by L. L. McNeil
Crimson Eyes
Kouzlo Saga Book 1
L.L. McNeil
First published in Great Britain in 2019.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
Crimson Eyes © 2019 L.L. McNeil
Three Dragon Publishing
www.llmcneil.com
Cover by Rebeca Covers
For Pipkin, who supports me in everything I do, and gives me courage when I find myself in darkness.
Contents
Also by L.L. McNeil
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Note from the author
Sneak Peek: Book 2 - Crimson Bone
Also by L.L. McNeil
KOUZLO SAGA
NOVELS
Crimson Eyes
Crimson Bone
Crimson Fang
Crimson Soul
WORLD OF LINARIA
NOVELS
Moroda
Palom
Amarah
NOVELLAS
Rise of a Sky Pirate
Acknowledgments
This book would not exist without Olivia. (Well, it would. It just wouldn’t be half as good.)
I cannot thank you enough for your keen eyes, nitpicking, and unwavering support. (And patience.) Thank you.
To anyone who purchases my book, I am eternally grateful. It would mean the world and more if you would be kind enough to review Crimson Eyes.
1
Demon blood stuck to the damp grass, tar-like and glistening in the moonlight.
Seila wrinkled her nose. A sulphuric scent, like a bonfire left to burn far too long. Creatures that bled tar were unnatural. Evil. And they preyed on the most vulnerable or unwary.
Leeches.
Parasitic demons who attached themselves to animals—or people—and slowly took them over, eating away at the mind until their victims were nothing but a shell of themselves, and died a slow, lonely death. It earned them the nickname, “Soul Eater.” They were small creatures, barely large enough to grasp with both hands, and were the oldest, most primitive of all demon types.
Seila had crossed the country to hunt demons, travelling further and further south, until she’d reached the outskirts of London. Most of her hunts were in rural areas—isolated villages of a few hundred people, where demons could more easily pick people off. It was unusual for so many to gather near the large towns surrounding England’s capital city.
A group of Soul Eaters bled now, fleeing before her wrath as they looked for shelter. Black smoke writhed around their claws, masking their feet, but giving away their location. These were just the latest in a series of hunts that had spanned years, and would continue until she got what she wanted.
No, what she needed.
She’d protected countless people. As a demon hunter, she frequently saved people from gruesome deaths. They were always grateful, of course, but she’d never done it to help them.
Her endless hunt was for herself, for her own reasons that she seldom shared with those she saved: she didn’t have a soul. And slaying demons was the only way she had a chance of reclaiming it, before a slow, lonely death took her, too.
Seila could still remember the face of the enormous demon who had taken it from her. A towering creature of darkness and smoke, fire and death. He had trapped her. Had ripped her memories away, stripped her of her humanity, and left her to die alone as a soulless husk.
Because of that one, evil creature, Seila didn’t know who she was, or who she’d been. Didn’t know if she’d had a mother or father, siblings, friends.
Didn’t know if she’d even been human.
The demon had taken her very essence and laughed. A chilling, mocking noise, as he pulled it from her body and left her to die without it—that she might suffer even more until her death. Laughed, while he’d given it to Soul Eaters, leaving her empty. Broken. Their laughter ringing in her ears. It felt like a thousand lifetimes ago, but she could still hear their cackling as those damned creatures ran off with who she was.
Had left her alone in the darkness to suffer and die.
But Seila had refused.
She’d staggered to her feet, slipped on the bloodied ground, and chased them.
And she hadn’t stopped.
She’d fallen over many times, ended up covered in blood. She’d come close to giving up, to taking the easier option of a slow death.
But she’d never quit.
She’d become a Phantom.
Every demon she slayed gave her strength and sustenance. Kept her alive, when she should have died. Kept her strong, when she should have been weak.
She took their power, like they had taken her soul.
Black alder trees edged the hilltop, their lower branches and dense leaves concealing the Soul Eaters from view. But their tar-like blood created a trail that led straight to them, and Seila didn’t need to see them to know they were there. The black feathers on her wings bristled in the night breeze, bringing sweet relief from the sweat dripping down her neck. She’d lost track of how long she’d been fighting. How long she’d been hunting.
She wanted to rest. To lay down her sword and never encounter another demon again.
But she couldn’t stop. Couldn’t rest.
Not until she reclaimed her soul.
Soul Eaters were not the most intelligent of demons. The few words they did speak were often gibberish; a whirling mesh of emotions given voice. Seila knew their tongue, but heard it in her mind rather than with her ears. It had always unnerved her, but it was just something else that helped her hunt them down.
Seila approached the line of trees and crouched to peer through the low-hanging branches. Tall grass, weeds, and leaves masked much of what was underneath, but the burning stench of demon blood grew ever stronger.
‘Come out, demons,’ she demanded. ‘I’ll end you quickly.’
Shrill squeaking replied. A high-pitched trill of dozens of creatures writhing in the shadows, angry at being discovered. They were still a threat, and she needed to be wary. Overconfidence was one reason many people never came back alive when challenging demons.
Seila narrowed her eyes and squeezed her right hand into a ball, concentrating.
Her sword materialised in her palm, summoned by the call of battle. It was a curved, single-edged blade almost three feet long. The sword itself was slender, and perhaps not as impressive as people might hope for when it came to taking on demons.
But it was more than capable. Her Sieken Blade was an otherworldly weapon—one that had laid waste to hundreds of demons. These would be no different.
With a sudden squeal, something dark lunged at her from the trees, claws extended. Seila leapt backwards, wings beating to get her up into the air, and she slashed forward with her Sieken Blade. The writhing mass split apart at the blade’s touch, and Seila realised these demons were different.
Stingers. Also known as Toxic Fang
s.
And they stank.
She wrinkled her nose again. These demons were nothing like Leeches. They were small, rat-like creatures with a painful, poisonous sting at the end of their tail, and famous for swarming their prey. Because of their comparative weakness to larger demons, they spent most of their lives underground; in sewers, usually, so they ended up with clumps of grime and waste in their fur.
‘Leeches and Stingers tonight, then? Fine.’ Seila swooped down and chased after the first group of Toxic Fangs. There were too many to count. They all ran over one another as much as alongside one another, constantly shifting and darting out of the way of Seila’s blade like water, before leaping up to strike with claws and stingers.
Their poison wasn’t particularly potent. But get stung by too many, and you’d be in trouble. She cursed as they dodged her attacks and countered just as quickly. She kept her guard up as she struck and avoided being struck.
Toxic Fangs were weak, but annoying. And they could be a real threat if they gained the upper hand. They often took over barns, farmland, or riverbanks and swarmed unwitting people. Death by Stinger wasn’t slow and lonely. It was quick, painful, and they rarely left much of their victims.
She had to exterminate them.
Frustrated, Seila landed on the wet grass and threw her blade. It span in the air, careened towards the group of demons, and slashed into the heart of them. Their squeals intensified as the blade did its job. More tar soaked the grass.
Several Toxic Fangs leapt away and lunged at her. One pounced on her leg, its tail stinger plunging deep into her calf. A second joined it, then a third.
Seila grit her teeth against the pain. She rolled, kicked at them with her free leg. Already she could feel the numbing cold in her calf, and she screamed her fury.
Demons still attached, she dived for her sword, grasped it tight. The blade absorbed demon blood and glittered faintly in the moonlight with their power. She licked her lips as the strength of the slain demons surged into her. Her skin prickled with energy, her eyes glowed crimson.
A deep, insatiable hunger grew, filling her from her fingers to her toes.
She needed more.
Seila dragged the blade along the demons on her leg, severing them like they were made of paper. She whirled around, searching for the other group of Toxic Fangs, and the already injured Soul Eaters. Her lips pulled up at the corners when she saw them.
The two groups had huddled together, realising that Seila had changed from prey into a threat.
‘No. Stay away. Fear.’ Their voices were stronger now. They were amplified when she killed demons, and she always hoped one would give her a hint as to where her soul was.
She tightened her grip on her sword’s hilt, the curved blade glinting. Ready.
Without warning, Seila took to the air again and charged straight for the small pack. Her blade hissed over and over as she cut them down, her wings faster than their legs. She delighted in their squeals, in her power, as she cleansed the world of their darkness.
They defended themselves furiously, but she hardly felt their attacks in the surge of adrenaline.
She cut and slashed until there wasn’t a single demon left.
Just her and the trees.
Long minutes passed as the rush of battle faded and her skin cooled. When she fought, Seila was alive. Glowing with energy. But once the fighting was over, she was empty.
Hollow.
And none of these demons had given her a soul.
Her work wasn’t over yet, and her hunt continued. As it always did.
The pain from their claws and stingers slowly made itself known, and she shivered. Her swollen skin itched where they’d touched her, and small rivulets of blood dripped from the wounds.
It was fine. She’d survived far worse. She’d heal.
Seila was about to take to the sky again in search of the next demon, when a growl gave her pause. It was a noise unlike anything she’d heard before. A low, rumbling roar that rocked the ground and shook the trees.
She crouched, sword brandished high, wings extended, ready to take flight if she needed to. Leeches and Stingers weren’t the only type of demons that walked this world.
The growl grew louder, closer. She turned to face the narrow road that wound its way through the rolling hills towards the town in the distance. Headlights suddenly illuminated the road and a large, dark car rumbled along.
Seila relaxed. The car made a noise like a demon. She blinked and tilted her head. Could demons take over inanimate objects? It wasn’t something she’d ever come across before.
And then she saw the puff of black smoke curling against the car’s back window—almost invisible despite the bright moonlight. ‘Another Soul Eater?’ Seila narrowed her eyes.
There was no question. There was definitely a demon inside that car.
She watched as it drove towards Fernhampton, a town fortified by high steel walls to keep demons out. But considering the demon was in the car, it wouldn’t be long before it would be deep in the heart of the town.
Taking to the air with a couple of flaps of her wings, Seila followed the car as it drove towards Fernhampton, its engine growling into the night.
The loud car drove through Fernhampton, and Seila followed from several feet above. She’d always found it funny how no-one noticed her unless she was saving them from a demon attack. But that was fine. She didn’t like too much attention as it was. Attention brought questions, which were annoying. And her answers inspired uncertainty, fear. The world had been plagued with demons since time immemorial, and where there were demons, there were also demon hunters.
But Phantoms were not the norm.
Even in a world where shape-shifters and magic users kept demons at bay—albeit from the shadows—seeing a Phantom, with crimson eyes, black wings, and a sword that could cut most things in two, was unnerving to most humans.
Their fear led to aggression, and she left before anything could escalate.
So, Seila tried to avoid sticky situations by keeping herself unseen as much as possible.
She worked alone, for herself, and only hunted those demons she wished to, instead of saving people from their attacks.
Many mercenaries were hired by small villages and hamlets. By people begging to be saved from an infestation of demonic parasites or a small group of powerful, predatory demons. They were freelance demon hunters who risked their lives for money, food, and shelter.
Larger cities—even whole counties—had dedicated task forces that kept their inhabitants relatively safe from the threat of demons.
Seila avoided both options. It was better that way.
She never wanted to share her hunts, not when her soul was at stake.
It certainly helped that demons usually kept to rural areas. Places where fewer people could stumble into them, where their hunting was easier, and they were less likely to be discovered and attacked. And it meant that Seila, too, avoided towns and cities most of the time.
This particular hunt was unusual.
She followed the car through Fernhampton. It was unremarkable, as towns went. Located to the west of London and quite built up, Seila had no idea why demons were congregating here. It went against everything she knew about them and their behaviours.
As late as it was, there weren’t too many other cars on the road, and certainly none that growled like this one did. She’d flown over Fernampton a few times, usually on her way further west or south, but had never actually come into it. Demons seemed to flock to the hillsides surrounding the town, making for easy pickings. It was about as close as they came to London.
Although she couldn’t hear the demon’s voice, she could see the smoke, and she could smell it. Seila looked down between buildings and along walls every so often, always on guard in case other demons lurked nearby. If this Soul Eater had entered the town, there was no reason why others wouldn’t.
The question gnawed at her: why were they here?
Demons were opportunistic hunters, and cowards, most of the time. Sure, there were larger, more predatory types, but even they kept to more quieter areas with fewer people. There were too many demon hunters that protected large towns.
So why had they gone against their nature? Why here?
She tried to focus on the car and less on her surroundings and the questions which rolled around in her mind. Thankfully, the car made enough noise that she didn’t need to keep it within sight to be able to follow it.
But all seemed quiet in Fernhampton as far as demons went. With any luck, this Soul Eater would be her final hunt for tonight.
Seila followed as the car turned down quieter and quieter streets until it pulled into a small estate with eight apartment blocks dotted around in a loose half-circle. Each block had its own name written on a plaque, one main entrance at the front, and rose six storeys high. All of the apartments above ground floor had small balconies and wide doors leading out to them. She could see and sense nothing that explained the demons’ attraction to this place.
As the car pulled up in front of one building named Silver Ash, Seila landed in an alley to watch.
A young man—the driver—and a woman got out of the car. He walked around to hug her tight, both burying their faces into each others’ shoulders. The man had short, dark hair and skin, brown eyes, and stood almost a head taller than the woman. He kissed her cheek and they pressed their noses against one another, setting her off to giggling. The woman’s hair was much longer, reaching almost to her waist, and she was pale where he was dark.
