by Misty Evans
He followed me into the bedroom, set down the coffee and the envelope on my nightstand. “I didn’t tell the group anything. Someone else snitched the information to the Nocts.” His eyes flashed with seriousness. “Damon and I think the snitch is inside here. Inside the Institute.”
I laughed. “You and Damon best buds now? He know you’re a Noct?”
He didn’t answer. I shook my head, more than annoyed. “There’s no one inside the Institute leaking information. You’re making it up to cover your own ass.”
His eyes dulled. “I know you don’t want to believe it, but it is possible. There’s an outside chance the snitch was a vamp, but that’s not likely. Not even rogue vamps talk to humans and the rogues wouldn’t have known the exact day and time of the coronation. They’re shunned. They’re not in the vampire loop. No one but the upper echelon vamps and Bridge employees knew the date, time and place of the coronation. Oh, and Hone.”
That he would suggest Hone was a snitch was even more ludicrous than suggesting a Bridge employee. “Any other fantasies you want to admit to? Strange hallucinations? Alien probes?”
“Look,” he paced to the bed and back. “There are a lot of things you don’t know, Kali. Keep an open mind and think about what you know and who you know. Damon’s imprisoned you here for more reasons than keeping you safe.”
My own imagination was all too willing to jump to conclusions where Damon was involved. “He’s using me to draw out the snitch.”
Rad stayed quiet, confirming my suspicions and letting me absorb that fact.
My legs went a little weak, so I shuffled past him and plopped down on the bed.
He leaned over, gave me a soft kiss on my cheek. “I have to go. Concert’s at seven. Damon said you could come. Meantime,” he squeezed my arm, “stay safe and don’t trust anyone. Not Cole. Not Yasmin or Kirill. Not even Damon.”
After he left, my mind swam with his conspiracy theory and Damon’s suspected deceit. Was Rad Damon’s source inside the Noctifectors? Was there really a double agent inside these walls?
I picked up the coffee, took a sip. The warm, dark roast flavor slid down my throat with comforting ease. The white envelope tempted me. I set down the coffee, picked it up. Two tickets to a Diamonds and Denim charity event for one of the local children’s hospitals were enclosed. The event was for that night at the Blackstone ballroom.
On one hand, it would get me out of my prison. On the other, it seemed strange Damon would allow me to go after making such a big deal about my safety.
The door to my suite creaked open and a moment later Damon stood before me, eyeing my pjs with mock concern. Either he didn’t like Goth Hello Kitty or he saw the consternation on my face. “I see you got the tickets.”
I set them down and studied the Archdemon who could read my mind. “You hold me prisoner in the Institute but you’re willing to let me go to a rock concert at the Blackstone?”
“Not a rock concert, Kali. A job for the Council.”
“You said you were limiting my jobs.”
“I am. This job, however, requires special handling, and since I will be accompanying you, you’ll be perfectly safe.”
“Wait. You’re going to the concert with me?”
He crossed his arms over his chest and looked amused. “Since you’ve been avoiding me, I thought this would give us time to discuss my plans for you.”
I had the feeling his plan was going to be very tempting but very dangerous.
Rad’s words rang in my head. Don’t trust anyone. Not even Damon.
But who could I trust? Rad?
That was a dangerous plan indeed.
“I want my badge back and I want Cole and Maddy to go with us.”
Damon smiled and the challenge in his eyes, as tempting and dangerous as his plan, made me swallow hard. “Done.”
Toel was still out there. And I wasn’t going to find him sitting inside the Institute. One way or the other, I had to get out.
Show no fear. Act like an equal.
I hopped off the bed and gave my boss, the Archdemon, a full-on smile back. “I’m in.”
Glossary of Terms
Alciscor—vengeance demon, based on Ulciscor, the Latin term for to take vengeance for, avenge.
Cupiditas—demon
Dominus vobiscum, et cum spiritu tuo—The Lord be with you, and your spirit also
Erinyes—Greek earth deity of vengeance
Errore colossale—colossal mistake
Fermati—that’s enough
Giganto—gigantic, enormous
Giuro davanti a dio—so help me God
Il pistolino—dick, prick
Khanda—Indian double-edge straight sword used for hacking and cutting
Merde—shit
Noctifector—demon slayer belonging to the Roman Catholic Church’s secret organization; slang term Slayer, Noct
Porca miseria—miserable pig
Psuhke—Greek derivation of Latin term “psyche” and means breath, life, soul
Spiritu sancto—by the Holy Spirit
Straordinario—exceptional
Stretchers—Titans, deities that overstretched their powers to screw with lesser gods and goddesses as well as humans
Tempter—demon who tempts other supernaturals
Testa de cazzo—dickhead
Ti voglio bene—I love you
Tortura—torture
Vitiums—vices
Volante—flying
Vaffanculo—fuck you, fuck off
Author’s Notes
The Italian language varies by region and dialect but is a wonderful source of swear words as well as passionate romantics. I used a variety of sayings in this text from a nice group of resources, including real Italians. Some terms don’t translate precisely, but you get the idea!
While there were many royal Marias in Europe during the Middle Ages, the Queen Maria in this story is a fictitious character I made up. The real women were just as ambitious as my demon queen and some were fairly hard on their subjects, so I had a lot of fodder to draw from.
The Roman Empire during the eighteenth century was a bloody one and torture was a common practice.
Vlad the Impaler was actually Vlad III, Prince of Wallachia. His father was a member of the Order of the Dragon (Dracul) and according to historical references, Dracula means son of the Dragon. He was a tyrant who took pleasure in torturing and killing his enemies and it’s estimated his victims numbered in the tens of thousands. Impalement by stake was his preferred method.
Mary Magdalene and her relationship with Jesus have been questioned many times over the years. Religious experts, practitioners, and historical researchers have differing theories about the woman and the role she played in early times. Some believe she was a prostitute. Others believe she was Jesus’ most beloved disciple, and that He trusted her over Peter in constructing the Christian church. A few believe she was Jesus’ wife.
Lilith is another interesting female character in religious and historical circles. At one end of the spectrum, she is ostracized for being the embodiment of sin and the mother of demons. At the other, she is worshipped for the very reasons my character, Victoria, states. As in my Witches Anonymous series, I’ve used her character as an evil entity because she’s a formidable opponent. If you’d like to read more about her, Lucifer and Amy, check out my Witches Anonymous series.
La Pavoni was indeed the father of espresso machines, inventing the early models in 1905. The Med on Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley is also a real place with a rich history and wicked good lattes.
Sweet Chaos
A Kali Sweet Urban Fantasy Story
Book 2
Misty Evans
Three hundred years later, the ghosts from her past are hunting for revenge.
The past always finds a way to bite you in the ass.
As a three-hundred-year old vengeance demon, I’ve made a lot of enemies. The worst was Queen Maria, the Italian Court’s most devious succubus and a
ruler who used me as a weapon of mass destruction to inflict pain and kill hundreds of humans in her torture chambers.
Now she’s back, this time as a ghost, and she’s invited a new friend to the party—a vampire king who wants my head on a stake. Together they’re bringing a war to Chicago that will topple the carefully constructed world I’ve protected for centuries.
But I’m Kali Sweet. I never run from my past…and I’m not about to hide from my present.
Dedication
To you, the readers and fans of Kali and Rad.
Rock on.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to the readers and reviewers who enjoyed getting revenge along with Kali in the last book. I hope you enjoy her new adventures in Sweet Chaos.
Special thanks to editors and beta readers Michelle, Amy and Judy.
I’ve included a glossary of terms at the end of the book as well as the link to the full version of Rad’s song for Kali, Whisper in the Dark.
You can find that and more at www.readmistyevans.com.
Chapter One
I’m the best at what I do, but what I do isn’t nice.
Unless you’re a human I’m saving from a demon. Then you might appreciate my enforcer skills. For those who step on the wrong toes, however, my vengeance services will probably leave you in pain or dead.
The biggest lesson I’ve learned after three hundred years of being a vengeance demon has nothing to do with justice or revenge. It has to do with love.
Love changes every game. Human or demon, once you love someone, they become your Achilles’ heel.
Bass music thumped a hard tempo against the plexiglass windows of the VIP booth upstairs at club Fright Night. Lights flashed across the dance floor, throwing a jagged spotlight on pole dancers dressed in triangles of green and red fabric. A variety of supernaturals moved to the rhythm of a Christmas classic remixed with a Euro trance beat.
I couldn’t decide whether to plug my ears or tap my foot.
On the table, my cellphone buzzed, a text message lighting up the ID display with Maddy’s favorite moniker for my Achilles’ heel: Rock God.
Translation: Radison Beaumont.
The VIP booth had to be rocking eighty degrees, and yet, seeing his name made goose flesh rise on my arms and down my back.
Achilles’ heel was an understatement.
Beside me, sipping Jack Daniels from a squat glass, my bodyguard, Cole, glanced at the phone before returning his gaze to the club below. His eyes swept the bar and the customers, scanning everyone for weapons, magical or not. There were plenty of weapons, but few supernaturals who would attack us unprovoked. After all, Cole is a War demon and I’m Kali Sweet, the best damn vengeance demon on earth. Tangle with either of us and you’ll be eating your intestines for breakfast.
The phone buzzed again. I slipped it off the table, going for discreet, and opened the text.
I need to see you.
Ignoring the text and the second shiver running down my spine, I set the black phone back on the table and tapped my foot more from nerves than the beat. “I’ll give Dru one more minute and then we’re out of here.”
Cole and I loathed sitting in a strip club in downtown Chicago, loathed being kept waiting by a pack of vampires. But when you’re queen of the region’s Undead population—even if it’s in name only—duty sometimes calls.
My phone buzzed once more, this time vibrating like an angry bee. I wondered if Rad had sent extra chaos juice through the invisible airwaves. Being discreet seemed like a lost cause, but I slipped the phone into my lap anyway before opening the message.
Tonight.
Demanding, that one.
I hate demanding.
Rad’s chaotic energy flowed from that simple word, reaching me even through the damn phone. I slammed it down on the table and sighed, the sharp breath lifting my bangs.
”Guitar Boy harassing you?” Cole sipped his whiskey, gaze lingering for a moment on a redheaded witch wearing enough crystal bling to rival a Vegas showgirl. She caught Cole watching her, swiveled her hips and blew him a kiss. Cole’s gaze moved on.
Harassing was a good word for Rad’s constant demands. He was my blood slave—thanks to the city’s previous vamp king—and needed to drink from me once a week. Lately, it seemed once a week wasn’t enough. I’d set up a well-guarded blood supply for him and my other slave, Arman, in the blood bank run by the Tempter demon Chloe under the club, but Rad preferred drinking directly from the source.
Truth was I preferred the direct route too. Usually we ended up doing more than sharing blood.
That was a major problem. Being a vengeance demon who worked for the Bridge Council to protect humans from supernaturals, I was breaking Bridge law by having blood slaves since both Rad and Arman were half-human.
Worse, I couldn’t afford to get involved with a guy who tangled my emotions into a knotted mess, even if he was a sexy half-demon, half-human rock star and the love of my pathetic, three-hundred-year-old life. Every time I got close to Rad, I got hurt. Others got hurt. Hurt as in dead.
Not to mention he was a Noctifector—a demon hunter—and my name had a bright red bull’s-eye around the number one spot on the Noct kill list.
Hence, Cole was my constant bodyguard these days, and our boss Damon, head of the Bridge Council, had insisted I move into the Bridge Institute for security reasons.
Being a hermit by nature, I found living in the supernatural equivalent of a massive college dorm with my boss and his council cronies watching my every move akin to my worst nightmare.
Pocketing the phone in my red cape, I stood. “I have three cases for Sweet Investigations to take care of tonight. I can’t wait any longer.”
Cole tossed back the last of his whiskey, stood alongside me, his gaze continuing to scan the club for possible troublemakers. “Dru and his brothers already hired you to hunt down Toel and take revenge for their father’s murder. What’s with this theatrical performance?”
“They want to send a message to reestablish their place in the supe world. You kill Vlad the Impaler and you end up with Kali Sweet on your ass. No better place than here to assert their position against Toel and make sure every supe in Chicago knows I’m gunning for him.”
As if our discussion generated Dru’s appearance, a warm tingle ran through my veins. I wasn’t a vampire—thank the devil—but I’d been injected with the previous vamp king’s blood, making me sensitive to the Undead. The more time I spent around the Chicago vamps, especially Alexandru, the House Master, the more sensitive I became. The moment my blood warmed, I knew Dru and his brothers had arrived.
First through the door was a petite female vamp dressed in body hugging black leather. Her blonde hair was secured in a high ponytail and she’d flipped up the collar of her trench coat.
As Dru’s security detail, she looked harmless enough, but I knew better. She’d spent the past two weeks at the Institute training with me and Cole. Brianna Ann Mullins had been turned by Alexandru—son of the ultimate master vamp, Vlad the Impaler—and carried his ancient royal blood in her veins. So far, she’d been the toughest vamp to come through the Institute.
Her round baby doll eyes searched the balconies and landed on me in the VIP booth. Blood red lips moved in a tight smile and she tilted her head to me—her queen—in a show of respect. Amidst the act and the over-glossed lips, her contempt was obvious.
The demon inside me laughed. Demons and vampires don’t play well together. My appointment to queen and the subsequent exchange of training favors at the Institute had done little to improve relations between the two camps. Although Damon insisted I go the extra mile in treating the vamps with courtesy and respect, I had limits. Brianna had proven adept at pushing me to them.
One of these days, I promised her with my return smile, you’re going to poke this demon and get more than you bargained for.
Her gaze shifted to the ground in mock subservience before rising again and landing on Cole. He tensed, t
he movement so slight, I wouldn’t have noticed it if we hadn’t been spending every waking hour in each other’s presence for the past month. Hell, he practically lived in my skin these days. It had gotten to the point I could tell when he was hungry before he realized it himself.
“If you and Miss Mullins need to talk, you know, about bodyguard—” I searched for the proper term, came up blank, “—stuff, while Dru and I are having our meeting, there are plenty of private rooms down the hall. I can arrange one for you.”
“Nothin’ to talk about.”
“You sure?”
Bottled annoyance. “I don’t do dead girls.”
Since he’d been chained to me, he wasn’t doing any girls. He was even grouchier than normal and I was pretty sure the abstinence had something to do with it. “She’s not dead. Undead, yes, but I sparred with her yesterday, and believe me, she’s very alive and talented in hand-to-hand combat. She’s obviously learned a great deal from you.”
Cole snorted at my backhanded compliment. “I hate vamps.”
“I hate Noctifectors.” I lifted the phone and waggled it in his face. “And I’m still fucking one.”
Another snort, this laced with genuine humor. “You are so damaged.”
My gaze fell on the crowd. Miss Sparkles was trying to catch Cole’s attention again. “What about a witch?”
“Hell, no.”
“She’s a natural redhead.”
