Demon Rising (Dark Rising Trilogy Book 1)

by DeAnna Browne

  “So this is it?” he asked.

  “Don’t fight,” the girl said with sincerity. “It’ll be worse if you do.”

  “I can’t willingly submit.” He had to try, even if he didn’t have a chance.

  “Then don’t. But they’ll make you go, and make you be quiet. Be smart. Kiss up to a rich old lady and avoid pissing off a wizard. Maybe they’ll value our lovely personalities, or they’ll give us a new one.”

  He swallowed hard. She was right. He couldn’t give up, but maybe now wasn’t the time to be stupid. He needed to bide his time until the right moment.

  “What’s your name?” He’d lost count of how many times he’d asked the question.

  “Buttercup—”

  “No.” He was tired of the nicknames, the false bravado, and wanted something real from her. He spat on the ground, trying to rid the metallic taste in his mouth. “I’m not a customer, and you’re not a whore.”

  “Not yet,” she said, almost too soft to hear. She looked down, picking at her nails, a light pink that matched her lips. She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “Grace. My birth name is Grace.”

  He grinned, delighted in the gift of her name. He couldn’t say why one name meant so much. Her sincere expression brought a soft glow to her face. It was a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.

  “I haven’t heard that name for a long time,” she continued. “I always thought it cruel irony.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Grace.” He wanted to offer his hand.

  “You too. Wish it was somewhere else. Somewhere far from here.” Her features were stripped of their usual jovial pretense. A youthful appearance beamed from sky-blue eyes. She couldn’t be older than nineteen, but he guessed she’d lived through enough for a few lifetimes.

  They stared at each other for a moment. Words of regret, of injustice, and what ifs were better left unsaid—for they’d do nothing to change their predicament.

  Wizards began flooding into the market, distant voices growing to a dull roar. A few meandered around the cages. Taking a deep breath, Grace straightened her shoulders. She pinched her cheeks and smoothed her dress as an older man, impeccably dressed, approached. With a flip of her hair and a coy smile, it was as if the set of steel bars separating them vanished.

  Fighting the impulse to throttle the man, Caleb turned away. Grace was a survivor, stronger than he ever would be.

  Could he do this? Play this role, turn into a slave, when every fiber in his body wanted to fight? He wasn’t sure he could roll over and play a lap dog to any of these people. His gut tightened at the idea that he might have to if he wanted to survive the day.

  A beautiful woman, with eyes the rich amber of an animal, approached him.

  He was about to find out just what he would do to survive.

  “You could be some sort of legendary mountain yeti, you know that?” Becca glanced over her shoulder at Darion who lagged a few feet behind. Nevada gave him the classic bodyguard look, muscles on top of muscles and short buzzed hair. His eyes were so dark brown, people might consider him a Soultorn at first sight.

  She felt just as foolish dressed up, strolling along in an old parking lot that smelled of oil and dirt.

  A ridiculous grin covered his face. “Admit it. You think I’m hot.”

  “I’ll try to contain myself,” she joked, trying to ease the tension in her chest. It was better when she didn’t look at Darion anyways. His new look unnerved her.

  A couple of bored drivers stood out next to their cars, smoking. She shifted, unsteady under their gaze.

  “To your left,” Darion murmured behind her.

  A small rundown office building stood in the center of the parking lot, the remains of a car dealership. Shards of broken glass hung from windowpanes. The front door swayed back and forth in a light breeze. One strong wind may take the whole thing down.

  There was an eerie feeling that more than dusty furniture peered out of those vacant windows. She itched to tug down her dress. She fought instinct and ignored the slit that almost reached her hip. It wasn’t her body anyone would see. It was Nevada’s creation—a difficult one at that.

  It had taken over an hour for Nevada and her to agree on the dark silver dress that hugged her body. One sleeve traveled down to her wrist, the other completely absent, leaving her shoulder bare. At least the flexible material let her move.

  Nevada had left her long black hair strait as a board.

  Becca missed her ponytail. But she had to admit, she’d fallen in love with her new boots that conveniently hid a knife.

  “It’s through the door.” Darion’s voice wavered slightly. “We don’t have to go.”

  “Yes. I do.” There was no going back emptyhanded. As she crossed the threshold, a slight tingling sensation ran down her spine. In a heartbeat, her world spun, dizzying colors that morphed into something new.

  Gone was the stained carpet and fallen chairs. Instead, a large dark tree trunk filled her view. The brightly colored red and orange leaves continued up to the sky. A lightheaded sensation forced her to look back down.

  She wanted to bottle this smell of fresh air and fallen leaves. It reminded her of home. Not of the pain or loss, but the peace of the wild.

  A squirrel scurried by, rustling through the underbrush and then continuing up the path as if leading them. The trees lined a path ahead, while the roots formed into steps, ascending under the canopy of colored leaves. It was perfection. Darion cleared his throat.

  Right. Don’t gawk at the magic. This demon-fueled illusion was hard not to be drawn into. Fall at its finest.

  She climbed the steps as the leaves played in the wind, blowing over their feet. And though the path appeared long, they reached the top in a minute. The smell of savory foods greeted her first.

  Then the trees opened up to a clearing full of hundreds of shops, restaurants, entertainers in the street, and so many people. Wizards, she corrected herself. Magicians who wouldn’t hesitate to string her up for sale, given the opportunity.

  A large man dressed in black appeared out of thin air. She stepped back, startled, not expecting to be challenged so early in the game.

  Darion brushed by her and approached the man. Her hand tapped her leg, inches from the knife in her boot.

  “Your name?” the man asked, his thick goatee hiding his lips.

  “When have names been required for entry?” Darion demanded.

  “When I say they are.”

  “Chima,” Becca answered, hoping to avoid confrontation.

  “From…”

  Darion stood in front of her, his bulky frame filling her view. Heat radiated off of him like she was standing next to a furnace. Had he always been this way? His magic almost tangible? Or had he held back before? She’d never been close enough to other magicians to notice.

  “We’re meeting the Stevensons,” Darion said. “Relatives from the north.”

  The guard narrowed his gaze in evident disbelief. The sensation of magic magnified, rising the hairs on her arms.

  Becca couldn’t handle the testosterone. She broke the silence, annoyance heavy in her voice. “Are you two pups done here? I have shopping to do.”

  She didn’t wait for a response, but strode away, praying it would work. She’d counted to ten when Darion caught up. “About time,” she said, grateful for their luck.

  “I forgot how much pretty girls get away with,” he muttered, remaining close behind.

  She normally would have replied with a snarky comment, but her attention was drawn to the astonishing sights before her.

  Each stall held a shop or restaurant and contained a tiny world with its own flavor. People filled the street, perusing the stores or stopping to watch the entertainers. One bald man in a tight multicolored suit breathed fire into the sky. Another couple in animal prints performed acrobatics six feet in the air. Tilting her head to the side, she couldn’t figure out where one started and the other ended and struggled to keep her focus in front of her.


  They passed a stall that held a variety of creatures, including dogs, rabbits, and birds. She had a pang of sympathy for the small trapped creatures.

  She entered the next shop, lined with small objects. She assumed jewelry at first, but upon closer look they were amulets, bits of hair, and even small vials of blood.

  Despite her urge to locate Caleb, she perused the shop. She had time until the auction began and wanted something to help their escape. Darion assured her they had enough to buy Caleb and to live on for a bit.

  Darion leaned in. His unfamiliar form raising the air on her neck. He spoke quietly. “The more powerful or rich magicians never need these. There will be jewelry farther down for a distraction.”

  She waved him off. This was more than a distraction. A blue stained-glass amulet glimmered in the light. These talismans and amulets had to hold more power than what was in the street markets. She and Caleb would need as much protection as she could get.

  A wizard came over to attend to her. His burnt orange blazer mirrored a sunset. “If it’s protection you’re looking for, the lady should also look at the Mohammedan Circle of Protection.”

  Next to her, Darion tensed.

  “But the blue matches my cat’s eyes perfectly.” Her voice was high, in the best pampered attitude she could manage. “Maybe I’ll buy my Snowflake both, just in case.”

  A wide smile crossed the merchant’s face as he estimated the depths of her pocketbook. “It’s important to protect your loved ones.”

  “So true.” She kept her features serious and pleasant.

  With a nod, he went to wrap up her packages. This was indeed a different world. She pulled out a couple of silver coins, stamped by the coven, and paid the man.

  With her package paid for and tucked into her sleek black purse, they continued through the market. She passed by the food, not trusting herself to keep anything down.

  In the busy crowd, a couple of men stopped her, asking for her name in a weak attempt to flirt. Darion quickly discouraged them with a gruff, “She’s not interested.”

  With his arms as thick as her thighs, he played the part of bodyguard well. She couldn’t get use to the meaty face and shaved head he wore, though.

  Becca continued forward, searching for what she wanted to buy most.

  Darion leaned over her shoulder. “I think you’ll find what you’re looking for to your left.”

  She found Caleb immediately, standing several feet down in one of many silver cages. He stood tall, shirtless with no obvious injury. Leather pants clung to his muscular legs.

  He was alive. Thank God. She wanted to run to him, talk to him, make sure he was unhurt. She wanted to apologize for bringing him into this crazy world of hers. A lump formed in her throat. She should be in that cage, not him.

  Darion placed a careful hand under her elbow. “Do you require assistance?” His voice was oddly formal.

  She blinked several times. She knew better. This was a job, just like any other. And if she lost her head, she’d lose everything. “I’m fine.” She counted her steps, slow and purposeful, to the cages.

  The first cage held a thin boy who appeared invisibly bound. He sat with his arms held stiffly at his side, his mouth pressed tightly together. A bitter taste flooded her mouth.

  A tall woman handed Becca a paper. “Information on the merchandise,” she said then continued to the next potential buyer. It took a moment before Becca found the listing on Caleb.

  Thirteen. Strong virile male. No previous owner. Great physical shape. Ideal for demon hosting for the ultimate security. Starting bid: one hundred silver pieces.

  Her hands shook as she fought the urge to tear the paper. She’d expected this, but the sight of Caleb with a price tag on him made it real. She had to keep it together, for Caleb. They continued down the row of cages, stopping periodically to feign interest. She repeatedly glanced down the row.

  Up close, she scrutinized every inch of Caleb. His arms were folded across his chest, while the muscles in his neck strained. She couldn’t find any sign of his previous injury from their attack in the woods. Not even a scar.

  He stared ahead at nothing. His stoic features discouraged many wizards from talking to him, but the stares and conversations nearby showed obvious interest. Becca ached to reach out to him, to tell him she didn’t forget him.

  A short flashy man blocked her view. She scowled. He smiled in return.

  “This must be the beautiful Chima.” He took her hand to kiss. She fought the instinct to cringe. How did this man know her name?

  Darion had warned her to not let people touch her. Some magicians could sense much from touching another. She couldn’t figure a way around it, especially with the Soultorn on his arm.

  Its pitch black eyes were a sacrilege to the beautiful body it inhabited. Blond hair cascaded around its shoulders. Its thin frame hid strength in those taunt muscles.

  “And you are?” Becca replied.

  He laughed and squeezed her hand before letting go.

  “Pove, my dear. Manager here at Moondance.” He spread his arms, and his numerous rings glinted in the sun. “What can I help you find in my prize stock?”

  “Just browsing,” she replied. Darion’s arm brushed hers, a steadying presence. It wasn’t customary for security or servants to address the higher ranking magicians unless called upon.

  “There’s always a gem to be found. Take this man, for instance.” He turned to Caleb, waving Becca to follow. “Come, boy.”

  Caleb slowly dropped his arms and approached the bars. He flexed his hands, the muscles in his arms bulging. Meeting Becca’s gaze, he grinned—a frightening contradiction to his cold eyes that held so much malice.

  She had never seen that look on him before, but there was nothing she could say, not in front of Pove. Clamping down the nerves rattling inside of her, she tried to act as if she was shopping for a new pet. The fact that Pove had picked Caleb to show to her didn’t go without notice. What were the odds?

  “He could be one of our best sellers.” Pove' smile widened. “Strong. Strapping. Great for security or any of your needs. I’ll leave you to finish perusing the merchandise. See you at auction.” He left and started a conversation with another buyer.

  She approached the cage, aware of the others wizards within earshot. “Are you able to care for horses, boy? I have a stallion, Duncan, who needs a firm hand. Do you have experience?”

  A flash of confusion, recognition maybe, crossed

  Caleb’s face for a moment, but he remained silent. Duncan had been his horse years ago. The horse had thrown Becca, and she had always hated him. Caleb would tease her relentlessly about it.

  He had to remember. She wished he could see past the illusion, past the lie she’d created to be here. If things went south, they needed his trust.

  “I can manage horses,” he said carefully, while his face gave nothing away.

  “Good.” She clasped her hands to keep them from reaching through the bars.

  Darion cleared his throat. A couple approached from behind. The two feet that separated Becca and Caleb might as well have been two hundred miles.

  CHAPTER 23

  While the market continued to buzz with excitement, Caleb’s mind raced with how and why Rebecca was here. He ignored the perspective buyers passing in front of his cage and tried to follow the long, pitch-black hair weaving between the crowds. It had to be. Who was with her? The man looked like security, but from where? Was this some sort of twisted magic or a game?

  As the spaced cleared, he found her standing next to that same man with an auction paddle in her hand.

  “Muscles,” Grace said. “I never figured you to be suckered in by a pretty face. She was impressive.”

  “It’s not that.” How could Becca be here, transformed into someone else? He had heard of magicians transforming themselves, but she wasn’t a witch.

  “Then what?” Grace asked.

  He lost Rebecca, or the woman who he th
ought was Rebecca, in the crowd. He turned to Grace in attempts to make sense of his own jumbled thoughts. He didn’t want to say anything yet, to give her false hope or endanger Rebecca. “I don’t know.”

  “Did that lady work some type of magic on you already? It’s forbidden to play with the merchandise before they purchase.” A serious tone laced her words. “I can tell the manager.”

  “No, no. It’s just—It’s a long story.” He searched for her again, but drawing attention to Rebecca wouldn’t help. He turned away from the crowd, worried his face may give something away.

  “What are ya thinking, muscles? Better not be thinking about running again. I still have a damn headache from the last time.” Her voice was light, but her brow was tight with worry.

  “Don’t you want to be free?” he asked. “Wouldn’t you take a chance if you got one?” He couldn’t believe she was reconciled to this unknown fate. He would fight to his dying breath.

  He remembered the last time he’d tried to escape. It didn’t matter. He would try again and again, no matter what the cost.

  It took Grace a minute to answer with eyes lowered, her expression icy. “You’re naive to believe this all ends happily ever after. I can only wish for the lesser of these evil bastards.” She plastered a forced smile on her face and turned back toward the crowd. “You’re not on the farm anymore, muscles.”

  Time slowed as Becca waited for the auction to start. She sat in the back of the outdoor theater, on a chair created of twisting branches and twigs, surprisingly more comfortable than it looked. She leaned back, legs crossed. The large wooden clock on the top of the stage ticked the minutes by.

  Enormous trees formed the sides of the stage, the branches twisting to frame the raised platform. Fall leaves and flowers, growing on the branches, dotted the stage with color. A beautiful stage to house a human atrocity.

  Wizards slowly filled in the seats as the seconds ticked away. The seat beside her was empty, waiting for Darion to return. He’d left to get the market gossip from the servants' bar. Something unsuitable for a lady of her supposed position.