The Demon-Born Trilogy: (Complete Paranormal Fantasy Series)

by L. C. Hibbett

  Brandon extended his arm toward the house.  “And if you look to the right of the property, you’ll see the extensive training rooms and facilities that Lizzie and Mathas have installed for the use of the Shadow Children upon the relocation of the Irish cell last year—yes, the Irish cell now resides in the United States of America. Shadow Children logic abounds.”

  Jasmine opened her mouth to defend the organization she loved, but she rolled her eyes and tossed her hands in the air instead. Pretty hard to argue with anyone about some of the decisions the Masters had made lately. Brandon grinned and nodded in the direction of the house. “In the main building, you’ll find a wide array of shared living spaces, an open style industrial sized kitchen, more than twenty fully equipped bedrooms, with baths, as well as a self-contained suite which houses our gracious hosts.”

  He exhaled and flung himself down on one of the rattan chairs that had been bolted to the ground beside the viewing station. He wiggled his eyebrows at Jasmine. “What you reckon? Shadow Children don’t exactly slum it, do they?”

  Jasmine flopped down into the seat opposite him and swiveled so that she could appreciate the full scale of the property. She let out a low whistle. “That they don’t. It’s a pretty impressive setup Mathas and Lizzie have here. I suppose having two thousand years’ worth of accrued wealth must help—perk of being a Demon. Jabol showed me the healing rooms they had installed before we arrived, they’re top class, and the doctor Mathas employed has been a leader in his field of neuroscience since before they even called it neuroscience. That’s another cool thing about being a Demon—you can really out-expert the experts when you live forever.”

   I pressed my back against the glass barrier. Even though the temperature was several degrees lower on the top of Grandfather Mountain than it was down at the base, it was still too damn hot for my liking. I pushed my sleeves up to expose my arms to the air. Brandon caught my eye and tilted his head pointedly, mouthing the words ‘Ask her.’ I grimaced. “So, Jas, how’s Elijah doing?”

  “You know my brother, he’s always been a massive pain in the ass—now he is an ugly pain in the ass.” Jasmine’s attempt at softening the tension fell flat, and her smile died on her lips. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “Sorry. Gallows humor. He’s the same, pretty much. He doesn’t seem to be in pain, but they can’t break the coma. Jabol’s trying so hard… Can we not talk about this?”

  I squeezed my fingers together. “Of course, whatever you want.”

  “Plead the fifth, Jasmine, just know we’re here if you do want to talk, okay?” Brandon gave Jasmine’s knee a firm pat and then turned his focus on me. “Grace, now you can tell us how the mission went. And the reunion with Sulky McDreamy. I didn't think we'd be able to separate you two for at least a week.”

  I threw myself down in one of the remaining free chairs and flopped forward so that my chest pressed against my knees. “Mission was a disaster. We were too late. The entire Silent Home was deserted—no sign of Guardians, no sign of staff, no sign of Peter and the Spirit Eaters or their vile Spirit Demon pets.”

  Jasmine leaned forward in her seat. “Somebody knew you were coming? They cleared the place out before you could get there?”

  I tucked my hair behind my ears. “I don’t know. Maybe the Guardians knew we were coming, or maybe the Spirit Eaters just got to the Silent Home first. But it wasn’t like any other time we had gotten to a Home too late, they hadn't just cleared the place.” I scraped at the skin on the back of my hand. “They killed them. All the captives. And the backyard—it was a mess. There was something there…”

  I stared out at the vast expanse of remote beauty spread below us and shook my head. “There was some sort of presence, and it was feeding off the energy. Dragging it into itself.”

  Jasmine frowned and crushed her fingers between her knees. “Shit. I’m sorry, Grace, that’s horrible.”

  Brandon shook his head. “That makes no sense. I mean, I know the Guardians were starting to get better prepared for the breaks—between the Shadow Children and the Spirit Eaters, a couple of hundred Silent Homes have been busted open in the past year—but killing all the prisoners? That’s brutal, even by Guardian standards. And the Spirit Eaters want to capture the Demon-Born alive. How would killing the other prisoners help them? It’s not logical.”

  “Who knows? Maybe the Angelic Council decided it was safer to kill all the Halfborn, rather than risk them becoming Shadow Children? Protect the Veil at all costs?” I chewed on the inside of my cheek.

  Brandon gestured to my hands. “Grace, what’s that?"

  I looked down at my hands and realized I was holding the small stuffed toy that had been tucked inside my waistband. Brandon raised an eyebrow, and I cringed. “Okay, don’t freak out, but I think I might have stolen a dead child’s toy."

  Brandon ran his hand over his freshly shaved head and exhaled. Jasmine gave me a sympathetic grimace. I screwed my eyes shut. “I know. I shouldn’t have taken it. It's just that I found it on the ground and it looked like somebody's favorite. I couldn't just leave it there. We were already going to have to abandon the kid somewhere under the dirt..."

  Jasmine slipped out of her chair and squeezed herself against my side. I rested my chin on her soft curls, and she pressed her face into my shoulder. Her words were muffled by my shirt. “I missed you, Gracie.”

  I swallowed to dislodge the pressure in my throat. “Missed you too, Jas.”

  Neither of us made any fake promises that everything was going to be okay. I opened my eyes and caught sight of Lucas sprinting toward us. I clenched my jaw. From the look on his face, things were far from okay.

  Chapter Four

  “The Masters are convening. They want to see you.” Lucas jammed his hands into his pockets and kept his eyes fixed on my face, but I could sense his awareness of Brandon’s presence. Lucas still blamed himself for Brandon having to join the Shadow Children. No matter how many times I told him there was no way we could have avoided the way things fell that night at the London Tower nightclub.

  Lucas hunched his shoulders and twisted his body away from where Brandon was sitting. His face was drawn and pale. "Grace, Emmanuel needs you inside. He wants to talk to you before the Masters arrive. "

  Jasmine’s eyes narrowed. “The Masters are coming here? All  of them? That’s against every directive.”

  “That’s all I know, Jas.” Lucas closed his mouth into a firm line.

   Brandon pulled himself to his feet and offered his hands to Jasmine and me. “Are the other Masters all old-school, like Emmanuel? Whenever you guys talk about them, I imagine them like monks from the middle ages. Hoods up, sleeves flowing in the wind. Dead eyes. That kind of thing.”

  “You know Luc’s mom is the Master of the New York cell, right?” Jasmine grinned as we walked toward the house and I felt my own mouth curling. Pretty, elfin Camille was more likely to be mistaken for a soccer mom than a shrouded medieval monk.

  Brandon shrugged one shoulder. “Yup, I do. I won’t hold it against her, though. The nicest cult leaders can have annoying children.” He didn’t acknowledge Lucas’s crossed arms, but I saw Brandon watching the golden-haired Angel out of the corner of his eye. “Anyway, I’m excited to see the leaders of the Shadow Children all in the same place. I still don’t understand fully how the organization works—Mathas need to stock up his library. This is going to be interesting.”

  Lucas was the first to reach the porch door. He folded his arms tighter over his chest. “Emmanuel only wants to see the Shadow Children that were on active duty this morning. Nobody else can attend the meeting. Sorry.”

  Lucas dropped his eyes to avoid Brandon’s glare. Jasmine squeezed Brandon’s arm. “Hey, you want to come with me to the hospital wing? I know Jabol would love to see what you’re working on in the lab.”

  “Sure.” Brandon’s jaw line was pulled tight. “I’
ll come with you. I want to see Eli anyway.”

  Lucas shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Actually, Mathas left a message saying that you were due in the training room now.”

  Brandon narrowed his eyes. “You can tell Mathas, I’ll be down in the training room whenever the hell I’m ready.”

  As he shouldered past Lucas and thundered out of sight, I realized with a shock that Brandon was now heavier and more powerfully built than Lucas, whose frame seemed to have lost every spare ounce of flesh over the past year.

  Jasmine shot us a wave over her shoulder and ran to catch up with Brandon. Lucas exhaled in a low whistle. I squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t take it personally, Luc. He’s angry at the whole world, not just you. It must be hard being the only Human surrounded by Demons, Angels, and Halfborn. He hates that he can only use magic through the potions and spells Lizzie makes for him.”

  The automatic door slid open, and Lucas stepped into the vast, glass-fronted foyer. I watched the reflection of his tired eyes in a chrome pillar. “He has no reason to feel inferior, Grace. Brandon’s worth ten of most people on this side of the Veil, magic user or not, but he wouldn’t listen to me if I tried to tell him.”

  I wanted to comfort him with wise words about friendship and love and forgiveness, but I wasn’t exactly in a position to be offering advice to anyone. I pressed my fingers against his hand, and Lucas wrapped them inside his palm as we walked toward the conference room at the back of the building.

  When Emmanuel told us that the Demons, Mathas and Lizzie, had offered to house the cell, I had expected their North Carolina home to be reminiscent of their period property in Ireland. I had pictured a colonial mansion or a rambling turn of the century farmhouse, but although the property on Grandfather Mountain was every bit as impressive as I had imagined, it was nothing like their other home.

  While Castletown House had smelled of wildflowers and beeswax furniture polish, this building had a sterile, modern finish that reminded me of a luxury hotel. My trainers squealed on the gleaming black marble as we came to a halt outside the conference room. I reached for the door handle, but Lucas nudged me with his elbow and tipped his head further down the corridor to where Sam was leaning against the wall. Lucas raised one fair eyebrow as he yanked the door open. “Catch you in a few. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, kids.”

  I tugged at the end of my shirt, wishing I had looked in the mirror more carefully on the way. Sam peeled himself out of the shadows and took a step closer to me. His hair had grown long in the time we were apart, and there were dark smudges under his green eyes. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Hey.”

  “Hey, Sam.” My stomach shivered as one side of his lip twitched, displaying a flash of dimple. He took another step toward me. I felt the static between us beginning to build, but I kept my distance—the memory of too many unanswered messages stung my pride.

  Sam’s jaw tensed as he met my eye. “Listen, Grace, we need to talk—”

  The words split my chest like an ax chopping wood, and I felt the blood rush to my face as all my daydreams of our perfect reunion shattered into tiny splinters and embedded themselves in my tongue. I cut him short. “No, we really don’t. I got the picture when you stopped answering my calls.”

  The truth in my words smarted. I had known this was coming, I just hadn’t let myself believe it. The back of my throat began to tingle, and I turned on my heel and marched away from him, ignoring Sam’s attempts to grab my arm. The last thing I needed was to listen to a patronizing speech about how we could still be friends.

  I swung the door of the conference room open to reveal the monstrous flat screen monitor and the panoramic windows that formed a backdrop to the huge oval table. If their other home had screamed Lizzie, then this property was all Mathas.

  Emmanuel nodded and waved his hand in the direction of the empty chairs between Lucas and Gabriel. Megan and Cain were seated on the other side of the table, but I saw no sign of Mark. “Lucas and Grace, please sit.” The Master’s eyes darkened and deep creases formed on either side of his mouth. “The others have given me some information about your mission today, and I am very sorry that you had to bear witness to such wickedness. We knew, the senior Shadow Children and I, that a dark time was coming, but I had never imagined the sacrifices we would have to ask of you, children…"

  For a moment, Emmanuel seemed to forget that he was talking to us. He stared down at his hands, and I perched myself awkwardly on the edge of one of the hard-backed chairs. I could feel Sam’s warm gaze running over me like honey, but when I glanced at him, he had already looked away. I pulled my jacket closed over my chest. Lizzie stepped up to Emmanuel’s side and placed a small hand on his elbow. He lifted his chin, with a start. “I attempted to inform the rest of the Masters as soon as I received a debriefing from the team, but before I could share my concerns, one of the other Masters requested an audience with as many cell Masters as could be spared.”

  “Why?” Gabriel leaned back in his chair with his legs outstretched and his arms dangling by his side. I might have been fooled by his casual demeanor if wasn’t for the intensity in his voice. “They didn’t give you any indication? I thought having more than three Masters in the one place went against your code in case it ruptured your cell structure, or something equally baffling. Isn’t that why you usually have all your meetings in scheduled combinations of Masters? Or is that just a really cruel math exercise you use to torture some poor Shadow Child—if there are a hundred Masters, and only three can meet at once, how many meetings must there be until each Master has met all the others?”

  Lizzie cut her eyes in Gabriel’s direction and pursed her lips, but if Gabriel spotted her reprimand, he showed no sign of it. Emmanuel leaned his weight on the back of an empty chair. “Gabriel, the Shadow Children has survived for over two thousand years by ensuring that the capture of one individual or cell does not pose a threat to the rest of the cells. Secrecy has been our friend, but needs must in a time of crisis. Not all of the Masters will be in attendance, just those who head the most populace cells. The Master who called the emergency assembly didn’t divulge details, but I do know there has been contact with the London Demons.”

  Gabriel shot forward and placed both palms flat on the table with a slap, all pretense of disinterest abandoned. His eyes burned with rage. Gabriel had paid a blood tithe to be freed from the London Demons, but the fear that the London Demons had been in league with Peter and the Spirit Eaters cut deeper than the blade that drew his blood.

  Emmanuel held his hand up. “I know, Gabriel. I haven’t forgotten that there are suspicions regarding the relationship between Peter and the London Demons we suspect were meeting him in New York, Fergus and Lara, but the fact remains that we are fighting this battle blind. We are still no closer to knowing whom we are fighting or how to best them. They have been two steps ahead of us all along, almost as if they know which Silent Home we’re trying to emancipate before we know it ourselves.”

  Emmanuel’s shoulders sagged, and he lowered himself into his seat. “The Angelic Council hold us responsible for the Guardians who were killed trying to protect the Silent Home in Moscow. They are turning their eye on us with more intensity than they have in centuries. We can’t fight this battle on two fronts, Gabriel. We are barely fighting it on one. If the Masters think the London Demons have something to say that could help us, we are in no position to refuse. I am sorry.”

  Gabriel leaned forward on his elbows to respond to Emmanuel but stopped short when the corner of the room began to shiver. I blinked as my eyes struggled to focus on the group of people stepping through the portal led by Mathas. The Masters had arrived.

  Chapter Five

  The people following Mathas into the room were mostly middle-aged. Some were wearing suits, others training gear, but there was no sign of the hooded robes that Brandon had imagined. I recognized Camille’s petite form
and the glint of her platinum hair as she scanned the table until she found her son. Lucas tipped his head in her direction, and the line of her mouth softened. The Masters slipped into the seats around the conference table in silence.

  Mathas gave Lizzie an intense look as he passed her and retreated to the furthest corner of the room. Emmanuel settled himself at the head of the table. Lizzie drew close to his side but remained standing. Gabriel glanced from Mathas to Lizzie uncomfortably, and pushed back from the table. Lizzie extended her hand. “Gabriel, please, sit. Mathas and I are not Shadow Children, we don’t get involved in their business, except to extend our support if we feel it’s right. You’ve earned a different role at this table. Please, join your friends.”

  Gabriel hesitated for a moment. I shot him pleading look, and he pushed himself back into the chair and folded his arms, but his foot tapped against the floor like a rapid heartbeat. Emmanuel cleared his throat. “Masters, friends, children. Thank you all for joining us today, and thank you also to our generous hosts for allowing us to use this protected meeting space. I apologize for the sudden summons and the lack of information regarding its cause. In fact, I’m still unsure myself as to what findings merited such drastic an unprecedented action, but I believe Victoria can enlighten us. If you please?”

  Emmanuel gestured to his right, and a small, plump woman stood up. She was barely taller than Emmanuel’s seated frame, and her round face was remarkably fresh and sweet, as though the wrinkles in her skin were merely carefully placed decorations. The flowing fabric of her floral sundress rustled against the chair. She rested her hands on the tabletop and ran her gaze around the table. I sat up straight in my seat. This woman might have looked like an aging fairy tale princess, but the silver of her eyes revealed a sharpness that belied her soft appearance.