Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
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 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
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
About the Author
Crimson Hollow
Koven Chronicles Book Four
Copyright © 2018 Andrea Pearson
Book design and layout copyright © 2018 Andrea Pearson
Cover copyright © 2018 Andrea Pearson
Series by Andrea Pearson:
Kilenya Chronicles
Mosaic Chronicles
Koven Chronicles
Ranch City Academy Series
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are represented fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
http://andreapearsonbooks.com/
Dedication
To
Saundra Wright
and
Lorri Waechtler
Chapter One
Lord Kenan stepped toward me before pausing. “I’ll give you a head start.”
I backed away from the disgusting, leathery demon, swallowing, barely able to hear over the blood pounding in my ears. I blinked as I realized what he was saying.
He had no intention of letting me survive. I’d been a puppet—a tool. I’d followed his plan to return to power exactly. He’d used me.
Instead of the intense anger I expected to feel—I was sure that would come later—only fear flooded my system. Spine-numbing, heart-stopping fear. My palms began sweating, my heart raced, and I could no longer feel my legs—couldn’t even tell they were supporting my weight.
A ripping sound came from the darkened crypt behind me, and I looked back. Bad move. The intense pain from my broken ribs made tears spring to my eyes and forced a whimper through my lips. It had only been a couple of days since I’d been gravely injured while stealing the flame this creep had just swallowed, and my meds were running out, along with the adrenaline and energy drink that had gotten me this far.
Roots slithered toward me from the darkness. Oh, crap. Lord Kenan’s laugh made me glance at him. He leveled a glare at me, not saying anything.
A new wave of fear hit, and I lurched around the demon, hurrying as quickly as my bruised and broken body would allow. I rushed toward the stairs that led to the church above, praying that the energy packet I’d downed only a few minutes earlier would last.
Every step was agony, but I finally made it to the top of the stairs without new injuries. Sweat dripped down my face as I stumbled across the chapel floor, holding on to the empty pews for support.
“Miss Ashton?” The voice was deep.
I froze in my tracks before turning. A ghost stood at the edge of the room, one of those who had acted as bait to get Lord Kenan out of the way so I could accomplish my task. “Yes?”
“Godspeed. I’ll keep you updated on his progress.”
Relief washed over me. “Oh. Thank you.”
He disappeared, and I turned and continued through the church, heading toward the open doors at the opposite end.
The ghost reappeared, floating at my side, tucking his scraggly hair behind an ear. “The roots are strengthening him, giving him nourishment.”
They hadn’t been coming for me? Boy, I sure could have used that knowledge earlier. “How soon until he’s strong enough to give chase?” Please, please be enough time for me to reach Abel. And the car. And the airport. And to get out of the country. Okay, okay. I know. I was asking for a lot. One could hope, though. I was in a church, after all.
The ghost shook his head. “I do not know. I’m unfamiliar with his magic.”
I thanked him before crossing the threshold of the church and stepping into the graveyard. I couldn’t see Abel on the other side of the gate, but I knew that once I exited the graveyard, he would be there. There was no way he would desert me now.
Weaving my way through the headstones and statues was torture. Every step brought burning pain—every breath caused sharp spikes of agony. I prayed I would make it, prayed I would survive. Prayed that whatever had been unleashed in Lord Kenan would not cause my loved ones or myself or more innocent people further heartache.
The ghost gave me another update—the demon was still feeding on the roots—and I reached the gate, barely managing to get it open. I didn’t know what they were giving Lord Kenan, but the ghost told me that he was gaining strength from them. That was all I needed to know.
I stumbled out of the graveyard, and Abel appeared in front of me. He was pacing back and forth when his eyes landed on me.
“Lizzie!” he breathed, stepping to me and catching me just as I collapsed.
Naturally, I’d pass out in his arms. How melodramatic.
Chapter Two
I awakened as Abel was belting me in the car.
“Oh, thank heavens. You’re back.” He dashed around the car and hopped into the driver’s seat before asking, “What happened?”
I filled him in as he backed out of the parking lot and headed toward the airport. When I finished, he cursed.
“And now he’s coming after you.” He glanced at the rearview mirror as if expecting to see the demon there.
I nodded.
Myriad emotions flitted across his face before he visibly steeled himself. “Let’s get you home. He’s not right behind us, and the ghost said he’d keep you informed on his progress. The only thing you need to worry about right now is getting better.”
A weight lifted from my shoulders, making breathing easier, despite the pain. I had the amulet, I’d finished the mission Lord Kenan had given me, and Abel was there. He was right—I needed to focus on healing.
I bit the inside of my cheek. The chances of Lord Kenan waiting until I was healed were pretty slim. I pushed those thoughts aside, though—I couldn’t afford to hyperventilate right then.
The minute Abel and I returned to the States, I checked in to Mountain Point Medical Center in Lehi, Utah. Abel dropped me off with a kiss on the forehead and a promise to return soon. He made sure I was comfortable and in good hands before leaving, and then I was alone with only an ER nurse to keep me co
mpany. I could sense an urgency on his part and hoped he’d fill me in later on why he needed to hurry off.
The cushy pillow almost swallowed my head, and I relaxed in bed, relishing the tingly, pleasant sensation as the morphine kicked in. I reached up and grabbed the amulet around my neck, so glad it was mine now. It warmed as I contemplated my lonely and broken feelings. Okay, lonely, yes, but broken was more of a physical sensation.
Someone knocked at the door, then entered. It was the ER doctor, x-rays in hand and a worried expression on his face. He took a seat on a chair next to my bed.
“Well, the good news is you have several hundred bones in your body that aren’t broken.”
I gave a half-hearted laugh, hoping he would just continue.
“The bad news is you have five broken ribs and two that are dislocated. We can’t really do anything for those, other than adjusting them, of course. But the crushed bones in your hand . . .” He looked at my file, then peered at me over his glasses. “Why didn’t you come in immediately?”
“I was in Iraq. And I did go to a hospital there, but they only bandaged my hand and told me to check into a hospital in the States as soon as I got back.”
The doctor looked at my file again and shook his head, thumbing through a few pages. “I don’t like your stats. You definitely need surgery on your hand as soon as possible, and I’ve got an orthopedic surgeon on his way now, but you’re also severely anemic, meaning the iron in your blood is very low, and your sugars are definitely not where they should be.”
I had expected surgery, so I nodded. “Let’s go forward with treatment. I want to get out of here as soon as possible.”
He gave me a compassionate look. “Yes, I’m sure. It must’ve been agony traveling and getting through customs with your hand in such awful condition.”
I nodded and grimaced—the morphine was taking the edge off the pain, but my chest still burned. “The hand is fine. I can almost forget it’s in such bad shape. It’s the ribs that are killing me.”
The doctor tsked, his expression still compassionate. “I can imagine. Well, this surgery is usually an outpatient one, but with how battered you are, we’d like to keep you overnight for observation. At the minimum.”
Great. I’d been afraid he would say that. “Is that absolutely necessary?”
It wasn’t like I had somewhere to go—my job wasn’t exactly a nine-to-five gig—but I did have demons I was supposed to be hunting and people I was supposed to protect.
“I’m afraid so. That probably won’t be long enough, though. To be perfectly clear, you shouldn’t leave the hospital until you’ve have a bowel movement.”
I rolled my eyes. “I always get backed up when I’m traveling.” Not like that was any of his business.
“Yes, well, with the injuries you’ve sustained, the neglect your body has seen the past few days, the painkillers you’ve been on, and traveling on top of that, we want to make sure you’re functioning smoothly.”
Grrr. “So, surgery today, spend the night, then leave tomorrow?”
The doctor raised an eyebrow at my “leave tomorrow,” but nodded anyway. “That’s the plan. I’ll prescribe stool softeners and we’ll get you going ASAP.”
I groaned inwardly. James Bond didn’t have doctors prescribing him stool softeners in the middle of his adventures. At least, not as far as I knew. Maybe the actor had a doctor encouraging him to pop pills behind the scenes and stay close to a bathroom. I made a mental note to send Daniel Craig, or whoever was currently playing 007, an email. If I could find his address.
Despite my sarcasm, I knew the doctor was right. I hadn’t been on such strong painkillers in a long while.
Surgery practically flew by—I was out for it, after all—but I woke up with a different type of pain in my hand. It was mostly numb, but the skin where they cut me was burning, and with all the gauze and the bandage wrapped around it, there wasn’t anything I could do.
The rest of the day passed in a medicated blur with me doing my best to ignore my hand and ribs. I couldn’t think straight. I knew there was danger somewhere out there—it lurked just at the back of my mind. But I couldn’t pull it to the forefront to examine it. I was too exhausted and hyped up on narcotics.
Instead of stressing and trying think, I let myself sleep. It was fitful and punctuated by frequent interruptions as nurses bustled in to check on me and ask if I needed to use the bathroom.
I was getting tired of that question.
My sleep that evening was much better, thank goodness. Possibly because the sun was gone, but also because I got interrupted a lot less. The night nurses were nowhere near as interested in my bowel movements as the day nurses had been.
I’m grateful to say I was able to meet all of the goals the doctor had set for me, and the next morning, a nurse informed me that I’d be discharged in a couple of hours. I was irritated that they wouldn’t let me go immediately, but apparently my orthopedic surgeon—a guy I didn’t even remember meeting—wanted to check on me after he finished another surgery.
The first thing I noticed after waking up was that I was a little more alert. I didn’t know how long it would take for the anesthesia to wear off, but I was mostly able to think through the fog that remained.
With a higher alertness came the recognition that I was surrounded by corners. I watched them constantly, waiting for smoke to build up, signaling the approach of one of the hounds I was supposed to be hunting.
I still couldn’t believe what had happened. That stupid demon—keeping a sliver of my amulet and threatening to kill my family if I didn’t follow his ridiculous demands. Lord Kenan had led me to believe that the flame he wanted me to retrieve belonged to a torch that kept his graveyard lit up. In fact, the flame was his. And like a hound or a fire vampire, it had come to rest behind his sternum after he’d swallowed it. But what sorts of powers and abilities would it grant him?
And just who was Lord Kenan, anyway? I had my phone with me and had done everything I could to search for him, but nothing ever came up. I searched for his graveyard and for any articles about a demon that consumed the souls of ghosts to keep their place of residence dark. Nothing ever resulted from said searches, and I had just as little information on him now as I’d had before approaching him.
I got interrupted from my thoughts when a shadow paused in my doorway. I glanced over and nearly shrieked when I saw who was there, my hand automatically grabbing at the amulet.
Chapter Three
“Omar!” I said, dropping my hand quickly, hoping he hadn’t recognized the action.
Omar chuckled, staying in the doorway. “I don’t blame you. I’ve not exactly endeared myself to you.”
“How are you? How are you feeling?”
I knew without needing to check the amulet that the version of Omar in front of me was a good version of himself, but I didn’t want to assume.
He shrugged, not leaving the doorway, and said, “Nearly back to my old self.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek, not sure if I should ask him to clarify if his old self was bad or good. And should I invite him in, or make him stay in the hallway? How much did I trust that he wouldn’t suddenly switch sides, as he had in King Nebuchadnezzar's palace back in Iraq?
Finally, my Texas hospitality overcame my need to maintain a safe distance. “Come in. Have a seat.”
A troubled expression crossed his face. “Are you sure? You’re in a bad position. I would hate to force you to defend yourself here.”
He had a point. But if I was ever going to gain the trust of his good side, I needed to show that I trusted him first. I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Your bad side didn’t kill me even when he had the chance.”
Omar hesitated for a moment longer, then nodded. “You have a good point, Miss Ashton.” He took the chair the doctor had vacated earlier.
“You can call me Lizzie.”
“Very well. Lizzie.”
We looked at each other, almost as if we were tr
ying to decide what to think of the other. This man had both saved and endangered my life multiple times while I’d been overseas. I didn’t mistrust him, but I definitely knew not to place my safety completely in his hands.
“What are the hounds doing?” I asked.
He gave a half shrug. “They are trying to figure out what their next step will be. You killed quite a few of our kind, and that makes them hesitate.”
A familiar ache returned to my ribs, and I leaned back against the pillow and closed my eyes. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Omar gave a soft sigh, and I opened my eyes and looked at him.
“It’s good to see you relaxing,” he said in answer to my unspoken question. “The news on Lord Kenan is similar to what you’d already heard.”
“Oh?” I asked. “Where is he?”
“Still in his graveyard. He couldn’t have destroyed you in his current state.”
I gave a bitter chuckle. “I don’t know. He had me convinced.” I watched Omar for a moment. “Wait. Are you saying he’s not really dangerous?”
He snorted. “Oh, Lord Kenan is dangerous all right. However, he can’t come after you until he fully regenerates.”
“Why not? And how long until that happens?”
“I don’t know how long it will take. And I’m not sure why he can’t travel until he regenerates. I think it may be because he’s between two spheres—what he was for the last several hundred years, and what he was before his fire was stolen.”
“But he’s weaker right now.”
Omar nodded.
“Then we should go kill him!”
“No. He is not unprotected. Lord Kenan has very powerful allies. He’s been calling them to himself, ensuring that they defend him in his weakened state.”
Omar became agitated, rubbing his thighs repeatedly before clasping his hands together. “Miss Ashton.” He paused and cleared his throat. When he spoke again, his voice was much lower. “You must do the same. You must find powerful beings who can help you.”
“With fighting Lord Kenan?”
Crimson Hollow Page 1
