Текст книги "The Fallen King"
Автор книги: T. A. Grey
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THE FALLEN KING
The Bellum Sisters 4
By T. A. Grey
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I have the usual girls to thank plus a few special extras. I’d like to thank my editor Brandi for doing such a fabulous job, LuMary for being the greatest beta reader ever, and Char for creating such an awesome cover! I couldn’t love it any more.
A special shout out goes to my ladies in The Alpha Squad! You gals are the best, and I mean that in the most sincerest way possible. You have been so supportive in helping me to tell people about The Fallen King. You have also shown me more glorious pictures of sexy men than I’ve ever seen in my life. Thank you, ladies! I love you!
Happy reading, everyone!
T. A. Grey
GLOSSARY
Dreenaru gina slinah – Demonic for “You are incredible.”
futhorc – A small furry animal that lives in the rift.
Haute – Royal shahoulin demons
idummi – A bottom feeding demon from the deepest layer under the rift. They are aggressive, easily manipulated creatures with poisonous talons.
jaheera – Dark and dangerous demons that live at the lowest rung of the rift and are capable of incredible dark magic.
Kolan – A black, carnivorous bird that resides in the rift.
Krishnoe! – Demonic for “Silence!”
Protector – A male in charge of protecting and caring for a succubus.
rift – The division between earth and the nether-realm where demons of many kinds reside.
shahoulin – A breed of demon that lives at the top of the rift. They have magical powers and superior strength.
Chapter One
The dead girl lay on her back facing whoever had ended her life. Her left arm curved around her head in a plié and her right knee bent out towards the street.
“All right, Krenshaw, do your thing.” Mike Waxell gave her a nod then went back to surveying the scene. Mike was the lead detective on the case tonight. She’d worked with him a few times before.
Abbigail sucked in a deep breath and blew it out through her nose. She already had her latex gloves donned and cloth booties covering her shoes. The booties weren’t always necessary, but in this case there was so much blood the whole team had to wear them. Everything would have to be processed. With stabbing victims the murderer often cut himself too so the his or her blood may be on the ground too.
First, Abbigail took in the scene just as the detectives would do. It helped her to get an idea of how the attack took place. She was new at this, still had a lot to learn, but she was pretty good. She’d had an excellent mentor who’d trained her under his wing and helped her to get this job. God, she missed Stan.
They’d already determined the girl to be a shapeshifter from a local pack who’d gone missing two nights before. An elderly woman walking her poodle before she went to bed found the body at the back of an alley between two brownstone city apartment buildings. The residents of the Green Tree apartments peered down at her from their little windows up above. Others, mostly curious neighbors passing by, watched the team work from behind the yellow tape closing off the crime scene.
The alley was typical with A/C units and small windows facing each other from both apartment buildings. This path was only here for maintenance men who needed to work on the A/C units or for the utility companies to check their power lines. A six-foot tall fence stood at the back of the alley, and the girl’s body was found right in front of it on a patch of concrete.
Abbigail looked back down the path where the faces watched with morbid, avid curiosity. She noted the alley to be only about twenty feet wide with the AC units taking up a good four of that from either side. A small pathway. She’d spotted the large community-sized dumpsters as she’d pulled into the lot. Why hadn’t the killer just dumped her? Did he want the body to be found? Was he interrupted and had to be quick about it? If he just happened upon her here and killed her that’d make sense. Except that a shapeshifter being out this far away from her pack alone didn’t make any sense. Shapeshifters stuck in groups, or at least the females did.
Abbigail squatted beside the girl. She had brown hair, the natural kind that had hints of blonde from being out in the sun. Her eyes were open, her face tilted towards the alley. The majority of the blood had spilled from a neck wound. Abby leaned down to inspect it. Could be a throat cutting or garroting, but more blood covered her abdomen wetting the girl’s brown t-shirt to her skin. A cartoon cowboy riding a horse and lassoing a whip above his head sat on her shirt. Above it in pink scrawling text it said: Ride me cowboy! Abby cleared her throat and moved in with her inspection.
One shoe had come off which had been found at the beginning of the alley. The shoe probably came off during a struggle.
As associate medical examiner for the paranormal unit of the Fort Collins Police Department in Colorado, Abbigail got to touch the body first. She shouldn’t even have the job she had. She was too young, but she’d graduated high school a year early then went through a special FBI program, a brand-new unit on studying supernatural cases. She’d been surprised to find her classes not filled to the brink. Who wouldn’t find learning about the supernatural beings of the world utterly fascinating? Apparently many since her classes had sat half empty. That’s when she met Stan Haubermann, a middle-aged detective turned behavioral profiler who’d started the program. He’d taken her under his wing and taught her everything he knew. Not that she was special; he’d done it to other members from her graduating class. She was just the only one to already have a job practicing his teachings.
Abbigail gently pushed the victim’s head back, to the left, and then right. The cut was deep and clean. Not a serrated blade, and the wound wasn’t thin enough to be from a garrote.
“Definitely a blade,” she called out. “Rigor mortis has set in. She’s been here at least four hours but probably no longer than twelve.” Her skin had already begun to turn a purplish hue. Her muscles were beginning to tighten.
Abby arrived at the scene at a quarter passed eight. That meant the girl had been killed during the night.
The detectives quieted and came closer. Detective Mike leaned down next to her as his keen eyes professionally scoped out the body. Abby pressed her fingers around the neck to feel for splintered or broken bones but found none. She lifted the shirt and the detectives leaned over to peer.
“Stabbed her a good four times then took out her neck I bet,” Mike said.
“That’d be my guess,” Abby agreed, eyeing the deep red cuts in victim’s abdomen. “Arm bent that way, I’d say he was holding her from behind and she’d reached back to try to get his hair or pull his arm away, something. That’s when he slit her throat. She fell down just like that, still reaching for him.”
“Check her hands,” Mike said.
Abby lifted each of the victim’s hands paying specific attention to her nails, fingers, and palms. “Defensive stab wounds.” They happen during knife fights or on victims of knife homicides. The victims throw out their hands to try to dodge or block the swinging blade and their own hands get cut in the process. Blood was caked under the victim’s fingernails making them look murky brown.
“How old do you think she is? The local shapeshifter alpha said the girl they’re missing is about seventeen.” He glanced down at his notepad. “She fits the description. Went missing last night.”
“Yeah, I’d say that’s right judging from the size of the body, the facial features, and her teeth. Definitely a teen. I’ll know more once we get her back to the lab.”
Mike stood, pulled out his notebook, and scribbled down some notes. “Anything else for us?”
Abbigail looked back down the path. “Definitely got stabbed at least the first few times at the beginning of the alley. Blood drops lead us back here to the body. He dragged her here and she lost her shoe in the struggle. She fought back, maybe even got away from him for a few seconds when he started slashing at her giving her the wounds on her hands. Eventually he got her turned around and slit her throat for the final killing blow.”
“All right, we’ll have the body sent down for processing. Let me know if you get anything else,” said Mike.
“Will do.” Abbigail walked down the path then removed her bloodied booties and gloves, handing them over to another crime scene investigator who held open a trash bag.
“Any luck?” he asked.
Abbigail shrugged. It was too soon to say.
She headed to her car and saw that it wasn’t even ten in the morning yet. Time to head home and try to get a quick nap before they got the body down to the lab. She let out a jaw-cracking yawn then took off for home.
Chapter Two
Alrik lifted his knee high to his chest then slammed it down. His heavy boot caught the demon’s chin smashing its bony skull into the ground with a fleshy crack. The idummi squealed a heinous, ear-piercing sound before Alrik let his boot connect with the demon’s face again, ending the squeal.
Dragging in a heavy breath, Alrik turned to the temple and surveyed the grounds. The seer’s home was a decrepit stone structure with two rock pillars in front acting as an archway to an empty, dark doorway set behind them. The home, if one could call it that, looked like a small rock hovel. The outside of the house was formed from hundreds of jagged rocks that varied in size and color. With the full light of day on it you could see chalky white areas and shiny black ones that glinted in the hazy sky’s pink glow.
The one-story abode had no door but did have a dirty brown curtain that billowed in the breeze. Alrik checked his surroundings once more then ducked inside the temple.
His lip curled. The one-story temple was anything but what he expected. Magic reeked in the place; it saturated the air like fog. The rocky structure was a hoax, a glamour created by the seer. Inside, the room traveled back for some distance, something not possible when judging from the outside of the temple. The floor and walls were made of flat, sanded-down stone, and torches burned brightly to chase back the shadows. The scent of burning wood and smoke hit his nostrils.
Alrik gripped his bloodied sword as he made his way down the long hall at the back of the room. The tunnel went on for some distance with no end in sight. No light lit the way and no light could be seen at the end of the tunnel. He hated these games but it looked like he’d have to play them. He did not come this far to not get the answers he sought.
Stepping lightly he made his way down the blackened tunnel. He kept his ears alert, all of his senses ready. He didn’t make it far when a voice spoke and sounded as if came from all around him.
It sounded chipper as if it was laughing. “Found me at last have you, fallen king? Took you long enough.”
Alrik’s lips peeled back. To the darkened tunnel, he demanded, “Stop playing games with me seer. You’ll speak to me—”
“Or else what, fallen king? You’ll kill me too? As you did to that demon outside?”
“He was rummaging around your temple. I saved you from him.”
The voice came back heavy with sarcasm. “Hardly necessary. No one gets in here unless I want them to.”
Alrik’s neck muscles flexed as he clenched his shoulders, but he didn’t roll his head to ease it. “Then speak to me, old man.”
The voice, that of an old man scratchy with age and hoarse, laughed again. The jolly sound only fueled Alrik’s anger.
“The fallen king is desperate, his heart filled with anger. I’ll tell you now that isn’t the answer.”
Alrik stopped walking down the endless tunnel with no light in sight and spun his head around trying to track the seer’s voice. “I haven’t even asked a question yet, seer.”
“Ah, but I know what you want to ask.”
“Then give me the answer!” Alrik shouted, his voice bouncing off the tunnel walls and echoing down the long corridor until he was surrounded by the shout. After many seconds, the echo faded leaving him in heavy silence.
He heard a long sigh which sounded laden with disappointment. “Very well,” the voice said.
The walls around him shimmered and bubbled as if looking through the clear water of a waterfall as it fell to Earth. The dark walls became bright as if it was suddenly illuminated. Alrik turned and saw the black tunnel wall dissipate completely to reveal a large room complete with a large burning fireplace, a long wooden table covered in silver plates and golden goblets, and large iron rods around the room that held thick waxy candles that flickered orange light.
In front of the fireplace sat an old man sitting on a deep orange rug woven with magical symbols and Demonish words. Alrik stepped into the room. The old seer sat with his ankles crossed and knees pointing out. His long dark hair was pulled high atop his head in a curl and he wore a blue and red robe that shimmered in the firelight.
Alrik started for the seer.
The seer lifted his head from the floor and his eyes met Alrik. Alrik froze at the sight of those eyes, and he’d never seen anything like it. Black eyes with a brilliant blue center. He’d seen many demons in his life of varying colored skin, hair, and eyes, but never anything like this. However, the rest of the seer looked very human. Dark brown skin, dark hair, but those eyes were something different.
“So you’ve found me, fallen king Alrik.”
“Not easily.” Much blood had been shed, and even more time spent trying to find the seer. It had better be worth all the trouble. He was his last hope, and the only one capable of helping him on his quest.
“Nothing worth doing is ever easy.”
“Spare me the proverbial talk, seer.”
The seer looked up towards the ceiling, his expression dreamy with thought. “I must correct myself. Nothing important worth doing is ever easy. Seeing as how much you need me and my guidance and how important that will change things for you, I’d say it’s going to be very important for you.”
“Enough of the bullshit, seer. You know what I’m here to ask.”
The seer looked at Alrik and smiled, his white teeth dazzling against his dark skin. “Shall you ask anyway? People like that. They don’t enjoy knowing that I already know what they’re going to say. I believe it makes them feel more comfortable.”
“Where is my mother?”
The seer jumped up to a stand, surprising Alrik with his agility. The man sounded as if speaking was a chore yet he hopped up with the spring of a child.
The seer was guessed to be older than the kingdom of Harumina itself and yet he looked no older than Alrik did. Surely, he was a shahoulin demon like Alrik, because they aged much slower than some species of earth.
Still smiling, the seer walked to a cupboard hanging on the stone wall and grabbed something off the shelf. With a few more movements, the seer walked to the candle standing in the corner of the room, and with a smoke pressed between his lips he breathed deeply as the candle sparked. The smoke’s end lit brightly as he inhaled.
“Smoke?” the seer asked without glancing at him.
“No,” Alrik said, his patience waning fast. “Answer my question, seer.”
The seer pulled the smoke from between his wrinkled lips and stared at the tip before turning it back around and casually sucking from the end. The scent of burning herbs reached Alrik’s nostrils. The odor was not unpleasant but close to it.
“You’re asking the wrong question, fallen king.”
Alrik squeezed his sword then deposited it back in the scabbard across his back. “Stop calling me that.”
The seer’s dark eyebrows flew up in surprise, and Alrik wasn’t fooled. The seer wasn’t surprised by anything. “What? The fallen king? You are fallen, aren’t you? Were you not banished from your home for all your…horrible deeds?”
Alrik’s blood pumped hard with the need to lash out. The need to tear across the small space, wrap his hand around the old seer’s throat, and squeeze—squeeze until his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his wheezing breaths stopped. He didn’t do that though. Instead, he released a strangled breath and bared his teeth.
“Where is my mother?”
“Ah, yes, the fallen queen,” the seer said, still smiling and puffing away at his smoke. “That’s not the right question to ask. Try another, fallen king.”
“How can I find my mother?”
The seer rocked his head side to side as if contemplating.
“You are very close to death right now,” warned Alrik “I’d answer if I were you.”
The seer tossed his head back and laughed a hoarse, wheezing sound. When he looked back at Alrik, his grin was broader and his dark eyes bright with amusement. “You can’t kill me, fallen king.”
“Want to bet on that, seer?”
The seer spread his arms out wide until his body formed a T. “You need me.”
Alrik looked away. It was either that or risk tearing the seer apart limb by limb. God, just the thought of it sent a rush of pleasure through him. The howl of his screams would fuel him better than any food, the sight of his spurting blood like a balm to his heart.
“Answer the question,” he said slowly, his eyes closing as he enjoyed the mental image of killing the seer with his bare hands.
Silence met him. Alrik pushed back the dark thoughts and opened his eyes to find the seer watching him, no longer smiling.
“How you can find her or where you can find her is not important, and you already know the answer.”
“All that I know, seer, is that she’s in the rift.”
The seer shrugged a slender shoulder.
“I’m sure you know how big the rift is, seer.”
“She’s here. You’ll find her eventually, but you already know that. You don’t need me for that.”
Alrik frowned. “Then why the fuck else am I here?”
Again, the seer smiled. “Because you don’t know how to kill her.”
Alrik’s body stilled, each muscle tensing. “I’ll slice her head off with my blade and if that doesn’t work, I’ll turn to magic as she has.”
The seer laughed then sat back down on the rug at the fire, leaving a trail of smoke behind him. “But you can’t kill her.”
“What do you mean I can’t kill her?” he asked slowly.
That’s all he’d thought about, all he’d planned for years. He’d been searching for her for years, always either one step behind or completely off her trail through some form of her treachery. He was done. This would end soon. He’d make sure of it.
The seer looked him up and down. “Your curse won’t let you. The queen isn’t stupid. When she cursed you she made sure that if you ever learned of her deceit you couldn’t kill her. Since surely you’d want to.”
‘Want’ was such a lame word. He didn’t want to kill his mother, he needed to. He needed to as much as needed air to live.
“How do I break the curse upon me then?”
“By killing her, of course.”
Alrik’s fists clenched until his blunt nails stabbed into his skin. He felt the skin give and blood bead. “But you said I can’t kill her.”
“No, you can’t.”
Alrik nearly saw red. “Then how do I kill her?”
“It’s not a how so much as a who. See, you’re not asking the right questions.”
Alrik blinked, the only sign he gave to show the shock in his body. “Who can kill her?” The thought of anyone else ever delivering the killing blow to his mother had never, not even once, crossed his mind.
The seer laughed and rubbed his hands together. “The most unlikely person, naturally. A woman, a human woman.”
Alrik took a hard step forward and pointed a hard finger at the seer. “Stop messing with me, seer. A human, let alone a woman, could never kill my mother and you know it.”
“But this human is a witch.” His eyes turned into a faraway look, unfocused and hazy. “Though there is a bit of a problem with that.”
As if this wasn’t a problem already. “And what’s that?”
The seer didn’t respond for several moments. His eyes were lost in thought. Finally, the haze left him and he tossed the end of his smoke into the burning fire. “She hasn’t used her magic in a very long time. She shuns it.”
Alrik shook his head. “This is ridiculous. You mean to tell me that the only way to kill my mother and lift the curse from me is through a human witch who doesn’t even practice her skill?”
“Precisely!” the seer said with a smile.
Alrik looked away, lost in his own thoughts. “You’re certain she is the one?”
“Oh yes.”
A human witch. If she could kill his mother then she must be very powerful indeed. The human aspect would be a downside. That means he’d have to go to the surface to get her and she’d have a harder time adjusting to the environment in the rift. But, it could work. The fact that she doesn’t practice her own magic would have to be remedied right away. He needed her power at its fullest for when they reached the queen.
“What is her name?”
The seer’s lips lifted into another smile. “Abbigail Krenshaw.”
Alrik frowned. “That’s a strange name.”
“Maybe to her your name is strange.”
“Maybe so. How do I find her?”
The seer shrugged but a smart glimmer in his eyes said he did know. But he stayed silent.
God, the surface. He hadn’t been there...in ages. The last time was before the Great War and even then he preferred his richer, brighter colors of the rift than the dull colors of the earthen-realm.
“Fine.” Alrik turned without a goodbye and headed back towards the hall. He’d just stepped foot onto the dark path when the seer spoke.
“She’ll die in the process.”
Alrik looked over his shoulder at the seer. “Then so be it.”
The seer’s merry laughter echoed around him as he stalked away with his next quest on his mind.
