Goddess Scorned
Page 1
CONTENTS
LMBPN Publishing
Dedication
Legal
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
Epilogue
Notes CM Raymond
Notes LE Barbant
Also by Raymond & Barbant
Connect with Us
Goddess Scorned
Forgotten Gods Book Two
By ST Branton, CM Raymond, and LE Barbant
www.lmbpn.com
DEDICATION
To To Gavin, Hank, and Simone.
May you find magic everywhere and
causes worth fighting for.
The GODDESS SCORED Team
JIT Beta Readers
John Ashmore
Kelly O’Donnell
James Caplan
E.M. Rosenfeld
Sarah Weir
Tim Bischoff
Larry Omans
Joshua Ahles
Micky Cocker
If we missed anyone, please let us know!
GODDESS SCORNED (this book) is a work of fiction.
All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Copyright © 2018 ST Branton, CM Raymond, and LE Barbant
Cover by http://www.bookcoverartistry.com/
Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact support@lmbpn.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
LMBPN Publishing
PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy
Las Vegas, NV 89109
First US edition, March 2018
CHAPTER ONE
The thing about living like a rat in a maze was that you kind of get used to all the twists and turns. When you knew the labyrinth like the back of your hand, it was a lot less scary to run like hell through the dark. The narrow, grimy passages flashed by to the furious beat of my own footsteps. I could hear others behind me, closing in.
But I wasn’t afraid.
In fact, a grin spread across my face as I careened around the last corner, the soles of my shoes skidding on the pavement. The dickheads chasing me down the alley didn’t know it yet, but they were in for the surprise of their miserable lives.
They whooped triumphantly when they saw the dead end ahead. One of them even yelled out, “Stupid bitch!”
Typical.
The smile on my lips morphed into one of satisfaction. I slipped my hand into the bag flapping at my side, closing my fingers around the familiar weight of a certain sword hilt. No doubt word of Kronin’s blade had made its way around whatever underground circles these toothy dipshits ran in, but it didn’t matter if they knew I had it.
They would die all the same.
A wall of old brick came rushing at me as I skidded to a stop. I narrowly avoided it before spinning on my heels to face the goon squad. To anyone else, they might have looked almost normal, if exceptionally ugly, but I was getting pretty good at picking the vamps out of a crowd. Then again, they were usually looking for me, too. So, maybe I had an unfair advantage.
“I don’t know what the hell you were thinking,” one of them growled. The points of his teeth glinted from beneath thin, pale lips. He was gaunt, his skin a grimy, sick grey. “But you sure know how to work up my appetite.”
“Sorry, sweetie,” I said in the most saccharine, insulting tone I could manage. “I’m not on the menu tonight.” My grip tightened on the hilt of the sword.
Showtime.
Loosing the weapon from the confines of my bag, I willed its brilliant blade into existence. The narrow alley filled with its burning golden light. Heat washed over my skin. The vamp’s hungry eyes tracked the edge of the sword for a split second. Then, his lips peeled back from the fangs entrenched in his gums.
I might have thought they were fake if I didn’t know otherwise.
He was fast, but they all were, and after two weeks of dealing with their monster bullshit, the speed was something my reflexes were learning to handle. Plus it helped that I was slightly more than human now.
Not only did I have Gladius Solis, the sword of the gods, but I had also tasted nectar from Carcerum. Marcus used it to save my life, but it gave me so much more than that. It gave me the strength to curb stomp this vampire and his shitty crew.
But they might be able to tell me something interesting.
Shifting my weight backward, I raised Kronin’s sword at an angle just as the lead vamp pushed off into a charging leap. His shadow fell over me, and when I craned my neck back to keep an eye on his progress, I met a ruthless, predatory stare. He obviously thought I was about to die.
They always did.
Instead of dying, I caught him in the sternum, driving the point of the sword between his outstretched hands. He managed to latch onto me for a moment, just long enough for his clawed nails to rip through the shoulder of my already beat-up sweater. I pushed the hilt forward as gravity drew him farther down the blade. He flung himself backward. His twitching limbs struck out at his friends, but they let him fall to the concrete.
No loyalty among the undead.
The other four had formed a semicircle around me, so close that I smelled their dry, rotten breath. Their sharp eyes gleamed in the dark, even above the sword’s golden glow. The one in front of me licked his lips.
“You have a strong heart,” he said. “I like that in my prey.”
I scowled. These guys made killing a lot more satisfying than it had any right to be. “I’ve got a strong swing, too. Let me demonstrate.”
The blade cut a gorgeous arc through the steadily deepening shadows. My target ducked, but one of his friends wasn’t so quick or lucky. The rush of the strike gave way to the sound of a head coming to rest somewhere down the alley. Its former body collapsed like a sandbag, spilling coarse dust around our feet.
The three remaining closed in tighter around me. A pair of hands grabbed for my throat, and the long edge of a nail grazed my neck. The vampire’s grip closed down, and a shot of adrenaline raced through my veins as I realized I couldn’t breathe.
Concentrate, Victoria. Steel your nerves,
Marcus’ voice snapped me back into the present. The gears in my mind stopped grinding. Pushing off the wall at my back, I rammed the sword forward with all the strength I could muster. It didn’t matter where it went. They were so close it was bound to hit someone. There was little resistance, but the telltale gurgling told me I was right.
As
the latest casualty began to dissolve around the brand new hole in his stomach, I caught a fistful of his crumbling corpse and threw it at the others. They raised their arms to shield their bulbous eyes, and I took the opportunity to level the playing field. I swung low, cutting off one vamp at the knees. The other reached for me and I severed his arms in one clean chop. On the ground, these dudes were a lot less intimidating. I hadn’t been scared of them since learning they could still feel pain.
The one farthest from me tried to crawl away on what was left of his legs, wheezing and cursing under his breath. I caught up with him in two steps and planted my foot squarely on his back. He half twisted to look up at me, squinting in the glare of the sword.
“Let me go, bitch,” he coughed. “What’s a guy with no arms gonna do?”
“Die,” I shrugged. Another hard punch, and the sword went through him as if he wasn’t even there. Pretty soon, he wasn’t anything more than a vague depression left in the pavement by the force of the killing blow. I walked back to the lone survivor, smiling. “Congratulations, dickwad. You’re the last vamp lying down. I guess that means you win.”
“You heathen whore,” he spat. The ragged lump of flesh that used to be his arm twitched and stretched, trying to regrow. I still had time—grievous injuries like those took longer to mend than a paper cut—unless he could find someone to feed on. “You ain’t getting nothing from me.”
“That’s interesting.” I knelt on his chest, bearing down with the point of my knee until he gasped. “Because I’m thinking you’re gonna sing like a canary.”
He spat for real this time, into my face. So, I forced his mouth open with the butt of the sword hilt and used it to crush one of his fangs from its socket. He made a muffled cry, underscored by the crack of bone. A network of veins spidered over his temples and down his neck.
When I pulled the sword out of his craw, he just glared. “Suck me off, you ravening wh—.”
I crushed the other fang before he could finish his insult. “Don’t push it, pal. This sword kills gods. What do you think it would do to you?”
There were jagged gaps in his grin when he laughed. “You think that’s the only thing that can kill gods? There’s other power out there—we’ll have a light of our own soon. Then, you’ll get what’s coming to you.”
I kept my expression neutral. “Where’s your boss?”
That was all I really needed to know. Ever since the operation inside the old slaughterhouse had been shut down, I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Lorcan or his cronies—which made me more than a little nervous. At this point, I knew better than to assume they were gone for good.
“I gotta give it to you,” said the vamp, his voice hoarse from the pressure on his chest. “You got some real high hopes. When he finds you, he’ll do worse than bleed you dry. His powers are beyond the comprehension of even the smartest humans. Your world will die screaming in darkness.”
“Not before you do.” I replaced my knee with the sword, pushing down until I felt the ground beneath his body. He took one last breath before his eyes rolled up.
Ten seconds later, I stood alone in a graveyard full of stony ashes, the sword hilt stashed away in my bag. The ever-present ambience of New York traffic hummed somewhere beyond the alley’s walls. It was a far better sound than the ravings of a dying vampire, but a certain Roman centurion had taught me not to discount such things off the bat. Which reminded me.
“How’d I do?” I asked the medallion that now housed the spirit of my former fighting partner. The arrangement was a little weird, but growing on me. Like a louder, more persistent conscience.
Victoria! Why would you put the Gladius Solis inside the mouth of a cursed lowlife? the old soldier demanded immediately.
“Cut me some slack, Marcus, okay? I wanted to see if this thing could make him talk. Besides, I’m sure the sword of a hero god has seen worse than a little vampire spit.”
That is a fair assessment. But such a weapon deserves to be handled with a little more decorum, don’t you think?
I smiled slightly. Marcus’s near-fanatical devotion to this thing was bizarrely endearing. “Okay, okay. I’ll use some Lysol when we get home. He didn’t have shit to say anyway.”
Following the sound of traffic, I started to make my way out of the filthy labyrinth, but a weird feeling nagged at the corners of my mind, like I was forgetting something. I glanced over my shoulder, but there was nothing behind me except five inconspicuous piles of dust.
Then I pulled my phone out and saw what time it was. “Oh, balls. I have to run.”
Why? Marcus asked. You do not have an occupation.
“No, dude.” I broke into a sprint. “I forgot I was supposed to meet Jules for drinks.”
Ah, drinking. Marcus’s words took on a wistful note. One of the things I miss the most about residing on a physical plane. Sometimes, being your passenger has considerable drawbacks.
He went on, but I tuned him out so I could focus on coming up with an excuse for my lateness that Jules might actually believe. She’d always been able to see straight through my bullshit, but I thought if she knew what was really going on with me, her head might explode.
Lying made me feel bad, but some secrets—like mine—were just too big to tell.
CHAPTER TWO
“Hey!” Jules waved to me from a corner table inside the tidy little bar she’d chosen as our meeting place. It was a far cry from the seedy dives I was used to, and I had to admit it was a nice change of pace.
I slid into the seat across from her.
“I was beginning to wonder if you forgot about me,” she said.
“Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “Kind of got caught up in something.”
The bar’s décor was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world to me as I braced myself for Jules’s inevitable barrage of questions. These days, she was used to not taking me at my word, and to be fair, I could hardly blame her.
She just shrugged and studied the wine list. “You sound like me at work,” she said, chuckling. “I’m always getting lost in one thing or another. That’s what I get for trying to practice law in the city that never sleeps.”
“Hey, I tried to tell you it was nuts to go to law school, but you wouldn’t listen. Something about ‘making the world a better place.’” I was kidding, of course. If public defense had a face, it was Jules Lugnor. There was no one more selfless and giving in the world.
“I’m working on it.” Her voice had a weird edge, an undercurrent of something indistinguishable. After a moment of silence, she looked up at me and smiled. “But that’s nothing new. You want to hear something really crazy?” Jules leaned across the table, so I did too. “This needs to stay on the down low, obviously.”
“Right.” A conspiratorial little smirk crept across my lips. We all like to think we’re above gossip past the age of twenty, and she was probably breaking at least one law every time she told me something, but I secretly delighted in the things she shared. Plus, it gave me a way to see into her world, which was usually so far removed from my own.
Not this time.
“There’s been talk around the office.” She was whispering now. “You heard about what the police found in the Meatpacking District a couple of weeks ago, right?”
“I think so, yeah.” Understatement of my lifetime.
“Well, a girl came in to speak to an attorney last week. She had a story to tell, but she didn’t think the police would believe her.”
“And she decided to talk to a public defender? Isn’t that, like, weird?”
“A little, maybe. But it could be smart, depending on what she had to say. And it let her take advantage of attorney-client privilege.”
It was a risk to sound too eager, but I really wanted to know what Jules was getting at. Maybe this girl knew more about Lorcan’s current whereabouts. “That sounds like it could be pretty crazy. I hope everything shakes out all right.”
Victoria. Perhaps the girl of which Jul
es speaks is one of the women you rescued from the cage. Marcus’s voice interrupted my thoughts, and even though I agreed with him, I frowned a little bit. I still wasn’t quite used to the sudden intrusion of someone else’s consciousness in my ears. The urge to shush him out loud was nearly overwhelming.
“We’ll see.” Jules took a sip of her drink and looked at me closely. “Wasn’t that right around the time I had to bail you and a certain someone out of jail?” Her mouth smiled, but her eyes narrowed slightly. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?”
I blinked, then forced a laugh. “Me? Of course not, Jules. Come on.” I made sure not to protest too much, lest she become suspicious. “The Meatpacking District’s all trendy now. We both know I can’t afford that shit.”
She was silent for two beats, apparently scrutinizing me. Then she laughed, and the sound broke the subtle tension that had begun to form between us. “Relax, Vic! I’m only kidding. Your friend was wearing armor, for Pete’s sake. Pretty sure the media would’ve jumped all over a guy in that kind of getup.” Her perfectly arched brows knit together. “What happened to him, anyway? Still bumming it out at your place?”
“No,” I said, maybe too fast. “He decided to move on a while ago.” For effect, I shrugged. “He was kind of a drifter, I think. Bit of a douche really.”
I am no such thing. Marcus interjected. I am a warrior.
“So he just left?” Jules gave me a look. “Where exactly is he going to go?”
It was my turn to look at her. “What do you mean?” I’d expected her to chuckle, shrug it off, and maybe express the hope that he landed on his feet. But she seemed to be focused on it, waiting expectantly for my answer. “How the hell should I know?”