Cimmerian Shade: A Limited Edition Paranormal Romance & Urban Fantasy Collection

by Kiki Howell

  Reality slammed into Jonathan and he started to pray.

  He was fucking summoning a demon.

  Fuck.

  Holy Father, I know I have sinned. Please protect me now and in the hour of my death. Not this. Please. Never this.

  He was calling a demon. But the containment circle that should have held it separate was the one drawn around the two tables. The air thickened and a blur of shadows erupted under the bright white lights, a man dressed in fine Victorian garb stepping through the veil. A top hat with lace at his throat, the same curious green stone as the others wore sitting amidst the frothy confection. While he may have worn the clothes of a dandy, his eyes red and slit like a goat’s left no question about the savagery behind his gaze.

  “Summoning me again so soon? Why my dear Mobius, you’re early for your monthly tithe.” Long fingernails curved over the top of a gentleman’s walking stick, the green jeweled top winking in the bright light, snaring Jonathan’s gaze. Fire danced within the cold stone and he could have sworn he saw a face and hands pressed against the inside of the jewel, the person’s mouth open in an expression of terror.

  “I have an offering for you. And a requested boon.” Mobius licked his lips, power drawing around him in a black cloud.

  “Oh?” An elegant eyebrow shot up and the demon removed his hat, the longish hair curling around the sides of his face as he stared down at Jonathan. “And what might that be?”

  “He is the husband of Heather Lisle.”

  “Is he now? Tell me, Jonathan Lisle. What is your full name?”

  Mobius stepped forward. “He can’t speak, my lord. We’ve given him something to assure his cooperation.”

  “Well then. What do you expect me to do with that?” The demon snapped, his red eyes glaring unflinchingly at the other man.

  “I will tell you his full name.”

  No. This couldn’t be happening. Out of the corner of his eye, Jonathan watched as his wife entered the room. For the first time since he could remember she met his eyes, she stroked the amulet around her neck and smiled.

  “And what is that my dear?”

  “Jonathan Aloysius Lisle.”

  “Thank you my dear.” Beranrepight offered her a smile, his teeth sharp behind the civilized façade. “Then let us begin.”

  Darkness swirled and the demon stepped forward, a curse slipping soft and almost tender from his lips.

  “Awaken, Jonathan Aloysius Lisle and walk with me through the valley of death.”

  Pain sliced through him as the demon moved at an inhuman speed, his hands plunging inside of Jonathan’s chest only to wrap around his still beating heart. Beranrepight whispered words over his open chest cavity and his heart shuddered and began to beat again with a new and different rhythm. Raw energy poured inside of him and inside his head he fought the invasion with every last breath.

  Then the demon moved. Swift and with an unnatural burst of speed, he was bent over the body of the woman on the table next to him.

  The demon’s jaws opened and Jonathan could barely register what was happening until he had to look away. The wet noises of his eating were met only by another sound that he felt certain only he could hear. The echoes of feminine screams scrambled through his fevered mind and in the end they lapsed into howls as he succumbed to the numbing black darkness that pulled him under.

  Chapter One

  BLACKTHORN COVEN: PRESENT Day

  Denis crept along the darkened corridors beneath the compound, conscious of the scuff of his shoes on the hard concrete. It was his job to monitor the comings and goings of the vault, but he had been remiss of late, saddled with caring for the new Vampire Regent and his court since the last caretaker had gone missing. It was a job for a staff, not just one person. At least in his opinion. He was just one human being for God’s sake.

  His father warned him about steering clear of the man, but a human servant in a coven of vampires had little in the way of rights. The best he could do was do as his family had always done, and that was serve and pray to a God he wasn’t sure existed to keep him safe.

  Or at least away from the main hall during feedings.

  God, he feared didn’t have much to do with the politics of this Coven of late. The house was in turmoil, rumors flying about demons walking the night and stealing vampires off the streets. No one was safe. Especially humans.

  He’d grown up hearing about the blood feud between the wolves and vampires. How demon enchantments infused with a witch’s twisted magic had tried to induce an all-out war until Rand Sinclair had fought for the humans in his care, making a pact with the Revere Alpha to drive the demon into the bowels of Hell where he belonged. Bullshit. All the witches he’d ever known had been nothing but tarot readers and herbalists. Demons?

  Pah.

  Bogeymen. Pure and simple.

  And a vampire caring enough for anyone, let alone the humans in his care? He’d have to see that to believe it.

  Denis didn’t subscribe to the legends. It couldn’t be much different from now. Denis knew where the real culprit was. Wolves. Thieving bastards, trying to weasel their way into the Coven’s good graces. Vampires were the chosen ones, not a pack of snapping dogs.

  Rand Sinclair had his wife put to death and then went to ground like the coward that he was, leaving the Coven to an uncertain future. One that his father and his father before that had to navigate.

  Bloody wolves. All they did was cause trouble. If not for the Revere Pack leader’s accusations against the Coven he wouldn’t even need to be down here. He wandered the long, gloomy passages of the catacombs muttering under his breath uneasy in the silence held within the shadows.

  Wolves gone missing? What about the vampires? For all his Regent knew it was some sort of revenge plot to give the dogs an excuse to dust it up.

  “Waste of time.”

  But the Regent insisted in that crisp, aristocratic voice of his. Like he’d descended from royalty or some damned thing.

  “You. Make sure the enclosure is intact.”

  As he hadn’t just been down there a few months before. Fuck all. No one came here. And why would they? All dust covered antiques and coven records from thousands of years. No one wanted that. Now the vampires that rested in the level below? That was an entirely different matter.

  They slept, each of them Masters and Mistresses in their own time. Waiting until their turn came once more to rule, relishing their slumber in solitude.

  He hated that part of the job. Checking the tombs to make certain they were secure. Once he’d heard of a man going missing when one of the Sleeping had needed to feed. Nothing was more terrible than a vampire buried beneath the earth and awakened with a full hunger on them.

  Nothing.

  It was one of the reasons he avoided coming down here unless absolutely necessary.

  Fucking vampires.

  He would serve them as his family had done for generations but that didn’t mean he loved them. Kind masters they were not. One false move and you’d end up with your veins split open over a goblet as a midnight snack.

  But the moment he thought it, he shrank in fear. Some of them could read your thoughts. And the way the new Regent gazed at him with those probing grey eyes was enough to make him scuttle his way down here. He was not eager to have the man’s anger directed at him. Not at all.

  So here he was, work backing up behind him, wandering around in the dark looking for something that hadn’t surfaced in more than two hundred years. Of course it was still down here. The case was spelled, according to what he’d been told. It had to be unlocked with a key and the only a select few members of the household had copies.

  He came up on the steel vault door, completely out of character for the gloom around him. Denis pressed in the combination on the illuminated security pad. The door whispered open, revealing an array of glass covered display cases emitting blue light amidst the murky interior. He edged inside and the door shut behind him. His gaze traveled over the weal
th of old jewelry and family artifacts no doubt locked within the surrounding safety deposit boxes, all held by the Coven for centuries.

  But only one glass enclosure drew him this night. One cursed object that had the potential to re-start a centuries old war between vampire and wolf kind. He’ heard about it. The staff whispered. Everyone knew it was here and the cursed magic that had almost taken out their line.

  He didn’t know why they didn’t have the amulet destroyed. Hidden from sight around the corner and toward the back of the vault, its presence loomed heavy since he’d taken the position. It would have been better served being encased in cement. Let someone try and break it out then.

  He scrutinized the panel of security cameras on the wall opposite where he stood and his mouth went dry. Number seven was down. Completely black. How long had the camera been out? Security should have notified him.

  “Fuck,” he swore, stalking toward the display in a huff. One more thing to add to his list of endless tasks. No wonder the previous caretaker had up and left.

  But as he rounded the corner, he paused, mid-step, horrified at the sight in opposite him. There, in front of the open glass case was the rotting corpse of none other and Remus Willoby, the previous caretaker, his hand grasping at something even in death.

  He swallowed his revulsion and took a step closer. There was nothing resting against the black velvet. The glass door hung open, the keys dangling from the lock. What had Remus done? The box was never supposed to be opened. Never. It was spelled shut, with only the Regent and the lineage of witches used to contain the magic aware of its properties.

  Well, that and the bitches who created it in the first place. But for them to find it...the idea sent goosebumps over his flesh.

  The amulet was gone.

  Gods. How long had Remus been here moldering? It just didn’t make sense.

  Terror surged through him at the implications of what lay before him.

  “No...”

  Denis turned on his heel and scuttled out of the vault, the sound of shrieks in the castle above drowning out the sound of his footsteps as he ran into the sound of a battle unfolding.

  Chapter Two

  RAND ALMOST DIDN’T hear the screams. Floating in his sleeping state, the din of Blackthorn Coven had simply become a part of an ever present hum, keeping him company as he traveled slowly through time. The new Regent had his hands full, but he had every confidence the man would keep the Coven out of harm’s way and his pledge of honor with the wolves intact.

  Virgil had come to him through his bride and at the time, he’d believed the young vampire held the guts and fortitude it would take to lead their coven into the modern world.

  Just like his predecessor before him, he’d stepped aside to make room for a new age. Bone weary from a war that never should have been, he’d handed the reins over and locked himself inside the underground sleeping chamber, content to rest. And he hoped, for his soul to mend from all the loss.

  It would probably take him a fucking millennia. He would have been content to stay lost in the darkness if not for the haunting eyes of the woman just out of his reach. Even as he walked the halls in his final days, he caught her watching him out of the corner of his eye.

  At first he thought she was a ghost, or even worse, the witch who had enraptured his wife with whispers of obscene power. But no. He got no inkling of harm from her. She was nothing like his bride.

  Bitter fire burned through him as the memories of his wife’s treachery flitted through his brain. Daughter of the previous Regent, she bowed before no man and by the Gods, he’d foolishly thought she might have grown to love him, instead of the arranged political match their union had started out to be.

  Her father, Cornell would have been ashamed had he been awake to see what she had done to their people. But he slept the sleep of the dead below and he would not disturb him, even for her. Stone by stone, he and Cornell had built this place and by all the gods he’d struggled to make a home away from the ancestral coven back in Europe. And her actions threatened to ruin it all.

  Their fates tied in with a lineage of witches that helped Blackthorn Coven rise to the top of vampire society, it would also be the cause of his greatest heartbreak. Finding her in the arms of a witch who delved into blood magic and dealings with demons had forced his hand. So had the bodies of all of their victims, stacked like firewood in a secluded part of the forest. Wolves had been blamed. But he had known the truth.

  One frail human girl lay bleeding out on the floor of Melia’s chamber as she fucked the witch, their bodies entwined, green fire swirling around them.

  It was obscene, what they had done. So many had died. But no more.

  His bride would kill them all to satisfy her lust for power so she and her lover could sit on the throne. Not on his fucking life.

  The witch Abel, his second had taken care of, leaving her shackled in the conservatory bound in nullifying chains. But Melia? She was his.

  Rand had cornered her in the Great Hall, his court looking on. Abel, his Captain of the Guard stood by, battle worn and bloody, his face a mask of icy rage. “You did this. You brokered a deal with death. And for what?”

  Melia raised her chin in defiance, her glossy hair drawn up in an elaborate updo. She swept past the gathering crowd of onlookers, her long black skirts whispering on the stones as turned to face him. “If you see no value to what I have done, then you are a fool.” Her blood red lips curved up in a smile that did not meet her eyes.

  The callous disregard for life rankled and his fangs descended in his fury. “You have learned nothing. When you lead, it is you who serves most of all.”

  She was a born aristocrat and he frowned, knowing with certainty that she would never and could never see that what she had done was wrong. Legions of his people had been slain by the ensorcelled wolves. It had taken him months to trace back the source and more than a few innocent wolves had died by his hand.

  He had risen up as a mercenary, blood and death gaining him rank where others, like his bride, had accepted their royal status as their due. Rand should give the right of her death to Rowark, the wolves Alpha. But he was too busy picking up the pieces of what was left of his pack. They had fought each other, near to the death until a glimpse of his ghostly witch settled his thoughts long enough to stop the madness.

  Then he’d seen the truth. She had never fought for anything, but taken to dark magic to suit her purposes and that he could not abide.

  Melia shrugged. “We are meant to rule. They were born to serve.”

  “Rule what? A sea of bones? You’ve destroyed everything this Coven held dear. The humans in its care. Our brothers the wolves. And for what?”

  “Power,” she hissed, her eyes bright with the cursed green light he’d come to know too well. “It is our birthright.”

  “Not yours. Not anymore.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  He seized her unceremoniously around the wrist and dragged her, protesting to the solarium. Dawn approached, and God willing, the end to his Coven’s torment. One demon had been cast down this night but the other...she stood in front of him, daring him to act.

  Melia took in the body of her lover and gave a mournful cry, fighting him as he pushed her forward. His stomach twisted as he stalked past the charred body of the witch. The stench almost unbearable, he turned to his bride and reached for the shackles.

  “What have you done? Have you lost what wits you have left?” She cried out, fighting him.

  “I’ll do it.” Abel stepped forward, blade in hand.

  Rand shook his head. “No. This duty is mine and mine alone.” He jerked Melia forward, bile rising in the back of his throat at the thought of what he was about to do. He thrust her toward the holding chains embedded in the earth and closed the first iron band around her delicate wrist.

  She would have them all destroyed to suit her vanity. And there was only one remedy for that.

  “You’ll pay for this,
Rand. Do you hear me?” Melia squirmed in his grasp as he fastened the last shackle closed. She fell to her knees in a puddle of black silk, cursing at him and jerking at the chains.

  Dawn threatened, the bonds of the night urging him back into the shadows. The others had fled the solarium, no doubt to spread their vitriol through the court. Only Abel remained, his expression determined.

  “My lord. You must retire.”

  “I am aware.” His gaze traveled once more over Melia.

  “I’ll leave you, then.” Abel spun on his heel and vanished into the gloom of the hallway, his movements tight with anger.

  Rand nodded and turned his attention back to the situation at hand. Would that his heart felt more than pity. He wanted to love her but time after time, she turned him away, choosing instead her quest for power.

  “May your next life bring you peace.”

  “I hate you,” she spat in his direction, the glow of her eyes matching the luminous green hue of the stone glittering from the amulet at her breast. How much of the witch fire had she taken in? Or that of the demon?

  It didn’t matter. In a short while it would be over, her body a pile of ash.

  Striding forward, he tore a piece of fabric from her gown, the sound of ripping fabric harsh in the silence.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Ending this.” Rand yanked the amulet from her neck, burying it in the scrap of fabric. As soon as his hand wrapped around the necklace, his stomach gave a violent lurch and the urge to thrust the unnatural piece from him was almost too powerful to ignore.

  Gods.

  The blade at his side grew warm in reaction to the dark magic.

  What would it have been like to wear that loathsome thing next to his flesh, he wondered and then put it out of his mind. The image of a being swathed in a darkness more terrible than the deepest bowels of the pit flashed behind his mind’s eye and for a moment he knew fear.

  Melia struggled, her chains clinking against the stone. Her wrists bloody, she reached for him, a snarl on her lips. “This isn’t over. He’ll come for you and take his rightful place.”