Possessed (Hades Castle Trilogy Book 3)

by C. N. Crawford

  A bright blue butterfly flitted before my face, and the sight made me so happy I actually laughed out loud. Nightingales started to sing in the boughs.

  Now, in the forests, we would have wolves and elk once more. Not just my demonic army raised from the ground, but actual living animals. The bears had returned to the woods.

  I turned to see bluebells and buttercups dappling the riverbank. The sun beamed off the glittering river, and I pulled off my coat. The crystal-blue water lapped at my feet.

  “Lila!” I heard Zahra calling my name, and turned to see her rushing toward me, with Emma at her side. In warm winter coats, they bustled closer.

  Zahra carried a large bag with her, and her smile lit up her face. “We’ve been looking all over for you. Why is it so bloody hot all of a sudden? I’m dressed for winter.”

  “This was you again, wasn’t it?” asked Emma.

  I smiled up at them, squinting in the sun. “I was decorating for the wedding. I think a spring wedding would be nicer, don’t you?”

  “Considering it’s outside, yes.” Zahra grinned broadly. “I was a little worried about a winter party in the streets.”

  Emma beamed at me. “I’m just glad we get to celebrate something. When I first met you, I told you I wanted to fill the Iron Fortress with parties and balls again. But a party in the streets might be even better.” Her smile faded. “Why are you still not dressed?”

  “Waiting for my dress,” I said. “Bit of a last-minute thing. I sort of forgot to get one.”

  Zahra held up the bag. “Samael gave me the money for it. I can’t believe you gave me full authority to pick out your dress.”

  “You have better taste than I do,” I said.

  She shrugged. “Believe it or not, Ernald helped, too. He seems very eager to be your friend again, by the way.” She scrunched up her nose. “But are you going to wear your hair like that?”

  “Well not now that you put it that way.” I held out my hand for the bag. “I’ll get the dress on. But can you two help me with the hair situation?” My stomach started to flutter with pre-wedding nerves.

  “Of course,” said Zahra.

  I peered into the bag to find a dress made of emerald-green gossamer material. “Oh my. This is gorgeous. But aren’t wedding dresses usually white?”

  Zahra raised a finger. “In the old days, they were green for spring and for fertility. Green is your color. White was Harlow’s color.”

  I shuddered, scanning the horizon to make sure no one was around. “Let’s never speak of her again.”

  Emma held her hands to her mouth, wide eyed. “Oh my gosh. Fertility. I didn’t even think of it. You and Samael are going to have adorable little death demon babies, aren’t you? Just like … stomping around in nappies, killing all the little plants you grow. Terrifying the other babies.” She clutched her hands to her chest. “Awwww …”

  I pulled off my old dress, and started to slip into the new one. “Babies? I need a long rest before that happens. I’ve heard a rumor babies tend to rob you of sleep.” The delicate material slid over my hips.

  Emma waved a hand. “Nonsense. They’re easy. I have no evidence to support that, but I’m just assuming they must be because people have been having them forever.”

  Leave it to Zahra to choose something sexy as hell. The gown had a slit all the way up the thigh. Bands of green gossamer crisscrossed over my waist, my ribs, and my breasts, then plunged down behind my back like a cape. My shoulders were bare, and a little diamond of skin below my breasts.

  I could tell that Lilith was delighted. “Well, with this dress on it might not be long till I’m pregnant.”

  Emma sat down in the grass next to us, and started to thread some of the flowers together. “You need a bouquet. And a crown.”

  I thought that I could probably use my magic to make both of those, but I felt like there was something particularly lucky about having close friends make them for me. It seemed nicer.

  Behind me, Zahra went to work, tugging and pulling at my hair. She was threading braids with some of the wildflowers that grew by the riverbank.

  “How was Sourial?” I asked.

  Emma smiled, and I could tell that she liked hearing his name. “I have been helping him recover. We went out for a walk in the Iron Fortress gardens. Thanks for those gardens, by the way.”

  “I’ll bet you’ve been helping him,” I said with a smirk.

  She arched an eyebrow at me. “He's becoming a friend, that’s all. He’s teaching me all about the moon and the stars.”

  “Yeah, that’s his seduction technique,” I said. “That and exchanging kisses for information. Has he done that? Is that how he taught you about the moon?”

  She cleared her throat, and a silence stretched out. “This crown is coming along nicely.”

  So that was a yes, then. “But since Samael can’t become King of the Fallen, does Sourial want the job?”

  Emma shook her head. “I don't think anyone wants the job. They were trying to force Samael to marry a mortal so he could become king. We all know why that is, don’t we?”

  “They want the option of killing the king if they don’t like what he does,” said Zahra from behind me.

  “Sourial would rather not have his head on the chopping block all the time. So, they’re leaving things as they are. The Fallen have no high king. And they don’t really need one. The threat of the Free Men has been defeated. We don’t even need the entire Clovian army here anymore.”

  The sun warmed my back, and the balmy breeze rustled through the wildflowers. “Will Sourial stay in Albia, then?”

  Emma met my gaze. “He seems to like it here, and he thinks maybe we still need him.”

  “Good. I’d hate to see him go.”

  She handed me the flower crown. “There. You already look stunning.”

  Zahra crossed in front of me, her smile bright. “Absolutely perfect. Now let’s get going, shall we? All of Underskirt Lane has shut down for this, and they want to see their queen.”

  I laughed. “I’m not actually a queen in any way. Lilith would disagree, but in the realm of reality, I’m not a queen.”

  Zahra’s expression was serious. “But you are to them, aren’t you? After what you and Samael have done for the East End, you are the king and queen.”

  Warmth filled my chest. During the past month, Samael and I had started to transform my old neighborhood. It was amazing what magic could do. And money, which had its own sort of magical power. And Samael had more money than God, so what else was he going to do with it?

  We were working on building new homes with running water, windows, courtyards. Green spaces for kids to play in. Real gardens. Towering buildings that overlooked the river, where families didn’t have to share. Schools.

  Flanked by Emma and Zahra, I started walking, a smile lighting up my face already. The mortals in the East End had been terrified of Samael at first—the count with the demonic horns and eyes black as jet. But when they saw what he was doing for them, that changed fast.

  We were only just getting started, but when we finished, it would be a whole new world.

  When I arrived at Underskirt Lane, I found the streets packed on either side to form a makeshift aisle. A crowd was supposed to be quietly reverent at a wedding—but this was the East End, so they immediately started whooping and cheering for me. Several of the men were whistling, delighted by any revealing dress.

  And there, at the far side of the lane, was Samael. Right now, his horns weren’t on display, and he looked like his old regal self, resplendent in fine clothes.

  Zahra was right: whether he had the title or not, he was a king, with a power that emanated out of him like rays from the sun. A power and beauty so dazzling, I sometimes felt I had to look away.

  Demon or not, Samael sometimes seemed too divine for this earth.

  Even from here, my gaze locked on him, like the rest of the world didn’t exist. His gray eyes, his chiseled features like a beacon of
beauty.

  The city’s magic flowed from the cobblestones into my feet, vibrating through my body. Centuries of history lay under me.

  I walked slowly over the stones, savoring the moment.

  Long ago, when men and women got married, the groom would stand at one end of the church. Weddings were in a bride’s village, where the fella might not know a single person. So he’d get there early to meet them, and then wait for the arrival of his bride. And that was what we were doing now—Samael had come to my village, and he was waiting for me.

  Except we couldn’t get married in a church, what with him being a literal demon.

  In the old tradition, a dad would walk his daughter down the aisle. But I didn’t have one of those, did I? I’d crawled out of the earth, a soul returned to the world by the Raven King himself.

  And right now, I could feel another presence getting ready to give me away—the Raven King was walking with me, one last goodbye.

  As I walked, I scanned the faces around me. My gaze lit on Mum. For once, she seemed sober, but tears poured down her cheeks. My heart cracked at the sight of her. I didn’t have to guess why she was crying. Happy for me, brokenhearted for Alice.

  Ernald stood nearby in an ill-fitting three-piece suit, sporting a twirling mustache. He was grinning ear to ear and flashing me a big thumbs-up. He mouthed something that looked like I told you so.

  I wasn’t quite sure what my old boss meant, except I supposed that when I’d been suspicious of the angels, he was the one to tell me that at the very least, they were better than Albian kings. That maybe good and evil wasn’t always so black and white.

  Thura stood next to an enormous, muscular man with broad shoulders. He waved shyly at me, blushing.

  It took me a moment to recognize him, and when I realized it was Nico—the mortal man who’d given me venison stew—I smiled broadly at him.

  On the cobblestones before me, a path of moss spread out like a carpet.

  The old song played in my head.

  Down by the river, the Tower of Bones

  If you’re lost, Dovren is home

  The lions are gone; the ravens are dead

  The clouds up above, a storm ahead

  When I was a kid, I dreamt of living in the castle that loomed over our city, a place of magic and intrigue. As I got older, I started to learn that even the slums had their own kind of magic. If you knew where to look, you could feel the power of ancient kings thrumming under the stones beneath your feet.

  But it was in the people, too. Those whose roots went long into Dovren’s past, and those who came from far away, too.

  My gaze locked on Samael again. As his eyes darkened, and bronze horns grew from his head, I flashed him a wicked smile.

  Our long life together was just beginning, and I intended to enjoy every beautiful moment of it.

  We had no minister for our wedding, just the sun and the earth, a crowd cheering around us, and a kiss that made my heart sing.

  Our hot tub overlooked the Dark River—a river with a name that no longer made any sense, since it was a pure crystal blue.

  With a glass of champagne, I slipped into the tub. On the top floor balcony, I didn’t think anyone could see that I was naked. Warm water bubbled around me, relaxing my muscles. The wedding celebration had lasted hours—hours of dancing, singing, of Emma making out with Sourial by the pet shop.

  I hadn’t had that much fun in ages.

  As the water caressed my body, I stared up at the stars. Humid air rushed over me, toying with my hair. The only thing that could make this experience even more delicious would be having Samael in here with me.

  I sighed, thinking of the important life lessons I’d picked up from Thura.

  One: there can always be a good interpretation for a soothsayer’s vision. Even if that vision is You will make the streets run with mortal blood. It might not be a bad thing.

  Two: melt cheese in a pot; add bread.

  Three: champagne with orange juice is a thing, and it is okay to have for breakfast. As long as you have nothing to do later that day.

  Four: if you have the money for it, get yourself a hot tub on a balcony overlooking a river.

  Five: spring is the best time of year.

  The balcony door opened, and Samael stepped outside, wearing only a robe. His lips curled seductively as he looked at me naked in the water, and I felt the thrum of his magic simmer over my skin.

  “There you are, my terrifying bride.” He dropped his robe, and my gaze roamed over his perfect, warrior’s body, his thickly-corded arms.

  I pointed my toe out of the water. “Join me. I have champagne.”

  Naked as I was, he slid into the bath with me. He started to move closer, when a bright flash of light turned my head.

  By Samael’s side, I watched as colored fireworks exploded into the sky—crimson, gold, the blue of the river, and some the color of the champagne we were drinking.

  I hadn’t seen fireworks since I was a kid, and I laughed at the sight of them. “Where did these come from?”

  He gave me a sly smile, and a little shrug. “I know a guy.”

  I blinked. “You made this happen? The angel-demon of death—who was created eons ago from primordial clouds of stardust as a divine scourge of evil—made fireworks happen for a party.”

  He moved closer to me, wrapping his arms around my neck. “How do you have that exact phrase memorized?”

  I snorted. “You say it all the time.”

  “Oh right, because I’m boring. Well I may be boring, but I have been making new friends in the mortal world.”

  “You’re really enjoying this new life, aren’t you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  But as the fireworks died down, his eyes were only on me. And as his gaze slid over my body again, his irises went black as jet. Whenever he got that look on his face, hot lightning seemed to pass between us.

  He moved in between my legs, his gaze slowly brushing over my naked body. He twined his fingers into my hair and tugged back my head, claiming my mouth in a fierce kiss. Deeply, I kissed him back, my tongue stroking his.

  He made me burn hot as the summer sun.

  People thought death was bad and life was good—but there could be mercy in death, ruthlessness in the will to survive. The two things went together, like Samael and me.

  And we will live as beautiful, merciful and ruthless monsters together.

  He pulled away from the kiss with a nip to my lower lip, then dipped his head, gazing at my naked body again. “I’m thinking of putting another garden by Savage Lane,” he murmured into my neck. “The children who live near there don’t have a lot of outdoor space. And maybe our kids could play there, too.”

  I smiled back at him, joy bubbling up. I supposed since we had each other, we wouldn’t be very monstrous at all.

  Thanks so much for reading our books. Please sign up to our mailing list to get updates about our next releases!

  You can also sign up here for a free standalone novel.

  Also, check out our webpage for the full listing of books www.cncrawford.com

  If you want to chat about the books, you can join our forum.

  To read the opening of Court of Shadows, a series set in London, turn the page!

  Sample from Court of Shadows—The Shadow Fae Series

  The vampire bared his fangs, and I knew we’d both be dead by the end of the night if I didn’t get him out of here. I leapt over the bar with the speed of a hurricane wind, hurtling toward him. I slammed my fist into his skull—once, twice, three times. He staggered back, then collapsed. He’d fallen so easily I almost didn’t feel a sense of victory, but I grinned down at him anyway. The colored lights of the bar stained his porcelain skin red.

  I had to get him out of here.

  I tried to project a calm I didn’t feel. “Like I said,” I purred, “a guy like you would be more comfortable in a hipster joint with arcade games and herbal cocktails. You can talk about synthwave or w
hatever there. Move along. Now.” I may have screamed the last word. A sense of urgency was taking over.

  It was at that point, I realized that everyone in the bar had stopped talking and were all staring at me over their pints. A pop song crackled through the speakers, and the neon sign in the window flickered on and off. Otherwise, silence shrouded us.

  Easy, Arianna. Easy. I stood over the fallen vampire, holding up my hands. “Nothing to see here, folks! Just an ordinary Friday night kerfuffle.”

  I loosed a long sigh. Two thin hawthorn stakes jutted from my messy bun, ready for the vampire’s heart, but I restrained myself. My boss would flip his shit if he saw me beating up customers—again. And I definitely wasn’t supposed to kill people—even if they were undead—in front of a crowd. Rufus frowned upon things like that in his establishment.

  You can take the girl out of the gladiator arena….

  It was just unfortunate that the vampire had made the serious error of trying to bite me.

  As soon as this guy had stumbled into our bar, I’d known he was trouble. In fact, I’d immediately assessed three important things about him.

  One, his luxurious Viking beard had told me he was a hipster—not to mention his neon clothing, reminiscent of children’s wear in the early 1980s. Whenever guys dressed like him decided to slum it in the Spread Eagle, it usually went down badly with the regulars.

  Two, his staggering gait and furrowed brow had told me that he was a mean, sloppy drunk. Given the exceptional alcohol tolerance levels of vampires, he must have drunk his weight in craft beers tonight.

  Three, and worst of all, he was a supernatural.

  I cocked my head at him as he lay on the floor. He might even be old enough that the medieval Norseman beard was actually authentic. Supernaturals like him—like me—were outlawed these days. We had to fly under the radar if we wanted to live. Too bad this one was too stupid to keep a low profile. Four years of executions and assassinations, and this fucker had just brazenly walked into our bar, flashing his fangs around.