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

by L. C. Hibbett

  “Where exactly am I leading these crazy kids to?” Brandon asked.

  Niamh picked Jonah’s journal off the table and cradled it against her chest. “Trinity College.”

  Chapter Three

  Grace

  “It’s like freaking Mardi Gras.” Brandon took a step closer to the screen and pointed at the surveillance footage. “You’re sure this is a live feed? The Trinity Ball was on in April—maybe you’re looking at that?” Aza’s fingers froze on her handheld computer keyboard, and she narrowed her eyes at Brandon. The next screen lit up, and a webpage flashed onto the screen advertising a masquerade ball. Brandon gave Aza an apologetic grimace. “Ah. Charity fundraiser, I see.”

  “Yes, boy, you do,” Aza snipped. She zoomed in on a crowd of young people queueing at a magnificent entrance gate. I had never seen Trinity College in person, but I recognized the building from the hours I had spent researching universities online. Wasted hours, considering I never even got to sit my final school exams. Official dropout. I pinched the back of my wrist and focused on the laughing students on the screen.

  Aza barked an order at a dark haired shifter demon who was talking to Niamh and Gabriel in the corner. “Victor, we need tuxedos and ball gowns—full length.” She cut her eyes toward Gabriel. “Are you accompanying them or am I?”

  “We don’t need a chaperone. Brandon knows his way around…” I trailed off. Brandon would have been attending Trinity College right now if he hadn’t bumped into us in that nightclub in London. Instead, he was stuck playing dead in the middle of a war he was powerless to fight, watching his parents grieve from a distance. I looked down at my bare feet. The floor was cold.

  “Absolutely not.” Eve tapped her finger against the screen. The footage followed the queue through the arched entrance, and the monitor exploded into life as the crowd heaved and writhed to the live music. Plastic tumblers of beer and wine were raised in the air as the crowds thronged over the huge cobbled courtyard. Sam caught my eye, and I felt the goosebumps raise on my arms. Now, this was a fairly decent mission.

  Eve’s lips thinned as if she had read my mind. She tapped the screen again. “This event is an entirely inappropriate setting for an unchaperoned mission. Surely, we can hold off until tomorrow night—the Book of Kells has survived for over twelve hundred years, it can wait until tomorrow night.”

  “No.” Niamh’s tone was gentle but firm. “Eve, time waits for no man, and it certainly will not wait for us. Three nights have passed since we discovered the true intention of the Elder Circle, and we can be certain that they have not been idle. If we wish to protect the Human race from genocide, we must not tarry.”

  “The Elders can’t do anything without all the Lost Powers, and four of the seven are under this roof. It’s ludicrous to send two of them off to an overgrown frat party to look at a manuscript that may well prove worthless.” Eve snapped her mouth closed over her words, and my stomach sank. The giddy excitement that had been building like water behind a dam drained away, leaving me empty.

  “You can’t keep fooling yourself that she’s a baby, Eve. Grace is what she is, nothing can change that. Grace has a gift. That brings responsibilities—all of us know that. We’re all here because our gifts came with a price. If finding what’s hiding in those manuscripts is going to help us break the Elder Circle, then that kid is going to get into her party dress and do what has to be done, whether her mama likes it or not.” Aza poked a long finger into my shoulder. “Go, child. Victor has left your costume on the bed.”

  I hesitated for a moment, staring from Aza to Eve. The furrow between Eve’s brows deepened as she exhaled. “Fine. Go, get dressed.” She crushed her lips together and swept her hands down her narrow frame. “I assume a middle-aged woman isn’t going to blend in on this mission. So who will be accompanying Grace and Brandon?”

  “Me!” Sam’s voice hit my ears like a gunshot, and his cheeks reddened ever so slightly. He cleared his throat. “Eh, I’ll go. We could use our combined magic…” Niamh frowned and shook her head, and Sam took a step closer to me. “Only if absolutely essential, Niamh, to escape if things go bad. We won’t use our power otherwise, I know the Elders will be tracking for it. And I’m not letting Grace go alone. If you make me stay behind, I’ll just keep Reaping her back here anyway.”

  Sam’s eyes burned defiantly, and Niamh and Aza exchanged a glance. Niamh’s lips curved upward at the corners for an instant before her face returned to its usual level of intensity. “Sam and Brandon will accompany Grace. Brandon knows the location, and nobody will guard Grace’s safety as fiercely as Sam will.” My heart fluttered in my chest at the Demon’s words. Niamh flicked her eyes onto her second in command. “Aza will lead the mission.”

  Brandon’s face contorted, mirroring my surprise. Tall, strong, commanding—I wouldn’t want to meet Aza on a battlefield. Or down a dark alley. But at a huge university party? Aza gave us a wide grin, and I caught the glint of razor-sharp teeth behind her full lips. She watched us with keen eyes. “You think I can’t look like a student? This body is younger than your own, children. Go to your rooms and get ready—you’re going to see something special tonight.”

  Sam raised his eyebrows at me as he followed Brandon into the boy’s bedroom, and I felt my pulse quicken with excitement. I bit my lip and pushed the door of my own room open. The dress Victor had left hanging on the edge of my bunk bed was like nothing I had ever worn. I kicked the door shut and ripped my training clothes off, blushing as I fingered the sheer black underwear that had been left with the outfit. I stepped gingerly into the dress and slid it up my body and over my shoulders, careful not to snap the gossamer-thin straps.

  “Still no bra?” I squealed and hugged the dress against my chest. Sam’s grin split his face in two, and my stomach dipped at the flash of each dimple. He laid a pair of shoes and a matching purse gently on the bed. “Victor asked me to give you these.”

  “And you’ve lost the ability to knock on doors?” I glowered at him, desperately trying not to let my eyes wander over his bare chest and down to the tuxedo pants slung low on his hips.

  His teeth grazed his lips. “Where’s the fun in knocking, Gracie?” My skin buzzed as he took a step closer to me and reached out to stroke my shoulder. “You need me to zip that up?”

  I nodded and turned my back to him, facing the full-length mirror. It seemed like a lifetime ago that I had stood in this room checking out my reflection before that final study-group session in Rosmoney community hall. Like it was somebody else’s memory, not my own.

  I shivered as Sam’s fingers brushed the base of my back and I heard him inhale sharply behind me. Our eyes met in the mirror as he slowly pulled the zip closed. I could barely breathe. The dress was like a second skin, thin black satin hugging my waist and hips and then flaring to the ground. Sam blinked and took a step back, looking at the door as he spoke. “That dress is almost perfect.”

  “Almost?” I raised an eyebrow, feigning amusement to hide the sting.

  Sam lifted his gaze to meet mine as he left the room, and I swallowed hard. “Almost perfect, Gracie. I would have chosen white.”

  Before he could close the door, Eve appeared in the doorway with her hands on her hips. “Samuel, something we can help you with?”

  “No, ma’am, I was just delivering Grace’s shoes.” Sam slipped past Eve and shot me an exaggerated look of terror over his shoulder as he escaped back to his own bedroom.

  Eve shooed me away from the door with a flick of her fingers. “Take a seat, Grace. Aza wants you ready in five minutes, and your hair looks like a home for small woodland creatures.”

  “Nice. Thank you for that compliment, Eve. You should mass produce them and print them on wallet-sized cards. We’d be rich.” I spread my fingers protectively over my hair as Eve descended on me with a comb and a mouth full of hair pins. She ignored my sarcasm and began to run the comb through the roots of my hair with short, determined strokes. I squeezed my eyes shut. “F
or the love of God, Eve, this could be a form of torture.”

  I watched Eve’s reflection in the mirror. Her lips twitched on either side of the pins gripped between her teeth, but she didn’t wield the comb with any less force. I found myself examining her face with the same intensity as I had on many occasions over the past few days, trying to search for signs that Deirdre had been speaking honestly and that Eve was my birth mother and not my foster mother, as the Elders had led her to believe.

  Our coloring was similar. Dark hair, dark eyes, and matching dark shadows under our eyes—not that genetics could claim those. There wasn’t a single person in Hidden Cottage who didn’t look like death for the past week. Between unmasking our enemies to discover they were the strongest power in our world and our friends being imprisoned by the Angelic High Council, there wasn’t much reason for anyone to sleep soundly. Everyone looked worn thin. Especially Sam.

  “Ouch!” I glared at Eve’s reflection as she dug her final hairpin into my scalp and realized with surprise that she had finished. I bit my lip and stood to examine my reflection. My fingers reached out to gently examine the sleek swirl of hair perched on the crown of my head. “Like a ballerina’s.”

  Eve gave me the ghost of a smile. “My mother used to style her hair like that before performances. It suits you.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but courage deserted me before my lips had formed the question. I patted my hair again. “Thanks, it looks good.”

  “Grace?” Eve’s fingers fumbled at the collar of her blouse, and she tugged at a delicate gold chain hanging around her neck. “There’s something I wanted to—”

  “Grace?” Brandon knocked on the door, silencing Eve. “Grace, Aza’s waiting for us.” Brandon rapped on the door again and pushed it open a crack. “Gracie? You’ve got to see this.”

  I blocked the door with my foot. “Brandon, just give me one second. Eve and I are—”

  “On our way.” Eve tucked her necklace back under her blouse with one hand and jerked the door open with the other. Brandon took a step back and mumbled an apology. Eve swept past him toward the control center. “Apologies unnecessary, Brandon. I was just helping Grace to control her mane.”

  Brandon twisted to examine my hair. He gave me a soft smile and dipped his head forward. “Enchanté Mademoiselle.”

  I curtseyed. “Why thank you, and may I compliment you on your dashing appearance this evening, young man?”

  “You most certainly can. Victor hit us up with some pretty slick threads. Wait until you see, Aza. It’s blowing my mind. Literally—there is gray matter exploding inside my cerebellum.” Brandon made splayed his fingers wide and made a booming sound.

  I snickered and jammed my feet inside the ludicrously gorgeous, utterly impractical shoes Victor had chosen. Tucking the matching purse under my arm, I turned to give myself one last look in the mirror.

  “Lucas would approve, Grace.” Brandon gave me a small smile, and the lining of my throat began to pinch and burn. Brandon grabbed my elbow and propelled me toward the front room. “Come on, it’s time to meet your newest friend. Creepier than a child murderer, more terrifying than a killer whale—it’s Party Girl Aza.”

  “Holy shit.” I crushed my palm against my mouth and gaped at the figure standing beside an open portal. Aza’s hair was unbraided, and it puffed over her bare shoulders like a cloud. Her trademark black clothing had been replaced by a hot pink, skin-tight gown with a neckline that revealed the most impressive bosom I had ever set eyes on.

  The impatient tapping of Aza’s killer heels on the polished concrete floor dragged me out of my trance. She snapped her fingers at me. “Get it together, girl. Won’t be much good to us if you’re walking around Dublin with your mouth hanging open.”

  “No, I mean, yes—” I shook my head. “Sorry, but where have you been hiding those?”

  “Okay, that’s enough of that. Pull yourself together, dear.” Gabriel twisted my shoulders and turned me to face Niamh and Eve.

  One look at Niamh’s face wiped all thought of Aza’s reveal from my mind. She looked from Brandon to me. “You need to head straight for the Longroom in the Old Library. Aza will handle security and will ensure you gain access to the manuscript. Jonah was very taken with the manuscripts. They are the work of another Original Demon, one of Jonah’s own kind.”

  “Another Seeker?” I asked. Niamh nodded but said no more.

  “Right, I suppose we better go before Cat and Cain get back with the kids. Cat’s still death on the whole active duty issue.” I swiveled to face the portal, my gaze searching the corners of the room as I crossed the floor. “Has anyone seen—”

  Sam raised his hand and saluted me from the other side of the portal. My heart shuddered and stopped beating as I stared at him. His unruly waves had been tamed and swept back from his forehead so that his eyes pierced the darkness like a cat’s. The cut of his tuxedo showcased his strong shoulders and the narrow line of his hips. Sam dropped his chin and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, his teeth worrying at the corner of his lips.

  Eve stepped across my line of sight and gripped my wrist between her fingers. “Dublin is a high-risk city, Grace. Ireland and other island nations have always been harder for the Guardians to police, which means a higher possibility of Halfborn and uncontrolled magical gifts. That’s why so many Human myths of magic and witchcraft originate from those countries.”

  “And why you chose for us to settle in Ireland?” I asked.

  Eve’s forehead creased. “That was one of my reasons, yes, but it also makes Dublin a very dangerous city for children who possess magic they don’t have the skill or knowledge to control. My mother always the Irish were all half-fairy—you have no idea how many of the Humans you encounter may have the latent skill to pierce the Veil if magic as powerful as your combined gifts is used in their presence.”

  “I get it. We’ll only use our magic as a last resort.” The edge of my tone was growing sharper every time somebody referred to us as children.

  Niamh prodded Brandon and me through the open portal with unyielding fingers. “Go, examine the manuscripts, and return. Don’t be reckless with your magic, but . . .” I turned to face her, my heels crunching on dirt from the alley the portal had opened into. “Should the need arise, use whatever means are necessary to return to Hidden Cottage safely. We may know very little about this war we face, but we do know that without the Lost Powers we have no chance at all.”

  Chapter Four

  Grace

  Dublin City was electric.

  I crushed my back against the cold, damp brick wall, keeping watch in case somebody wandered into the narrow alleyway before Aza had sealed the portal and a burst of raucous laughter and chanting voices exploded from the street ten feet away. I released a sigh of relief when the final trace of the hole in space vanished under Aza’s dancing fingertips.

  “You know how much time I spent in slimy alleys before I knew you people?” I pointed my finger at Sam. He shrugged, a lazy smirk sliding across his face. I grabbed the end of my ballgown and hoisted it over my knees to protect it from the liquids of unknown origin congealing on the pavement under my red-soled heels. “None. Zilch. Absolutely no time spent in seedy laneways. Pre-Shadow Children—arrived in towns and cities via the main thoroughfare. Post-Shadow Children—first stop, slimy backstreet. Not. Fun.”

  Aza rolled her eyes and strode past us with a flick of her hair. “Tough break, princess. Keep selling your sorry tale to the boy who grew up in a torture chamber, we’ll weep for you soon.”

  Brandon grinned and nudged me toward the street. Sam's hands balled into fists inside his jacket pockets, and he stared straight ahead with a tight jaw. I gripped the satin length of my dress tightly as I negotiated my way over the remnants of broken glass. “I wasn’t being a princess. I was just saying it would have been nice to arrive at my first proper party without traces of urine on my clothes, that’s all.”

  “Piss-free clothes? What ar
e you going to want next? Toilet roll? Irish diva.” Brandon winked at me and stepped onto the cobbled street, narrowly missing being struck by two giggling girls holding champagne flutes and being pulled in a cart by a man on a bicycle. Brandon held his hands up the air and tried to keep on his feet as a group of guys thundered by singing about a Galway girl. “All right, people, take it easy. Order on the streets.”

  “No order on a Friday night, buddy, except last orders at the bar,” one of the guys yelled back at Brandon. He caught my eye and slowed his pace, waving a mask in the air. “Save me a dance, ladies?”

  My face began to heat as he tipped his mask at Aza and then at me, his eyes lingering on mine for a second longer than felt casual. Sam growled in the back of his throat. “That fool better hope that mask covers most of his face, grinning ape.”

  “My gods, I was wrong. I am too old for this nonsense.” Aza shoved her mask against her eyes and marched ahead, muttering at Brandon to keep up like a good boy. He sprinted to catch up with her, throwing us a long-suffering glance over his shoulder.

  I lengthened my stride in an attempt to match their pace, but my heels wobbled on the uneven cobblestones and sent a dart of pain shooting through my right ankle. Sam snaked a warm hand around my waist to hold me steady. I held my breath, aware that there was nothing separating our skin except the thinnest layer of satin. “Thanks. Cobblestones and heels. Bad combination.”

  We made our way slowly down the moonlit street. Every few hundred feet there was a different musician playing and the night air thrummed with the beat of the bodhrán and the rasp of the fiddle. Sam slowed to a stop beside a tall, dark haired girl who was singing about lost love. A handful of other couples had paused to listen, spellbound by her haunting melody.

  Sam smiled at me. “How does it feel?” I raised my eyebrows and waited. His lips curved. “To be on a date like normal couples.”