I barely know you, but he’s all I’ve got.”

  “Me, too.”

  “She’s okay, too,” he said. “Rhyn’s gonna flip out when he finds out it’s a girl.” He glanced at her, his face softening. His eyes went to her stomach.

  “Does he know we’re okay?”

  “No one does or can until I get you back. Death and Darkyn will have every assassin they own roaming the shadow world. We’ll take the back way.”

  “I hope you’re good at what you do,” she said with some discomfort as he continued to load his body with weapons. She doubted the back way was more dangerous than a short cut.

  “The best.”

  “What happens to you after we get to the Sanctuary?”

  “Don’t know and don’t care.”

  She rose and tested her legs. She felt weak, but she was alive. Sorta. Her heart ached for Rhyn. Even though she stood in Death’s realm with a slim chance of ever seeing the blue sky again, her life had never seemed so clear to her. She’d faced Hell, and now Death. There was nothing else to fear.

  “C’mon,” Gabriel said and whipped the door open. “This won’t be easy.”

  “I’m ready, Gabriel,” she said, in awe of his determination and dedication. At the quiet resolution in her voice, he turned to face her. “Take me back to Rhyn.”

  “I will. I swear it.”

  I’m coming, Rhyn.

  The Rhyn Trilogy

  Katie’s Hellion (May 2011)

  Katie’s Hope (September 2011)

  Rhyn’s Redemption (March 2012)

  Rhyn Trilogy: Origins (October 2011), short story

&
nbsp; Continue reading for an exclusive excerpt from

  A Demon’s Desire

  Chapter One

  Olivia flew through the restored Victorian, a crumpled shopping bag clutched to her chest. Most of the members of the coven were in the living room, watching the latest episode of True Blood. She didn’t stop to greet them but hurried through the kitchen and to the door of the basement. She opened it, her elated thoughts sliding into unease at the unnatural glow emanating from one wall of the basement. She descended a few steps and paused. The scent of sulfur made her nose wrinkle, and heat rendered the basement hot compared to the rest of the drafty, old house.

  Forcing herself onward, she let her eyes fall to the fissure in the basement wall through which the orange flames of Hell glowed.

  It had grown larger the past few months. Not by much, maybe half a foot or so. Two years ago, it had appeared after she killed her third victim and was no larger than a tiny crack the size of her pinkie. The more black magic she practiced, the larger it became. The only benefit of the heat of Hell: it kept the coven’s electricity bill low during the coolness of the late October autumn in rural northern Maryland.

  One of her ghostly slaves moved from its place in the poorly lit basement, and she jumped in surprise.

  “Not now!” she barked at the shadow demon. It slinked back to the corner. Olivia plucked the content of the bag and set it on the wooden desk by the wall of the basement opposite the fissure. She clapped her hands in delight at the sight of the decomposed finger. It stank, but not as much as the portal to Hell.

  “You’ve been out all day,” a man’s voice said. She tensed at his voice. She never heard him coming. “Must’ve been important to leave my bed so early.”

  “It is,” she said. “Leave me alone, Jeffrey. I’m busy.”

  “Not the proper way to thank your host, especially since you’re a member of my coven.”

  She spun on him with a glare. With silky black hair, chiseled features and a lean frame, Jeffrey’s looks alone had drawn more than one witch to his coven. And he slept with all of them. He was not the kind of man who would ever know how deep and satisfying loving another could be, which was why she didn’t give two flips about pleasing him the way the other girls did. She did what he expected of her to retain her place in the coven— and nothing more.

  “None of them brought you that,” she said and pointed to the fissure. “You were a poser, Jeffrey, and everyone knows it. I made you legit.”

  “I’m more legit than you’ll ever understand. But yes, you brought me the fissure,” he said with irritation. He lifted his chin toward the table. “What is it?”

  “Nothing.”

  He strode across the basement and pushed her aside to see her treasure. She shoved him back, but not before he saw what it was.

  “I’m being replaced by a dead man,” he said. “Where’s the rest of him?”

  “I’m trying to figure that out. He’s my soul mate— I’m meant to find him.”

  “And I’m …?”

  “Just a warm body.”

  “You obsessed bitch,” he whispered. His jaw ticked in anger. He was close enough for her to feel how tense he was. “You know Hell will demand your soul for helping you.”

  “I’ve promised it a soul. Doesn’t have to be mine!” she snapped. “Leave me alone, Jeffrey!”

  He gazed at her for a long minute. Of all the witches in the house— and people on the planet! — he was the only one who seemed immune to her mind influence spells. He turned away finally, and she watched him go, again wondering why he was immune to her spells. The basement’s darkness clung to him like it did her shadow demons. He stopped near the stairs, and his gaze went to the fissure. He closed his eyes, pleasure crossing his features.

  With a shiver, she looked at the gateway to Hell. As adept as she’d become at using black magic, even she didn’t feel so comfortable around the fissure. The emotion passed, and Jeffrey trotted up the stairs. She returned to the severed finger and held it up. Her only love had been dead for two years, and still her soul sang when she touched his body!

  “Soon, my love, you’ll be back with me forever,” she said and lovingly wrapped her hands around the finger in the only hug she could give her dead lover. It was the culmination of two years of spells and research. One of her shadow demons had finally found him. “Just one more thing, and I’ll recall you from the dead.” She set the finger down and pulled her wallet free from her purse. “Slave!”

  “Yes, mistress.” The shadow demon’s voice was monotonous and his presence cold as he joined her.

  “Find this girl,” she ordered, pulling out the only picture in her wallet. It was of two people: her soul mate and the interloper who stole her soul mate from her. Ages ago, the three of them had been friends. Her gaze lingered with repressed anger on the woman in the picture. The interloper’s was an earthy beauty: peachy skin, light brown hair, dazzling green eyes, and a beautiful smile. Olivia’s own beauty was cold, gothic: her skin was porcelain, her hair straight and black, and her eyes a mesmerizing blue. Her spells had taken some of her beauty from her, which made the jealousy in her blood burn hotter.

  “Adam,” the shadow demon said and took the picture. “I will bring him back soon, as my mistress demands.”

  “My sweet Adam. I’ve waited two years for this,” she whispered. “I’m almost ready for you, bitch. You won’t run from me this time, Emma, and Adam will stay with me forever.” She looked at the shadow demon. “Go find her, slave!”

  *

  Across the state line in northern Virginia, Emma shivered as she reached the door to her sister’s apartment. The hair on the back of her neck was standing on end, as if she were being watched. It was the same sense she felt every time she came to visit her sister, though this time, she could almost feel the presence of someone lurking in the darkness of the stairwell. She looked around then shook off the feeling. She was beyond tired from her late work schedule and frequent visits to her sick niece.

  She entered the quiet apartment. Her sister was curled on the couch, asleep. Emma pulled a blanket over her before she went to the doorway of her niece’s bedroom. Sissy’s baffled doctors had finally given up the day before with a grim prognosis that Sissy would probably die within the week. Emma felt the black witch’s curse: the coldness of the shadows crowding the corners and stuffed animals. Earlier, in broad daylight, she’d ventured into the room to snag a toy and shoved it in a box, running out before the dark shadows could claim her, too.

  She balled up her fists. She never suspected Olivia’s cruelty ran so deep as to target a four-year-old.

  Damn you, Adam. As usual, you took the easy way out and left me alone to deal with the witch.

  If he hadn’t jumped off the Bay Bridge two years ago, she’d push him and Olivia off the bridge herself to make sure they both stayed out of her life for good. The outcome of that doomed affair— sweet, innocent Sissy pale and limp on the bed before her— made her stomach roil.

  “I’ll fix this, Amber, I swear it,” she whispered to her sister.

  “No one … can help her,” came the despondent, drowsy response. Emma turned to face her sister, who pushed herself up from the couch.

  “I know I can. I did some research, and I’m going up the Maryland coast to a small town north of Annapolis.”

  “You think you found a doctor?”

  “Maybe,” Emma replied vaguely, unwilling to tell her sister no doctor could fix Sissy.

  “Hurry, Emma,” Amber said.

  “I will, Amber, I promise,” she said. “Take care. I won’t be gone long.” She took one last look at Sissy’s tiny frame and Amber’s haunted features and left the apartment for the parking lot. Even as she neared her car, she could feel the coldness of the toy in the box on the passenger seat.

  If someone like Olivia could inflict Sissy with illness, only someone with the same skill could lift the curse. A list of addresses and names of people and places associated with the occult a
nd witchcraft were scribbled hastily on the notebook next to the box in the passenger’s seat and her GPS was already loaded. She’d gone only to say farewell to her sister on her way out of town.

  The late October sun was setting earlier than she wished. She flipped on the interior lights of her car, hating the darkness. She already had a headache from a couple of sleepless nights of research, but seeing Sissy’s helpless body reignited her desperation.

  She had to fix this. No doctor could help Sissy, but maybe, just maybe, she could.

  Her hope held out until sunset the next day, after she’d visited the two dozen shops that lined Demon’s Alley, the downtown of Wooster, Maryland, which boasted of its ties to witchcraft and the occult.

  “Sure, we can help. It’ll cost you your soul.” The clerk with black nails and pink hair burst into laughter.

  “You know, that joke is getting really old!” Emma snapped. She snatched the box off the counter and left, agitated to see the sun was near setting. She’d been to almost every store on the Alley with no success. The tourists had thinned out for dinner and were replaced by Goth vampire wannabes and fairies in heels. The locals took pride in their hallmark Alley, enough so that the street was decorated in Halloween colors and signs that read Welcome to Hell on Earth.

  “They got that right,” she mumbled to herself. Her eyes settled on the only storefront she hadn’t visited. The Devil’s Depot was directly across the street from her car, behind a group of teenagers dressed as fairies in cheap plastic wings. She set the box on her hood and checked her pockets for the third time that day. She’d lost her keys somewhere along the Alley.

  The clerks in all the other shops grew uneasy when warning her against visiting the Devil’s Depot. She’d left it for last because every clerk claiming to be a vampire, witch, or demon had become strangely uncomfortable discussing the shop’s owner.

  He’s the only real demon in the Alley, one clerk confided in her after the joke about her soul. Emma, torn as to whether she wanted to try the store, had tried everywhere else first. After all, she needed a witch to counter Olivia’s spell, not a demon.