Demon's Mark (Hell Unleashed Book 2)

by T. F. Walsh

  A group of men in white shirts closed in from the mouth of the alley. They threw a lasso around Baldy’s neck and tightened their hold. Baldy’s snarls permeated the air, his body thrashing.

  Two guys were in a tug-of-war with the possessed.

  Who the shit were they?

  A van swerved into the alley. Four men jumped out and darted for Baldy. One jabbed an injection into his arm, and the rest dragged him into the vehicle. The doors shut, and the van sped away.

  Cary couldn’t process what she’d just seen. She removed her gloves and clutched a hand to her bloody neck as she dragged herself to her feet.

  “What’s going on?”

  Her father, who was also a half demon, half human, had once said the majority of the populace had no clue that demons invaded the world. Though, apparently it seemed a small group of humans did hunt demons. And today she’d witnessed them in action. What had their lasso been anointed with?

  A person cleared his throat, and her head jerked forward. A man in his mid-forties marched closer from the end of the alley. With his hands tucked deep into the pockets of his slick, suit pants, he belonged in a boardroom with snore-fest lawyers not in a rank backstreet.

  “How many demons have you destroyed to date?” His voice was as casual as if he were ordering a coffee at the local diner.

  He had to belong to the guys who ambushed her demon, though with his perfectly groomed hair combed off his face and sunglasses hanging from his jacket pocket, he must be the one giving the orders.

  “You often watch people from the shadows?”

  He stopped a few paces away. “I wanted to assess your skills.”

  “And?” Curiosity won out because he wasn’t the usual douche or homeless person who happened to catch her fighting a possessed. Those she ignored. But Mr. Suit had said the magic word—demons.

  “You created those gloves?” he asked.

  “Holy water, salt, and iron shavings. You can make them yourself if you want. But enough about me. Who are you and where did you take the inked guy? What did you inject in him?”

  The corners of his mouth crinkled. “My name is Brent Moore. I run Argos, an organization that tracks and eliminates demons.”

  Cary’s head whirred from the guy’s admittance, but not as much as her neck stung after the demon chewed on it. In the grander scheme of things, it kind of made sense. Some days, she’d battle three demons. Other times, nothing appeared as if someone had gone through town and cleaned the place up.

  “What did you say your name was again?” He studied Cary as Baldy had done earlier, leaving her wanting to fold her arms across her chest.

  “I didn’t.”

  “Well then.” He rubbed a hand across his mouth, his demeanor darkening. “We’d been following that guy. Then you made a dash for him out of the blue. How did you know what he was?” Brent arched an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving Cary.

  Her throat tightened. Perceptive guy. Brent knew demons existed. Fine. But she wouldn’t tell him she was part demon, or she might just as well sign her own death warrant. If he hunted demons, he’d hunt her. So telling him she saw demonic auras or that she sniffed them out was out of the question. Time to exit.

  “Enjoy your day, Brent.” Cary strode past him.

  “I’m a businessman. So I’m always looking for new hunters to join my team. It comes with great financial benefits, training, and a team you can rely on.”

  Sure, wave the greenbacks in Cary’s face, and she’d stand up and listen. She glanced over her shoulder. “Go on.” If the guy was genuine and offered her money to vanquish demons, then damn yeah, she’d give him a few seconds of her time.

  “You’re fast, think on your feet, and one step ahead with your own weapons. We could use your talent. Come to my office this afternoon, say four, and we’ll chat to see if you’re a good fit.” He strutted closer with a confident grin on his face. Obviously, Brent always got his way.

  She accepted his business card—white with Argos and the address printed in black. Above it sat a fanned-out peacock’s tail with eyes dotting the tips of each feather.

  “I’ll consider it.” Never appear desperate.

  “Nice meeting you.” He stuck out his hand.

  She accepted his shake, firm and icy to the touch. “My name is Cary Stone.”

  He strode away. “I’ll see you later, Cary Stone.”

  Either today was the luckiest day ever, or someone was punking her. She preferred to ignore the latter.

  Back on the main road, the traffic had eased. Only a few people filled the sidewalk.

  She left behind Glamour Puss, not wasting the embarrassment. A new job prospect was on offer.

  Time to go home, disinfect her neck in case the demon carried parasites, and change her bloody top. Taking her weapons to the interview was a must, plus she’d map out her background story. She wouldn’t lie… much. Father had taught her an encyclopedia of knowledge on demons. The real dilemma was how to explain tracking them. Yet, Cary had the same question for Brent. Her demon side helped her see auras, but what was Brent’s story?

  The roar of a car erupted from farther down the road. Tires skidded.

  A black Corvette gunned along the main road, swerving past cars, and knocking over a row of trash cans. The closer it got, the more Cary’s insides knotted.

  The whole car glowed with a silvery aura, just as a possessed person might.

  The black car roared past. Tinted windows meant that at a glance, anyone could miss the empty driver’s seat.

  She lunged after the Corvette. Careening around an elderly couple, she had to hurry before the Corvette killed anybody.

  But someone slammed into her from behind. Her legs buckled, and the concrete rushed toward her face.

  Strong arms locked around her shoulders and waist. Wrenched sideways, her lungs emptied as she fell into a roll. Instead of the hard pavement, Cary crashed onto the stranger’s chest, cradled in his arms. His back slammed against the ground. A groan gushed behind Cary’s ear, hot air caressing her cheek. She clutched his arms as if they were a lifejacket. Wind rushed out of her lungs.

  “I’m so sorry,” his deep voice said.

  Cary untangled herself from the hug and climbed to her feet. Words teased the front of her mind to tell the klutz to be more careful. Except, she froze when she faced the large guy with shoulder length hair. His brandy-colored eyes stole her words.

  He glanced up the road and back to Cary, his attention homing on her bloody neck. He pushed himself to his feet. “Miss, are you all right?”

  She tore her gaze from his chiseled jawline that sported a shadow of growth. Then hit upon a response. “You could hurt someone with those muscles. I—I mean, don’t run on the sidewalk.”

  Kill me now. Could she sound any more like a prudish pre-school teacher?

  His eyebrow cocked. “Sorry.”

  “Thanks for catching me.” That time her words seemed to almost purr. Okay, maybe she hit her head.

  He pulled away, a sultry look capturing his gaze. “I really gotta go.”

  And just like that, he sprinted down the sidewalk and vanished down the street.

  Just as the car had.

  To purchase this ebook or any of T.F. Walsh’s any other books, click here.

  Also by T.F. Walsh

  WULFKIN LEGACY SERIES

  Love has never been deadlier. A wulfkin world built of secrets and forbidden love.

  Cloaked

  Cloaked in Fur

  Cloaked in Secrecy

  Cloaked in Blood

  Cloaked in Christmas

  Cloaked in Sorcery - coming very soon

  GUARDIANS SERIES

  Magic, humour, and dragon-shifters, in a new fated love series.

  Fallen Ashes

  Luna Shadows - coming very soon

  Fallen Ashes Excerpt

  Outside the Kingdom of Vaie

  Fallen Leneth’s stomach growled with enough intensity to awaken a sleeping troll. Magi
c always smelled like caramelized sugar, but with fatigue dampening her senses, getting up was out of the question. Plus, weekends were for sleeping. She curled in on herself when the pitter-patter of tiny paws scurried up the side of her thigh.

  Wait, she didn’t have a cat.

  Her heart slammed into her breastbone, and she jumped up so fast when something wriggled underneath her body. Streaks of light from a window revealed a mouse scurrying across the floor and diving into a crack.

  Fallen’s back pressed against a wall. “W… where am I?” She winced from a jolt of pain pummeling through her skull. The tilting room settled, and she rubbed the sore spot on the top of her head.

  At first glance, Fallen could have sworn she was still dreaming. But when the cold from the concrete wall leeched into her skin, she fought the urge to scream. How the hell had she gotten here?

  This room wasn’t her apartment or any place she’d ever seen before. A heavy door stood to her left, and across from that, an open window the size of a shoebox was located high on the wall.

  By the appearance of the dilapidated room, she guessed she had somehow been transported to Tapestry—a parallel world to Earth. Both connected by magic; humans on Earth and draes on Tapestry.

  Standing on shaky legs, she stumbled to the door and grabbed the metal handle.

  Electricity zapped through her bones, shaking her to the core. “Crap.” She reeled backward and cradled her aching arm against her chest. The same damn magic she’d smelled earlier.

  All draes were born with varying abilities of magic. The majority were so tiny that the most they could muster was crossing the thin veil separating the two worlds. Yet, the kingdom contained Spell Forgers. Those folk were powerful and used enchantment to capture strays like her since living outside the kingdom was forbidden under Queen Kesra’s command. Sure, the Earthlings had no idea Tapestry existed, but Fallen had lived in their cities most of her life. Resembling a human helped a lot.

  Except now, at the notion of being caught by the queen, fear was a knife, slowly dragging across her flesh. She’d heard rumors of the queen’s victims’ fingernails being plucked out, one by one, until the captives revealed where other strays hid. And if that didn’t work, the castle’s dungeon was an amusement park of torture devices.

  The lump in her throat refused to dislodge as she paced back and forth in the room while she tried to ignore the crunching underfoot. Lifting a boot revealed tiny rat bones wedged into the crevices of her sole. Nice.

  Get captured by the queen, and death awaited if you’re lucky. Her mom’s words repeated in her mind.

  “Yeah, yeah. That’s not helping.” Fallen had no intention of following in the footsteps of the poor rodent squished under her boots.

  The last memory she had was chasing a feaster into the woods. The goblin had a stolen dog in its arms. Fallen had saved the cute Chihuahua but hadn’t given up on the goblin. Two feet tall with a nasty set of fangs and an unabating thirst for blood, the creatures fed on unsuspecting children and animals. The bastards kept crossing the veil into the human world for midnight snacks. After entering the forest in her pursuit, Fallen’s mind had gone blank.

  She twisted her hair into a ponytail over a shoulder and marched to the door, her fingers tightening around the golden strands. She raised up on tiptoes and peered through the viewing window without touching the barrier to avoid getting shocked again. Directly outside, the corridor was in worse condition than her cell. Cracked walls with gaping black holes. On either side, the corridor stretched out into darkness. And something else… no sign or sounds of other prisoners.

  Fallen bit her lower lip, and the earlier burnt candy smell now churned in her gut.

  The odor reminded her of the time she’d eaten a bowl of worm porridge… on a dare. That challenge had won her a dragon’s claw but also had her vomiting for days. Another escapade had involved two goblins who abducted and tied her to a tree outside their shack. Those warty tricksters had minuscule magical abilities so they couldn’t be the ones responsible for kidnapping her this time. And glancing down at her legs, she still wore her jeans and tank top, so it wasn’t that kind of hijacking. Trolls were walking meatsicles. Half-draes maybe, yet her thoughts kept returning to the kingdom. Spell Forgers spent years crafting spells… just like the one keeping her locked in this cell.

  She stretched her arms forward, bones cracking. Time to escape because she had no intention of meeting her captors.

  When a glint of sunlight hit her inner wrist, she froze.

  Whoa, if I’d gotten a tattoo, I would have remembered. Except the coin-sized pattern indented in Fallen’s flesh had no ink and left no pain beneath her touch.

  As if she’d awakened a memory, the previous night’s dream came shattering into her mind. With it, sadness flowed inside her, cold and unending.

  Fallen recalled the vision of a dark room containing one male and one female Creator. She remembered thinking the Blood Moon would approach in four weeks—a time when it was said the Creators brought Tapestry beings to life. At those memories, the Creators’ emotions—love, light, and happiness filled Fallen with an aching hollowness. Furious and exhausted, they couldn’t keep watching magical beings continue to kill each other. The viciousness worsened with each passing year and the Creators believed that eliminating magic would solve the problem. Somehow, they decided to give all races a last chance.

  One Creator had said, “I chose each of you to be a representative and champion of your people. And I selected individuals for a simple reason: none of you has found a life mate yet.”

  Her mind back to the present situation, Fallen knew failing in that part of her life wasn’t from a lack of trying, but finding a perfect partner took time. Yet, she, along with the rest of the chosen, had only been given four weeks to find their own true love before the Blood Moon. Otherwise, every race would become human. Magic would vanish. And the only clue to her soul mate was the imprint on her arm. Fallen traced the tattoo of the circular dragon, biting its own tail, wings fanned wide. Now more confused than afraid, Fallen had never received a dream from the Creators before, but she’d heard of draes who had.

  The urge to cry came and went like a powerful tsunami, crashing into her heart. The Creators’ emotions still burned inside her, except the threat held a darker message. Tapestry and Earth were connected by magic; one couldn’t exist without the other. Removing magic meant the worlds would tear apart and extinguish. All life would end. The Creators were merciless, but could they deliberately cause the separation?

  Focus. That was what she needed. Fix one problem at a time. Even though her nerves were as thin as paper… escaping this prison was a priority. Then she’d deal with the Creators.

  Spinning around, she sized up the room to change her mind’s focus. About ten feet wide and deep.

  A quick shake of her body and she embraced her innate power. Her ribs and spine shifted ever so slightly. The flesh across her shoulder blades ripped with a scraping sound. She bit back a scream, clutching her fists tight, fingernails digging into palms. Her plan wouldn’t work if the guards realized what she was doing. They’d sedate her, and she’d wake up in a chamber with no space to shift. Obviously, it meant they hadn’t yet worked out her ability… yet. Fantastic.

  In a flurry, she altered form. The only change was the wings unfolding from her back. They lengthened to fill three-quarters of the room. Full transformations were unheard of, and even her partial-shift was more ability than any existing draes possessed.

  Translucent material, the color of polished pearls, stretched out between wing cartilage, gleaming in the light. At the tips, sharp, claw-like projections curved into long fingernails.

  A fresh sense of freedom overcame her.

  With a quick succession of flaps, her feet lifted off the ground. The sensation raised the hairs on her arms the same as it did each time she took flight. With her ability under wraps, she rarely had the chance to release her wings, yet most of her dreams were filled
with scenes of flying free.

  Fallen beat the wings faster, the roaring sound an encroaching storm in her ears. She angled to funnel the force of the air toward the door. Thunderous pockets of wind battered the entrance, even in the small space. Paint peeled from the walls. Dust rained down from overhead. What if the place fell apart around her? No time to focus on the possibility.

  Huh? The door hadn’t even rattled.

  With a great inhale, she tapped into the storm lying dormant in her chest. Steam expelled from her nostrils in short puffs. She unleashed the floodgates. A plume of fire exploded out of her mouth, centered on the door. The corners of her lips tingled as if she’d sipped boiling hot tea too fast. That was the one spot she felt the smarting of fire. A vulnerability the Creators used to remind her she wasn’t untouchable.

  Glowing embers leaped and skipped along the enchanted enclosure. They fizzled away just as quickly. Not much withstood dragon fire, and yet here it hadn’t helped.

  Her insides constricted as if someone was strangling her with only the air around her. If she didn’t escape now, how could she fulfill the Creators’ mission? Then both worlds would be flattened, and everyone would die. Getting captured by the queen wasn’t going to help the situation. Rotting in her royal prison and being tortured until she gave up another drae living outside the realm certainly wasn’t the answer.

  Fallen’s eyes prickled. For months, she’d told herself to move to another city. Damn. Another country. As far from the kingdom as possible, in case they caught her, but she never did. How could she when everything about the nearby forest reminded her of her mom? She remembered the oak trees they’d sleep in while hunting rogue trolls. And cliffs Fallen had jumped off when learning to fly. A vision appeared in her mind of the meadow where she’d scattered her mother’s ashes.

  She spun on the spot again, rotating the airflow. Faster. The cone of air surrounding her sucked up dust and debris into a massive cyclone. Fallen flung herself backward and out of the cyclone she’d generated. Hair whipped around her face. The gale knocked her off balance. She lashed her wings back and forth. The echo of a rocket ship barreling through space shook the foundations of the room. Fallen hurled fire into the twister and flames licked the ceiling.