Fierce Dawn

by Scott, Amber

  ~

  Praise for Fierce Dawn

  “Intensely satisfying!”

  -Carolyn McCray, Kindle Bestselling author

  “X-Men action meets True Blood heat!”

  -Ann Charles, 2010 Daphne winner, Nearly Departed in Deadwood

  “Amber Scott knows how to masterfully stoke the fires of sexual tension, ratchet up the longing, and finally give us our own release in the hottest and sweetest way.”

  -Deena Remiel, “Trinity” author

  “Conspiracy, vampires, changelings? I dare you to try and put this fresh take on the genre one down!”

  -ParaYourNormal

  “A stunning premier to a series with huge potential. I’m hooked!”

  -Your Need To Read

  Start Reading

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Sneak Peek

  ~ ~ ~

  Prologue

  Sadie Graves did not have time for this. But the fear shimmering in her sister Heather’s eyes sent guilt pinging through her. “What did she say?” Sadie asked, setting her backpack on her bed before flopping down next to it.

  “It was bad this time, Sadie,” Heather repeated. “Real bad. It isn’t just end-of-the-world stuff anymore. She’s chanting about her daughters, about angels and vampires.”

  Sadie rolled her eyes despite the dread clutching her belly. “I know she’s getting worse, Heather. But I don’t know what to do. You want me to get her committed or something? She’s our mother. I can’t live with that.”

  “What about Aunt Molly?” Heather tugged at her ponytail, worrying the tips of her long hair.

  Sadie hated that she didn’t have a better answer. One of them at least deserved a childhood. A sixteen and fifteen year old girl should be worried about boys and driving lessons not self-mutilation and social services. “Aunt Molly knows. I told her. She has her hands full already with Jen.” Jen, who was waiting for Sadie as they spoke. “Just make sure she doesn’t get a hold of scissors again. I promise I’ll be back before she wakes up.”

  Slinging her backpack over one shoulder, Sadie stood to leave out the window, recognizing the revving engine outside as her cousin’s signal to hurry the hell up. Heather stood as well, her pajama hand me downs too big on her young, slim form. She dug under her pillow and shoved a book into Sadie’s hands.

  “What’s this?”

  “What do you think? It’s Mom’s. She tried burying it in the backyard. I dug it up.”

  “Heather, she does this. She always has. I know it sucks, but you have to realize it’s nothing but words scribbled on paper.”

  “Just read it, okay? Read it and tell me it isn’t different this time.”

  Sadie glanced at the window, but seeing the urgency in Heather’s stance, dropped to her bed once again. Jen and the club would have to wait. Wouldn’t be the first time little sis did whatever she could to stop a good sneak out.

  She paged through the journal, pausing at certain passages.

  “…three realms. He will come for my girls. Wings to steal them and use them…”

  Alright, so the tone of her mother’s written mania had evolved a little.

  “…more than blood that’s a drug. Sorrows and sorrows….Feeding off souls and leaving shells behind….All the stories come true….three becoming two….hide the Book…hide the book….the Book….”

  “She thinks she’s a prophet,” Heather said in a near whisper.

  “And we know she’s not.” The heartache pinched her chest and burned her throat. “I don’t know what you want from me, Heather. I can’t do this. I’m sorry, okay? But in a couple of years we can get jobs and keep her safe and have some kind of life that is normal. Until then, we have to stick it out.” Or go insane as well. “Okay?”

  Heather’s sense of betrayal showed in her intense gaze and crossed arms. Sadie knew the look, the same one from every time Sadie had played with someone else as a child or didn’t want to share a toy. Only this was worse. This, she honestly deserved. But Sadie couldn’t stay. If she stayed, she’d go nuts worrying about what to do. And how would that help?

  It wouldn’t, she told herself again and again as she eased out the window and sprinted through the shadows to Jen’s car. It wouldn’t help.

  Nothing would.

  ~ ~ ~

  Chapter One

  A shiver of wariness raced under Elijah Stokes’ skin. The compass’s needle spun erratically, finding no energetic trace of Lyric’s positioning. “Why would Lyric be cloaking?” he asked Holly, who sat to his right pretending to read. “Moreover, who would be helping him cloak?”

  Holly put down the horror novel. Elijah ran his thumb over the gold-framed face before snapping the contraption shut. It fell with a thud against his chest, its chain jangling in the quiet of the library. He sensed danger coming, but couldn’t be sure his senses were on target.

  “Trust me, if Lyric needs help, cloaking or otherwise, he’ll still know how to get it. Going rogue probably improved his skills.” Holly’s eyebrows furrowed. “And as for why, maybe he doubts how welcome he’ll be?”

  “More like how useful,” Elijah said. Lyric could be the danger. Or Elijah could simply be biased from their past. “And more likely evading Enforcers.”

  “Well, useful, evading or not, he’ll be here. He promised me.”

  Elijah glared at Holly. If they weren’t in a public—a mortal—place, Elijah would react to the reminder that she’d contacted Lyric behind his back. But if he unleashed his irritation here, the handful of humans studying nearby would pick up on the violent energy.

  If Lyric didn’t have enforcement on his heels, an energy surge could snare some unwelcome immortal attention on its own.

  What if the danger he sensed wasn’t related to Lyric at all?

  “Hate me later,” Holly said, crossing her arms, making the plastic chair groan. “After Lyric gets here and proves I’m right about Sadie.”

  “You should have waited to summon him. We agreed to wait.” He inverted his magnetism, along with his wings, again to be certain he and Holly blended in.

  Holly took the text Elijah had already scanned, their latest dead end. “We put off summoning Lyric long enough. We’re out of options, Elijah. If I don’t find Crusoe….”

  “Not you, Holly. We.” A girl bent over a medical reference manual two tables away glanced their way, her interest clearly resonating. Elijah exhaled an indrawn breath, keeping his energy even keel. “We’ll find him, Holly. I swear it. We will.”

  Holly’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. The worry in her words showed in her dark hair licking blue flames out the tips. Her fingers sparked at every touch. She wasn’t herself. The wear of stress over Crusoe’s disappearance showed.

  Crusoe was more than a friend. More than their lead
er. He was like a brother to Elijah.

  “Sadie’s work shift started two minutes ago. But I haven’t seen her. Can you locate her?” Holly asked.

  Elijah retrieved his compass, this time focusing on the human girl Holly had honed in on. The dial showed Sadie’s signature energy immediately approaching the building. Elijah concentrated on signs of Lyric again, asking the compass with his own energy. The needle spun aimlessly.

  "When did you contact him?" Elijah said, hearing the edge in his voice. His frustration went beyond feeling he’d failed Holly and Crusoe. Working with Lyric again, after what had fallen between them, after the lifestyle the feeder had taken to since, left Elijah cold.

  "Four days ago," Holly said, her gaze wavering. The flames in her hair licked higher. She smoothed the locks, but attraction for him emanated off of her. Her stress must be making her vulnerable to his ability to attract immortals and humans alike, like bees to honey.

  Elijah tried to invert his magnetism further. Lust between friends sounded like a new layer of Hell neither of them needed at this point. Plus, the glancing girl was beginning to stare.

  Holly had sent for Lyric four days ago. They were running out of time. Crusoe had been gone hundreds more than just four days.

  "Elijah, I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m on the verge of believing Crusoe is truly gone.” She took a shuddering breath. “Dead. I’ll go crazy if we wait any longer. Not if Lyric can help."

  “I know.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “When will he get here?"

  Her hair sparked but Holly didn't answer. She didn't have to. Elijah heard the feeder's approach, recognized his vibration’s pitch. “Nevermind.” He examined the compass. Speak of the energy sucker. Lyric looked to be within a mile of the building, skyward. His pulse hitched.

  He hadn’t seen Lyric in more than a year and the last time had been ugly. The last thing Elijah wanted was a spectacle. Would the feeder still be volatile?

  "How much does Lyric know?" He kept his voice low and his energy even keel. The smattering of mortals present wasn’t evolved enough to detect flames and wings, but violence and danger were palpable to any human brain.

  "The barest bones. That Crusoe is still missing. That we are still trying to find him. That we need him. I haven’t told him about Sadie yet if that’s what you’re worried about."

  Elijah absorbed what she said. And the implications. Though Lyric had left them before Crusoe’s disappearance, he doubtlessly heard of Crusoe being linked to the Illeautians and their anti-human activity.

  He honed in on Sadie, who was in the building, coming up the elevator. Was it her? Was she in danger? He was far from a messenger and would never claim to have that kind of prescient power, yet his gut was warning him of something. “We can’t meet him here. If he really has been blood using, even if not, he could give in and feed off her energy just for a fix.”

  He hated the very thought that his former friend and teammate had gone vampire. Blood addiction might be the scariest, most devastating downfall Elijah had ever witnessed for any immortal. And in a hundred years of hunting criminal immortals, he’d seen plenty.

  “You don’t know he’s ever used. Not for sure. And if he has, he’s sober now.

  “How would you know?”

  “I asked. He promised me.”

  “And you trust the word of an addict?” Elijah kept his eyes on the elevators. Any moment now, he’d glimpse them opening through the racks, Sadie exiting one. In truth, trusting Lyric’s ability to control his powers was only one of his concerns. "What happens if he can't sense any more than I can in Sadie? Have you considered that?"

  “I did. Of course I did.” She put a hand on his arm, but she sparked against his skin and pulled it away. “And if he tries to get a fix off of her, I’ll help you shield her.”

  Loathe as he was to admit it, Holly was right. He had to try to trust Lyric again. His energy drew closer to the library. Elijah estimated no more than a few minutes until Lyric arrived.

  Possessiveness over Holly, over their months of research, scouring archives, hunting down evidence of a myth, reared up within Elijah.

  “Perceptive as Lyric is, bringing in anyone else feels wrong.” But the question lingered unspoken; where else could they possibly look? They were out of options. “Sadie shouldn’t be put in danger to satisfy our curiosity.”

  “He won’t hurt her. I promise you. We’ll protect her. If she is what I think she is, and Lyric comes back on as well….” She carefully cupped his cheek, forcing him to look her in the eye. For once, her hand felt cool to the touch, revealing how certain she was of this test. “If there’s a chance, the smallest chance, doesn’t Crusoe deserve it?”

  He couldn’t hide his pain or take the bare emotion collected in and glowing in her gaze. He looked away. “Crusoe would have done better,” he said and removed her hand. “If it was us, he’d have found us.”

  Crusoe was the best seeker in the entire immortal realm.

  “Never say that,” she said, gripping his hand as though it could force his answer. “Once we’re all together again, we will find Crusoe. Holding the last year against Lyric won’t help now, Elijah."

  Time yet closed in on them.

  Crusoe could be dead, or worse. He could be converted, brainwashed by the Illeautians. Elijah was failing him. Leave it to Holly to see his silence as a sign of hope.

  Sparks flashed in Holly’s eyes. “You’ll thank me for this.”

  Elijah forced his gaze to the page of notes under his clenched hands. Underlined random, repeating questions, his inky stabs in the dark, mocked him. Sadie neared them now. Despite his stress and fatigue, the edge to his emotions softened. He concentrated, inverting his energy. He didn’t like to, but he might have to repel her.

  One thing he knew, Lyric wouldn’t be reading her until Elijah knew she’d be safe from any wish that the feeder would bleed her emotions dry.

  *

  The lemony Arizona sunshine warmed Sadie Grave’s shoulders, but prickly dread iced her spine as Sadie entered the ASU campus library—her work—where her internal clock began ticking.

  Inevitably, she would tell on herself.

  Over the course of the next three hours, if she didn’t get a better strategy, everything she’d fought for could be taken away. Her shrink would sniff out her secret. But what could she distract Dr. Meyers with? There was work: “How do you like volunteering, Sadie?” Or family: “How do your sister’s concerns make you feel, Sadie?” Ten minutes in, Sadie would be staring into a gawping silence, itching to spill her loose beans. If the silence didn’t work, a psychological interrogation worthy of the CIA would.

  The glass doors hushed behind her as she stepped inside the library. Sadie’s cousin, Jen, had pulled several ropes to get her this library volunteer gig. Jen definitely went above and beyond family obligation, renting a room out to Sadie, too. Tandem garage space to paint canvas or whatever else included.

  “Breathe, Sadie,” she whispered to herself. “Good. Now smile. It ain’t three o’clock yet.”

  Sadie focused on blending in as she came around the main desk and checked in with her boss, Cynthia.

  “Sadie, I need you in an hour or so for microfiche,” Cynthia said. “We need you trained on it by next week.”

  “Okay.” In other words, ‘finally’ and ‘or else’. If she could get off the stupid meds she never needed to begin with, she’d be normal again. She’d be able to master simple tasks like microfiche. Soon enough, she told herself, soon enough. Pushing back her anxiety, Sadie signed in and scanned the area for Ben, her one friend in the place. There would be oodles of time to sweat later. Besides, it was just microfiche and last night’s dream was just that—a dream.

  Right? A delicious secret dream that, unfortunately, also spelled crazy in certain medical terms.

  Technically, a dream on its own did not equate psychosis. The dream’s reoccurrence might, though. Feeling they contained some undecipherable message didn�
�t help. Add in the fact that a not-so-small part of her believed the dream. Not good. Definitely a checkmark on the ‘Sadie needs a Straightjacket’ list. Any additional symptoms—strong headaches, auditory or/and visual hallucinations—and she vowed to definitely, dutifully disclose everything to Dr. Meyers.

  Even her highly embarrassing crush on one handsome stranger, and all the naughty things he kept doing to her in said dreams.

  Right down to the undecipherable message in his kisses and whispers.

  Everything.

  But not until she had no other choice.

  Sadie adjusted the bag slung over her shoulder and headed for the elevators to the upper stacks. Ben hurried to her side from the stacks.

  “Hey, you. Tell me you came hungry today.” Ben fell into step with her.

  He didn’t mean for food. “Famished,” she said and tripped on the carpet. Ben caught her elbow and helped her regain her balance.

  “Don’t you dare look,” he said in a low voice, pausing until they’d passed the information desk. “But our dear missus Cynthia is sporting a black eye today. Huh-uh, Sadie, not a peek.”

  Sadie resisted. “Really?” Cynthia had seemed fine. Of course, she generally noticed very little once her handsome stranger lit her brain. “I didn’t notice at all. Make-up?”

  “Piles of make-up.” Ben went on, explaining how he spotted it, who he figured gave it, etcetera, etcetera.