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

by L. C. Hibbett

  My lips stung as I mouthed goodbye. The rest of the Angels who had stayed behind to fight followed them through the slip before Emily sealed it shut from the other side, leaving no trace behind. Eve stirred for the first time since she had healed me. She scanned the hall. “We should be gone.”

  I grabbed Sam’s hand and reached for his magic. It rushed toward me like a tsunami, surrounding me in its warm embrace. Together, we cast our golden net over the remains of our group—bruised, battered, but alive. Only Elijah’s life force was weak. A wavering band of barely recognizable energy. I pressed my lips together and drew the image of Camille’s home into my mind.

  A flash burned across the corner of my eye, and I let out a scream—a moment too late. The Hound flung his blade at Jasmine’s heart just as Sam and I began to drag our net through space. Time slowed as I watched the black metal fly.

  Gabriel’s roar echoed through the hall, and Jasmine twisted to face the Hound, her heart inches from the knife. I felt the trickle of life before I saw Elijah’s eyelids flicker. He lurched forward, throwing himself between Jasmine and the Hound—one final act of love from a spent soul. As we spun away from the hall, the blade embedded itself in Elijah’s back. He fell into Jasmine’s arms and released his last breath.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Grace

  “You’re up early,” I said as I shuffled into the kitchen of Camille’s family home and poured myself a glass of apple juice from a jug sitting on the scrubbed pine countertop. Brandon looked up from his seat in front of the wood burning stove and gave me a tired glance. I tore a chunk of bread from the coarse loaf and sank into a worn armchair.

  Brandon opened the little stove door and started to rip pages from the notebook on his lap and feed them to the flames. He tipped his head in the direction of the large window. “I’m not the only one who couldn’t sleep.”

  I leaned over the side of my chair to peer into the garden. Lucas, Megan, and her little brother Mark were training by the water’s edge. My eyes followed Lucas as he flipped through the air and landed on his feet. I shook my head. “A few days ago he was a battered prisoner, now he looks like something from a high fashion magazine.”

  “With a really bad ‘do.” Brandon’s gaze rested on Lucas’s roughly shorn hair. His words were light, but there was no trace of a smile on his taut lips.

  I ran my stare over the shaved heads of the Angels and chewed on the inside of my cheek. Even without their golden locks, all three of them were beautiful, but there was something savage about the hacked stubble. My fingers left deep imprints in my piece of bread. “Why did they cut their hair? Why do they do that? Disease control?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe it was psychological. Sometimes the little things are what breaks a prisoner—take away their identity, strip them of their pride.” Brandon tore his eyes away from window with a squared jaw and threw a handful of paper into the stove.

  I shivered despite the oppressive heat in the room. “It’s so messed up—the Angels who wanted to break us are suddenly our allies.”

  “If we’re lucky.” Brandon clenched his jaw and pulled another pile of paper onto his lap. I raised my brows and turned my palm upwards. He frowned at me. “What, Grace? We will be lucky to have them, because every Angel the High Guardian can’t convince to fight with us, is an Angel that’s fighting for the Elder Circle. I hate the Angels for the some of the shit they’ve done, but I hate Humans for some of what they’ve done too. Still don’t want to see my people wiped out. No race is all bad.”

  I blinked in agreement as I downed the last of my juice and leaned forward to put the empty glass on the sideboard. My bare toes pressed against the pile of paper at Brandon’s feet. I nudged it, my brain suddenly awake. “Bran, what the hell are you doing? It’s summer—why is the stove on?”

  “It’s five in the morning, and it’s an old house—people are going to need hot water for showers.” Brandon kept his focus on the pages in his lap as he spoke. I narrowed my eyes at him, and he sighed. “I’m burning the stuff Lizzie gave me—spells, notes, directions for making potions, those cursed letters. I don’t know what they are anymore. They could be spells so she can track us, for all I know.”

  My throat felt too swollen to swallow the bread, so I tossed it onto the sideboard and kneeled down beside Brandon. I tried not to read the words as I helped him feed them to the fire, but my eyes betrayed me. Brandon, this is the potion you wanted to help induce a state of heightened physical awareness. Throw something together in that lab of yours and use your big Human brain to make the charm stronger. You have a lot more to offer than muscle—don’t forget that.

  I crumpled the paper in my fist and aimed it at the stove, but my fingers refused to obey my mind. My shoulders sagged. “Did you manage to improve any of the potions she gave you ingredients for?”

  “What?” Brandon stared at me from the corner of his eye.

  I twisted the paper into a ball. “In your lab at Grandfather Mountain. Did you have any luck with the charms Lizzie taught you to make?”

  “I guess.” Brandon shrugged his shoulders, and I pursed my lips. He ran his palm over his cropped hair. “Yeah, we did. We got some pretty awesome results. If I could use the same process to tackle diseased cells in Humans as Lizzie and I used to speed up my respiration, it could transform . . .”

  Brandon’s voice trailed off, and he started to yank the pages from their binding with renewed force. I laid my hand on his arm. “What could it transform?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Brandon yanked his arm away from my grasp and shoved the remaining folders into the stove without tearing them apart. The flames swallowed them with a greedy roar “None of what I did with Lizzie matters. It was all lies—everything she told me. She was probably just using me to get to you, I was just too stupid to realize.”

  The ball of paper nestled in the palm of my hand. I lifted my arm to toss it into the stove, but something inside me refused to let go of this tiny piece of Brandon’s work. And Lizzie’s. I bit down on my bottom lip and grabbed one of the envelopes from Peter’s study in Shadow Hall shoved the paper into it, folding it on top of the letter that was already inside. I slipped the paper into the pocket of my denim shorts as Brandon slammed the stove door shut.

  Brandon crossed the floor and started pulling food from the larder and the fridge and setting up a breakfast buffet. In spite of the knot in my stomach, my mouth began to water as he pulled out a selection of cured meats. There was nothing more delicious than salted meat.

  Like magic, Sam appeared in the doorway wearing only a pair of jogging pants. His mouth softened as he ran his eyes over my bare legs. I tried to drag my gaze away from his lips, but a flash of his dimples rendered me helpless—maybe there was something more delicious than salted meat.

  “Sam, you’re back. I’m just putting out some food if you’re interested?” Brandon waved a piece of smoked salmon in Sam’s direction.

  I stood up and grabbed my discarded juice and hunk of bread from the sideboard. My fingertips drummed against the glass. “Back from where? It’s barely five in the morning.”

  Brandon flinched and threw Sam an apologetic glance. “Sorry, Sam.”

  “Sorry? Why are you sorry? What’s the big secret?” Brandon backed away from my questions with his arms raised in surrender.

  Sam dragged his hands behind his head and screwed his eyes shut. The muscles in his abdomen stretched distractingly. He exhaled. “No secret, Gracie. I just went for a run. I haven’t been sleeping great.”

  “Since when?” I asked. Sam opened his eyes and glanced at Brandon. I pointed my finger at Sam like a gun. “Stop trying to bully Brandon into silence—since when? The prison break? The Shadow City?” Sam said nothing. I tried again. “Since Moscow?”

  “Can we talk about this after breakfast?” Sam tipped his head to one side, and I crossed my arms, turning to face the window. Brandon disappeared inside the pantry, and Sam padded across the wooden floor and wrapped his arms
around me from behind. His breath tickled my neck. “Gracie, I’m not up to any crazy plans—I promise.”

  I let him twist my body so that we were face to face. His hands slid around my waist, and my head dropped back so that I could see into his eyes clearly. “If you try and pull some commando bullshit, I will murder you. You know that, right? Everyone stays together now, just like you promised Jasmine?”

  “Grace?” Sam’s finger lifted my chin. “I am never leaving you alone again. I left you alone for two minutes in the Angelic Courtroom, and you slit your own throat. Trust me, you’re not the one who has to worry about me doing crazy shit.”

  Brandon set a stack of plates down beside the impressive breakfast spread. “The man makes a valid point.”

  Sam saluted him. “Thank you, Brandon, my good sir.”

  “No, he does not. That was not a kamikaze mission, I was attempting to cut somebody else’s throat. How was I supposed to know he was charmed so that if I tried to kill him, I would kill myself too?” Instinctively my fingers reached for the skin on my neck, searching for any sign that only days ago my throat had been slashed open, but there was no trace of a scar. Eve’s magical spark had erased any sign of damage.

  Sam’s thumb traced the path my fingertips made over my neck. He shook his head. “Eve’s gift is incredible. I still can’t believe she can take the life force from one person and it give it to someone else.”

  My shoulders tensed. “I still can’t believe I slit somebody’s throat with a piece of glass and then stole his life energy. Stellar performance.”

  Sam pressed his palm against my jaw. “Stop, Grace. That’s not how it was. Abel wanted that. He wanted somebody to weaken the Elder Circle by killing him—Dawn showed us that in her vision, he asked his own mother to kill him. He knew it was the right thing for the world.”

  “A small crime for the greater good. I get it, Sam. That’s why I did it. I didn’t hesitate. It just terrifies me that slitting a man’s throat is the small crime in this scenario,” I said.

  Sam’s lips parted, but he didn’t speak. Outside the window, Lucas, Megan, and Mark had finished training and were tidying up their weapons. Brandon rested his hip against the counter as he watched Lucas tuck a Spirit Blade inside his belt. “If Eve is the Spark, then we have five of the Lost Powers on our side—surely that’s got to mean something? It’s got to give us some advantage?”

  “Eve is a big one. The Spark. Emmanuel reckons cutting Abel’s throat wouldn’t have killed him anyway because the Elders’ life force is tied to the Veil. If it stands, so do they.” I tucked my hair behind my ear, thinking of how the Master had explained the myths of the Lost Powers to me the night before. “Emmanuel thinks I didn’t kill Abel at all, it was Eve. Her ability is a loophole, because she isn't trying to extinguish their life force like death would, she’s just moving it—using it to fuel the life force of another spirit.”

  “So, the Halfborn Elder is part of you now?” Brandon’s voice tripped as delicately over the words as if they were wires attached to a bomb.

  “No. His soul is gone, I saw it leave. Just the energy that kept him alive.” I grimaced. “Which is bad enough, really. Keep your soul, buddy, I’m just taking your life force.”

  Brandon grinned. “That’s pretty black humor, Grace.”

  “Hey, the end of the world is nigh—I’ll take any humor at all,” I said.

  Sam smoothed my hair off my face. “I think you’re funny. And smart. And hot.”

  Brandon groaned as Sam leaned down to kiss my lips. “Please, take some bread and go for a walk or something. The pheromone levels are nauseating.”

  I broke away from Sam’s kiss and made a face at Brandon. “Please, don’t even start with me. How are things going with that breakfast you got up at half four to make for Lucas when he comes in from training?”

  Sam snorted. “Lucas is worse. When have you ever seen Luc interested in data collection? He would have counted toenail clippings last night if Aza asked him to, just so he could stay in the same room as Brandon.”

  “Shut up!” Brandon threw a bread roll and a pleading look at Sam as Lucas and Mark came in through the back door. Brandon buried his head in the fridge and spoke to them without turning to face them. “Breakfast there if anyone wants it, guys. It’s for everyone. I was up anyway. And Grace was hungry.”

  Lucas gave me a slap on the backside. “Grace is always hungry. You better not have stuffed your gorgeous face with my breakfast before I get out of the shower, Super Seeker.”

  I threw my hands in the air. “One time! I ate your breakfast one time. You make it sound like I do it every single day.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa—time out. There will be no food related arguments today.” Sam gave us his best stern look but it dissolved into a smirk. “Remember that time when Eli thought Grace had eaten his peanut butter candy?”

  The moment the words were out of his mouth, Sam’s face paled, and a pained silence fell over the room. Brandon swapped two dishes from one side of the counter to the other. He cleared his throat. “How was Jasmine last night, Luc?”

  “She’s okay. Better than the first day. Eve’s been helping her a lot.” Lucas shifted his weight onto his other foot and met Sam’s eye. “I think she knew he wasn’t coming back, even before the prison. Before North Carolina. He wasn’t really there, you know? He was just hanging on.”

  Mark dragged the toe of his trainer over the floorboards. “Maybe that’s what he was waiting for? A chance to save his sister. I think Eli would have wanted that—for his life to mean something.”

  I stared at the wood paneled walls and held my breath as I listened to Megan’s little brother. My throat burned and I had to shove my hands into my pockets to stop myself from flinging my arms around him. I swallowed hard. “I think so too, Mark.”

  Lucas and Brandon exchanged a fleeting glance before they both looked away. Sam threw his bread roll on the counter and turned on his heel, leaving the room without a word. Mark lifted his eyes to mine. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to make Sam feel bad.”

  “No, no, Mark. It’s not you. It’s him.” I squeezed Mark’s hand and turned to Brandon and Lucas. “I’m going to get Sam to come down to the orchard with me. Will you tell Eve and Cat where I am if they’re up before we get back, please?”

  Before they had a chance to answer me, I was trailing Sam’s path through the creaky old house. I shoved my hands into my pockets while I waited for him to respond to my knock on his bedroom door. My fingers connected with the envelope in my pocket. I smoothed it out and stared at the large, untidy scrawl.

  As I traced the words, the whisper of a worry niggled at the corners of my mind. I held the paper closer to my face and Sam open the door. His hair was tousled, as if he had been tugging at it, and his chest was still bare. All thoughts of the creased paper disappeared, replaced by an aching need to soothe his pain. He stared down out me, and my heart shuddered in my chest.

  I shoved the envelope back into my pocket and shook my hair off my face. “Hey.”

  “Hey, Grace.” Sam held his arm out, and his fingers uncurled like a flower in bloom. I threaded my fingers through his and held on tight as our magic connected and filled the chasm inside my soul.

  My lips buzzed as Sam’s gaze traced their outline.“Sam, I thought maybe we could go down to the orchard for a walk before the others wake up?”

  “Before Aza trains us to death?” Sam’s right dimple winked at me.

  “Something like that, yeah.” I tugged at the end of my tank top. “Only if you want, no problem if you’re—”

  “I want.” Sam’s fingers brushed my cheek and ran down my neck. “I had somewhere else in mind though.”

  I bit my bottom lip. “I promised Eve I wouldn’t go far…”

  “Do you trust me?” Sam’s eyes asked me a thousand more questions than his words did. I took a sharp breath and nodded.

  Dimples flashed at me from both cheeks as Sam pulled me into his arms and whis
pered into my ear. His mouth was warm against my neck. “There’s something I want to show you.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Grace

  My heart pounded as we spun through space. I had led most of our previous journeys, and the lack of control left me breathless. As if he could sense my anxiety, Sam’s magic wrapped tighter around my soul. I tried to fight my panic and relax but it overpowered me as we came to a halt and I fell to my hands and knees, gasping for air.

  Sam sank down beside me, his eyes were bright with concern. I gave him an awkward thumbs-up, and he leaned back a little to give me space as I mastered my body and sat back on my haunches.

  “So, you hate my magical driving as much as my regular driving?” Sam smile was broad, but the skin around his eyes was pulled tight.

  I lay back on the wet sand, panting, and tugged his hand to pull him down beside me. We both stared at the sky overhead. Pale blue patches peered through the dark gray clouds. I turned my head to face Sam. “It’s not that I don’t trust your driving. Or your magic. I just feel more comfortable doing things myself.”

  “Because you trust yourself,” Sam said.

  I rolled over so that I could look down into his face. “I trust you as much as I trust myself, Sam. I’m just used to doing things myself. I hate feeling powerless.”

  Sam closed his eyes, and I had to lean closer to make out his words. “It’s not because of what I told you in Geneva?”

  The memory of our argument in Niamh’s bedroom sent a jolt of static through my bones. The hurt of his words felt like an old wound, closed over but not truly healed. I let myself lie back on the sand again, unsure how to answer the question honestly, even to myself. “I can’t believe that was only a couple of weeks ago. We were so naïve—how did we not realize Peter was an Elder. He gave us so many clues. He once told me it had been a long time since he saw a man walk on water, do you think he meant—”