by Zandria West
BOOK ONE
TO DARKNESS BOUND
Daughter of Shadows
by Zandria West
Daughter of Shadows
Copyright © Zandria West 2019
Creator: West, Zandria., 2019 – author
Subjects: Urban fantasy
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording scanning or by an information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.
First published 2019 by Zandria West
1
LANA
There’s always something happening at Hell on Earth, but tonight I can feel an extra buzz in the air.
A bachelor party is doing shots at one end of the bar – why you’d bring a groom here I really don’t know, unless you’re trying to significantly improve the odds on him not seeing his wedding day. In a booth by the far wall, a bunch of girls in party dresses whisper and giggle. And there, sitting at a small table a little distance from the bar, is Mr Dark and Dangerous.
‘Lurker at nine o’clock, Lana,’ Ellie says as she squeezes past me carrying a tray of Light ‘Em Ups.
‘Yep, spotted that one.’ I pass some change to one of the buck’s night crew, slide his beer across the bar and ignore his attempts to hit on me.
The guy I’ve got my eye on is alone and definitely not a tourist, though I’m not sure what he is. Dark hair, darker eyes, and a darkly brooding expression that he probably just threw on to match. He’s carefully avoided my gaze for at least an hour now, looking down into his drink, over at the door, off into the distance. But I’ve caught him watching me when he thought I wouldn’t see. There’s something… familiar about him. I figure it’s probably just that I’ve seen him at the bar before. Everyone who’s anyone in Darktown turns up here sooner or later.
One of the girls from the booth stands up, unsteady on sparkly high heels, and lurches her way to the middle of the dancefloor, positioning herself directly in his eye-line.
Well this should be interesting.
As I mix a startlingly blue cocktail for a startlingly blue-skinned demon, I watch the girl start to dance. By the early morning the dancefloor will be heaving, pumping, writhing even, but right now it’s quiet. She’s making eyes at the dark-haired guy, who is studiously ignoring her as seems to be his style. But someone – something – isn’t ignoring her. I see him in the shadows on the other side of the room. I don’t know his name. He started coming to the club almost every night a couple of weeks ago and he’s always on the look-out for human strays. The last one he took an interest in ended up torn into several pieces in an alleyway a few blocks away.
I swallow. The girl knows the risk, surely? I watch her close her eyes like she’s in her own fucking bedroom rather than in a demon club in the middle of the night, deep in Darktown. She smiles to herself as she sways drunkenly to Heart of Glass. Under other circumstances, she’d look like a girl out on the town letting loose after a long week of work. Here, she looks like prey.
‘I’m going to clear some tables,’ I say to Ellie, ignoring her protests. As a rule, we don’t clear tables. Anything that needs attention on the other side of the bar during opening hours is taken care of by demon-staff. We’re just the novelty act: human girls serving drinks.
I slide my way under the gateway then walk casually enough. I make as though I’m heading for a table up the back, but direct my path so I pass the girl. As I do, I bump into her, which isn’t difficult given how wobbly she is on her feet. When she glances at me I whisper: ‘The demon in the corner is watching you. If he comes after you, you’ll die. Go sit down and stay with your group.’
She gazes at me with wide eyes. Then she giggles. ‘Gee I love your hair, such an awesome blue…’ She reaches out a hand to touch my ponytail. I push her hand away as she looks me up and down. I’m wearing the regulation gear all the girls who work behind the bar have to wear: tight black jeans and a tight red t-shirt with Hell’s Belles emblazoned directly across the boobs. On Ellie, her height and curves make the outfit almost obscene. I’m neither tall, nor particularly curvy. I wear minimal make-up and keep my hair tied back when I’m working. We sometimes have to set drinks on fire and I learned the hard way that long hair and open flames just don’t mix.
The girl is still looking at me. ‘That red really suits you,’ she says, putting a hand on my arm. ‘It brings out the blue in your eyes.’
I pull back. I don’t like being touched, especially not by strangers. Not even drunk girl strangers.
‘I’m serious,’ I say. ‘This is not Disneyland. There are actual fucking demons here. Sit.’
She rolls her eyes like I’m some boring do-gooder trying to spoil all the fun in her life, then flounces back to the booth. I take a breath, head to the nearest table and start loading up my tray.
Suddenly I feel a fluttering as the air behind me shifts ever so slightly. I freeze.
There’s a feeling like a cold blade being drawn along the back of my neck. I turn, slowly. Well, what do you know? It’s the same demon I’d just warned the girl about. In the shadows, he looked mostly human. Now as I see him close-up and in stronger light, I feel a rush of terror. He’s bigger than any human, his skin is bullet grey and he looks ridiculously strong. And his eyes… The palms of my hands are slippery with sweat and my heart is thudding like someone turned a dial up. My mouth is suddenly dry.
‘Why ever did you do that, sweetheart?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I say, grabbing the last empty bottle and eyeing off the distance between where I’m standing and the safety of the bar.
‘Oh, I think you do.’ He looks at me and for a moment I meet his gaze. His eyes are black and narrow, empty dark holes in his head. Whatever looks back from behind them is so far from human it makes me dizzy. Getting this close to a demon is a bit like suddenly finding yourself on the wrong side of the bars in the tiger enclosure. Fascinating. Terrifying. Potentially very deadly.
He smiles, and I see a long, forked tongue flickering behind razor-sharp teeth. ‘Now where will I find my fun?’
‘That’s really not my problem,’ I say, making urgent eye-contact with Ellie.
‘I could make it your problem…’
Ellie nods, watching. I’m doing the maths already. The demon might not do anything. But if he does, I’m wearing the amulet my father gave me. And Madame Trevelie, the witch who runs the place, always casts a low-level protection spell on her human staff at the start of our shift. Bouncers would spot the action in a few seconds and make short work of the guy.
Still, a lot can happen in a few seconds. I swallow.
‘Oh yes it can, can’t it,’ he murmurs. I get a sudden, unpleasantly vivid vision of me and him and lots of blood and no clothing. He laughs.
Great. He’s a telepath with the bite of a crocodile.
‘Get out of my fucking head,’ I say. I grit my teeth, then turn and begin to walk. Every step I take I expect to feel the icy touch of his breath, the sharp pain of those teeth buried in my neck. I can almost feel his hands on me, forcing me, hurting me...
I don’t breathe until I make it back to the bar, and then I slide the tray across and duck under and find myself safe, next to Ellie. Nobody can touch us back here, even though we’re humans working in a bar full of demons. We’re protected by powerful magic. I hold my amulet, which is warm and glows slightly, the way it always does when I’m threatened.
&
nbsp; I watch as the girls at the booth get up to leave. They’re not giggling or whispering any longer. Good. The girl who I’d warned gives me a look, a mix of gratitude and awe. I turn away. I don’t want to see it. Part of me honestly doesn’t care if they get home safely or not. They made the choice to cross the Barrier to Darktown and come here, into a demon bar, after sunset. They know the rules. They should understand what the consequences could be. But still… the girl’s so young. And maybe she doesn’t really know. Maybe she’s never seen darkness or danger, so it all feels like a game to her. I don’t think she deserves to die for that.
‘What the hell did you do that for? Are you crazy?’ Ellie glares at me as I take my place back next to her at the bar.
‘Of course I’m crazy, El. Why else would I be working here?’ I raise an eyebrow at her and somehow, it’s enough to make her laugh. I don’t mind working with Ellie. She doesn’t take anything too seriously.
As the girls leave, a big burly bunch of guys come in. They’re hairy and heavily-muscled, bumping fists and flinging their arms around each other’s shoulders. A pack.
‘Werewolves?’ Ellie whispers to me.
‘Looks like,’ I say.
‘I’ll tell Evan to bring another keg up. Methinks we’re going to need more beer.’
As the bar gets loud and chaotic, I lose sight of the demon who threatened me. I don’t know if he’s gone, or if he’s still hanging around somewhere out the back, looking for another straggler to target. I’m not going out there to find out.
The night passes quickly. We serve drinks and take money and make as much conversation as we can over the pumping music. Mostly it seems like everyone’s in a good mood. The massive bouncers armed with machetes watching over everything probably help.
By the time the bar starts to clear out at around five in the morning, my legs ache and my arms feel like lead. My ears are ringing from the music and my throat is raw from inhaling other people’s smoke. Every morning, I stay until sunrise as per the terms of my contract and basic common sense. Once the sun’s up, it’s safe enough to walk out of here, pass through the Barrier and back into the human world, so long as you keep to the main road and don’t take any detours.
As the place clears, I see that one person is still sitting in the same spot he’s been in all night. Mr Dark and Dangerous. I’d almost forgotten about him in the rush of the night. Now, he meets my eyes. My heart lurches. Even in the tatters of the early morning he is… spectacular. So goddamn gorgeous that if I hadn’t seen him move, I might think he was a statue, carved to perfection from stone by some master sculptor.
‘Well? Sun’s up. Are you going to say hi?’ Ellie grins wickedly at me.
I frown and shake my head, but somehow I can’t help myself. Now the bar is almost empty, and the sun has risen, we’re on clean up. I grab a tray and a cloth and head over to where he sits. The floor’s clear now, though it’s slippery from spilled drinks and unnamed bodily fluids. My heart flutters as I approach.
‘Can I take that?’ I ask, gesturing to the empty glass by his elbow; the single drink that he sat on the whole entire night.
He looks up at me and I can’t help but let out an audible gasp. His eyes are like embers, darkly burning, his skin is pale as moonlight, his cheeks are rough with dark stubble, and his lips…
I feel myself blushing, so I tear my gaze away and reach for the glass. It happens in just a second – as I extend my hand, he grabs my arm. His grip is tight as a vice and…fuck, it burns… I gasp again, but this time from the pain. ‘What are you doing?’ I try to pull away. He closes his eyes and starts muttering to himself.
Fabulous. Just my luck. A hot fucking psycho. Honestly, I’m too tired for all this. I see one of the bouncers starting to make his way over. I shake my head at him, a tiny gesture that tells him I’m okay. I know he’ll keep watching, he won’t just take my word for it. Which is probably a good thing, because why would I give this guy the benefit of the doubt for even a moment? It’s just… I feel the amulet sitting cool against the skin of my neck. Its protective powers haven’t triggered. He doesn’t mean me any harm. I can’t say how I know, but I know.
Then, just like that, it’s over. He lets me go. The searing heat is replaced with a sense of desperate cold that starts where he touched me and spreads through my arm and into my chest.
‘Be careful, Lana,’ he says in a low voice, then stands. Tall. Broad-chested. He towers over me.
A moment later, my brain catches up. Wait, what? He knows my name?
Before I manage to say anything, he turns and strides to the door and is gone.
2
LANA
My apartment is safely located on the human side of the Barrier. It’s in the centre of the city on the sixth floor of a run-down old building that’s a warren of dodgy tax agents, clairvoyants, charities and private investigators. The rent is crazy cheap. The plumbing is unreliable. The floors are crooked, and I’m pretty sure the place is haunted. My brother refuses to step through the front door for fear of infestations or, more likely, in case someone sees him in such a budget-basement location. But since our father died two years ago, it’s been my refuge.
I grab a coffee and croissant from the hole-in-the-wall on the street, then climb the stairs to the sixth floor. There’s an elevator, but I don’t trust it. I let myself in and bolt the door behind me as much out of habit as anything. Meow-Meow rises from where he’s been sleeping on my bed, a furry shadow, and leaps delicately to the floor to wind his way around my legs, alternately yowling and purring.
‘Hello sweet boy. Did you miss me?’ I give him a rub. He jumps like I’ve shocked him, then all his fur floofs up and he hisses at me. ‘Hey,’ I say. ‘I’m sorry I was late, but there’s no need to be like that…’ He pads away and hides behind a box near the far wall. Crazy cat.
I collapse on the chair near the window and finish the coffee. I know it won’t keep me awake for more than about twenty minutes. A couple of potted plants sit on the window sill, leaves trailing down in the morning sunlight like my own private jungle. Beside them, in a small unremarkable brown jar, are my father’s ashes. Some people might think it’s ghoulish keeping him there like that, but I find it a comfort.
‘It was a long night, Dad,’ I say, closing my eyes. ‘Another long night.’
It’s getting harder to remember him each passing day. The sound of his voice. The strength of his arms around me, always ready to comfort me, to protect me. Tears prick my eyes, but I brush them away.
‘I’m okay,’ I say – to him and to myself. ‘Just a bit tired.’
I down my coffee, enjoying the final hit of sweetness from all the sugar that’s sunk to the bottom, and then head for the bathroom.
The water in my building always takes a while to come up to temperature, and the pipes tend to make weird noises, especially in the winter, but on the plus side once the water’s hot, it’s hot. Genuinely searing, which is how I like it. I strip off my clothes and breathe in big lungfuls of steam, then step into the shower. I close my eyes, letting the water wash away the aches and pains that I always feel after a busy night in Hell.
I started working at Hell on Earth after my father died and if truth be told I think the exhaustion is part of the reason I do it. It’s loud and hectic so there’s no chance for me to think about anything much, except who’s next in line and how much to charge for a Satin Slip and what glass to serve it in. By the time I get home in the morning I’m too dead tired to want anything more than clean clothes and bed. Too tired to feel the desperate, broken emptiness that I can’t seem to shake.
The other reason I took the job sits below that, like a dirty little secret. Ever since I was a girl, I’ve been drawn to the darkness. When I was only just big enough to walk, my father took his eye off me for a moment and I somehow managed to wander all the way to the Barrier between the city and Darktown. And that was just the start of my fascination, which seems to have only grown as I’ve gotten older…
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br /> I’m walking close to the line, though. Tonight was bad. The demon who confronted me could have killed me before I’d taken a breath. And that guy who grabbed me – I walked right up to him. I let it happen… I shiver. I close my eyes and wait for everything to drift away with the warmth of the water, the way it usually does. And then the heat cuts off. Just like that, it goes from hot to cold in an instant.
Damn it.
I get out and dry myself off. There’s a book by my bed, one from Dad’s collection, but I’m too tired to read. I put my PJs on, close the blinds, slide into bed and pull the blankets up around my ears. I put my earphones in so I can listen to the sound of thunder. For some reason that always helps me to settle. Usually I’ll fall straight asleep, but today I feel… weird. I’m unsettled by the events of the night. On top of that, my brain is fuzzy, and my skin is itchy. I wonder if it’s an allergy? I’ve never been allergic to anything in my life. My arms are stinging and sore, and the sensation is spreading – an uncomfortable tingling that I just can’t ignore.
I sit up and pull the blankets off. My inner arms are red, like they’ve been burned, and I feel a sensation like pin-pricks. And then, as I look, I see something – a pattern just below the surface of my skin. I frown, thinking I must have imagined it. Then it happens again: a shape shows through. It looks like a snake twining around one arm, and a crow with wings outstretched taking flight from the other. Beneath each of them there is a row of symbols I don’t recognise. The shapes are formed from dark shadows, almost like bruises.
And then I see the crow move.
Fuck. That is definitely not an allergy. But what is it?
I remember the guy grabbing me and the words that he muttered and I feel a sudden shiver pass through me. He waited the whole night for the opportunity to touch me. He’s done something to me. But what? I have no idea.
I climb out of bed and pull my earphones out again and start pacing my apartment, a desperate, anxious energy filling me. I pick up my phone and search Crow Symbol Tattoo Spell, but Google doesn’t give me anything helpful. It’s all just pictures of raw looking new tattoos and mystical discussions of the symbolism of the Crow. According to some it’s a bad omen, according to others it’s a symbol of transformation, a powerful being that can cross over between the light and dark realms. All very interesting but kind of academic compared to what I’m looking at throbbing on my arm right now. After a moment’s hesitation, I call my brother Jamie.
