by TJ Michaels
Shards of Ecstasy
TJ Michaels
Book 2 in the Hearts of Fire series.
De’alla Isaacs is a typical businesswoman in Seattle, but away from the day job she lives another life. She is Chosen. Her job—carry and protect a precious jewel. Each Piece of Eight is part of a key, the only thing standing between this world and complete demonic devastation. Dee’s job would be easy except for one problem—Faison Dow, R&B singer, celebrity playboy and all-out dog has appeared on the scene.
If he’s such bad news, why does he make her heart pound, body temperature soar, set her crystal buzzing and send her mind on a one-way trip to Gimme Some? Is it his sultry voice? His pursuit of her as if she’s the only woman for him?
Whatever it is, they’d better hurry and figure it out because the Prince of Hell has arrived.
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Shards of Ecstasy
ISBN 9781419924422
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Shards of Ecstasy Copyright © 2010 TJ Michaels
Edited by Briana St. James
Cover art by Syneca
Electronic book publication February 2010
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Shards of Ecstasy
TJ Michaels
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Caller ID: Comcast Corporation
Creamsicle: Popsicle Industries, Inc.
Pepto-Bismol: The Procter & Gamble Company
Pillsbury Doughboy: The Pillsbury Company
Slip ‘N Slide: Whamo-O Manufacturing Company
WebEx: Cisco Technology, Inc.
Prologue
De’alla crept into the one building on the orphanage’s property that she absolutely hated to visit. The chapel. When she entered this place the thick heavy doors seemed to close with an ominous bong though they made no sound when sliding shut. As usual, the faint presence that had been in the farthest reaches of her consciousness for as long as she could remember went completely silent. It was the essence of nature itself and Dee called it She. Growing up, whenever the entity whispered a warning on the wind, Dee shared it with her sisters. When they asked “Why should we go that way?” or “Why shouldn’t we do this?” Dee’s answer had been “Cause she said so.” Guess the name sort of stuck.
But She cut out whenever Dee came in here. And tonight was no different. In this quiet chamber were none of the elements that gave her comfort. No wind. No water. Almost no sound other than her own pounding heart. Maybe it had to do with the fact that it was midnight. Well, 12:03 to be exact, on her eighteenth birthday.
Wrinkling her nose, but not with displeasure, Dee took in the scent of lemon wax, sandalwood and a hint of lavender in the pungent smoke wafting up from the copper braziers near the alter.
Her head tilted in question. She’d never noticed how dark it was in here before. The sheen of the polished wood paneling that lined the walls seemed to have a deeper, almost tangible shadow spread across them. Not scary but…mysterious. Hidden and unfamiliar, as if she were seeing it for the first time.
Three fat white candles sat on a low table in front of the altar. She couldn’t recall ever seeing those before either, not in all the years she’d been living at the orphanage.
Today would bring monumental changes to her life. And De’alla had a feeling that this late-night rendezvous with the director of The Gideon House would only pile more onto that particular plate.
“De’alla, come along now.” Angela Raguel’s voice sounded just off to the right. Dee’s head jerked around so sharply she thought she heard the bone at the base of her skull protest at such sudden movement.
“Are you excited about leaving for Japan in the morning?” Angela asked. The question was friendly, surely meant to relax her. But Dee knew she wasn’t called here in the middle of the night to discuss going away to college overseas. At this point she just wanted to get on with whatever it was. It couldn’t possibly be good. And thinking past the dip and roll of her gut simply wasn’t happening.
“Damn it, I haven’t even done anything lately. How could I be in trouble?”
“Don’t be afraid, De’alla. You’re not in trouble, child.” The unflappable woman lovingly known as Miss Angela didn’t miss a beat. So perhaps everything was normal after all? But the foreign sense of excitement that bubbled just beneath the surface of her skin said otherwise. What the hell was going on?
“Oh crap. Did I say that out loud?” Dee couldn’t suppress the heating of her cheeks at Miss Angela’s knowing grin. Damn, this woman could always see through her calm-n-snarky demeanor…just like her sisters could.
Her sisters. Just the thought of the three girls that had been her partners in crime since she was a young child brought her comfort. Their mother hen, Memory, had headed off to begin a new life just two years ago. She’d come back to see De’alla and the two younger girls, Charlotte and Kenna, during Christmas break each year since.
Miss Angela’s words cut a sheer path through her thoughts.
“You have questions. I have answers, child.”
“Okay, let’s cut to it. Why am I here?”
Without another word Miss Angela opened a plain square box. Inside, settled against a background of black velvet glittered a finely cut jewel. A crystal suspended on fine but sturdy silver links. It was beautiful, flawlessly clear and fashioned with such care Dee could imagine the steadiness of the hand that had formed this exquisite piece from the raw material.
Angela carefully lifted the glittering decadence from the box by the clasp and held it before Dee’s eyes.
Damn. She’d always been a sucker for beautiful jewelry, though she possessed little of it. Yet, this was beyond beautiful, entrancing. Huh. It felt strangely familiar, as if the essence of She abided within the very mineral of the crystal itself. In fact, the shade of yellow reminded her of the bright sunshine twinkling over an open sea. The sun, raw energy that supported the tendrils of life, dangled from that chain.
“Happy birthday, my dear De’alla. Bend your head now.”
Dee instantly obeyed, dipping her head so the shorter woman could slip the necklace around her neck. The moment it touched the skin at the vee of her breasts, she was falling. Falling into the very heart of the stone, enveloped, thrilled yet comforted by the energy that whipped from the depths of her spirit and connected with the shard.
“Oh my god. Oh shit!” The floor came up to meet her. Fast.
Angela latched ont
o her elbow and held her with a strength that shouldn’t have been possible given her size and petite stature.
“Hold on, child. Easy now. Just breathe slowly. It will pass,” Angela said.
And the woman was right. Slowly her lungs relaxed so she could begin to breathe normally. Angela’s mouth wasn’t moving but De’alla heard the words all the same.
“In the world outside of these walls you will feel like an outcast. But you are not a misfit, but special.”
“Huh?” It was all she could manage to say as she waited for the room to stop spinning.
“This crystal—” Miss Angela was careful to touch only the chain as she lifted it from Dee’s chest. A rainbow of color burst from the center and reflected off the walls as if the glow of the candles on the small table had been magnified tenfold. “This small piece of the ancients is yours to protect, just as your sisters have one to protect. You are each responsible for one of eight shards, gems older than the foundations of the Earth itself.”
“But, but why?” Dee whispered, unable to take her eyes off the jewel. Feeling the warmth of it seep into her soul and become one with her.
“The world and everything in it was intended to move in harmony. Music is one of your favorite pastimes, is it not? Imagine a beautifully composed piece of music with every string, every woodwind and brass all playing the correct notes. The singers open their mouths. The soprano is perfect, alto on tune. But when the tenor joins the notes are off. Doesn’t it also make all the music sound skewed? Harmony, balance, however you want to say it, is necessary in all things, physical and spiritual, on this plane and the next. And you, De’alla, are one of the key instruments in this symphony. One of the Chosen.”
“Ch-cho…what?” As if in anticipation of the Headmistress’s words, unreasonable fear gripped her heart.
“Chosen, De’alla. You, your sisters and your mates were chosen before birth to pull mankind back from the brink of destruction by one of the most wretched creations ever formed. Asmodeus. Before you ask, he is a demon. A force of purely wicked intent that has been orchestrating the decline of man from the moment he was cursed by those who Chose you.”
“Let me guess, this Asmo-what’s-his-butt is after me and my sisters?”
“In a word, yes.”
Damn, she’d only been kidding. Shit!
“Your piece of the Heart will strengthen your intuition and powers. It will calm you when you are faced with danger. Give clarity when you are confused.”
It sounded just like…her sisters. They each did that for her—strengthened. Calmed. Gave clarity.
“You have all spent a great deal of time together over the years, learning each others’ likes, dislikes. Sharing happy times and not so happy ones. Exploring your natural abilities,” Angela continued.
So true. None of them shared a single drop of blood, not a bit of DNA, nor a single gene. But the bond between them was true and absolute. De’alla didn’t care. Memory, Charlotte and Lil Miss Kenna were her sisters in every sense of the word, and would forever remain.
Perhaps it was because they each had a special gift? Memory had the ability to project the things she saw onto canvas or film. Dee was sure she would become famous from the unique and gorgeous photos she produced. After all, there couldn’t possibly be any art more lifelike than the images from Memory’s mind. Even just two years out of the orphanage, Memory already worked as an intern for one of the most famous fashion photographers in San Francisco.
Charlotte, quiet, loving and introverted, was a skilled empath. Well, more skilled now anyway. She used to be a walking disaster, an emotional basket case as a child. Now she controlled her empathic abilities better and knew how to wield them with effectiveness to keep them all safe from those who meant them harm.
McKenna was the youngest, but in no way was she the one who needed the most looking after. Even at sixteen the girl had most of the senior students afraid of her. Dee knew that Kenna believed her ability to control energies with psychokinesis to be a curse. Yet there was no denying the little imp’s skill in butt-kickery had been enhanced as she matured. It was certainly appreciated over the years, especially whenever they’d been bullied in school.
As for her own talent, Dee had often entertained her sisters when bathing or showering with her ability to control water of any form, even the particles in the very air around them. Her gift to listen, literally listen to She, the essence of nature itself, had gotten them out of more than one jam.
Dee shared everything with these girls. Everything.
“So, can I tell my sisters?”
“Yes, but only after they’ve received their own crystals to protect.”
Those words set off an explosion of recollection in De’alla’s mind. She remembered. Remembered the night Miss Angela had summoned Memory on her eighteenth birthday. Her sister had crept out of bed unseen, or so she thought. Memory hadn’t known that Dee followed her as far as the door that led out of the dorm buildings. Memory had been wrapped in a coat so puffy she looked like the Pillsbury Doughboy as she ran out into the night. And De’alla had watched through a window as her sister reached the chapel doors and disappeared inside. This very chapel.
Oh. My. Freaking. God.
Dee hadn’t given it much thought since then but she’d needled Memory to no end that night two years ago when she’d crept to the Chapel only to return an hour later with an entrancing crystal. It had been suspended from her neck on the neatest pure silver link chain. But Memory wouldn’t spill. Would only say it was a gift from Miss Angela for her birthday. But now Dee was glad Memory had kept the secret of what the crystal represented. Why? Because Dee would have sworn her sister had gone bonkers and crossed over to the dark side of lunacy is why.
With a gasp she reached for the chain then snatched her fingers back. “Memory has one. The color is different. She’s never talked to me about it, but I remember…”
“You remember what, De’alla?”
“N-nothing. Sorry. Uh, you were saying?”
“Memory has been given her piece of destiny, so to speak. She is the only one you may speak with about this. When Charlotte receives hers, both you and Memory may share the joys, pains and wonders of your callings with her. And the same when little McKenna receives hers. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.” So now they had yet another secret to share between them? Oh joy. “Whoa, back up. What do you mean pains?” Dee asked.
“The piece you wear is part of a set that when combined does two things. First it creates a gem, the Hearts of Fire. It will guide you and the other Chosen to long lost mysteries of the ancients hidden in various places in the earth. The reasons for this will become clear with time. Second, the Heart will unleash power enough to defeat Asmodeus.”
“But why does he want us, Miss Angela? Nobody has ever wanted us but ourselves.”
“He wants, needs you because you are his only way into this world.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. How can he be after us if he isn’t here?”
“Because, my smart one, it is through the power of the Hearts of Fire that Asmodeus can manifest into this realm permanently. He would no longer be required to influence events, but could create them firsthand. In the meantime he is limited in that he can only appear as flesh and blood for short periods before his energy is depleted. Then he must take the time to replenish it. And time is not on his side. But do not be fooled into thinking that because he cannot permanently manifest that he is no threat. You, your sisters and your mates must…”
“Wait, what mates? None of us have any mates. Memory is concentrating on her art. I’m headed to Japan for school. Hell, Charlotte and Kenna aren’t even of age yet.” She was yelling, but couldn’t seem to rein in her temper. The thought of anyone, anything coming after the people she loved most in life just flat-out pissed her off as much as it terrified her.
“You will indeed find a male who is Chosen, just as you are. But take care. Asmo-what’s-his-butt, as you call
him, is wily. Quite talented at seducing women and men alike, twisting their sexual desires into perversion. He will attempt to trick you into accepting him, mating with him. If he is successful, he will use you as his source of life energy to sustain his physical form. When he’s done with you, he’ll take your crystal and move on to the next Chosen. If he gathers all eight, you cannot imagine…”
Oh this just got better and better.
But it didn’t cross De’alla’s mind to back away from the challenge. Her sisters were in danger. And come hell or high water, she would protect them to the best of her ability. If it meant finding ancient crystal things left by old people and fighting freaky-assed demon guys, then she would do it.
But first, she had a little more to learn.
Not bothering to find a chair, De’alla plopped right down on the floor, crossed her legs and said, “Miss Angela, tell me about the ancients and anything else you can before I have to leave in the morning. Oh, and I’ll be taking some of these dusty-assed books with me too.”
Miss Angela looked down with a gentle smile. “I expected nothing less, De’alla. We will talk awhile. As for the books, they have already been shipped to Japan and will be there to meet you when you arrive.”
De’alla let her determination echo through the words she tossed back at her mentor. “I expected nothing less, Miss Angela.”
* * * * *
Two years later
De’alla absently rubbed the spot just beneath the stone of the necklace she never, ever took off. The skin still tingled a bit. Had since last night when she’d been in the shower and a surge of energy almost took her to her knees. Instinctively, De’alla had reached out to her sisters, wondering if they’d felt what she had.
Thoughts, images and words filtered easily into her head—Charlotte’s tears of joy had been almost tangible. Memory’s happiness was laced with a sarcastic threat to mind-paste, as Dee called it, Dee’s boobs onto canvas since she’d accidentally flashed her sisters in her excitement to communicate with them. It wasn’t her fault, damn it. She’d been naked in the shower and overwhelmed by the sudden connection of Kenna’s crystal to her own.
