Demon Rising (Dark Rising Trilogy Book 1)

by DeAnna Browne

  “Anything else?” Becca had to try.

  “Not for a cup.”

  As the woman tied a bandage around Caleb’s arm, several men entered behind them.

  Becca spun around and swore. “The deal was fair.”

  The woman shrugged, but didn’t look too concerned.

  “They aren’t with me.”

  And they weren’t. Grismo stepped out from behind the other men. His sly smile told her this wasn’t a courtesy call.

  When did Nikko hire these other guys?

  The one with slicked black hair and a long nose was first to speak. “Nikko wants to speak with you.”

  “I don’t know who you are, but just let him know that I’m close to getting his bike. I’m paying for info as we speak.” Becca repositioned her feet slowly and had her knife already out. It didn’t take long to feel Caleb’s presence at her back.

  “Name’s Marco. I’ve been instructed to retrieve you.”

  Becca wondered when Nikko hired a new guy. He had the rough chin and confident stature of a seasoned man.

  “I understand,” Becca said her muscles coiling to spring.

  “I just can’t lose this lead—on the bike.”

  Grismo’s smile contorted his already ugly face. “I’m glad you want to do this the hard way.”

  “Shut up,” Marco snapped at Grismo. He turned to Becca. “We were told to bring you back alive. Not necessarily conscious. We don’t have to hurt you.”

  Yeah. Nikko usually saves that for himself. Nikko had always been fair to her, but who knew what Grismo told him? Maybe Nikko did think she took off on him. She didn’t have time to explain herself, though.

  She scanned the room briefly. There was only one small window. The girl, holding her bloody payment, silently slid around the group and out the only door. Becca couldn’t see a way of out of this one. She cursed herself for bringing Caleb into this mess.

  Marco approached slowly, Grismo and the other two at his side. “Don’t make this any worse.”

  “Not sure that’s possible.”

  Marco took another step. Between one breath and the next, Caleb strung his bow behind her just as two of the men pulled out guns. She pulled her knife and aimed straight at Grismo.

  For a moment no one spoke. The tension in the air grew heavy as each side assessed the situation. For the first time, a growing knot in her stomach told her this might be about more than an expensive motorcycle.

  Caleb finally broke the silence, speaking to Marco. “You’ll be the first to go down. I always hit my target.”

  “I understand.” Marco replied then turned his attention to Becca. “Our instructions were to bring you in alive. These men will shoot him first. My life and his—” He nodded briefly at Caleb. “—will be wasted if you do this.”

  She understood his threat. The two guns pointed directly at Caleb. That was why there were so many men. Nikko only needed one gun to put her down. He wanted her alive.

  “Put it down,” she said to Caleb, lowering her knife. “If Nikko wants to talk, we’ll talk.”

  “You know, I might be dead either way.”

  It might be true, but she couldn’t watch it happen. Not now. She’d worked for Nikko for two years. He killed when he had to, but out of necessity, not pleasure. If they were going to have a chance, it would be with him.

  CHAPTER 10

  One of Elizabeth’s long blond strands of hair kept slipping into her face during dinner. Her mother would have been appalled, but Elizabeth couldn’t figure how to pin it back. She struggled with the simple task until tears threatened to spill down her face. Her emotions were taking her on a roller coaster ride she never signed up for. They said it was the pain medication for her burn. Get a hold of yourself.

  “Paula,” Jeremiah requested of the woman sitting across from Elizabeth. “Assist Elizabeth.”

  Paula stood from her seat, her mouth set in a stern smile, and walked around the table.

  Elizabeth lowered her face, warmed with embarrassment, while Paula secured the stray lock of hair.

  “I’m sorry, Uncle,” Elizabeth murmured.

  “Please, there is no reason to be ashamed.” He put a finger under her chin lifting her porcelain face. “And what have I said about calling me Uncle.”

  “I apologize—Jeremiah.” It felt odd in her mouth after the years of etiquette her mother had instilled in her.

  “Thank you.” He nodded and then reached for his wine.

  She turned back to her dessert and found it already cleared from the table. Did I already finish it?

  “I wanted to talk to you about something.” He waved a hand at a servant and soon tea was placed before both of them.

  “Yes?” She hoped it was about her fiancé, or maybe a word from home. She sipped warm mint tea.

  “It’s bad news. Very unfortunate indeed.” He ignored his tea and drank from the wine glass. “There was an incident at your parents’ homestead. Gangs, they presume.”

  Cold dread seeped down into her bones. The cup in her hand began to shake, rattling the saucer as she placed in down. Gangs were a threat, a dangerous one at that, but her father was prepared. He hid guns, against mother’s wishes, and the family dog was great at sounding the warning.

  Jeremiah reached over and took her hand. A sickly calm ran over her skin. It didn’t ease the tremors in her stomach.

  Why hasn’t he spoken yet? She searched his face for any inkling of comfort. But found none. “What is it?”

  “They didn’t survive. There was a fire. It consumed everything.”

  Time froze. She waited for him to continue, to explain what happened, to tell her they may be injured but would be fine. They had to be fine. She must not be understanding this correctly. She began to shake her head in confusion. “No. You’re wrong.”

  “They died.”

  Those two words consumed her whole world. Elizabeth stared into the tea cup, a dark endless abyss of nothing.

  Someone came and spoke to her uncle. Standing, he spoke to her, but his words washed over her numb skin. Her life, everything and everyone she loved was dead. There was no more going back. She imagined sitting at the bottom of that tea cup in a well of darkness.

  There was no more mother or father. No home. No Pixy. Only empty memories of what once was. How could her heart continue beating when the rest of her felt dead?

  Grismo shoved Becca, and she stumbled over the threshold, falling onto Nikko’s entry way. Hands tied behind her back, she landed on her knee and cheek. She shook off Grismo’s hand as he tried to pull her up.

  “Big man that can hurt a girl,” Caleb said from behind.

  Grismo turned and pulled back to punch him, but Marco raised a hand. “You’ll have time later. We don’t want to keep them waiting.”

  Becca wasn’t sure if it was the “later” or “them waiting” that scared her more. Becca was pulled to her feet and struggled to see Caleb behind her.

  Every vein in his neck bulged as his arms strained against the binds. He’d wanted to shoot these men earlier, and she stopped him. She’d hear it from him later. Or she hoped she would.

  They continued to the back. Two days ago she was here, and now she entered with her hands cuffed behind her, stripped of her weapons.

  She tried to jerk out of her captors grasp. “I know the way.”

  It’s not like they could run anywhere. Nikko’s men guarded the building. Several smiled at her as if they enjoyed watching her walk to her doom—which they probably did. Grismo just smiled and kept his hands tight.

  She’d always been straight with Nikko, and he’d treated her right. She was one of his best runners. She rarely drank and ran jobs on time. He had to know she would pay him back. Why wouldn’t her heart stop racing then?

  With a single knock, they entered. The room was filled with smoke, a fog in an already dim room.

  Grismo pushed Caleb and Becca forward. Becca attempted a reassuring look, but Caleb stayed focused on the threat ahead.
/>   Nikko sat at his desk with one light on. He didn’t look happy. “Shut the door and leave.”

  Grismo opened his mouth to argue, but Nikko silenced him with a hand. The men left. An uncomfortable chill crept up her back.

  “Nikko,” Becca said, “I was just about to track down the men that stole the bike. I was this close when your guys grabbed me. I—”

  “Shut up!” He stared at her hard. A bruise was forming over his left brow. And his bloodshot eyes held an anger and sadness that she struggled to believe was over a bike. “I’m sorry Becca, but…” He trailed off.

  She couldn’t let him finish. “Let Caleb go. He had nothing to do with it except for trying to help me get your bike back. The scavengers would have probably even got the backpack if it wasn’t for him.”

  “No,” Caleb shouted.

  Of course she could count on Caleb not to just keep his mouth shut.

  “I’ll find you the money,” he continued. “Let Rebecca go. She’s not worth it.”

  Nikko shook his head.

  A voice emerged from a dark corner with a power and familiarity that made Becca automatically take a step backward. “Oh, I think we both know that Rebecca’s actually worth quite a bit.”

  Nikko focused on something behind Becca. “This has nothing to do with the bike. There was nothing I could do.”

  She turned to the darkened corner of the room. A man stepped out of the shadows. He had gained a bit of weight in his face, but Becca would never forget his sharp nose and imposing presence.

  “Uncle…” The word trailed off in confusion as she struggled to put the pieces together.

  “Rebecca.” Her name curled around his mouth with a sickening air.

  Before Rebecca could reply, or figure out what the hell was happening. Her uncle raised his hand and spoke words she didn’t understand. Caleb collapsed in a pile on the floor.

  Becca fell to her knees, hands still tied behind her back. “What did you do to him?”

  His breath was even, his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

  “He should have known better than to find you again,” Jeremiah scolded.

  She crouched next to Caleb, her heart racing. If he died, it would be her fault. His chest continued to rise and fall slowly. A rush of relief turned to bewilderment.

  “What are you?” She stood, her mind spinning in a million directions.

  “My dear.” Jeremiah approached, speaking down to her. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to drag you out of here unconscious.”

  Memories of the last time she saw her uncle flashed through her mind. Revulsion tasted sour in her mouth. She searched the room for a weapon, anything to fight with. There had to be something.

  Foreign words filled her mind. Laced with magic, they carried a tingly sensation that encompassed her. Before she could attack, he placed a heavy hand on her shoulder that she couldn’t shrug off. She wanted to scream and fight. Instead her body fell into an abyss full of empty quietness.

  CHAPTER 11

  Becca’s screams tore through the ugly peach room. Yanking at her restraints, she shook the metal bed frame that she was tied face down on. Her throat ached, but she couldn’t help the obscenities pouring from her mouth. The door opened behind her. She twisted her head back to find Jeremiah.

  He shook his head and took a seat in a nearby white wicker chair. “Time in the city hasn’t been good for you, Rebecca. Not with that mouth.”

  She wanted to tell him where he could shove his disapproval. But before she could talk, he moved his hand, and it felt like a long finger brushed up her spine.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded, struggling to keep the hysteria out of her voice. “Untie me.”

  Jeremiah leaned a bit closer. His musky scent made her sick. “It’s for your protection.”

  She jerked back and noticed the huge Soultorn who stood quietly by the door. Black eyes stood out against his blond hair and fair skin.

  Becca had known what Jeremiah was since he took down Caleb. Her uncle had been lying to her and maybe her whole family for years, hiding his magic behind a mask of religious piety.

  “You’re a bloody wizard,” she said.

  His pinched mouth remained closed.

  “Where’s Caleb?” She last saw him in an unconscious heap on Nikko’s floor.

  “I was hoping you’d cooperate.”

  Really? Tied spread eagle on a bed? “Where. Is. Caleb?” Every muscle was flexed, wanting to tear into her uncle.

  “I took care of him.”

  “If you hurt him, I swear I will kill you,” she screamed at him, limbs straining to break free.

  Then with a single touch from Jeremiah, her body went slack. The shock stunned her into silence. Her tattoo protected against minor magic, but what he had scared the hell out of her.

  “We can do this the hard way, or a harder way.” He knelt by the bed. “This won’t be easy. I won’t lie. But it will be done.”

  He stroked her back. An unnatural calm weighed her down, her body slow and sluggish. Disgust turned her stomach. A scream echoed in her mind, but never made it past her lips. This wasn’t happening. Not again. The familiar fear from her nightmares, flooded her body. She couldn’t do this again.

  Amid the web of lies that clouded her reason, she searched for answers. “What happened to my family? To Caleb?” Her voice came out in a whisper, as she struggled to speak. What was he doing to her?

  She hated the tears that betrayed her. It was as if she was walking on paper thin ice, waiting for her world to shatter, to be swallowed by the dark truth below.

  “So you went home, did you?” A brief look of surprise crossed his face. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  She wanted to scream at him, curse him for whatever role he played in their deaths. But she needed answers.

  “What did you do? Light the match yourself?”

  “You were always so spirited.” A smug smile plastered his face as he avoided the question.

  Rage built up inside of her, pushing her over the edge. She snapped at his hand. Ready to tear him apart however she could. “You killed them.”

  He pulled his hand back, and chuckled. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Her body arched back, straining to be free. He placed a hand on her ankle, and against her will, her body went slack on the bed again. No longer in control, she felt her breath came out in short desperate gasps. This man, who her parents had welcomed into their home, burned it to the ground, killing everyone inside. Almost everyone.

  “Elizabeth. What happened to her?” Her sister had been her last spark of hope in this disaster.

  He stood up, brushing his suit jacket. After a moment of quiet, he looked her in the eyes. “She’s dead.”

  Darion shook out his wet coat in the greeting room, hoping to ruin the rug under his feet. It was supposedly morning, but someone hadn’t told the weather that. Heavy clouds kept up a constant drizzle. His body wasn’t in much better shape after having too much to drink with Cynthia last night. One drink, turned into several. Avoiding going home had never used to hurt his head this much.

  “You took your time, Darion. He isn’t going to be happy,” the housekeeper said in a shrill voice that clawed at his brain like nails on a chalkboard.

  He nodded, not trusting himself to keep his tongue in check.

  “Go straight up. He’s waiting.”

  He climbed the stairs, feet heavy, dreading the task ahead of him.

  Kip stood outside the door, clothes wet from the rain, waiting for him. His closely shaved head and tattooed arms made his bark definitely worse than his bite.

  “What’s going on? Been playing in the rain?” Darion asked looking at Kip’s drenched clothes and muddy boots.

  “Had to deliver a boy to the Moondance Festival. The dude was big. Dropped him like three times.” Kip chuckled at himself.

  Darion wished he hadn’t asked. “What does Jeremiah need me for today?”

  “Same as last time.” />
  “What’s with these girls?”

  Kip’s lips pulled into a smile. “Not sure. But this one’s feisty.”

  “Want me to burn your tats off next?” Darion doubted this big guy could keep it together any better than these girls.

  Kip broke into laughter. “You’d have to catch me first.”

  A tingle of magic pulsed from inside the room. Darion rubbed his arms, cold under his damp coat.

  “Better head in,” Kip said, stepping to the side.

  Darion’s stomach sank, though he kept his features smooth. Part of the job, he reminded himself. A few more jobs like this and he would be out of here.

  A heavy silence filled the room as Jeremiah’s word sank in. Dead? Becca struggled to breathe. A heavy pressure crushed her chest. Elizabeth couldn’t be dead. That meant Caleb was lost for nothing.

  “How?” she asked, straining to keep her voice under control.

  “She was injured in the fire. I did my best to save her.”

  How could she believe him? His whole life he spewed out lies to her family. But why lie about this? Becca was trapped and at his mercy.

  She didn’t want to believe it. She couldn’t. The one thing she’d needed to do to make up for the past, for running out on her family years ago and she failed. She failed.

  She pressed her head against the mattress, squeezed her eyes tight, and struggled to keep all the pieces of herself together. She crammed the tears, the pain, and the memories back into that tight black box where she had hid so much.

  “You killed them.” It didn’t matter if he threw the match or not, he let this happen. “Your kind killed them all.”

  “I didn’t start the fires. I tried to save them.”

  She laughed, a sick cackle. It sounded as if she was losing her mind. Maybe she was. “And I’m supposed to believe you? Tied to this bed?”

  “You took off, abandoning your family. I couldn’t take that chance. I can’t have you roaming free here until I remove your Hand of Mary tattoo. Then I can ensure your safety.”