Queen of Abaddon

by Heather Killough-Walden

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  Heather Killough-Walden Reading List

  The Lost Angels series:

  Always Angel (eBook-only introductory novella)

  Avenger's Angel

  Messenger's Angel

  Death's Angel

  Warrior's Angel

  Samael (releases August, 2015)

  The October Trilogy:

  Sam I Am

  Secretly Sam

  Suddenly Sam

  Neverland Series:

  Forever Neverland

  Beyond Neverland

  The Big Bad Wolf series:

  The Heat (no longer available separately - purchase as part of the Big Bad Wolf Romance Compilation)

  The Strip (no longer available separately - purchase as part the Big Bad Wolf Romance Compilation)

  The Spell

  The Hunt

  The Big Bad Wolf Romance Compilation (all four books together, in proper chronological order)

  The Kings - A Big Bad Wolf spinoff series:

  The Vampire King

  The Phantom King

  The Warlock King

  The Goblin King

  The Seelie King

  The Unseelie King

  (future The Kings books TBA; at least 13 total)

  The Chosen Soul Trilogy:

  The Chosen Soul

  Drake of Tanith

  Queen of Abaddon

  Redeemer (stand-alone)

  Hell Bent (stand-alone)

  Vampire, Vampire (stand-alone)

  A Sinister Game (stand-alone)

  The Third Kiss: Dorian's Dream

  Note: The Lost Angels series (not including Always Angel) is available in print and eBook format. All other HKW books are currently eBook-only.

  *Brand new series and stand-alones are in the works, so always stay tuned!

  Queen of Abaddon

  By Heather Killough-Walden

  Sequel to The Chosen Soul and Drake of Tanith

  and book three in the Chosen Soul trilogy

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  “The course of true love never did run smooth.

  Love is a familiar.

  Love is a devil.

  There is no evil angel but Love."

  - William Shakespeare

  Queen of Abaddon

  Book Three in The Chosen Soul Trilogy

  By Heather Killough-Walden

  Prologue

  A hot wind choked with smoke, black and dead, red and burning, brushed through the abandoned city street, picking up the dried brown remnants of leaves that had fallen seasons ago. A parchment tacked to a weathered post on the cobbled street corner rustled in the breeze. Its edges had faded and curled in on themselves months ago. Worn numbers, barely legible, claimed a handsome prize for a face now unrecognizable. Another sheet tacked above it promised a prize even grander.

  The papers were forgotten. They were remnants of a time when such things were winnable, obtainable, and worth caring about. But that was then. Perhaps a mere year, a few months, a sparse twelve or thirteen cycles of the moon. An eternity ago.

  It was before the red and the darkness. Before the ocean slithered with monsters and the rivers froze and the sky rained ash. Before the streets echoed with dying screams, windows were boarded up, and the fields faltered fallow.

  They were remnants of a time before the veritable gods of Fae and Night took arms against one another in search of something neither of them could find.

  It was before the War.

  Chapter One

  “Magus!” Raven stood at the top of a small grass-covered hill and turned a slow circle. She cupped her hands around her mouth, squinted her eyes to peer into the unchanging distance, and tried again. “Magus!”

  The glorious lone cherry blossom tree next to her swayed slightly in a whisper-soft breeze. Its blossoms that neither wilted nor lost their color smelled sweet. All was quiet. It had been forever. But, it was wrong.

  A small cottage at the base of the gentle slope was the only other obstruction to an otherwise unbroken landscape of rolling grass. Smoke curled from its chimney, though the fire was unnecessary. It had a thatch roof, ivy covered stone walls, and two small windows like innocent eyes.

  As Raven peered down the hill at the cottage door, it opened, and out stepped her brother, Loki. He looked up the hill at her, a pack flung over one shoulder and a sword strapped against the back of the other.

  Raven wore a sword as well. Brother and sister were suited up in leather armor, weapons at the ready.

  “Any sign of him?” Loki called up.

  Raven shook her head.

  Magus was the god of magic. He’d brought Raven and her brother here to Immaloria, the InBetween realm what seemed like years ago. Maybe it had been years. She could no longer tell; she’d stopped trying to keep track of the passage of time long ago. It didn’t move right here. There was no sun, no moon. It was simply always light, and existence went on indeterminably.

  That was why they’d come. It was impossible to find someone in Immeloria, more informally known as the InBetween. This realm was that indistinguishable and ephemeral thing that could be found in the space between now and then, here and there, and forever and a day. It was unattainable because there were trillions of others like it, one for each indiscernible moment in each individual’s life when that change happened that took them from one part of their consciousness to the next. It was impossible to pin down.

  A person could look for ten thousand immortal lifetimes and never find another being in the InBetween. It was a place for hiding.

  Especially when you were hiding from the kinds of people Raven was hiding from.

  “Magus!”

  But the time for hiding was over. She ran a frustrated hand through her long, black hair and narrowed her gaze on the cherry blossom tree. She looked up, searching its tallest branches. Perfect soft pink and white blooms covered nearly every inch of the enormous plant.

  With as much time as she’d perceived to have passed, Raven still did not know how many blossoms there were. She’d never bothered to count them. She’d had nothing but time to count them. But then that was how life was. No matter how much time one possessed to do certain things, those things would not get done if there was no desire to do them.

  “Magus, hear me!”

  “Very well,” finally came the reply.

  Raven turned to face the source of the deep voice. “Magus,” she breathed out.

  “I’ll fight you no longer on this, Princess of Caina. It is time for you to return.”

  Raven blinked. She stared at the all-powerful god with dark brown hair and darker eyes and wondered if she’d heard him correctly. “What was that?” she finally asked.

  “You heard me.”

  He was wearing dark clothing dotted with shimmering sparkles that made it appear he wore a piece of the night sky expertly tailored to his tall figure. He turned away from her to peer down the hill at his number one acolyte. “You must go with her, Loki.”

  Loki didn’t respond. He only gazed up the hill at his god, and Rav
en could see his throat work as he swallowed hard and nodded, accepting his fate without question. That was something she could never stand about priests. That unquestioning faith. Questions were good; they got answers. And answers were knowledge.

  And knowledge was power.

  “Why?” she asked, drawing the god’s attention. If Loki wasn’t going to do the asking, she would gladly take over the task herself.

  Magus glanced back at her over his shoulder, his hair catching in the scented breeze. His eyes were searching, waiting.

  “Why now?” She asked, clarifying. She had requested to go back a thousand times at least. Maybe it had been twice that number. Every time, he had convinced her to stay in the InBetween.

  He’d initially brought Raven and Loki here to escape Drake of Tanith, the infamous bounty hunter of Tanith who had killed his father, the king of hell, and taken his place upon that dark and terrible throne. Drake was now Lord Tanith of the Nine Hells, or Lord of Abaddon, Lord Drake of the Nine, or any creative mixture of the titles, as long as it was respectful and accurate. Normally, he was just knelt before and deferently referred to as, “My Lord.” Period. Or so that was what Magus told them.

  “What has changed?” she wanted to know.

  Magus considered her for a moment before replying. When he did, it was with a slight drop in his shoulders and a sigh. “Perhaps it would be best for you to come with me, and see for yourself.”

  Loki joined them at the top of the hill, the moist, green grass bending damply beneath his boots. He didn’t say anything, but Raven caught his gaze and held it. There were more questions there. More questions the fool was afraid to ask.

  “Besides,” continued Magus as if he could sense those unasked questions and was heading them off at the pass. “He’s found you.”

  A new kind of quiet joined them in the InBetween, one filled with the hollowness of shock. Raven stared at the god for a long moment, wondering if she’d heard him correctly. But it was impossible not to hear someone correctly in the InBetween. There were no distractions here, no shouts or loud noises. There was just the grass. And the tree.

  He’s found you. She turned the words over in her mind, finding it very hard to digest them.

  "And he's coming for you," Magus added, looking as though he did so most regrettably.

  What might have been full minutes later, Raven realized her jaw was hanging open. She slowly shut her mouth. Feeling a disconcerting combination of numbing fear and some vague and bizarre sense of excitement, she asked, “How?”

  She glanced at the stretch of unending rolling hills that made up the Land of the InBetween. It was supposed to be impossible to find. Not even gods could pin it down. She was supposed to be safe here. Safe from him.

  From the dark and dangerous man her heart already regrettably belonged to. “How?” she whispered again.

  Magus curled his finger beneath her chin and raised her eyes to his. He smiled a weary smile. “Raven, the Lord of Abaddon was once the greatest bounty hunter in any realm, and at the time, he was not even whole. Now? Drake and Darken are one again and ruling over the Nine Circles. His desire to find you, combined with that kind of power?" He shook his head and lowered his hand. "I knew it was only a matter of time.”

  Raven’s chest felt tight, her stomach heavy. She closed her eyes, unable to see anything but what she always saw when she closed her eyes of late – his face. The Lord of Abaddon, Drake of Tanith, deadly and beautiful, with eyes the color of a terrible tempest, lightning-streaked and mesmerizing.

  “Both he and the fae king have searched for you unendingly. And in the process….” Magus’s words faded off. Once more, he simply shook his head. “As I said, I’ll let you see for yourselves. But first, lose the weapons. You won’t need them.”

  Raven’s brow raised disbelievingly, and as much as he probably wanted to trust his god, so did Loki’s. It wasn’t that Raven ever needed weapons, really. She had her magic to fall back upon. But for the mage god to so nonchalantly insist they wouldn’t need weapons of some kind was suspect.

  “Lose them, and take hold,” he commanded, holding out his hands for them to take.

  Raven and Loki exchanged glances. Then they took their weapons off, leaving them there in the ever perfect, thick green grass of Immeloria. Raven took one hand, and Loki the other.

  Sparks of magic escaped the feeble fleshly confines of Magus’s human form and inched up Raven’s arm. At once, the world spun. Raven had almost forgotten what it felt like to be transported. Moving from place to place upon the material plane was one thing, and a skill she herself had never quite honed. But moving between realms was another experience. For a moment, she truly did not know which way was up and could not feel Magus’s hand at the end of hers. She could see only a dance of colors and light, and hear nothing but the roar of magic as it encased her and sped her through space and time.

  She closed her eyes, trying to fight off the discombobulation. At last, the world felt solid beneath her feet, and she chanced a peek beneath her lashes.

  But it was the smell of things that hit her first.

  “By the gods,” whispered Loki from beside her. “What has happened here?”

  “War,” replied Magus.

  Raven opened her eyes fully and took in their surroundings. It had once been a relatively large and obviously thriving town, from the looks of it. Buildings were plentiful and many of them sported second, and even third floors. Chimneys rose from most of the buildings, and the construction materials had been of the more expensive nature.

  The town seemed vaguely familiar to Raven. Perhaps she’d traveled through it during her journeys, or stayed a few nights for a celebration or festival. But whatever markers of memories there might have been at one time had been made mere remnants by the brutalities of what had clearly been a vicious struggle.

  The landscape was battle scarred. Trees had been felled by some kind of blast, burned to charcoal at their breaking points. The ground was pot-holed and filled with debris. Most of the buildings Raven could see from where she stood sported roofs that were caved in or were missing front doors. Every window in sight was shattered.

  People must have picked up and fled in a hurry, for supplies had been left behind. The stench came from rotting meat. Raven could see through the window of the nearest abandoned home. Skinned rabbits had been left on hooks above the pantry. Fresh meat wasn’t easy to transport, and most people didn’t bother in a hurry. They took the jerky they’d made last season instead.

  She shook her head, feeling bewildered. “What war?” she asked softly. What war could possibly have erupted in the time she and Loki were in Immaloria – that would cause this kind of devastation to a town this size?

  Magus moved around her to make his way through the muck of the destroyed city street toward a single pole that still miraculously stood. Upon the pole was a posted sign composed of what looked like treated leather. Upon the leather was an image, burned into the skin like a brand.

  Loki was much closer to the posting than she was and he had a much clearer view, but even from her distance, she could tell it was her face branded into the leather. The sign read:

  Wanted Alive: Raven Grey, Reward 500,000 Gold

  Chapter Two

  Raven stared at it for longer than usual, while her brain attempted to accept what she was seeing. “Are you telling me… did I…. I mean, is all of this because of me?” How was that possible? She hadn’t even been on the terran realm!

  “This is one of the earlier wanted signs posted for you,” Magus told her. “The price increased shortly thereafter. And when Lord Astriel posted one bounty, Lord Tanith would double it. Until….”

  “They went to war.” Her voice sounded like an echo to her own ears.

  Loki’s gaze slipped from the sign to the carnage around him. His words filled the silence of their shock. “This place seems familiar.”

  “It was Trimontium, the seat capital for the elven nation on the terran realm,” s
aid Magus.

  The realization struck Raven like a blow on top of a blow, blindsiding her. She felt dizzy. Trimontium had been a jewel of a city, populated by artisans and seekers of knowledge. Its library had been the largest in nearly any terran land, surpassed only by the Temple of Magus in Leger City. And now it was nothing but a rotting husk of a place she barely recognized.

  “The castle is gone,” said Loki.

  “The elven king relocated the palace and all entryways to his realm when the war began.”

  “Astriel,” she whispered. He’d taken his father’s place as king when Oberon had died of poison. Magus had told them as much in Immeloria.

  Loki glanced at her, and unspoken memories made their fragmented ways through the space between them. Goosebumps rose up her arms.

  Raven averted her gaze and noticed something in the mud near the front door of a nearby home. She took a few steps toward it, trying to make it out. When she realized it was a discarded doll, her blood ran colder.

  And some part of her turned defensively numb inside.

  The world had died and been buried in her absence. All that she knew and loved was gone. “How many?” she whispered, unable to speak any louder. “How many have died in this war?” A second, even more horrific thought lanced through the first. “And what of our parents?”

  Magus sighed heavily. “Given that they are magically predisposed, I am at times beseeched by the Blue Robe mages among the elves, such as they are anymore,” said Magus. “I hear things. Lord Astriel seems to be firmly under the impression that killing anyone in your name would turn you against him forever. Thus far, his men have taken only prisoners. However,” here he paused, as if steeling himself for what he had to tell her next. “Lord Tanith is not so generously inclined.”