The Ghost Princess (Graylands Book 1)

by M. Walsh

  “You would’ve been better off leaving your compatriots behind.”

  He thrust his hands toward her, and the green flames shot out. Despite the close quarters of the alley, the girl dodged the attack, which exploded in a green flash behind her. She moved with great speed, drawing closer to Carlyle with a look of steel determination in her eyes.

  He was so caught off guard by her speed he didn’t think to throw another fireball. He instead awkwardly dodged her daggers, losing his balance, and left himself open to a stiff kick to his face.

  He hurled another fireball at her, but she dove away, and it exploded in a massive burst of flame, rubble, and dust. His anger turned to raw fury when he felt blood start to drip down his nose.

  “That does it!” he snarled. “Let’s see how you deal with my pets, you little bitch!”

  He returned his hands to his prayer pose, and telepathically summoned whatever demons were nearby. As if in answer, the howls and screeches of gargoyles called out. He could see she heard them, too, and grinned again.

  “That’s what you get for insulting me!” he shouted as three gargoyles started circling her. He pointed at her and shrieked, “Rip her apart!”

  And yet again—despite being outnumbered, outsized, and caught in such a tight space—the girl managed to evade the diving creatures swooping down at her. In fact, the narrow alley only worked to her advantage, as she leapt and bound from wall to wall and cut down the gargoyles at their wings.

  Who is this girl?! Carlyle thought. She even knew the only way to kill demons was by cutting into their heads or hearts.

  Before she finished the last gargoyle, he summoned a massive ball of fire and hurled it at them with an infuriated roar. There was a terrible explosion that shook the ground for several yards in every direction. A nearby wall shattered, and the building it supported caved in around it. Dust and debris erupted into the air, and the sound of crumbling rock and stone drowned out the rain.

  When the dust cleared, Carlyle saw the girl dodged the attack—but the force of the explosion had thrown her several feet away. She slammed into a far wall and lay motionless on the ground.

  His fury subsiding, he approached her with an evil smirk on his face. He watched her stir and try to get to her feet, only to sink back down again. Her daggers were lost, and she laid face-down on the ground, trembling and clutching her head. He stood over her, drew his sword, and felt tremendous satisfaction.

  “A worthy effort,” he said. “But ultimately futile. You couldn’t hope to match my power, you little ...”

  He trailed off, hearing a low growling emerge. He looked around, expecting to find more of his demon pets, only to realize the growling was coming from the girl. Her body contorted, seeming to grow, with black claws emerging from her hands. Her skin faded to a pale gray, and when she turned to look at him, fangs had grown in her mouth, and her crimson eyes were burning a furious red.

  Carlyle Hawke was struck dumb—only then realizing what he was looking at. Only then realizing how she could be so strong and fight off his pets single-handed. Why he sensed only emptiness from her. He dared not believe how he couldn’t have seen it earlier.

  She was another demon.

  Part IV

  Brink

  21

  The night before Rasul Kader would introduce himself to Katrina Lamont, Arch Maddox was feeling pretty good about himself. He was on his way to the tavern with a recently acquired sum of money in his pocket—not his, but the poor bastard he took it from wasn’t going to need it—and was looking forward to a night of heavy drinking.

  It was a nice, pleasant evening with a shining moon overhead. It was bright enough for him to find his way around the off-road path he often used to ambush passing travelers. The air was mild and dry, and he mused to himself he might start a fight at the pub—and take the money of whatever dumb sod he chose.

  Walking along, the forest quiet and calm, he was suddenly struck by a strong lust that swept through his blood in a wave. Maybe after some boozing and fighting, he might find a whore to cap the night off? And if he couldn’t find a professional whore, he could always just find some broad on the street—amateur whores, he called them.

  Maddox was feeling so good about things, he almost didn’t notice the young woman in the shadows behind him.

  “Hello,” she said.

  So caught up in fantasizing his plans for the night, he was startled by the soft, gentle voice behind him. He turned and found a young woman—no older than her early twenties—standing beside a nearby tree with her hands behind her back.

  He was speechless. She was a pretty thing indeed. Soft, milky skin—highlighted by her choice of black clothes. She stared at him with warm, alluring, almost glowing crimson eyes, and her lips were curved in a gentle smile.

  He stared back at her, slack-jawed and dumbstruck. After a few moments, a crooked smile formed on his worn, grizzled face. “Evening, ma’am. And what brings you out in this neck of the woods?”

  “I was following you.”

  A sharp tingle traveled up his spine. In an instant, all his ambitions of drinking, fighting, and robbing were gone. He wanted her—right then and there.

  “I’ll bet,” he said, approaching her—his hand moving toward his belt buckle. “There something I can do for you..?”

  She looked around and sighed. “Whatever,” she said. “I don’t want to drag this out.”

  He nodded, licking his lips. “No problem. I like a girl that ...”

  He trailed off as the girl’s features began to change. Her skin faded to an ashy gray, and fangs grew in her mouth. Her eyes glowed fiery red, and before Arch Maddox could scream, she was on top of him with an inhuman hiss.

  She pinned him on the ground and locked her fangs over his mouth. He struggled and squirmed beneath her, but to no avail. All at once, Maddox began withering away—as though his descent into old age was kicked into high speed. When it was over, there was little left of him except a decayed, shriveled corpse that looked like it had been left in a tomb for a hundred years.

  Lily Blackthorn threw herself off him and writhed on the ground, trying to will herself back to her human form. Her skin returned to a human shade, and the fangs and claws receded. Once she slowed her breathing, she remained sitting there, shaking and trying not to cry.

  * * *

  Lily didn’t like the idea of leaving Maddox’s remains out in the woods, but she didn’t want to go through the trouble of burying him. Not knowing what else to do, she dragged the body to a nearby creek and left it there. Not ideal, but it would give her time to create some distance before he was discovered—if he was found at all.

  She had been tracking him for a few days—watching his habits and making sure he was suitable prey. That is, someone who would not be missed and “deserved” it. Whenever he needed money, he was fond of beating random people and just taking it. She was fairly certain he was not above murder—a feeling confirmed when she was feeding and sensed his memories. And in fact, seeing his memories, she found even more evidence the world would be no poorer without him.

  Nevertheless, feeding was a foul and disgusting process, and even if Maddox was a brute and murderer, she took no pleasure in it.

  After all, she wondered. Am I any better?

  Taking the money he had on him, she found the main road and followed it northwest to the tavern Maddox was on his way to. The place rented rooms, and she wanted somewhere to rest. The first night after feeding was always the worst. The essence of her prey was always fresh in her mind and would haunt her sleep.

  The road became more refined and switched from dirt to partial cobblestone until finally coming upon impressive gate of Canton. Inside the wall, houses and stores grew more frequent, and she could see in the distance taller buildings and towers.

  Canton was the largest town in this part of the country—second only to Garland, overall. The center of town and surrounding ten miles or so was as close to an actual city this far south one wo
uld find. Outside the wall was loosely defined with woodlands, sporadic farms, and inns scattered about—often where bandits like Arch Maddox would do their business.

  The inn Lily found was on the edge of town. It was a simple structure—only two stories—but more developed than one would usually find this far south. It looked comfortable, but far enough out of the way to avoid attention. She believed it best to try and remain as low a profile as she could—whether that meant keeping to the back roads or staying primarily in smaller, obscure lodgings.

  The first floor of the inn contained a bar, and there was a small crowd of people scattered around, drinking and eating. The bartender was an older, overweight man with thinning hair, and he was chatting with some of the patrons.

  Seeing Lily approach, he asked, “What can I do for you, ma’am?”

  “Are there any rooms for rent?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “How long you staying for?”

  “Just the night will be fine.”

  The pay for one night’s stay was reasonable, and he directed her to the stairs in the back corner, around a corridor. The room was a simple square with a single window overlooking the front of the inn, a small bed, mirror, and table with a bowl atop to be used for water. As perhaps a sign of Canton’s advancement, she found a water pump down the hall, inside the actual inn.

  She dropped her shoulder-bag and sat on the bed. Wasn’t much, but she’d slept in plenty worse places. The essence of Arch Maddox was fresh, and she knew sleep wouldn’t be the most pleasant. Fortunately, it was still early, so she decided to head downstairs for a few drinks. Being half-succubus, Lily didn’t survive on food or water—but alcohol was as soothing to her as it was anybody else.

  Might help me sleep.

  She locked the door behind her and returned to the bar downstairs. She ordered a pint of ale, noticing when she took it from the bartender her hand was shaking.

  “You okay there, Miss..?” he asked.

  “Fine,” she said. “Just a little under the weather, I suppose.”

  “Something you ate..?”

  “Something like that.”

  Taking her ale, she sat at an empty table near the back corner of the bar. She drank slowly, hoping to get a slight buzz, but definitely not drunk. In addition to being half-succubus, she was also half-orc. Losing control of herself was not in anyone’s best interest.

  The handful of other patrons kept to themselves. She figured that just as well. Aside from her human form being that of an attractive young woman, her nature as a succubus also made her naturally alluring to others—a trait she couldn’t entirely control. It had its use when she needed to feed, but otherwise she considered it a nuisance more than anything else.

  After a few pints, her lingering disgust over Maddox dulled. She’d still feel him in her nightmares that night, but it wouldn’t be as bad as it could be. She started to relax, until she felt a deep, foreboding dread clutch her spine.

  Entering the doorway was a tall, thin man with a solemn, grim face. He had graying hair beneath a black fedora and wore a matching cloak. He walked to the bar and took a seat without saying a word. He didn’t look in Lily’s direction, but she felt a sinister chill in her blood upon seeing him.

  She didn’t know for certain at the time, but part of her already suspected Benedict Vogel would be a man to fear.

  “Evening, sir,” said the bartender. “What can I get you..?”

  “Wine, if you have it,” said Vogel.

  The bartender poured a glass, and Vogel nodded, taking a small sip. He sat there for several minutes, drinking his wine, and not saying a word to anyone. He stood out amidst the other patrons, who all tried to pretend they weren’t staring. Lily herself felt her skin crawl. She didn’t know why, but the impulse to go to her room as soon as possible came upon her.

  “Excuse me,” Vogel said to the bartender. “Have you or any of your customers noticed any unusual disturbances recently?”

  “Disturbances..?” said the bartender, glancing at the other men sitting at the bar. “What kind of disturbances?”

  “People going missing,” said Vogel. “Unexplained deaths..?”

  “Can’t say,” the bartender replied, shrugging. “The occasional mugging or something like that, I suppose. Is that what you mean?”

  “Not exactly. I was thinking more along the lines of ... something akin to animal attacks.”

  “Nope. Nothing that I’ve heard.” The bartender turned to the other men and asked if they heard of anything, and they said they hadn’t either. “You some kind of hunter or something, Mister..?”

  “Of sorts,” Vogel said. “I hunt demons.”

  Lily’s heart jumped into her throat. Had she been holding her pint glass, she would’ve shattered it involuntarily clenching her hand. Her spine became stiff like a metal rod as questions flooded her mind. Did he know who she was? Was he tracking her? Had she been seen feeding on Maddox?

  “Demons?” repeated the bartender. “That’s some dangerous game.” He let out a nervous chuckle and added, “Is there, uh, something we should worry about..?”

  “I’ve been tracking a demon from the east.” He paused to sip from his wine, and although he didn’t see it, Lily had gone ghastly pale—she’d approached Canton from the east. “Very unusual case, though. This demon’s movements are ... peculiar.”

  The other patrons sitting at the bar started taking an interest in the conversation. “How do you mean..?” one asked.

  “Yeah,” said another. “I haven’t heard anything about demon attacks around these parts. At least none recently.”

  “Exactly,” said Vogel. “This one has been very careful. Clearly a much smarter creature than usual. From the bodies I’ve found, I’d guess it’s a succubus. But there’s something ... different about this one.”

  Lily was shaking in her seat. She didn’t realize, but she’d clawed the table. She was always careful when she fed and never stayed in one place for too long. But that didn’t mean a clever hunter couldn’t catch on to her trail and track her movements. It was a fear she always held in her gut—and now it was coming to life right in front of her.

  One of the patrons shuddered and groaned. “Demons,” he growled. “Who can ever really tell with those beasts?”

  “Well said,” Vogel replied, chuckling. “I’ve been tracking and studying demons for most of my life, and I don’t think we’ll ever fully understand them.”

  “It’s a shame all the Dark Lands don’t just sink into the ocean and take its scum with it.” The man shook his head in disgust. “Filth—the lot of them.”

  “It’s interesting,” said Vogel, taking another sip. “But in many ways, demons are actually more evolved than us, Graigfolk, even Eldér. They’re all incredibly strong, immune to most known forms of disease and the elements, and are practically immortal.”

  “Figures,” said the bartender. “The worst of this world gets the best.”

  “I wouldn’t be so quick to say that. As evolved as demons are physically, mentally, they’re woefully behind.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “All creatures were savage once—humans, Graigfolk, and—yes—Eldér, too. But as the ages have passed, we’ve evolved and grown civilized, as well as advanced. Demons are no different—except I believe they evolved wrong. Although physically they’re far beyond us, their minds never grew past primitive savagery.” He paused to take another sip of wine—clearly enjoying sharing his knowledge—and chuckled. “Even Goblins have some semblance of society.”

  “Maybe it’s just as well,” said another patron, listening in. “If they did, would there be any stopping them?”

  “Indeed. It would probably be a second Dark War. And who’s to say we’d prevail then?”

  Everyone fell silent, ruminating on that grim possibility. But the mood was relatively light, despite the talk of demons. It was just idle chatter, after all. Harmless discussion of things that would likely never happen.

  “You do
n’t think it’s possible for demons to evolve?”

  All eyes turned to Lily, and she immediately regretted opening her mouth. She told herself not to get involved. To keep quiet, finish her drink, and return to her room. But despite herself, the words came out.

  Vogel stared at her and asked, “Even stronger..?”

  “Civilized.” The word came out so meek and pitifully, even she was tempted to laugh at it.

  After some amused chuckling, Vogel said, with a bemused and almost condescending smile, “I suppose. But the nature of evolution says the stronger survive and endure, where the weak perish. If such a demon were to be born, it would most likely be deemed an anomaly by its kind and immediately killed.”

  Before she realized she was doing it, the words were coming out under her breath: “Or by people who don’t believe a demon could be good.”

  He hesitated. His eyes narrowed, as though he wasn’t certain of what she said. After a tense minute, the conversation at the bar resumed, although Lily could feel Vogel’s gaze on her, and she regretted saying anything. She resisted the impulse to leave immediately—knowing that would inspire more suspicion—and finished her ale.

  Taking a deep breath, she left her table and headed for the stairs, keeping her eyes forward and trying not to look at Vogel.

  “Excuse me, Miss,” he said as she passed—causing her to wince. “May I ask your name..?”

  She paused, thinking she shouldn’t answer or just outright lie. But she remembered she signed in her name when she rented the room. Reluctantly, she replied, “Lily.”

  “Lily ... what..? If you don’t mind telling.”

  She felt tension wrap around her heart like a vice. It took every ounce of her willpower not to burst into tears in front of him. She cursed coming to this inn. She cursed writing her real name when she rented the room. She cursed not returning to her room the moment he entered the bar. And, most of all, she cursed opening her stupid mouth.