by K Kelly
K. Kelly
Cardinal
The Affinity Chronicles Book One
K. Kelly
Copyright © 2020 K. Kelly
All Rights Reserved
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. K. Kelly is in no way affiliated with any brands, songs, musicians, or artists mentioned in this book. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
All efforts have been made to ensure the correct grammar and punctuation in the book. If you do find any errors, please e-mail K. Kelly: [email protected]
Thank you.
Disclaimer: The material in this book contains graphic language and sexual content and is intended for mature audiences, ages 18 and older.
Editing by Swish Design & Editing
Proofreading by Swish Design & Editing
Book design by Swish Design & Editing
Cover design by Christian Bentulan at Covers by Christian
Cover Image Copyright 2020
Kathleen Kelly writing as K. Kelly
All Rights Reserved
Myths and legends.
Some call them monsters.
The things that hide in the shadows—concealed from human sight.
All but one.
Angelica Adam is someone very special indeed.
Only she doesn’t know it yet.
On her twenty-fifth birthday she takes the subway home—just like every day before—but today something is different.
The shadows are coming to life.
What once was hidden, can now be seen.
But the thing about these legendary monsters…
Some of them are a beauty to behold and some are more horrifying than you can imagine.
How will Angelica react to being the chosen one?
I love things that go bump in the night in books.
I’m not good with things that go bump in the night in real life, and that’s when my hubby, SL, saves me.
For all the times you’ve assured me it’s just a cat, a possum, or pretended to catch that spider or bug and disposed of it outside because I won’t let you kill it.
Thank you.
So, my dear readers, this one is for the one I love the most.
Blurb
Dedication
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Acknowledgments
Connect With Me Online
About The Author
The world has been divided into races, and all are aware except for the humans. If they can find the chosen one, the one who will unite all the races, then and only then will the humans become aware of us.
Occasionally, some of the gifted or the half-breed humans see us, but for the most part, we are the things of myth and legend.
There are eight races.
Choir – Angels
Clutch - Vampires
Coven – Witches
Herd – Faeries
Legion – Demons
Pack - Lycans
Tribe – Humans
Troupe - Elves
The battle is on to find the chosen one. All we know for certain is that she’s female. As for her race, no one knows. Many believe she’ll be of the tribe, but each race hopes she’ll come from their line. For whoever she is, she will wield great power over all.
Each of the races wishes to have control over such power and rule the earth.
Janardan – The World’s Oldest Vampire
The night is ending. After a thousand years of roaming the earth, I can feel it in my bones—that slight prickle as daylight begins its emergence into the world. I haven’t fed. Casting a look around the room, all I can see are drunkards, junkies, or other supernaturals. The demon, Baracus, tilts his head in my direction, and out of habit, I bare my fangs at him. The long-dead feud is not forgotten by either of us. We both lost many during the wars. Slowly, neck exposed, he approaches me.
“What?” I ask in a bored tone.
“You look good, Janardan, but I fear you’ve left your run too late. The humans who are here are neither evil-doers nor worthy of you.”
“You presume to know who’s worthy of me?”
“I meant no offense, only stating a fact.”
Baracus is right. For the better part of four hundred years, I’ve only fed off the underbelly of society—those whose blood is tainted. It’s what’s kept me alive. If I’d allowed myself the innocents, they would have ended me centuries ago. I am the oldest of my kind. I could feed on Baracus, but demon blood tastes awful, and although I could survive on it, I’d prefer not to.
“Why are you here?”
“The Council has demanded an audience of all the races. Isn’t that why you’re here in New York City?”
I shake my head slightly, and the demon lets his mask slip for a moment, and I see the thing underneath. Baracus’ flesh hangs off in places, and his tusks nearly reach his cheekbones. Picture a wild boar, only worse.
“You’re showing your true face to me, why?”
“We both lost many in the war. I have no desire to revisit old wounds. The Council should have invited you since you’re the oldest.”
“The oldest but not in charge, that goes to Levi. I have no desire to usher in the newest generation. They make so many mistakes.”
“Times are changing. The witches believe she’s among us. The one who can unite all the races and bring peace.”
I huff at him and shake my head. Every few decades, the witches believe the great one is among us. And every few decades, they are wrong. It makes sense I wasn’t invited. The last time I was summoned was one hundred years ago. I killed the head of the witches’ coven and had to go into hiding. They cursed me by way of a ring that as I look at it, it begins to glow.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“The witches?”
I sigh and scowl. “Yes, the witches.”
“I know where the meeting is. I could take you?”
The ring begins to burn my skin, and I don’t feel well. “Take me to them. Lead the way.”
Baracus nods, but I know having a predator at your back isn’t a comfortable feeling. Every so often, he glances over his shoulder at me, and time and again, he rubs the back of his neck.
Baracus leads me through the seedy side of New York City, many of his kind hide here. As we pass the fifth demon, I match Baracus’ pace and walk beside him.
“If you try to kill me or one of your kind doe
s, I promise to take you with me,” I state as I stare straight ahead.
“Not tonight, Liberator. I have no desire for a witches’ ring. Those things are certain death.”
Liberator, an old name that I haven’t heard in a long time. I twist the ring around my finger, the burning sensation increases as does the sickness. It overwhelms me, and I lean up against the brick wall of the alley we are in. “How much further?”
“You don’t look good.”
“How much further,” I repeat in a stronger tone.
“Another ten minutes or so. There’s a secret door at the end of this alley.”
I nod at him and push-off, then stumble, and the demon reaches out to steady me. My fangs extend, and I growl in his fake face—the face he projects to the humans—but I know what he is.
“Janardan, you have to trust me. The witches are summoning you, it’s why the ring has been activated. I can help you if you’ll let me.”
“Why?” I ground out.
“There are those of us who believe you’re the key.”
I huff at him and bark out a laugh. “Demon, have you lost your mind? If I were the key, I’d have solved this a long time ago. Instead, my kind is relegated to the darkness, never seeing the light. If I could solve that age-old problem, I would.”
“You believe that when the races are united, your kind will be able to walk in the light?”
“Yes.”
Baracus’ eyes widen. “It would mean the end of the humans.”
“No, I don’t believe it would. There would be rules in place much like there are now.”
I look up at the sky and can see the first flickers of sunlight shoot across. If I don’t get undercover soon, I’ll be in worse shape than I am right now.
“We need to hurry, Baracus. Daylight is here.”
Baracus follows my gaze, nods, and takes off for the end of the alley at a faster pace. For us, it’s a slow jog, but for the humans, we would be beyond their comprehension and appear to them as wind. A blur.
Baracus opens a door, turns left, and opens a trap door, motioning for me to drop down into it.
“If this is a trap, I promise to end you slowly.”
Baracus lets his mask fall away, so I’m left looking into his true face. “I give you my word.”
“Such as it is for a demon.”
I smile at him and jump into the hole, finding myself falling. After ten seconds, I realize I’m in a witches’ trap. I feel like I’m falling, but in truth, I am in one spot. Frozen in time until the witches decide what to do with me. In frustration, I roar into the abyss.
My name is Janardan, liberator from the cycle of birth and death, and I will not be held captive by anyone.
Evie: High Witch
“Well done, Baracus. You brought him to us.”
“He’ll gut me for this. You must let him go. Janardan will not stand for this type of insult.”
I look over at the demon, his true face is on display. “Pull yourself together. Janardan will not be hurt. We only wish to read his aura, and the pit is the easiest way to do it. Vampires often take on the aura of their last meal. This way we’ll see his true colors.”
The demon slips his projected face back on. It’s much better than his real face, handsome even. Baracus purses his lips and shifts from side to side. A small frown furrows his brow.
“Janardan isn’t any vampire. He’s the oldest, and if he wanted to, he could lead the clutch. They wouldn’t be able to say no to him. Evie, please let him go.”
I look at him with distaste. Baracus isn’t telling me something I don’t already know. And I also know as the one who led Janardan to us, he’ll be the first that he goes hunting for. I can’t help it. I smile.
“Relax, this will only take a few minutes. He’s not being harmed, and the spell on the ring is being wound down at the same time. Janardan will be better than he was before.”
“You have to explain to him why you’re doing this!”
I scoff at him. “I don’t answer to you.”
I look back at Janardan as he hangs in mid-air, fangs extended, coat and long brown hair flying upward. He’s no longer thrashing about, his eyes are closed, and I’m guessing he’s using his senses to try and decipher how many of us are around him. Janardan turns his body, opens his eyes, and stares directly at me. Impressive.
I flick a glance at Baracus whose human face has lost all color.
“Be calm, Baracus. He can’t see us. He’s probably zoomed in on my heat signature. Vampires are predictable predators.”
Without looking at me, Baracus speaks. “If you think there’s anything predictable about him, you’re insane. Janardan survived the wars, survived the plagues, and he’s unstoppable.”
“You survived the wars, too, so it doesn’t count for much.”
Janardan laughs as though he’s heard our conversation, but I know that’s not possible. I turn around and walk from the room. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I open the door to the other chamber where our most powerful witches are gathered.
“Well? What’s his aura?”
After the wars, aura colors became harder to identify. And they don’t always mean what they used to. Right now, Baracus’ aura is white, which used to mean pure. This demon is anything but pure.
Abigail, the oldest of us, clucks her tongue. “You’re not going to believe it.”
I sigh and arch an eyebrow at her.
“Cardinal red.”
I gasp and move to the window to see Janardan better.
“Not possible! Could this be a mistake? Are you reading him properly?”
Abigail comes to stand beside me, her long gray hair brushes against my arm.
“Open yourself up, Evie. You’ll see it, too.”
I take in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and open my mind. When I can feel Baracus and the other three witches in the room, I center myself and open my eyes. True enough, the vampire is surrounded in a deep red—cardinal red.
“How can this be?”
Gloria places a hand on my shoulder. “He’s linked to her.”
“No! Janardan has not been included in any Council business. He’s not even the head of his clutch. There is no way,” I state.
Patricia moves to stand next to Abigail. “You see the proof for yourself.”
I close off my mind, and Janardan’s aura fades away. “Do you think he knows where she is?” I ask them.
Abigail shakes her head. “No. You’re right, Janardan knows nothing of the Council’s dealings. For over one hundred years, he’s kept to himself, only dealing with us if he has to. The last time he was called, he killed the head of our order, and that little trinket on his finger keeps him in line. We’d know if he’d found her, she’s the only one who can free him.”
Baracus inhales, and we turn to him.
“Poor demon, you’ve heard way too much,” I say as he backs away from us.
“Do we kill him?” asks Gloria with a grin.
“No, we can’t kill him. He’s the head of his legion, pitiful as he is. Abigail, can you take this day from him?”
The old witch purses her lips and squints at the demon. “Yes, but it will take two of us to purge the day from him. He’ll have no recollection of meeting Janardan or us. Demons are the easiest to manipulate. Although there is a problem. He associates with the angel, Tristan, and if Tristan suspects Baracus has been hexed, he can undo it and release the memory.”
“It’d be easier to kill him,” suggests Gloria.
“As much as I’d like to, we can’t. The legion would come looking for us, and their numbers are large.” I look at Abigail and Patricia. “Do it! Take the day and pray that the angel, Tristan, suspects nothing.”
Angelica Adam
Have you ever noticed how the subway at night is always filled with large hulking men who could break you in half at any moment? But through the day, it’s all business suits and normality. Well, except for the creeper who insists on sitting in t
he same car as me. It’s like he waits for me. I’ve nicknamed him Sam the Stalker. Right now, I’d be happy to have Sam on the platform. I glance up at the group of men at the far end. They’re getting louder, and their rough-housing is becoming more violent. I move further away and position myself behind a tiled pole, hoping they won’t notice me.
“You shouldn’t be down here alone.”
I yelp in surprise and discover a tall man standing next to me. His skin is tanned, and his eyes are bright green, perfectly framed with blond eyebrows. He’s not looking at me though, he’s looking at the men. I follow his gaze, and they’re all looking at us.
“Oh, shit,” I whisper.
“You should leave.”
The men point at us, and one moves toward us.
“Mister, I think we should both leave.”
“I don’t run from legion.”
“Oh, you know them? Is that one called Legion?”
With a smile on his lips, he shakes his head and places two fingers on the middle of my forehead.
“Angelica?”
I move away from his touch.
“How do you know my name?”
He’s not looking at me but behind me. “Run!” he yells.
I cast a look over my shoulder, and the men all seem to have masks on. They look like big, scary trolls.
A scream escapes me, and I run for the subway stairs. Glancing over my shoulder, I look at the man, and he seems taller somehow, and he’s holding a staff.
“Angelica, run, seek the light and the herd,” roars the man.
I don’t need to be told twice. I run as fast as my legs can carry me up the stairs, but when I get to the top, there is no light, only darkness. There must be a blackout.
Running blindly down the street, I’m looking for someone, anyone to protect me. Up ahead, I see a grocery store open, and a man is out the front with a torch. I head for the light and hopefully, safety.
