Grave Things (Grave Things Series Book 1)

by Lindsay Mead

  Grave Things

  A Grave Things Novel, Book 1

  Lindsay Mead

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents, are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Lindsay Mead

  All rights reserved.

  In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing, of any part of this book without the permission of the author is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Adult - Urban Fantasy - Romance

  Viola Danvers is the foul-mouthed exorcist you never hope to meet, because if she’s around—you’ve got problems. Hellish problems. Covered in protective tattoos and with a priest for a stepbrother, she travels the world taking on whatever nasty thing that just crawled out of Hell.

  Most of Viola’s customers tend to be financially stunted—leave it to demons to prey on the poor—but when a wealthy Scotsman asks for her help, suddenly it’s more than restless souls sweeping Vi off her feet. As the new client tries to break down her walls, demons smell sin in the water… and it’s his soul they’re circling. Can Viola save the Scotsman without losing her heart in the process?

  Grave Things is book one in a series about fighting demons, finding love, and trying to stay off the Devil’s preferred guest list.

  Cover Art by Moonchildljilja. All rights reserved.

  Interior Artwork by Lindsay Mead

  I dedicate this series to all of the badasses in the world who are a little rough around the edges.

  Hell’s got nothing on you, babe.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Letter To The Reader

  Read More By Lindsay Mead

  1

  The tug at Viola Danvers' soul told her exactly where to go. It helped that this demon forced its energies out into the hall, practically calling to anyone—or anything—who was sensitive enough to notice. Did it know that an exorcist was near? Or was it too wild to care?

  Speaking frantically, the Hindu woman needlessly led the way through her home in India. Viola caught most of it, but she wasn't as fluent in the language as her stepbrother, Aaron Ward. Wearing his customary black attire and his white priest's collar, he kept close to the distraught mother and acknowledged her words with a sympathy that Vi could never pull off.

  Viola shimmied around them both, striding purposefully toward the room of the possessed child. A group of friends and family were gathered in the hall. They prayed, some wailed in grief… or fear. Stopping outside the bedroom, Viola didn't immediately turn the doorknob.

  The mother slowed her pacing, her words trailing as she observed the exorcist who'd unexpectedly knocked on her front door only moments ago. Aaron stood beside the older woman and clutched his bible between his hands. Viola's newish assistant, Lana Rose, hung back. Unlike the others, she didn't look worried. Her confidence in Viola knew no bounds.

  The bedroom door was like any other, save for the blackness creeping out from the edges. As though it were a shadow or mold, the hellfire soot seeped from around the frame—a physical manifestation of the evil within. The others grew silent as Viola hovered a hand above the door, feeling waves of cold energy.

  Viola smirked to herself. Yeah, this demon was letting it all hang out. It shouldn't be too hard to take care of. Demonic creatures that'd gone over the deep end like this were stupid, like a drunk frat boy looking for a fight. A little brute force and Vi would have it begging for mercy. Not that she had any such benevolence to give.

  "My child, please save," the mother squeaked out.

  Aaron placed a comforting hand on the woman's shoulder and turned his own worried gaze to his stepsister.

  "I'll try," Viola answered, finding her confidence abruptly smothered.

  Exorcisms could be tricky. Not everyone survived. Weaker individuals, like this possessed child, didn't have the advantage. An old memory of a girl Viola hadn't been able to save attempted to float to the forefront of her mind. With hard fought practice, she shoved it and its pain aside. Now was not the time.

  With a wave of Viola's hand, Lana rushed to her side, carrying a duffel bag twice her size. The Native American girl was sixteen with striking black hair and neon feathers tied around her thick locks. A bulky camera hung from her neck; her most prized possession. She peered at Viola with eager dark eyes. "What's the verdict, boss?"

  "Salt first."

  Lana dropped to the ground, unzipped the duffel bag, and retrieved the canister of pure sea salt. She tossed it to Vi, who then used it to draw a line before the door. It had to be perfect, encompassing the length of the opening.

  Demonic things 101: They can't cross salt. Period.

  "Does this room have a window?" Viola asked the family as she handed the salt to her assistant.

  "Yes," answered one of the younger men. "Just one."

  "The windowsill will have to be salted on the outside," Viola said to Lana.

  "Right." Lana nodded. "Don't want the demon making a jump for it when things get rough."

  "Exactly." Viola gave her an encouraging wink.

  "I'll get it done." Lana playfully saluted before jogging off with the duffel and salt in tow.

  While she was gone, Viola surveyed her surroundings and waited for the usual divine inspiration. She wiped the gathering sweat from her brow. God, she missed air conditioning.

  Familiar symbols flashed through her mind, as a strong desire vibrated through her skin. Viola spun to face the mother. "Do you have a large mirror?"

  The woman nodded. Her lovely orange and green head scarf swayed with her movement. She pointed at two male family members, speaking too fast for Viola to follow. They jumped up at her stern order and ran down the hall. It wasn't long before they reappeared, carrying a five-foot tall mirror encased with a thick gold frame. It looked heavy and old. Hopefully, it would survive this.

  "The mirror needs to face the doorway," Viola told the boys. "You'll need to hold it still. No matter what, don't let it fall."

  They nodded their understanding, but Viola could see the fear they were trying to conceal. Lana returned as more family members crowded around the mirror. Amongst themselves, they decided who would hold the top and who would hold the bottom. This gave Vi some level of comfort because if they dropped the mirror, she would be in for a world of hurt.

  "It's all taken care of, boss," Lana said, as she stuffed her rope and salt back into the bag. "Nice mirror."

  "I thought so, too." Viola held out her hand. "White marker, please
."

  Lana pulled it from her pocket and passed it over. "What's it for?"

  "I'm gonna need to pry this demon out of this kid with my bare hands"—Everyone watched Viola closely as she went to the mirror—"but it's not going to let me in that room unless we trap it first."

  With motions she'd repeated a hundred times before, Viola drew on the glass. The image started as a pentagram; a sign of protection. Then, around the outside and within the arms of the star, she painted symbols of imprisonment, submission, and of God's power over man.

  "The Seal of Solomon?" Lana asked as Viola stepped back to examine her work.

  The mother moved closer. "What this Seal of Solo-mon?"

  "Handed down from God by the Archangel Raphael to King Solomon"—Viola touched up a spot, making sure the image was exact—"this symbol can subdue nearly all demons."

  Lana crossed her arms and raised a curious brow. "But I thought those only worked if the demon stood on or beneath them?"

  "You're not wrong," the exorcist agreed, gazing beyond the white markings to her own reflection. Her hair was black with long streaks of blonde mixed throughout, but her defining feature was her plethora of tattoos. They were mostly archaic and occult in origin, and needed to perform her anti-demon rituals. The blending of strange and familiar images covered both of her arms and swept onto her chest. Sometimes her appearance freaked people out, but Viola loved her ink. To her, the tattoos were beautiful, and without them, she'd have died long ago. Pulling her attention back to the task at hand, she checked her drawing one last time. "A seal can work on mirrors if the demon sees its reflection within the symbol."

  "Trap the reflection and you literally trap the demon." Lana nodded with understanding.

  "Exactly, but mirror seals aren't as strong." Glancing at her assistant, Viola studied her. She'd been reluctant to take on someone so young, but Lana was crazy smart, had a ferocious appetite to understand all things exorcist… and was persistent as hell. "Most demons can break them eventually."

  Concern flashed across Lana's face.

  "Don't worry, chica." Viola nudged the girl's arm, giving her a reassuring smile. "I'll exorcise this bitch before it even has a chance."

  It must have worked because Lana returned the smile with enthusiasm and pulled the duffel open, revealing the many occult items within. "What next?"

  "Frankincense oil and my bell," Viola said, holding out her left hand.

  Lana shuffled through the pack and withdrew a small bottle of Frankincense oil along with a sack of cotton balls. She quickly doused one of the puffs. The oil had a heady wood smell, like walking into an old historical building; not wholly unpleasant and with a touch of sweetness. Lana swabbed Vi's palm, specifically the black cross stained into her skin there.

  It wasn't a tattoo. During her initiation into the church, the clergymen had smeared crosses into her palms with ashes. An act that had permanently colored her skin. The crosses couldn't be felt, couldn't be washed off, and they were literally never inverted no matter how she angled her hands.

  Putting the bottle and spare cotton balls away, Lana then pulled out a large bell. Vi grasped it with her oil-free hand. The handle was a sturdy wood and the bell was made of beautiful brass.

  Viola checked everyone's positions before approaching the closed door. She inhaled deeply, letting the world fall away from her. There was only her and the waiting demon. She nodded to Lana. The assistant twisted the doorknob, gave the handle a good shove, and retreated to safety.

  The clicks of Lana's camera filled the eerie silence as the door creaked open slowly, revealing a shabby bedroom of simple decor and crumbling from age. Standing dead center of the room was a little girl, perhaps ten or so. Her silken hair was disheveled within its braid, while her clothes were in tatters. Smeared with blood and dirt, the child stared at Viola with big, tear-filled chocolate eyes. When she spoke, her voice trembled over quivering lips.

  "Please help me. They've locked me in here without food and water," she appealed sweetly to the woman standing before her. "I'm just a little girl. I'm afraid. Please help me."

  Viola had one word for her. "Veritas."

  In an instant, the little girl's face changed. The others gasped, for the first time, glimpsing what was beneath the surface. Her tan skin grayed and hideous cracks crawled along her harshly sunken cheeks. The whites of her eyes turned black as her irises swirled blood-red. Even her delicate child hands were replaced by gnarled and rigid fingers with pointed, charred nails.

  The demon hissed. "Exorcist."

  "Demon." Viola held the thing in her sights, not budging an inch. "I have something for you."

  "Not strong enough to kill me?" The demon tilted its head curiously. "So, you think you can appease me with gifts instead?"

  Viola shrugged. "Take a look."

  The exorcist stepped into the room and out of the way in the same movement, careful to avoid the salt line. The demon's eyes instinctively glanced to the mirror. Its eyes widened at the sight of the Seal of Solomon. It tried to resist, muscles tensing, but the ritual held it bound.

  "You bitch," the demon spat, unable to look away from the mirror. "This will not hold me long. My claws are buried deep within this body."

  "Then I'd better not waste time." Viola raised her left hand, palm facing the demon.

  Keeping her eyes pinned on the hellish creature, Vi rang the brass bell. She kept the beats rhythmic. Ding…ding…ding. With the cross in her palm pointed toward the demon and the bell's chimes filling every corner of the room, she walked a slow circle.

  "Nullum locum obtinere." The Latin words flowed from and through Viola. They were a part of her, and yet from someplace else. "Daemon cum onere horum corporibus."

  As the exorcism took hold, the demon's muscles flexed, and a sickening growl rumbled within its chest. Viola continued chanting, moving ever closer. Growing suddenly angry, the demon screamed. Its black lips stretched wide across its face, distorting unnaturally. The unearthly noise was deafening.

  The mirror wobbled as the men flinched and tried to cover their ears. Viola shouted for them to hold steady. With a crunching sound, a small crack streaked along the mirror's corner. It was not enough to break the seal, but enough to hurry Viola. She refocused on the exorcism, forcing the words out faster, and stepped behind the struggling demon. Its body heaved with exaggerated breaths.

  "Sed nostris palmas," the exorcist went on, ringing the bell one final time before stowing it into the rim of her low-rise jeans. Quickly, she rubbed her hands together and smeared the frankincense oil onto both crosses. "Tela nostros, et ambulabunt ut in ipso percutiat."

  Glaring at Viola's reflection in the mirror, the demon wailed again. Another crack appeared with a nasty snap. Viola held her breath, watching the crack spread toward the outer edge of the seal. At the last second, it veered away. The demon smiled, knowing that it was only a matter of time.

  "Illam unam patere ex inferno autem quis terræ." Viola roughly grabbed the demon's wrist, then slapped her other hand onto its glistening forehead. "Da veniam ad nos et nos debemus facere malum in nomine tuo!"

  The tattoo on Vi's chest started to glow, dousing her face in emerald-green light. Hot and tingly, the circular scrawling between her breasts gave her a direct connection to Heaven's power. She funneled it into her hands, and the flesh beneath began to sizzle. Her stomach churned as the smell of burning hair and skin reached her nostrils. Vi clenched her teeth. She had to see this through; no matter how awful it was.

  "Date nobis de sanguine sanguis habiti sunt daemonium—" The floor trembled, forcing Viola to plant her feet to keep from falling. Several new cracks snaked toward the painted seal. The men fought to hold it in place, but their strength and courage were waning. Needing to finish this now, Viola placed her lips against the demon's ear. "It's time the devil take you back, bitch. In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen!"

  An unseen force slammed down into the girl's body with a sonic-like boom. It passe
d through her and plowed into Vi, launching the exorcist across the room. Viola crashed into the wall, then fell limp to the ground. Pain ricocheted repeatedly through her muscles, cruelly pulsating her bones.

  She didn't cry out or dare groan from the pain. The terror holding her in place was instinctual, coming from her very soul. She could barely lift her head for fear of what she was about to witness.

  Just feet away from where she'd landed, a supernatural fissure had split open the floor. Her body trembled. She wanted to scream, even though she'd seen this many times before. Floorboards protruded in all directions as if they'd been torn apart by an actual earthquake. But inside the opening, there was no sign of the room below—only Hell.

  2

  From the chasm to Hell rose a swirl of black smoke and fire; brimstone and blood. It reached from the depths of the underworld like a thousand long, sinuous arms. Viola called it the soul of Hell. Not Satan, not God, but the thing that contained all the world's evil—and its hunger for more was insatiable. There was no mistaking that Hell was a horrible place when even demons ran from it.

  As slow as rolling smoke, the soul of Hell reached for the possessed girl. Panicking, the demon jerked violently against the seal's hold. The mirror shattered in an explosion of glass shards that rained down on the surrounding men.

  Before the demon could try to run, the soul of Hell struck forward. Shapeless fingers passed through the child's skin, as though her body was intangible. The demon howled, its features contorting with fear.