Gravestones & Wicked Bones (Shadow Creatures Book 1)

by D. D. Miers

  My succubus allowed me to travel through the world without being noticed, it was all still the same and yet completely different. And it wasn’t just in appearance, it was also the objects and people you encountered. Things were different in the shifting world and I had to take care to remember myself. I could easily end up trapped in this space between the living and the dead.

  I stopped by the mini-bar on my way out the door. Each bottle was filled with a strange, thick, black liquid I'd never seen before. The labels were written in some unreadable, ancient tongue, which would probably summon an Eldritch horror, a grotesque abomination with unnatural powers.

  Sometimes, it's the little things that tip you off.

  Slowly, I walked out into the hallway, barefoot. I walked like a ballet dancer, toe-to-heel. Graceful and silent. The elevator took me up two floors, following the glowing trail to Dante's room. It grew stronger the closer I got to him.

  And I could hear his voice. He called to me, without even knowing it. His magic called to mine.

  Ivy.

  On his door, in place of the electronic card reader, there was an old-fashioned brass keyhole. I knew without looking I'd find the matching skeleton key in my pocket.

  A gift to myself. The gift Dante had given me, by opening his mind and soul to my influence. His trust.

  He gave it too easily.

  I slid the key into the lock.

  Ivy.

  The door opened slowly, but he was already rising to meet me. In this world, he still looked like himself, a dark shadow rising out of the pale, unconscious body on the bed. When I blinked a certain way, I thought I saw the flickering of wings, but I must have imagined it.

  His soul was fearsome and beautiful. His deep-set eyes burned like embers. Before I could close the distance between us, his shadow form flashed and appeared inches from me, grabbing my face and pulling it close to his.

  Ivy.

  I didn't have it in me to feel smug. Yes, he was making this much easier than I thought it would be—but the pull was equally powerful on both sides. I'd never encountered anything like this before. A rush went through my body when he touched me, even the pang of guilt when I looked down at his sleeping form, still resting on the bed, couldn't stop me, couldn't hold me back now.

  I needed this, just as much as he did.

  The memory of my last conversation with Bastian came to me, unbidden.

  “I don't get what you need me for. Can't you just . . . inject him with some crazy purple knockout gas?”

  “You don't understand, doll. He’s stronger than you realize. Much stronger. Not just in his body, but in his mind and his soul. He'll resist us. The only way to incapacitate him in the physical world is to drain his spirit first. So, see why I need your gift?”

  My gift and curse. It seemed like both as Dante's fingers closed around my wrist.

  "Ivy." His voice penetrated every defense I had.

  I needed to shut him up.

  Leaning in and up, I captured his mouth with mine.

  Instantly, my body shook with electrified power. The connection between us, stronger than I ever could have imagined. I knew it wasn't just my doing. Even as my influence slowly gained sway over him, tendrils of my powers grabbed onto his strength and tugged it free, sapping it. I still felt galvanized.

  I wouldn't be surprised if my hair was standing on end. Goosebumps rose all over my skin, and Dante let out a tortured groan, muffled by my merciless kiss.

  If he knew what was happening, it was already too late. I could feel his strength infusing my veins, flowing through my body. He wouldn't be able to fight back, not now.

  With each passing moment, I grew stronger. More unstoppable. Even so, his fire engulfed me. Tendrils of smoke rose all around us.

  Even as his spirit wavered and collapsed around me, shattering, I could still feel his fire.

  * * *

  I came back to myself in this world, gasping and sweating and shaking.

  It was sunrise.

  Immediately, I forced myself to stand. I didn't have much time. I had to be quick.

  I yanked open the door to the mini-bar, half expecting to find the strange, caustic liquid still there. But, of course, everything was back to normal. I grabbed a diminutive water bottle and chugged it in one go.

  Then, it was off to Dante's floor in the real world.

  I clutched the switchblade in my pocket, trying to stay grounded in this reality.

  As I approached his room, I spotted the housekeeping cart just down the hall. Perfect. This would be even easier than I thought.

  "Excuse me," I said softly, approaching the woman. "I'm so sorry; I've been locked out of my room. Is there any way you can let me in?"

  I didn't have much energy left, but it was just enough influence to convince this woman not to send me packing to the front desk.

  "Do you have your ID on you?" she asked, key card already in hand.

  "I can show it to you as soon as you let me in," I told her. "I'm so sorry—thank you so much."

  She nodded, breathing in my influence with every inhale. By the time she had his door open, she would've already forgotten about my promise.

  "Thank you, thank you," I babbled as she pushed the door open. "You're a lifesaver." I shoved a stack of bills into her hand, just in case.

  Heart pounding with adrenaline, I backed against the closed door and stared at the massive bed in front of me. Dante lay prone, one arm dangling off the edge of the mattress, his breathing so shallow, I had to hold my own breath to see the movement.

  I advanced toward him slowly. But he didn't stir as I approached. Not a single sound or movement as I pulled out the delicate orange-red blade. I smoothed back the covers and revealed Dante’s tattooed chest.

  At the center of his breast bone rested three rows of words written in Latin. I ghosted my fingers along the letters. I could’ve sworn they moved, but I shook off the idea. I hesitated, then sliced across the center of his heavily inked chest, exactly where Bastian had told me to.

  Deep red, almost black blood, oozed out of the wound. I set the vial against his flesh letting it seep in, slow like honey.

  I glanced to my left and noticed a tray of leftover room service resting on the bedside table. A large jagged steak knife and fork sat atop the empty plate.

  Had Bastian lied? Did I really need this particular blade?

  I removed the dagger, watching as the wound began to close again and the blood retracting into Dante’s flesh. I grabbed the steak knife and reluctantly sliced at Dante’s chest.

  Nothing happened.

  I pushed harder.

  Again nothing.

  I used all of my strength, taking strikes at his arms and stomach. Still nothing.

  So it was true.

  What the hell was this man? I’d heard of supernaturals with all sorts of powers and abilities, but the power to not be wounded by a knife? That was a new one. I wanted to stick around and run a few more experiments, perhaps search for answers in his room, but there wasn’t time—and in truth, it wasn’t any of my business.

  With his blood in my possession, I went into the hallway and power-walked to the elevator.

  I had held up my end of the deal. Now, it was up to Bastian to uphold his.

  * * *

  I didn't have much time to sleep before my flight home and even less inclination to do so. The effects of siphoning Dante’s soul had my succubus flying high, but my body was exhausted, and I needed my strength. Besides, I could take some time to relax. Dante wouldn’t rise until long after my flight home. After a few cups of herbal tea and some pacing in my room, I was finally able to lie down in bed and let myself drift off.

  My rest wasn’t soothing at all. I fell into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning as the truth of my actions weighed on me. I’d been guilty of the very thing I hated Lila for. I betrayed someone who’d trusted me. No, this was even worse. Dante offered to protect me, and I truly believe he wanted to. But what other option did
I honestly have? No one screws with Bastian, and my sisters’ futures were at risk.

  No. Good or bad, I’d made the right choice. The only choice.

  Hours into my rest, Dante came to me, just like I came to him. But different. He was vengeance, fire, and brimstone. I knew at once we were still in the ethereal plane, but it didn’t minimize the wave of fear and guilt. Smoke and hellfire followed his every movement as he stormed toward me. In real life, he was commanding and fierce, but on this plane of existence, he exuded an altogether terrifying savageness.

  He grabbed me by the jaw and the embers in his eyes flared with a deep burnt orange.

  "I’m not certain of what you’ve done to me, dark vixen, but know this. I will come for you. No matter where. No matter how far."

  He traced a finger along my jaw and tugged me forward until his mouth was flush against my ear.

  “Sleep tight, Ivy. I’ll see you soon.”

  Chapter 7

  Dante

  I blinked and brought the palm of my hand to my forehead. Sliding my fingers down to the bridge of my nose, I pinched and inhaled deeply. Like someone had slammed a blade between my eyes and left it, pain receptors erupted and tingled throughout my body. My vision blurred.

  Was I hungover? How could I be? I had a few glasses of the humans’ cheap scotch, but I was missing something. A bigger piece to the picture.

  What was I forgetting? My mind had a hazy spot. I could remember Jacoby.

  Piece of shit Jacoby.

  He had nearly knocked the door to my suite off its hinges. The other goons of Samil’s trailed behind him equipped with the curved blades of bonding. I hadn't seen more than one etched with the ancient symbols in person, let alone three.

  When they finally left . . . what happened when they left? Something, no, someone was missing from my memory.

  Ivy.

  She refused to hide out and instead took a trapeze act out the patio balcony. Frustrated and furious, I decided to kill whatever liquid I could from the mini-bar. It shouldn't have affected me. Couldn’t have affected me. Which meant someone had drugged me. But who? And why?

  The only people who could’ve done anything to me were Jacoby—or Ivy. I hated to think the first woman to pique my interest in a hundred years had turned out to be just another ruse in my life.

  Bloody hell. That kiss.

  Just before Jacoby had ruined my entire night, I tasted pure bliss only to have it— her—disappear moments later. My demon swarmed to the surface, flashing the memories of her coming back to my room and practically giving herself to me. But it was just a dream, wasn’t it?

  I picked up my cell and texted the one person I could always trust.

  Dark shit went down last night. Monte Carlo, Suite 214. Now.

  Not even fifteen minutes later, Brax stood in the doorway, hands in pockets, calmer than I could ever hope to be.

  A connoisseur of sorts, Brax was an expert in Dark Magic. A fifth-generation warlock. If shit got weird, he’s the man to call. Over the decades, he’d helped me out of some crazy situations. As soon as he set foot in the room, I recapped the night before—or the parts I could remember anyway.

  I thought about where to begin. The casino lobby just after Jacoby’s threat.

  "I saw her, beautiful, a force. She sat down at the slot machines and I approached her. I asked her what she was. After a few drinks, I brought her back to the suite. I kissed her.” I rubbed at the bridge of my nose, trying to clear my head. “Then, Jacoby showed up, looking to fight. She took off, and after they’d gone, I started drinking, hard."

  Brax sat on the sofa, eyes pensive, fingers steepled. "Can you tell me more specifics about her?" he asked.

  "Dark hair, about this tall." I held two fingers up to where the top of her head met my body. "Beautiful, powerful, but she was hiding something. Darkness, pain . . . madness."

  “Are you sure it was the liquor and not magic?”

  I stared off toward the bed, wondering why Ivy had used me and for what purpose?

  “Dante?” Brax’s voice echoed through.

  "Sorry.” I shook my head and paced the room, “Just confused. I’m never confused. I don't like it."

  "How about anything she might have touched? Do you have anything in here which might have her essence on it? A glass she drank from, a piece of her clothing? Anything?"

  Brax looked concerned. Now he had me worried.

  I looked around the suite and saw the scotch glass with her lip prints on it. "Yes, actually." I collected the glass from the counter and handed it to Brax for inspection.

  He turned it in his hands, studying every possible angle. Then, while holding the glass between both hands, one on top, the other on bottom, he closed his eyes and focused. I never interrupted one of his castings. You didn't get between Brax and his work. Not unless you wanted to lose a finger or something even more valuable.

  "I see a dark female. Casual clothes? Large, dark eyes?" Brax squinted at me from one eye.

  I nodded.

  "She’s watching you. Last night from the shadows; there’s a blank spot, almost shadowing parts of what happened.” He focused again “Hours after you passed out, she returned to your room. Convinced the hotel staff to let her in. A glamour, it looks like.” He smiled. “Oh, damn, she’s good.”

  Brax always had an appreciation for advanced magic, especially when it came so effortlessly. “After, she came into your room . . ."

  He paused for almost a full minute.

  "Yes?" I asked impatiently.

  "It goes fuzzy, like I’m having telepathic interference or something.” Brax looked truly confused.

  "Why do you think?"

  “Could be an array of reasons.” He waved a hand through the air. “She didn’t have enough contact with the object, magic being blocked, or the late night I had last night.”

  He tipped the glass and placed his mouth against it, tasting the spot where Ivy’s lips had been. An odd irritation settled into my gut.

  "I see a blade . . . and . . . an airplane. Not a reason why. It’s too muddled to know what’s relevant.” He sat back onto the sofa and rubbed his temples. “From all accounts, it looks like she played you. The question now, is why?"

  The tattoos along my back twisted and swirled furiously. "Any idea where she’s headed?"

  Brax tried to reach out one last time, despite the exhaustion threatening to consume him. He started to shake his head and then stopped. "I see a boarding pass.” The edges of his eyes tightened. “Looks like Palm Springs."

  The desert.

  And not just any desert, but the only one near Palm Springs the Dark Fae favored. Right smack on the ley lines.

  Shit. I knew exactly where Ivy was.

  Shelton Sea had become a major hub over the last twenty years. Hotter than the surface of the sun, the weather sucked ass, but you couldn’t’ beat the location. So close to the lines, magic could be magnified, manipulated, altered. It drew in all sorts of supernatural beings. Who wouldn’t want access to them? Ley lines were invisible power markers that conducted magical energy, the equivalent of a magic high.

  There were close to 150 ley line locations around the world. It sounded like a lot, but in the scheme of things, it wasn’t shit. Ley line territories were fought over harder than any other locations in our world. Whoever headed up the territory had likely sent Ivy, but why?

  I slammed my fist against the wall, leaving a visible dent twice the size of a baseball. My temper had clouded all rational thought. I scooped up my bag and threw it down on the massive bed.

  Brax hopped up suddenly "Whoa, what are you doing?"

  "I’m going to Shelton Sea."

  “You don’t even know she took anything.”

  “My point exactly. I don’t know. And I need to know.”

  "Remember where you’re going, Dante. The ley lines are complicated places. When’s the last time you’ve been to one?”

  Close to a hundred years, but whatever. I was now on a mi
ssion—for blood. She had tricked me. Seduced me. Made me believe she wanted me. I had gone along like some horny, desperate teenager. What the hell had gotten into me?

  She had. Now I needed to know why.

  And then it happened. As if a floodgate was opened. It might have been my anger had turned the key, but a single memory resurfaced. One which sealed her fate. Sealed my own. I saw her, there in the shifting world. It wasn't something I had imagined or even dreamed. She had visited me, drained my powers and done . . . something. Taken something. She would pay—in blood or worse.

  "Brax," I said returning to the living room.

  "What?"

  He was ashen when I turned my fiery gaze on him. My fury had to be something horrifying because I had seen his look on many faces—usually right before I bashed them in.

  "She drained me."

  Brax rose from the couch. "How? I didn't see it."

  "I don't know how. But now it makes sense. The haze, the confusion. She kissed me, that has to be how she did it. How she overpowered me. Some kind of magic in her kiss." I paused. “I… I’m pretty certain I told her I was coming for her.”

  “That’s why you couldn’t remember—or at least the physical you couldn’t. Your spirit knew, but your body needed time to catch up.”

  I considered my options for a moment. "I need your help, if you’re willing.”

  “Of course,” he said.

  “I’m not sure what to expect, but she’s powerful, and I imagine her keeper is even stronger."

  "Whatever you need.” He grabbed his phone out of his back pocket. “Let me make a few calls. Get us as much info as I can.”

  Twenty minutes later, I’d showered, and Brax returned from pacing outside on the balcony. He plopped onto the couch across from me.

  “So?” I asked.

  He grabbed an orange from the complimentary basket on the table and peeled the skin. “Your girl is probably property of Bastian Marquis.”

  The same heat from last night simmered under my flesh at the thought of Ivy belonging to anyone. I shouldn't care. She’d betrayed me, and I wanted revenge now, didn’t I? I started to wonder about this Bastian. Maybe he was to blame, and not her, if she was acting under his rule. Regardless, she had broken the cardinal rules—don't drain Dante.