Vengeance
The Demon’s Daughter
Book One
Carrie Whitethorne & ZL Morris
©2020
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Copyright 2020
Editing by Elemental Editing
Cover Design by Lyn Forester
Formatting by Lyn Forester
Contents
Prologue
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
Note From Authors
Also By
About the Author
Prologue
Sorrel
The cotton fabric of my bohemian skirt stirred against my legs as I casually checked my exits. I was there to collect information on a freelance job, but that didn’t mean I had to trust the people I’d be working for.
Their agent—who couldn’t catch on to the fact that I wasn’t listening—was young. Judging by the softness of his scales, I’d guess he was only about fifty. And that was considered barely a blink for a dragon… Not that this kid would have spent much time as his true self growing up.
Exit points clear, I sighed. If he’d been older, he might have realized he was boring the tits off me sooner.
“Look, love,” I interrupted when he finally stopped to take a breath.
His mouth snapped shut for a moment, and I got the impression not many people had the balls to cut him off before now. Patience running thin, I reached for the paper in front of him, but he had the gall to snatch it out of reach as he scowled at me. Undeterred by his attitude, I scoffed, “I get it. Go in, get caught, do some eavesdropping, report to you in ten days, and then I’ll get paid.”
His expressionless stare was irritating, but at least he’d finally stopped talking.
“Do I get to take the brief?” I pressed, after a few long seconds of him silently staring at me.
His response was to smirk and fold the paper and tuck it into the inside pocket of his cheap suit jacket.
The agents loved this important person facade. The reality, though, spoke of a completely different story. They were the most cowed in the magical society. We all lived under the Assembly’s rule, but these guys had traded everything for a shit suit and imagined power.
The Assembly was the name the elders of an ancient race—more collectively known as fae—had given themselves. Infinitely powerful, they ruled the world, not that the humans had any idea they existed. I’d worked for them occasionally. Spied. Lied. Call it what you wanted, but I needed money and it was easier for me to make the amount required by applying for whatever clandestine activities they had out for tender than to sell snake oil to humans.
If I took the little shit away from the building and the protection he thought it offered, I knew he’d piss his pants.
With a roll of my eyes, I turned for the door. “Fine. I want my money in Veil currency, coins.”
“Have a good day, Miss Bishop, and thank you for your assistance.”
That scripted farewell, combined with the arrogance of his tone, was almost as annoying as his blank stare. As though running a one room recruitment office in New York was some kind of career goal.
“Any time, love. Have a great day,” I called as I left the office, not bothering to close the door behind me.
Conceited little prick.
Everyone hated dragonkin, and I was no exception, but that kid took the biscuit.
The hate directed at them wasn’t because of their position within the Assembly, since everyone knew it was just a superficial role, but because they willingly sold themselves out and condemned the rest of us at the same time.
I understood why they placed such stringent restrictions, and I agreed with most of the provisions, but some of them were baseless. Some of them broke the very people they were supposed to protect.
All that aside, though, there was something sinister about the Assembly that I couldn’t put my finger on. I strode past the reception desk, paying no attention to the receptionist, and lifted my skirt as I took the stairs. That building was so dark and miserable, I couldn’t wait to leave. There was no way I was waiting for the lift.
Pushing through the large glass door, I stepped out onto Fifth Avenue and breathed a sigh of relief at the feeling of the sun warming my face. Pimping myself out to the Assembly was a new low for me, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
I was so close to reaching my goal, I couldn’t justify taking yet another year to get there. I had everything except the phoenix tears, ceremonial dagger, and the spell.
Oh. And the name.
But I was close. A ten-day surveillance mission on a human army base was a small price to pay for completing my summoning. It had been fourteen years in the making, and I wasn’t prepared to make it to fifteen with no results.
Chapter 1
Sorrel
Day four in that room passed like the previous three.
Slowly.
It was overly small, suggesting it was previously used for storage, which made it impossible to walk off the ache in my legs, dusty enough to make my nose twitch, and cold. I’d been cuffed to a table and left there while they figured out what to do with me. Eventually an order came from higher up and I was provided a military cot to sleep on, but I wasn’t to be released.
If I hadn’t been under constant surveillance, I could have cast enough spells to at least ease my discomfort, but with an audience, all charms and runes were out, and I couldn’t risk Alva, my demon half, taking advantage of my relaxed state and making an appearance. She’d slaughter all of them, job be damned, given half a chance. Any risks I did take were strictly job related.
The things I put myself through… But, aside from all that, it was worth the boredom. This one little job would pay for the final reagent. Years of work would finally come to fruition, and while I was sitting here, I wasn’t using my own supplies. Win-win and all that. What I wouldn’t give for my sofa though, and a decent brew and a biscuit.
The guards on the night shift were dicks, and more than once I had to dig deep to keep Alva contained and not let her rip them apart like the blood-thirsty bitch she is. The five on the morning watch were miserable, and the meager offerings they’d delivered promptly at nine left me disinclined to develop our relationship beyond the wary side glances and grunts of acknowledgement we’d settled into. They had managed to toss me a limp tuna sandwich at lunch, but I didn’t attempt to eat it and they took it away.
The afternoon guards, however, were an interesting quintet.
Their sergeant was especially different than the others. They followed the same rules, but there was something more human about him than the rest.
Not in the lacking any single remarkable attribute sense, since they were all incredibly human that way, but the older guy, Jefferson, was unusual in the way he treated people. How he treated me. Although, that might have been down to the fact that h
e thought I was simply another human who had been caught nosing about where I shouldn’t be.
The other guys on his team—although younger by at least fifteen to twenty years—clearly followed his lead. His influence was evident.
The energy in the room changed the moment Jefferson and his team stepped through the door. The average person wouldn’t notice, but I felt it. He was calm. He passed no judgment. Perhaps that was a remarkable attribute, who was I to say?
Regardless, it could only mean good things for me.
I recognized two guys with him, they were nice enough. Naylor, the youngest of the quintet was the talkative one. Cox was hard to read. He was quieter, more watchful, but Jefferson seemed to respect him. The other two were new.
“Hey, Honey,” he greeted, as the last of the previous watch left, closing the door behind him.
I gazed from the small table and gave him a small smile. Having refused to give them any information, including my name, the sergeant had taken to addressing me as Honey. Usually I’d take offense, but he was a nice enough guy, and this was the only way he could break the ice.
The middle youngest of their group came directly over to me, placing a bottle of water on the table.
I accepted, nodding my thanks, then turned my attention back to the sergeant.
“So, you gonna say anything today, or we gonna waste another eight hours silently staring at each other?”
The one who’d just passed me the water smirked when he caught the back end of the question from his sergeant.
Ignoring him, I opened the water before glancing up. My eyes locked onto Jefferson’s dark brown ones, and amusement shot through me when his brows dipped into a frown. He thought I wasn’t going to say anything.
Having toyed with him enough, I murmured, “Thank you.”
I watched Jefferson’s eyebrows lift in surprise as I tilted the bottle, the cool liquid soothing my parched throat.
He leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees. “British?”
I nodded, replacing the cap. “You?”
“Born and raised in Jackson, Mississippi. Not we live just outside of Hattiesville.”
I’d been there once, briefly.
My research took me to lots of places, and I met lots of people. But I rarely bothered getting to know them. I always left as soon as I had what I needed. Life was simpler when I didn’t allow myself to get distracted from my main goal.
Tapping the half empty bottle against my thigh, I nodded and replied, “Nice place.”
He snorted. “Yeah. Well, it’s home. Where’d you grow up?”
He wasn’t expecting an answer. I hadn’t given any before. “Small town near York, England. Came here with my mother when I was fifteen.”
His previous curiosity turned slightly suspicious. “And you kept your accent through high school?”
I shook my head. Hell no. My mother’s paranoia hadn’t allowed for us to live close enough to a town for me to attend a school. “I was homeschooled, and that was a very long time ago.”
He chuckled as he pushed his elbows off his knees and leaned back in the chair. “Not that long. You’re what, twenty-five?”
Head canted to the right, I smiled. I’d pass for thirty, but anything less was pushing it. “Flatterer.”
His laugh was deep, and his eyes shone as he looked at me. “My wife says the same thing, Honey. When did they last bother to feed you?”
“I had lunch,” I told him, getting to my feet and stretching my free arm over my head. “So I’m okay for now, thanks.”
He nodded and looked around at his team. The younger one was watching me, but didn’t seem to be wary. Two more were at the back of the room with their heads bent together as they flipped through a file, while the quiet one, Cox, had taken a seat beside Jefferson and was shuffling a deck of cards.
Jefferson tapped a foot against the table. “You going to join us this time?”
I shook my head. “I don’t gamble.”
Naylor frowned. “She’s as bad as you, Cox.”
Cox smirked. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”
I found it hard to believe he wasn’t any good at playing cards, especially considering how he continued to shuffle the deck with the precision of a casino dealer at a blackjack table.
What I did find odd, though, was his accent, or lack thereof. Without one, it made it difficult to place his origin. He was much darker skinned than Naylor, but not of African descent like Jefferson. His prominent features suggested he was possibly descended from South Asia, but it was difficult to tell, and I didn’t want to risk sounding rude by asking him.
“Winning never disappoints me,” Naylor claimed with a cocky grin.
Cox was quiet for a moment, then he sighed. “Okay, but only one game.”
“Alright,” Jefferson replied cheerfully as he straightened. “Deal me in.”
Their table was only a few feet from mine, and I could see Cox’s cards from where I sat.
Naylor caught my eye, raising his chin subtly in question.
I smirked and looked away. I wouldn’t help him cheat.
He muttered something under his breath, and I glanced up to snark back at him, but was cut off by a rumbling that started beneath my feet.
“Don’t bloody move!” I cursed loudly when dust spat up into the confined area as huge cracks appeared in the floor and made their way up the concrete walls.
Thankfully, I was always overly cautious when it came to taking on freelance jobs, and had placed enough protection charms around me the first night to make sure I was kept safe if I had to sleep.
Call me paranoid, but I’d never really trusted that the world around me wouldn’t try to kill me the first chance it got. I didn’t blame people, the world in general was a shitty place. People were terrible because they lived in that shitty world, and so the shit was passed along. Throw what I had pacing restlessly inside me into the mix, and the very people I was doing this lousy job for would see me dead.
I could have cast the charm closer, but that would have taken too much time. As a prisoner, I didn’t have that luxury with the threat of being caught at any moment looming over me. As a result, the protection was only extended a good eight feet around me.
That proved beneficial to the three guards who sat around the table preparing to play poker. But now, as the room shook violently and the ceiling cracked over our heads, they all jumped to their feet.
Before any of the guys could do more than grab the table to stop themselves from falling, there was another ground trembling crash and the room collapsed around us. Dust and debris kicked up as the walls folded in around us.
The two guards at the back of the room didn’t stand a chance, the weight of the structure above falling on them before they could attempt to get safely out of the way. They were crushed instantly.
“What the f—” Naylor yelled through a coughing fit.
His human lungs were struggling with the amount of crap kicked up in the air.
My protective charm had held, leaving my view of the three of them and their table only slightly obscured. The spell I used to change the outward appearance of my clothing however, fell away, replacing the ACU with my usual flowy skirt.
As the dust began to settle, they each straightened from the table to survey the area. Jefferson had plumes of dirt bellowing into the air as he whipped his head from left to right to scan the room, while the once blond Naylor whirled around to search for his crushed comrades, only to set off another round of hacking coughs.
He wouldn’t be able to find them. It was too late for both of them. With the amount of destruction caused by the explosion, it would take the humans at least a month to clear the room and recover their bodies.
Chapter 2
Sorrel
I shook my skirt out, cursing the damn charm for not doing its job and protecting us from the crap floating through the air. The only reasonable explanation I could think of for it failing on that part
was due to the strain of it holding up the whole damn building and keeping us from ending up like the other two guys.
“Cox, uncuff her,” Jefferson commanded.
Naylor had been trying to use the inside of his uniform to clean off his face when Jefferson spoke. Outrage covered his features and he snapped, “You serious?”
Ignoring Naylor’s outburst, Jefferson spoke directly to Cox. “Get her free before any more of this room falls in.”
I didn’t really believe they were going to let me loose. It was directly against the orders they’d been given. Not to mention compassion wasn’t something any kind of species usually exhibited around me. It wasn’t their fault, I was just too different. While I could usually blend in well enough in cities, where the population was made up of all types of folks, my bohemian appearance singled me out quite a bit in small towns.
I refused to change though.
Naylor huffed, but took a set of keys from his belt and tossed them over to Cox as he stepped to Jefferson’s side.
“What’s holding this up?” Jefferson muttered, as the key turned in the lock and the cuff fell from my wrist. I could have done it far faster myself, but it was still better to play along.
Cox took a tentative step to my side and I got to my feet as he warned, “Don’t run. We don’t know what’s going on out there and you’re safer with us.”
If only they knew…
I nodded as he moved aside, allowing me to step out from behind the table, and cleared my throat.
“It’s probably swings and roundabouts,” I responded as I walked to the others. “Those two were too far away, my charm didn’t protect them.”
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