Redemption: The Evolution of Grace: A Nephilim Urban Fantasy (Grace Gamble Trilogy Book 1)

by Sabra Kay

  Once inside the dimly lit pavilion, the noise level hushed, and a lit-up stage came into view. There was some jostling and jockeying for position, but ushers arrived with flashlights to keep things orderly.

  Moments later, Mr. Billy Blaine himself took the stage.

  I was confronted with the man who I'd only been able to hate from the other side of a television screen. Now, here he was, in the evil flesh. My blood boiled at the sight of him, and I had to talk myself down so as not to project the wrong energy. As it was, the parasites retracted in my presence. It was only a matter of time before I’d be found out. Then again, that's what I was hoping for. It was too much to expect to find Sera and somehow sneak out. No, a confrontation was inevitable.

  The Reverend Billy Blaine began a vigorous welcome sermon, thanking his congregation, praising the Good Lord, and cautioning the audience against any sinful thoughts or acts. He talked about the “great work” they were all there to do, that tonight would be the culmination of years of hard work, blood, sweat, tears, and prayers, and that every single soul in the room would make history. Tonight, he said, would be a turning point for the faithful and a tough blow for the devil.

  It was the start of a glorious war, a war that would end with salvation for the lambs and slaughter for the wolves. Those sneaky bastards that would threaten our children, sully our women, and tempt our men into sin and destruction. Who was responsible for this?

  Witches.

  “And I ask you, my wonderful friends and neighbors. What does a witch look like? Why, that's just it! She looks like you and me. Sometimes, they are even disguised as men.”

  “What do witches do? They poison your children! They seduce your husband! They spread vile lies and turn your loved ones away from our great Savior. They teach in your schools and come into your homes. They destroy the family unit as our holy Father intended it to be. They would like you to think they are purveyors of love and light, but they are dealers of darkness.”

  Rousing applause ensued.

  I struggled to keep up a façade of enthusiasm. Each moment, each cheer, each Amen! shook me to my core. Evil was something I was familiar with, but never at this level. Never en masse.

  “They're among us tonight.” Blaine's voice dropped to a dramatic hush.

  A round of boos erupted from the crowd.

  I felt a sinking in my stomach at that. I could only assume any minute some of his demon bouncers would single out people from the crowd at random as supposed witches.

  “We've grown weak, my friends. Complacent. Politically correct.”

  There were shouts from the crowd at that one.

  Jesus.

  “That's right, folks. This 'everybody gets a trophy, and everyone is created equal' culture has made us vulnerable to the ways of Satan.”

  Huh. I had no idea that participation trophies were a ticket straight to hell.

  “Our weakness has left us vulnerable to the darkness.”

  More affirmation from the crowd. Even fist-pumping.

  “So, I need to ask you the question. Are you prepared to do what needs to be done to drive out the darkness?”

  And the crowd goes wild.

  The parasites responded to the energy, caressing, probing, slithering amongst the crowd, hovering in hungry anticipation before diving in for the next course in the meal. My stomach lurched.

  The background music changed from motivational and uplifting to something more ominous. The lights dimmed. Billy Blaine looked to his left and then his right. There was a pause and the sounds of a struggle. Then, through the curtains, staff guards emerged, dragging along two women struggling and screaming through their gags. For a split second, the crowd fell silent, then erupted into chaos.

  Boos, cheers, screams of witch! Burn in hell!

  My god. What have they done?

  This was bad, really bad. I glanced at the surrounding crowd. They were fairly frothing at the mouth from the hate rising in them.

  I backed slowly out of the room, but not before I heard the chants.

  “Burn them! Send them to hell! Burn the witches!”

  Was it possible they would do it? Something so blatant as public murder? Surely someone in the crowd would stand up and say it was wrong, that it was murder. But the mob mentality was entrenched and the slugs fed off their energy in a symbiosis of murderous rage and fervent desire to see pain, horror, and death.

  “Take them away. Get them ready. We'll meet at midnight for a reckoning.” At that, the preacher excused himself, introducing his right-hand man and oldest son, Jaren.

  Jaren was the spitting image of his father. Tan, blond, sharp-featured, and slimy as fuck.

  He took the mic from his father and addressed the crowd.

  Billy stepped off the stage, and the thugs dragged their prisoners back through the curtains.

  Now was the time for my exit. I needed to figure out how to find Sera and get her out of this place, quick. I crossed the threshold of the pavilion and stepped back into the frigid desert air. To my right, there was nothing. The barricades that blocked off the trailers were momentarily unguarded. Most people were in the pavilion, with just a few families milling about, settling down children and craning their heads to see what was happening inside the doors. A woman looked at me with questions in her eyes as I walked out of the tent.

  “I should have gotten a babysitter. I'm going to miss the whole thing.” She rolled her eyes and jerked her toddler toward the row of portable bathroom stalls.

  I shrugged and smiled. Nice parenting.

  A buzzing in my back pocket alerted me I had a message. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and tapped the notification. It was Chuck, and it wasn't morning, but it was fine by me.

  The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.

  - Sun Tzu, The Art of War

  We got you, kid. Don't worry.

  Miles and a team are on the way.

  My stomach lurched. I had a feeling the last team was dead. What would they do if they caught Chuck, Darah, and Harry? I wonder where they are. Are they here, on the grounds? Are they waiting for word from me? What if I never see them again?

  I continued toward the barricade, sticking close to the tent. There was an easy spot to slip in between, and in five steps, I would be there. I made my way to the opening and turned around to see if anyone was watching, when I found myself face to face with Gregory, the bastard son of Billy Blaine himself.

  Grinning, he put his hands on my shoulders. There were two men flanking him, also smiling.

  “Glad you could join us, Grace. I was afraid you weren't coming.” He looked around. “Where are your friends? Decided to split up, huh?” He laughed, and so did his goons, like parrots.

  I did not laugh, but I did knee him square in the balls.

  Bad move.

  His eyes shifted and glowed, and he punched me in the solar plexus, knocking the wind right out of me. My legs crumpled beneath me as I fought to breathe. Blaine let go of my shoulders and motioned for his men to grab me. I supposed this was the easier, yet not less painful way of getting where I needed to go.

  Chapter Sixteen

  My first instinct was to fight with everything I had. To get away from them and run for it. There were two reasons this was a terrible idea. First, it probably wouldn't work. These guys were enormous, all cambions and no doubt more powerful than me. I could try to use my powers, but it might backfire, and that would bring every armed guard in the vicinity, as well as a legion of bloodthirsty Blaine followers, down on me. Besides, I had no idea where Sera was being held, and perhaps this was the best way to get to her.

  I kept my struggle to a minimum and just settled for being an inconvenience. No need to make it easy. I shot several glances at Gregory, sizing him up. He wasn't as big or burly as his goons. He was tall and lean and had a swagger about him. He wore a leather jacket that looked a lot like mine, which really pissed me off.

  I hated him with everything I had.


  They led me past a row of trailers and to a central compound of portable buildings. There were armed guards everywhere, some human, some not. The air felt heavy here, and I struggled to breathe in it. The waves of energy were slow-moving and murky. It was exhausting just putting one foot in front of the other. Yet underneath it was a crackling, vibrating, humming force. It ran down my spine and crawled against my skin.

  Finally, we reached what I knew was the center of the compound. The Reverend's lair.

  Gregory opened the door and held it while one of his men shoved me through. Inside was a comfortably furnished room with leather sofas and plush carpeting. There were monitors set up along one wall, and a man dressed in a black suit surveyed the feeds, switching back and forth between the entrances and exits, the barricades, the trailers, and inside the tent. The bigger douchebag shoved me onto the couch and took his position at the door. Gregory took his seat across from me.

  I glared at him, feeling furious but also some conflict that I couldn't articulate. Perhaps the demon blood running through my veins would betray me, rendering me powerless among... my own kind. He returned the glare and sneered at me. I wanted badly to backhand him.

  “Don't try any of your bullshit nephilim mind-fuck tricks, either. He lifted his shirt, revealing a tattooed sigil on his upper abdomen. “Besides, you can't manipulate my conscience or my 'better nature.' It doesn't exist.” He smiled, visibly pleased with this revelation.

  I shrugged. “Good for you. Where's Sera?”

  “She's safe. No harm has come to her.”

  “What are you going to do with me? Burn me with the witches?”

  Gregory shook his head. “No. Not tonight, anyway. This is just the first of many ceremonies. The burning helps create a clearer channel, a better opening. Plus, it's fun!” He beamed.

  “Fuck off.”

  “Tell me how you really feel, Grace. No need to sugar coat it.” He grinned.

  So much grinning. It pissed me off more than anything. Why did these assholes feel the need to constantly smile and laugh? Isn't evil supposed to be serious business? I wanted to slap the grin off his face.

  “How do you know who I am?”

  “The daughter of William Gamble? Ha, how could I not.”

  “Why did you bring me here?”

  He looked at me for a moment. “We didn't bring you. You came of your own accord.”

  “But you wanted me here. Didn't you?”

  “We have the girl. Now we have you. We took out over a dozen CDT members, and soon we'll have your Miles and whatever loser squad he brings. As a bonus, we've got Chuck the Demonslayer and Ethan Cole, one of the most badass of your kind. Which isn't really saying much, if you ask me. Oh, and your pretty redheaded friend. This is a damn good night, Grace. Damn good.”

  My heart sank, and my gut lurched. They were all going to die tonight. I should've come alone. I should have known this would happen.

  Gregory snapped his fingers and smiled, again.

  “Oh, and that loser you've been hanging around with, the one from the bar? He's here, too. Just as a bit of added insurance.”

  I felt the color drain from my face. Chuck and Darah were bad enough, but Harry didn't sign up for this.

  “He's not a part of the CDT! He's not done anything to you.”

  “Ooh, yikes, yet another chink in your armor. You know, if you're going to run around hunting cambion and saving the world from demons, getting attached to kids and falling in love with bartenders is ill-advised. Look at what it's gotten you so far? Love is a liability, whether it's for a man, woman, or child. The sooner you learn that, the better.”

  The sickening, sinking feeling was slowly being replaced with a growing rage, and I welcomed it. Fuck them. I'll burn them before they burn anyone else. I'll burn this place to the ground. There will be nothing left but ash and bones.

  It was easier, this time, to condense my rage, to contain it in that space between my gut and my heart, to hold it there just for a few minutes. I knew that when the time was right, I would send it shooting from me, and it would destroy everything it touched.

  A door opened somewhere in the back of the trailer, and a figure emerged from the darkened hall.

  Billy Blaine.

  He stepped into the light and clapped his hands together. “What a treat! Grace Gamble. It's an honor to have you on this momentous occasion. I hope Gregory has made you feel welcome.”

  The rage ball in my belly dissolved, leaving me empty and confused. What happened? I no longer felt my power. I felt little in his presence, surrounded by fear and blackness. I shuddered then straightened myself. Fuck this guy. I'm not going down like this. I'm not caving to this bullshit anxiety.

  “Reverend Billy Blaine. I can't believe I'm meeting you. This is an incredible opportunity for me. I get to tell you, in person, that I think you are an absolute piece of shit.”

  He rubbed his hands together, beaming. “Ah, you know, Grace, I'd heard you were a disappointment to your family, but I thought they were maybe treating you unfairly. I guess the disappointment was well placed, after all. Clearly, you don't have any manners, but what else would I expect from a low-level, uneducated, motherless drunk.”

  How words from a man I despised could sting, I didn't know. I glared at him while he laughed. Oh well, no one said that demons were anything but giant assholes, so no surprise there.

  Gregory, on the other hand, looked squirmy and uncomfortable. Interesting.

  Family dynamics were a tricky thing, this much I knew. They were also a potential weakness that could be exploited.

  “Mind if I smoke?” I asked.

  “By all means, smoke 'em if you got 'em.” At this, Blaine grinned and slapped his knee, obviously amused with himself.

  “Great. Anyone have a cigarette?”

  Gregory produced a pack of reds and a lighter from his inside jacket pocket. I put a cigarette in my mouth and leaned forward, allowing him to light it. I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, then looked at Blaine.

  “I have questions.”

  “Well, young lady, I don't have much time, but I can answer a few questions.”

  “First, I have to know. Do you actually believe any of the bullshit you're preaching to these people?”

  He chuckled good-naturedly. “Absolutely not. Rubbish, all of it. But it's what they want. It's their pre-existing belief systems. I've been preaching to the choir, so to speak. People love to have their beliefs reinforced, especially by someone with power. It's so easy.”

  “Why are you burning those women? Why do you have Sera? And why the hell would you need me?”

  He considered my questions for a moment, then looked at his watch. “Those women aren't witches. They aren't anybody, really. Just some wretches who tried to get in my way. They've meddled in my affairs, meddled in my congregation and meddled in my business. Tonight, they'll pay.”

  “What makes you think you can murder those women with so many witnesses and not get caught? You'll lose everything!”

  He chuckled absently. “Maybe I will. Maybe I will.”

  “Can I see Sera?” I asked, hopeful.

  “No.”

  “Why not? There's no way I'm escaping, not with this psychotic mob you've got here. Just let me comfort her a little.”

  “She doesn't need comforting.” He rolled his eyes. “Such weakness. She's been raised wrong, this one.”

  Gregory snorted in agreement.

  “Can she have her toy? Her blanket? I brought them.”

  Blaine sighed and waved his hand. “I really don't care. Will it shut you up?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Very well.” He nodded toward the other guard and said, “Go ahead, toss this in her cage.”

  I flinched. Cage?

  He cocked his head, eyes dancing.

  “Haha. She's not in a cage, my goodness girl. You are way too emotional. We need to fix that.”

  “Why do you need me?” I repeated.

  “This nigh
t's been a long time coming. He looked at me, his face full of concern. You alright, Grace?”

  I noticed my ears started ringing, and I absentmindedly rubbed my temples.

  “Ah, do you feel it? The power? The energy? The potential? You've got to feel it. It's so close. When we light fire to those bitches, oh, the energy you'll feel. You know, there's nothing quite like it.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Blaine?” I felt lightheaded.

  “I'm talking about the door that's opening. Yes, tonight is a big night indeed. So much going on. So many of my brothers and sisters are coming to join us.”

  “Your congregation. You've been grooming them for possession.”

  “Nice! Well done. Maybe you aren't as dull as I thought.”

  I stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out how I could kill him here, on the spot, with no weapons, two armed guards, and his son in the room. I focused for a moment on my belly, where the power seemed to come from, but let it go. Something was blocking me.

  As if he read my mind, he continued. “You're a powerful young woman, but even with those shabby magic contraptions you're wearing, you're as helpless as a baby in my presence.”

  I glared at him, but once again, I had nothing. My fire was gone. I just wanted to see Sera, and I wanted my friends to get out of this alive.

  Blaine continued staring at me. So did Gregory. I felt scrutinized, vulnerable. Finally, he spoke.

  “Let's go back in time a little, shall we? He looked at his phone and frowned slightly. “Gregory, why don't you go check on your brother and our precious little one. Make sure everything looks good. See if anyone needs anything.”

  Gregory glared at him for a moment, then left. Blaine watched him walk out, waiting for him to close the door before he continued.

  “You know, Grace, being a parent isn't easy. Take that one, for example. He's a bastard, no big deal. And even though he knows full well it makes not a damn bit of difference, that I really don't give two shits about any of them equally. He has this pathetic, human emotional baggage because I don't publicly claim him. Isn't that some shit? Why would he care? He has everything. A bottomless bank account, beautiful women that flock to him, a penthouse apartment, nice cars, and none of the bullshit headaches that usually come from being a preacher’s son. Yet he gets so... melancholy. It's the human side, I guess.” He shrugged and smiled.