Dark Deliverance

by Tamela Miles

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Praise for Tamela Miles

  Dark Deliverance

  Copyright

  Dedications

  Story

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  Elle gave a chuckle.

  “Let’s just agree that you have a glorious past when it comes to slaying demons that has given you certain…um, insights into it that I don’t have.”

  Elle watched his expression change, his eyes focusing intently on her as he smiled. Her heart began to beat a little faster. She wasn’t prepared to deal with this other, blatantly sensual part of Patrick in such close confines and moved to make more space between them. He moved with her until their shoulders touched.

  “I have insights into many other things. Would you like to hear them, Elle?”

  The heat of his glance and the softness of his tone made her hyperaware, her skin tingling. She cleared her throat nervously. “Sure, go ahead.”

  Patrick’s gaze settled on her parted lips. “Most demon hunters I’ve known take sex where they can find it and never bother with love. They don’t want the responsibility that comes with loving someone else totally. I have lived like that for years, sex with no ties. You’re different from them, you have a softness. I have loved exactly one woman in my life, a human woman. She shared your same innocence of spirit, which drew me to her like a magnet.” He dragged a finger across Elle’s lips, and she let out a little gasp. Damn it, she didn’t want to be caught in his spell, but she couldn’t deny her attraction to him any longer.

  Praise for Tamela Miles

  “Don’t fall in love with a demon-hunter, or there will be hell to pay. Tamela Miles’ captivating new series oozes action, adventure, and otherworldly romance, enough to make your holy water sizzle!”

  ~Lelani Black, author

  Dark Deliverance

  by

  Tamela Miles

  Hell On Heels Series

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Dark Deliverance

  COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Tamela Dawn Miles

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Black Rose Edition, 2016

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0897-5

  Hell On Heels Series

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedications

  A special thanks and I love you to the beautiful women in my family. Thankfully, you passed on to me your loving natures, wisdom, grace, and style.

  ~*~

  Love and thanks to the men in my family, who know what it means to cherish and protect.

  ~*~

  Thanks to my friends for sharing this journey of life and laughs with me.

  ~*~

  Thanks to my mentors, who always have something new and exciting to share with me, causing me to think while writing and brainstorming feverishly around midnight.

  ~*~

  To all, your love and support is priceless.

  Elle leaned back on the bar counter, resting on her forearms. A shot glass, one of quite a few that evening, was within reach. Dressed casually in a white lace camisole and blue jeans, leather jacket on top, she easily caught the eye of a number of men. Her black leather stiletto boots obviously had years of mileage on them, but they sent a silent message that she was, perhaps, not to be totally trusted in spite of her innocent face and lush, dark curls.

  She coolly surveyed the patrons in the dive bar in a seedy part of Los Angeles, her trained eyes settling on a few who may be disguised demons. She had been at this demon hunting game for the past seven years, and she was very good at it. She had, undoubtedly, been in a few situations that had nearly ended her life, but God had called her to do it. Should’ve said no at the very beginning and I might have a normal life now…

  She downed the lemon whiskey shot in one deep gulp, ignoring how it burned her throat on the way down. A hefty man with a weathered cowboy hat and scuffed boots to match sidled up next to her, wearing a broad drunken grin, and she cast him an amused glance. She knew this guy, Allan, by name and knew exactly what he was all about, with a wife and four young kids at home. There was nothing country about him—he just liked the look.

  “Elle—it’s been a long time. Working with all ’em kids keeping you too busy to hang out?”

  “Yes, just as busy as being with your kids should keep you.” Her tone was all honeyed, good-natured sass. They exchanged smiles. She knew he was just a harmless married guy who liked to pick up on single chicks to help him feel less pressured with his mounting debts and troubled marriage.

  He sighed. “I don’t know how you do the whole preschool teacher gig. Two hours with my kids drives me straight here for a drink.”

  She had been a preschool teacher at a child center in Pasadena for the past five years, and she enjoyed every moment of it. The job itself didn’t require much of her time, perhaps two or three days a week, which left her free to hunt demons and dispatch them back to Hell in her leisure moments.

  “Children can be a bit much to handle sometimes, but you’re luckier than you know to have them.” She gave him a small smile to mask the longing in her words.

  In the span of a heartbeat, she felt the familiar, unpleasant humming vibration all over her body. She looked up sharply, focusing on the front door of the bar. A portal, the doorway between dimensions and Hell itself, had been opened. She had a feeling this was going to be a bad situation. The vibe she felt had a strange, heavy undercurrent that she had never experienced.

  She smiled at Allan, clapping him on his back. “Must run, my friend. Going to continue my drinking pity party at home. Safely.” She had to shift gears instantly, and drinking alone with her large number of sorrows was honestly the last thing on her mind. If the trouble brewing outside was a demon, she had to put it down without mercy. She waved, heading for the door of the place.

  She pushed her way outside, the cold winter air hitting her face. Her hand was already reaching for the ornate, sheathed dagger concealed in the top of her jeans, beneath the leather jacket. She reasoned that the alley next to the bar was the likely place to find the open portal and stealthily crept around the corner. Her current shitty mood had her longing to shoot an arrow through this demon’s head before slicing it off.

  ****

  Patrick Holt knew he was down for the count. He was as limp as a rag doll, beaten and bloodied from the vicious punches the disguised demon, a blond in an expensive suit, landed on his whole upper body. Still, he was in a cheerful mood from the good news he had received from his business manager earlier in the evening. This was just an unfortunate part of his life that he sometimes was forced to deal with. He had come to this bar he rarely frequented for a celebratory drink after eight mind-numbing hours spent working as administrative assistant for a small, independent record company. Cutting through the dark alley tonight had turned out to be a disastrous mistake.

  He spit out a wad of blood and smiled. “If I had a sister, she would hit like you. You demons are getting soft, lik
e puss…” His voice trailed off when he saw her, approaching carefully and silently. It was difficult to see much, but the moonlight glinted off the dagger in her raised hand. A single street lamp in the alley flickered, giving him a quick glimpse of her face. Another demon coming to help finish me off? The portal’s crimson light shone on her face, giving him a better glimpse, and he realized that she wasn’t focused on him. Her gaze was trained on the blond demon. Apparently, a demon hunter had come to save his sorry ass, and she was a hot one, as far he could make out. He relaxed in relief, sagging against the big, black Dumpster.

  Just as the demon raised his fist again to deliver another punishing blow, his petite, leather-clad angel of rescue planted the large dagger in the demon’s back, to the hilt. She twisted it before removing it to plunge again. The demon shrieked in unholy anger and whipped around to face her.

  She smiled coldly, her eyes glinting in the dark of the alley. He knew that expression and had worn it many times himself. She was completely focused on the kill, and nothing around her, not even him, would distract her from taking the demon’s head off, sending it back to Hell. She cast him a dark look before turning her attention back to the demon.

  She began circling the demon, dagger poised for an attack. He tried to snatch it from her hands, but she always kept it just out of reach. They moved around each other slowly for long moments before the demon got sloppy. He lunged at her, slightly off balance, and she kicked him in the gut, knocking him backward to the ground. She was on the demon in a second, straddling him with her legs locked to prevent escape. She brought the dagger down through his throat, leaving an ugly, bloody gouge.

  Patrick heard the gurgling of the injured demon but knew, just as he was sure his pretty rescuer did, that this wouldn’t finish him off. Given the chance, he would limp off somewhere dark and heal unnaturally fast. No, the head had to come off. He watched her grab a handful of the demon’s hair at the roots and roughly push his head back, exposing his throat. The flesh had already begun to seal itself up.

  She gave a primal grunt, slicing the dagger blade deeply across his throat. She kept sawing as the demon thrashed in agony, not stopping until she had completely severed his head from his guise of a human body. The unnatural heat from within incinerated the body to a fine powdered ash, leaving a big pile of the greasy stuff. She wiped her blade on the ground before sheathing it.

  Patrick looked away from the scene to the still open portal, bright crimson lights radiating their own heat from wherever lay on the other side. It slowly began to shrink until the doorway between the two worlds was finally closed, leaving him and his rescuer in black leather alone in the darkness of the alley. He watched her approach, her walk graceful as her hips swayed. She stood over him for a brief moment before reaching out her hand to him. He grabbed it and unsteadily came to his feet. They stood a few inches from each other, giving him a good look at her pretty face framed by a halo of dark riotous curls.

  “You’ve been doing this demon-hunting thing a long time.” He looked deeply into her eyes for the first time, and his heart did a somersault for some reason he couldn’t understand. Dark brown and wide—those eyes alone could bring him to his knees, desperate to have her if he wasn’t careful. Her lush curves could have him begging. “Baby, you’re good at slaying. Really good.”

  She inclined her head, a small smile curving her full berry-red lips. “A simple thank-you would have been sufficient.” He noted that her voice was deep and slightly husky. She raised her fingertips, moving strands of his black hair aside, to touch the nasty gash on his forehead, and he swore loudly. “Don’t worry, you’ll heal quickly and you won’t lose your looks. What’s your name, pretty boy? More importantly, what are you?”

  This hunter was a welcome change from the countless others he had known. She clearly wasn’t just any demon hunter, haunted by her calling and living a miserable existence because of it like the other droves of them. He sensed she found her happiness whenever and wherever she could, just like him. His mouth hurt like a bitch, but he summoned his charming smile. “The name’s Patrick Holt. I’m a hybrid angel—half human. I haven’t hunted demons in years by choice. Now, well, I’m just another struggling L.A. musician trying to get noticed.”

  ****

  His arresting aquamarine eyes lit up in shared amusement, and she caught herself staring. She fought to clear her mind, looking at him curiously. “I’ve never encountered a hybrid. I was trained to know much about angels but not much about hybrids.”

  “We hybrids have our own special place and mentions in the history of the heavens. There aren’t millions of us like the guardians, but there’s enough of us around, I guess.” He paused, breathing deeply. “I can’t thank you enough. Are you an L.A. darling or are you an out-of-towner?” His brow furrowed. “I, um, haven’t really kept track of all the demon hunters, but I don’t recall ever crossing paths with you.”

  His voice was deep, but soft and unforgettable. The way he spoke reached out and caressed her spine, sending little shivers down her back. She suspected that it was one of his unique holy gifts, like those incredibly beautiful, distracting eyes. Careful. He’s charming, for sure, but he knows it and probably uses that charm every day…She gave him a level look. “I’m an L.A. girl from birth. And, no, I’ve never seen you before.”

  He nodded. “You’re obviously well trained. Who’s your guardian?”

  Elle started to speak when a familiar voice came from the shadows, and she turned around.

  ****

  “My young Elle is well trained to take down any demon.” A moment later, Tagas emerged from the shadows of the alley, and Patrick groaned. Hell, his rescuer was one of Tagas’s, and that usually meant trouble. The angel’s appearance was no coincidence, and if he had a hundred bucks in his wallet, he would bet that he needed something from him.

  Tagas embraced her tightly for a long moment before giving Patrick a considering look. The angel’s face shone with impish glee, and he knew that he was screwed. He nodded a simple acknowledgement, his jaw set tensely. “Tagas. It’s never a pleasure when you show up. I’m just being honest.”

  Elle looked back and forth between the two of them. “So, there’s a shared history here?”

  “We go back for several decades, Patrick and I. There was a time when he would never have been beaten so severely. He stopped tapping into his holy power, the source of his superhuman strength, when he was about fifty years old. He said he wanted to just be a normal human and live his life. That was ten years ago.” Tagas stopped, looking at him. “How’s that working out for you?”

  “Just fine, thank you,” Patrick said curtly. Damn Tagas. He knows all too well how bad things have been for me. No need to rub it in.

  “I’m glad to see the two of you here together. The timing couldn’t be better.” Tagas paused, glancing at Elle. “Something very evil has come to this city, leaving scores of drained and mutilated young women. I can’t be sure, but I think it to be only one exceedingly powerful demon at work. I’ve done my research, and it’s clearly not Pyro, though it sounds very much like his work.”

  Patrick watched her expression become stony as the angel spoke. They locked eyes for a brief moment, and the flash of pain in her eyes stuck with him. She looked away quickly, which further intrigued him. What horrors have you experienced, Elle? How has demon slaying changed your life? “What are you driving at, Tagas? How does all this involve me?”

  “I want you and Elle paired up to track and destroy this demon. You need her strength and cunning, and she needs your experience and wisdom. This is not a suggestion. This is an order from God Himself. I understand that you’re having a tough time, so I’ve settled all of your debts, and I even threw in a minor remodel of your old place in Pasadena. You can move in with her until this task is complete.” The angel never lost his serene expression even as Patrick swore loudly.

  Elle’s tone was clipped, and she gave Patrick a cold glare. “I don’t know him, and what I
do know of him is annoying. I don’t want him living with me. Come on, Tagas. Surely there’s another way?”

  The angel shook his head. “This is the only way.” He turned to Patrick. “I expect you to be fully moved into the warehouse by tomorrow.”

  “Of course your way is the only way,” Patrick snapped bitterly. “I really don’t have a choice. I’m totally bought and paid for. Thanks so much for your generosity, by the way. So, we get rid of this demon, and I can go back to my life?”

  “Yes, in a much better position then you were in.”

  Patrick heaved a deep, defeated sigh. “Fine. Consider it done.” He knew her name now. Elle…deliciously feminine. He looked at her, laughing inwardly at her narrowed eyes, coolly assessing him. He had a strong feeling that he was a most unwelcome house guest. Not the best start with someone he wanted to seduce at some point…He felt an overwhelming urge to continue needling her. “Let’s go home, honey. I’ll follow you in my car.”

  ****

  Pyro stayed very still in his hidden position at the back end of the alley, watching them head toward the front of the building. The demon he had sent, who had met his end on this earth, was simply a distraction. He had no intention of killing the hybrid, Patrick. No, he was far too useful in this game. His formidable powers, though untapped in years, had served Pyro well, and he didn’t even know it. But he would—in the worst way, when it suited him.

  Humans were cattle, to be drained and snuffed out as an offering to his dark master, Satan. The bodies of young women would keep turning up until he and his demon had their fill with no one would stop him. Elle, his favorite demon hunter, and Patrick, the bastard hybrid, combined were certainly a force to be concerned about, but even they couldn’t wreck his plans for Hell’s glory when he pulled this off. He had that ace up his sleeve and what an ace it was. He smirked in the darkness.

  ****

  Elle waved a careless arm, leading Patrick back to the main living area of her warehouse home. “So, this is my place. Make yourself comfortable but scarce. I require a lot of space, and the last thing I want to do is entertain you.”