Kali Sweet Series, Three Urban Fantasy Novels (Boxed Set)

by Misty Evans

  When Parker removed my blindfold, I’d had to blink several times against the bright lights. The spacious room was…clinical. Almost as white and sterile as the Bridge Institute’s infirmary. The difference? This place had the usual assortment of torture equipment: whips, saws, weights and knives.

  A shiny electroshock device sat in one corner next to one of the numerous restraining beds. Pretty sure I didn’t want to know what that was for.

  “Feeling at home?” Maria swept by me, running her lacquered nails over the hardware. Probably picking out which instrument to use on me first.

  “High-end, but lacks ambiance, don’t you think?” I sniffed and my eyes watered at the strong smell of disinfectant. It only masked so much. I could still pick out dozens of different blood types that had been spilled here. All of them supernatural. “Could use some chains in the walls, some skeletons on the floor, and a lot less fluorescent lighting.”

  She glided over to an electronic set of buttons on the wall and pushed one with her thumb. A wall moved and a set of chains anchored to steel plates appeared. “Chain her,” she said to two of Parker’s Noct buddies who’d followed us down.

  They seemed hesitant to get too close. One kicked me in the back of the knees. “Move!”

  I went begrudgingly and held out my hands for him to unlock the silver cuffs. Burn marks ringed my wrists. The cuffs weren’t just silver. They’d been dipped in holy water and the welts on my wrists testified to the strength of it.

  Willingly, I raised my wrists for him to chain me to the wall. “Where’s the strappado? They didn’t forget that, did they?”

  The rope and pulley system dislocated the victim’s shoulders and was a favorite of Maria’s. She pushed a second button, and sure enough, another wall shifted to reveal the abhorrent torture device, complete with a heavy weight to attach to the victim’s feet to increase the pain.

  “By the way,” Maria crooned. “Your friend Salmad, the mad monk, didn’t make it far. He’ll be joining us shortly.”

  My heart sank.

  Maria caressed the strappado’s ropes. “I’m reserving this for him. He’ll never be able to cross himself again.”

  The Noct’s chained my feet and added a leather belt around my waist that locked into the wall. Tight leather braces were placed over my hands so I couldn’t touch my fingers together, hence keeping me from using my shields. Maria ambled over and struck my face with her hand. A warm up of things to come.

  She used her nails to tear through my clothes, exposing my flesh. Parker handed her a knife and she cut the pants off my legs, drawing blood each time as she went past the material into my skin. The knife was pure silver and its bite stung, creating small rivers of blood that trickled onto the floor.

  I held my tongue, not wanting to give Maria any satisfaction. Things were going to get worse, much worse, and I had to reserve my energy until I had her where I wanted her.

  My demon cried out for revenge. I clamped her down. Not yet, I told her. Soon.

  For the next thirty minutes, I allowed Maria and Parker to take turns at me. Parker held off on using the angel fire blade. I wondered why, but trapped in a prison of pain and despairing over the fact they’d caught Salmad—and in turn, my father’s journal—I cared little about Parker’s weapon of choice.

  Contusions would heal. Cuts and wounds too. When they started breaking bones, I couldn’t help but resist. Those would heal as well—and yes, they hurt like a bitch—but I would need to be able to run once I turned the tables on my enemies.

  Maria kept up a diatribe of insults and sexual innuendo throughout the process. As a succubus, she drew strength from my pain and a lot of pleasure. Sinking her succubus tentacles into me, she would spear a kidney or sever an artery and then kiss me passionately as I withered in pain.

  The kiss rather than the pain made me wretch. Too bad she jetted out of the way before any hit her.

  When the guards brought in an unconscious Salmad, they had to drag him across the floor to the strappado. One of my eyes was swollen shut and blood ran from a head wound into the other, so I had a hard time seeing him. Best I could, I inventoried his wounds and his aura. He’d suffered a blow to the head and had a broken wrist, but most of the damage was superficial.

  Injuries aside, I hadn’t expected him to be unconscious. That made escape more difficult, since I was severely injured myself. My injuries healed at a rapid pace, but the number and extent of them kept me weak.

  At least Sal was alive. You could grievously injure an original vice, bringing him or her to the brink of death, but as I’d learned recently, killing us was a whole other matter. Yes, I’d done it to Maria, but I’d only killed her earthly shell. She had come back as a ghost and infiltrated several human bodies and one supernatural—mine—before I sent her to the afterlife by sheer willpower and a whole lotta help from my friends. And now, she’d been raised by Michael. Hard to kill? Damn straight.

  Maria became enamored with stringing Sal up on the strappado, leaving me with Parker. The Noctifector didn’t have the experience Maria did, nor did she truly have the stomach for hardcore torture. Her aura had a decidedly queasy tinge to it.

  Time to get inside Parker’s head and turn the tables.

  A large part of torture involves the mind. That’s where fear and pain begin before the body’s ever involved. The fear of torture is often a stronger emotion than physical pain, which is why in the past I showed my victims the torture chamber and instruments I planned to use on them before I ever touched them.

  But my head was as strong as my body. Took a lot to mess with it. And inflicting pain? Bring it on. Nothing my demon loved better. Right then, she was clawing at her prison to break free and clear the decks with Parker and Maria, but I wasn’t ready to let her loose just yet.

  “Why are you doing this?” I muttered to Parker as she used a scalpel to make an X over my heart.

  She surveyed her handiwork, ran her fingers through the blood trickling down my breast. “You don’t know?”

  Smug. We’d see how long that lasted.

  Maria had used Volante against me, wrapping the leather braid around my throat and choking me off and on in an autoerotic fashion. My throat was sore and speech was difficult, but it was important that I confirm my suspicions about Parker’s motivation. “Payback for me stealing your boyfriend?”

  She laughed, a high, ringing sound that seemed too loud to my ears. “Stealing my boyfriend? You think you took Radison from me?”

  “He was never yours to begin with, so yes, I believe you’re a scorned woman wanting some revenge against me.”

  “Radison never left me or the Noctifectors. He’s been playing you all along. His job was to infiltrate your little gang and bring you in.”

  Now who was playing mind games? “You live in a dream world, Parker.”

  “Do I?”

  We stared at each for a long moment, and realizing I didn’t believe her, she sighed and jabbed me in the ribs with the scalpel. “That was his mission. He failed because you seduced him and played tricks with his mind, so I took over.” Another jab. “Now I’m commissioned with bringing him in.”

  Searing pain in my lungs made it hard to breathe. “Which is why…you offered me…the deal.”

  “The deal you didn’t take, but now you’re here. Maria’s going to help me trap Rad just like she trapped you.” Another jab in a different rib. “Which works perfectly. Even as we speak, Rad’s on his way to rescue you. Isn’t that cute?”

  Oh, no. No, no, no.

  She licked my blood from the tip of the scalpel. “And he’s going to offer one hell of a trade.”

  My demon squealed from my sudden anxiety and I had to close my one decent eye and take several deep breaths—which hurt like hell from Parker nicking my lungs—to keep the evil monster from blasting out of me.

  Thank goodness my lungs seemed the easiest to heal, probably from the amount of blood pumping in that area. If Dru hadn’t fed me directly from his vein righ
t before I’d come here…

  Focus.

  “What kind of trade?” I wheezed.

  Parker laid down the scalpel and rubbed her bloodied hands together in a mocking gesture. “He’s bringing the Pope all kinds of trade secrets and information on your precious Bridge Council. Damon, Kirill, Yasmin…we’ll know everything about them. Their strengths, their weaknesses, all of it. And then?” She laughed softer this time. “Once Rad is here and has offered all of that in trade for you, we’ll exorcise you, throw him in the prison next door, and I’ll lead the Order in disposing of the Bridge Council.”

  “Rad wouldn’t betray me.”

  She leaned forward and slammed her hands on either side of my face. “Yes, he would. I told you, he’s the White Horseman. He’s brainwashed millions of humans and suckered you into thinking he’s a god.”

  I was naked and bleeding. Three of the fingers on my right hand were broken, my lungs punctured, my neck bruised. I’d suffered a slight concussion from Maria repeatedly banging my head against the wall. The artery in my left leg was shredded and my kneecaps were in pieces.

  But never had I felt such pain as I did at the thought that Rad would betray me once again, even in an attempt to save my life. I had no doubt he was on his way if Parker had told him of my circumstances, but after all the crazy things Parker had said in the past few days, I could only live in denial and believe this was just another of her tricks. Rad had no love for Damon and the Council, but would he turn traitor?

  No. I would have seen in it his aura if he were double-crossing me. Double-crossing the Bridge Council.

  Would he betray the Bridge Council to rescue me?

  Yes. That he would do.

  The Bridge Institute and what we did to protect and defend humans was my sole purpose in life. Take away that and what did I have?

  Friends, I reminded myself. You have friends and a new family. They need you and they’ll help you rebuild.

  I also had a whole new purpose in life…saving the world from the Horsemen.

  “What do we have here?” Maria’s voice interrupted my thoughts. She held up my father’s codex so I could see it. “Stealing from the Pope, Kalina?”

  Parker left me, crossing the room to get a better look at the book. I needed to stall to give my injuries time to heal. As long as neither of them was causing new damage, my body had a chance.

  Keeping their focus on the book saved me and Sal from further harm. “That book belongs to me. It was written by my father.”

  “So I’m told.” Maria handled the parchment with careless fingers. “What exactly does it say?”

  “You can’t read it?”

  She didn’t like my critical tone. Meeting my gaze, she shoved the book at Parker. “Read it.”

  “I can’t read Greek,” Parker said. “If it was in Latin…”

  “Sal reads Greek.” I glanced at the priest, who hung limp and unconscious on the strappado. His aura showed signs of life, and he seemed to be coming around. “Splash a little water in his face. See if you can wake him up.”

  Maria narrowed her eyes at me. Suspicious. “Does this book say something about me?”

  “Ahh…” Best to play it cool. “Never mind. You don’t want to know what it says.”

  That raised her curiosity even though her face said she still suspected a trick. “It reveals something about my destiny?”

  That Maria cared about her destiny surprised me. It presented another tool for me to use against her. “Yours and mine.”

  She glanced at Sal, back to me. Calculating. Her aura suggested curiosity was getting the better of her. Logic—a foreign currency to her—suggested she had nothing to lose by waking the priest and forcing him to read the manuscript. The two combined convinced her.

  “Wake the priest,” she commanded.

  Parker took out a bottle of holy water and splashed some in Sal’s face.

  Because of his vice, the holy water sizzled on his skin. He moaned and his eyes fluttered open. They were unfocused, and even though some of his wounds were spontaneously healing thanks to his demon blood, he struggled to stay conscious.

  A ruse or had his head suffered more damage than his aura suggested?

  I hoped for the first, planned for the second. I’d give him another minute or so to gain some strength.

  My own strength was escalating by the second. While Maria and Parker focused on Sal, I flexed my broken fingers, found them partially healed. I drew in quiet, forceful breaths, compelling my heart to pump blood faster. The ribs on my left side repaired themselves in short order. My scalp stopped bleeding. Because of the restraints, I couldn’t bend my knees, but the pain in my kneecaps eased.

  Maria slapped Sal’s face and pinched various places on his body looking for a response. He was fully awake now, but still disoriented. He struggled to push her away but dangling from his arms with a weight hanging between his legs, the insignificant amount of strength he had was quickly zapped.

  “Read this text to me,” she demanded.

  Parker held up the book and Sal’s face darkened with understanding. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the situation in a frenzied manner. His aura darkened to match his face.

  As if I could read his mind, I saw the memories flashing in front of his eyes. A different torture chamber in a different century. Maria and her pet inflicting pain and death on him.

  His gaze returned to the here and now and landed on me.

  He drew a deep breath, focused on my face and relaxed.

  Funny, that. I appeared to be in no condition to help him, but my mere presence ironed out the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and shut down the fear rolling out of him. Even more ironic was that in his memories of a past torture session, I was Maria’s pet.

  Giving him a weak smile, I nodded at him to do Maria’s bidding.

  He understood and began reading from the text, halting and slow. That bought us time.

  I soaked up the words as greedily as Maria did. The passages didn’t always make sense to me. The images my mother saw must have been frightening and disjointed. In my father’s hands, however, the odd descriptions and symbolism began to form a picture. A picture that told of hope as well as destruction.

  Rather than the complete annihilation of the earth’s populations, I saw a transformation. A new world order based on enlightenment. A real savior who would step forward and reunite heaven and hell…

  But only if the Fallen won the coming battle.

  After a few pages, Maria interrupted Sal and rounded on me. “You said this book revealed my destiny.”

  Her ingratiating tone made my skin crawl. She didn’t see the big picture, only looking for her role in the future.

  So be it. I poked my demon, priming her. “What I said was that it revealed our destinies. Haven’t you been listening? If we don’t stop the apocalypse, none of us—human or supernatural—will have a destiny worth living.”

  She crossed the floor and smacked me across the cheek. “You demon bitch. I don’t care about anyone else. Does it mention me specifically or not?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t read it.”

  “You lied?” Her indignation was palpable.

  And humorous. “As you just pointed out I’m a demon. A demon bitch to be precise. Of course I lied.”

  Another slap, her nails scoring my skin and drawing blood. My demon clawed at my chest, a bull waiting to charge the red cape.

  Sal piped up. “This book and the Book of Revelation in the Bible mention you repeatedly, Maria.”

  Her head snapped right to look at him. “What do they say?”

  Wanting to extend this conversation, I drew her attention back to me. “Why would God care about you over the rest of us?”

  “Because in the end, I’ll be the lone vice standing and I will devour any humans that survive.”

  Sal cleared his throat. “'And when they shall have finished their testimony, the beast that ascendeth out of the bottomless pit shall make
war against them, and shall overcome them, and kill them.’ Revelation 11:7. Many proponents of eschatology believe the Roman Catholic Church is the beast symbolized in the Revelation verses, but in reality…” He paused for dramatic effect. “It’s Maria.”

  Maria seemed at a loss for words.

  I wasn’t. “And does either book suggest a way to kill her?”

  “'He that leadeth into captivity shall go into captivity: he that killeth with the sword must be killed with the sword.’”

  A sword? Damon’s words echoed in my head. “Cut off the beast’s head?”

  “Yep.” Unusual to hear Sal use such a common slang term. He’d been hanging around Maddy too long. “In your father’s codex, it mentions the sword that will kill the beast is forged in angel fire. It belongs to Michael.”

  Wouldn’t want it to be any old sword, would we? No, that would make it easy on the vengeance demon. I eyed Parker’s dagger. She was staring at it as well. “Does it have to be Michael’s sword?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will that stop the apocalypse?”

  “No.” Sal sighed. “But it’ll make me feel a hell of a lot better to see Maria die.”

  She hissed, wheeling around and raising her hand to strike him.

  “Maria!” I yelled.

  Her hand stopped in midair. Seething, she looked over her shoulder at me. “What?”

  “Don’t you want Sal to finish reading the book? Find out what your destiny is? Whether I’ll succeed in cutting off your head?”

  A humorous laugh parted her blood-red lips. “You know what I want, bambina?”

  This ought to be good. “No idea.”

  “Parker?” She met the young woman’s wide-eyed gaze. “Bring me a match.”

  Parker put the dagger away and hustled to do her bidding, giving me a questioning glance as she passed. From a cabinet, she withdrew a box of matches, handed them to Maria.

  I didn’t like where this was going. Neither did Sal. His focus went to codex. “That book is holy. Destroying it will not stop providence or divine order.”

  “Well then.” Maria lit a match, set the flame at the corner of the papyrus as she kept her steady, patronizing gaze on me. “It won’t matter will it? The only ones who will know what this book says are in this room.”