The Devil's Angel E-Book

Raven Steele

• Herausgeber: Raven Steele
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

"There's no other heart for me but yours." 

I am a demon of the night.
A monster who craves blood.
Who yearns for the hunt.

She came into my life.
Upset my world.
An angel with hell’s power.

I wanted to hate her.
To destroy her.
Kill her goodness.

Then she made my heart beat again.
Showed me how to live.
Loved me.

But she doesn’t know what I’ve done.
How I bathed the world in blood.
Changed history.

My past will come for her.
Try to destroy my angel.
But I won’t let it.

The demon inside me must be unleashed again.  

In this full-length, paranormal romance series, Steele introduces readers to a dark and sexy world full of vampires and witches. If you like Laurell K. Hamilton and Anne Rice, you will LOVE this series! Scroll up and grab this paranormal romance TODAY!  

"Creative, dramatic and edgy- it's one of those (rare) books that make you want to read it slow, not wanting it to end! Can I just live in this book?" - Customer Review ★★★★★

"Lucien...dear Lord I love you! I can't tell you how much I love this series. I promise you will not be disappointed." - Customer review ★★★★★

"The relationship between Lucien and Eve is beyond strong!" - Customer Review ★★★★★

Leseprobe

The Devil’s Angel

The Devil Series Book 2

Raven Steele

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Other books by Raven Steele:

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About the Author

"And so it is, that both the Devil and the angelic Spirit present us with objects of desire to awaken our power of choice."

- Rumi

Chapter 1

Lucien’s bones spoke of the storm hours before it came. It was always that way with him, his body telling him things before they happened. Sometimes he listened, sometimes he didn’t. Tonight, he was all ears.

But it wasn’t just the storm; something else was coming, and it frightened him. And Lucien didn’t frighten easily, not even when those two men had attacked him with that Saranton knife and left him for dead. It was how he was rescued that disturbed him the most. It was also how he had sensed the presence of something following him around for the last several months. He thought maybe it was some kind of a poltergeist, but he hadn’t felt threatened by it. A poltergeist he could understand, maybe even appreciate, but this new something upset him.

He stood in the center of a long alleyway between two warehouses, casting his gaze upward so he could watch the storm clouds creep across the night sky until they had entirely engulfed the stars and the moon. That’s the way it was with darkness. It always destroyed light.

A sharp pain scratched at his stomach like a rat gnawing on a piece of leather. The pain, like always, gave him comfort, though he never understood why. All he knew was that pain had become his constant and only companion for centuries.

Lucien knew nothing else in life but pain and suffering. The concept of hope was foreign to him and belonged in a world that was not his. He wondered if somewhere within his suppressed memories he would find the answer to his self-inflicted torture. But the pain always intensified whenever he tried to recall his forbidden past.

A lightning bolt tore across the night sky. There was no sound; it was quick and electrifying. His hair stood on end. The salty smell in the air filled him with anticipation as he waited for the monstrous storm overhead to release its fury.

A sudden clicking of heels against asphalt startled him, and he dropped his gaze away from the contentious storm. In the same instant, his nose picked up on a new scent. It was the aroma of the oncoming storm, but laced with the fragrance of budding lilacs.

A tall, thin woman walked confidently past the old train station next to the marina, a large bag swinging carelessly at her side. She casually looked around as if she had nowhere to be and wasn’t in any hurry to get there. The time was 1:00 a.m. A cold breeze pushed its way through the streets, twisting the hair around the woman’s face.

It was his passion to watch approaching storms, the way darkness crept silently over the sky, building in pressure, and finally climaxing into an explosion of bright luminosity and thunderous roars. But tonight, the sight of the extraordinary woman strolling aimlessly through the filth of the city captivated him. He silently moved away from the back of the alley, still safely within the dark shadows, in order to keep watching her.

She was exquisitely beautiful. Lucien thought she was more beautiful than any other woman he had ever encountered. Her long golden hair hung in loose curls to the middle of her uncovered back. Despite the distance between them, he could see her eyes were a rare sea-green color. The color reminded him of a deep tide pool he found once in Ireland that had been filled with open oyster shells. When the light from the sun touched the shells’ polished surfaces, they gave the water the most glorious shade of green he’d ever seen — until now. He thought it strange that she would make him think of Ireland, his birthplace.

The woman stopped suddenly, directly in front of the alleyway entrance, which was only three feet across, wall to wall. Her jade eyes peered inside, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. He pressed himself against the building as if she could see him. That’s ridiculous. No human eyes could see him; it was much too dark, especially with the clouds overhead.

He inhaled a deep breath and relaxed more fully into the night. He must have imagined the smile, for she had already turned away and headed back the way she came.

Lucien didn’t want to hurt her, but he felt it necessary to scare her senseless. She should not be here in this dirty place, ever. He stepped out of the shadows to confront her but quickly retreated when he sensed someone approaching who didn’t share the same feeling about her as he did.

A man dressed in dirty brown and orange clothing approached the woman. His long hair was a mess of dirt and grime, and his feet shuffled one over the other awkwardly. Clearly, he was inebriated. The woman did not seem to recognize the impending danger as she strolled toward the drunken man.

“Give me some money,” the transient slurred, spittle spraying from his mouth.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have a dime for you.”

“What’s in your purse?” His tone turned hard.

“Oh, I have plenty of money,” she clarified sweetly, “but none of it is for you. I apologize for not being more clear.”

Lucien couldn’t help but smirk, but at the same time wondered why the woman wasn’t being more careful.

The man stepped forward, his fists balled tight. “Give me your purse, or I’ll rip that pretty little dress off.”

She stood her ground, showing no fear. “You are ridiculous. Get out of my way.”

The drunken man lunged for the woman, grabbing her roughly around the waist.

Lucien didn’t like the way the transient touched her. This thought startled him, but he pushed the emotion back. He stepped out from the alley and cleared his throat. The man looked in his direction, eyes growing big when he noticed Lucien’s height and large stature. The man’s hands dropped to his sides, and he stumbled off as fast as his unstable legs permitted.

Lucien’s gaze flashed to the woman. In that brief instant, he heard, as clear as the thunder above, her heart stop. Her face showed no emotion, but her heart betrayed her. She appeared to recognize his confusion and quickly recovered. She looked down at her roughed up dress and sighed. Her long, slender fingers smoothed the angry creases.

“Are you all right?” he asked in a velvet voice. He was aware of the effect he had on women. His appearance and demeanor could hypnotize.

The woman didn’t bat an eye. “I’m fine, sir. Thank you for assisting me.”

She turned to leave.

“Wait,” he called after her, confused. He strolled over to her. “That must have been upsetting. Are you sure you’re all right?”

He flashed his perfect smile and waited for her to swoon. Then he would show her what scary really was. That would make her think twice before wandering through the wrong side of town at such a late hour.

“Of course I’m fine. I thought I was lost, but now I know where I am. Again, thank you.” She walked right by him.

Lucien noted she hadn’t even looked at him. Impossible! This wasn’t going the way he expected. He moved at lightning speed in front of her. She gasped in surprise. Now that was more like it.

She gained her composure but still did not show any fear. “Very impressive. I’ll have to remember that one.”

She walked by him. Again.

He growled low. He wasn’t having the impact on her he would’ve liked. He darted in front of her and said, “I’m going to kill you.”

That should scare her.

She rolled her eyes.

“I’m serious. I’m going to rip your head off and drink every last drop of blood.”

“Because you’re a vampire,” she stated, arching one eyebrow.

He couldn’t tell if she was mocking him or if she really believed that he was, in fact, a vampire. “What if I am?”

“We all have our issues,” she said.

She moved to pass him again, but he blocked her and cocked his head, eyes narrowed. “You’re not predictable.”

“That’s great. Now can I get by?” she asked, clearly annoyed.

He tightened his lips. “You’re not acting the way you should.”

“How am I supposed to act?”

“You’re supposed to be afraid and run away.”

The woman set down her bag. “And what exactly should I be afraid of? You’re a messed-up vampire hiding out in the worst part of town, and you’re trying to scare me away because... why? My presence has ruined some imaginary world you’ve created? Any other vampire would’ve had his fangs in me by now.”

Lucien’s stare turned cold and deadly. His teeth clenched tight, and his jaw muscles bulged. Only his older brother had ever spoken to him in such a condescending manner, and that was over three hundred years ago.

Before she could blink, Lucien rushed the woman, slamming into her hard. He clenched her shoulders tightly, lifted her up, and raced across the dirty pavement, running faster than he had in years. The force of the air behind her caused her hair to blow wildly around her face. Had he not been so angry, he might’ve appreciated how angelic she looked in that moment.

He sprinted, lightning-quick, his aim on the wall of the train station. They hit it hard, and the woman’s head jerked back against the bricks with a sickening thud, but she barely flinched.

Inches from her face, he spat, “You dare mock me?”

She didn’t answer, but returned his look with equal venom.

“Your life is nothing to me!” He lifted his head back and, with fangs barred, prepared to bite.

Chapter 2

The woman’s expression remained calm, despite Lucien’s bared, sharp fangs. Instead of cowering, she tilted her head to the side, revealing her long slender neck. He reared back as if she was the one with fangs.

“You want to die?”

“What do you want?” she countered, her voice quiet, almost sad.

Her question startled him more than anything else that night. He leaned away from her, not sure what he wanted any more. Her emerald eyes stared into his, as if searching for something. He didn’t like it, so he tossed her to the side.

Lucien darted away before she could get up. By the time she had recovered, he was three buildings away standing on a rooftop. The storm had finally released its fury, dropping sheets of rain at a maddening pace.

He flexed his jaw and tried to understand what had just happened. Why wasn’t the woman afraid of him, especially knowing what he was? She acted like it was common to encounter vampires, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Vampires were a myth. Nobody believed in them.

The woman turned just then and walked back toward the marina, seemingly oblivious to the pouring rain soaking her hair and dress. Her eyebrows were pulled tightly together as if she were... angry? Frustrated? He couldn’t be sure which, but she didn’t look happy. Or scared.

Lucien knew the woman would eventually walk up the main road two blocks away and then go to wherever she lived. No sane person would stay out in this rain for very long. He inhaled quickly at a new and startling thought: he knew what he wanted.

He jumped to a nearby rooftop and followed her. This action was completely unlike him, but he had to know more about her, almost as if to prove their strange encounter had actually happened. Maybe he had dramatized her actions and words, misconstrued them somehow. Maybe she really was like everyone else and not some enigma. Once he proved this to himself, he would never see her again.

Life could return to normal.

As he jumped from rooftop to rooftop to follow her, he thought there was something familiar about her movements. They were graceful and full of purpose. She didn’t have the usual nervous ticks such as the licking of lips or wiping at the face or invisible dust motes. He swore he’d seen these mannerisms before, but she didn’t look the least bit familiar.

The woman continued to walk, moving skillfully through the wet and lonely streets of Skystead. The way she navigated herself with ease made him think she’d lived here for years. But then how had he missed her?

She stopped at a black door belonging to a four-story building and glanced around before slipping inside. Lucien jumped down, landing as if it were only a three-foot drop rather than a forty-foot descent. There were no signs giving away the nature of the business, no hours of operation, only one small word engraved upon the door in gold: “Deific.”

He traced the elaborate writing with his finger.

The doorknob turned.

He leapt into the sky and onto the roof. The woman came out, her arms free from the bag she carried earlier, and continued down the street for at least another mile. Lucien wondered why she hadn’t called a cab yet. It was unheard of to walk such a distance in Skystead, especially at night. And in the rain. After being attacked by a vampire.

Everything about this woman disturbed him. She wasn’t acting normal.

The tall city buildings gradually turned into suburb shopping centers and eventually only large rows of cookie-cutter houses remained. She stopped in front of an old colonial-style home. The house was light blue with dark blue trim and shutters to match. Its yard was simple and neat. Only a wooden chair rested on the porch by the front door.

Across the street, Lucien jumped into a full Oak tree to conceal himself.

The woman reached to the side of the nearest window and flicked her hand. To the average spectator, it might have appeared as if she were wiping off something from the home’s siding, but Lucien noticed the glimmer of a key in her hand. It must’ve been hiding between the slats. After unlocking the door, she paused, turned around and gazed into the night—in his exact direction.

He gripped the tree tightly. Something inside him told him she was looking right at him regardless of the tree’s full foliage. The corners of her mouth tilted down slightly as if she’d been let down somehow, and then she closed the door.

Lucien jumped to the ground and leaned against the tree. On the second floor of the home, four windows with sheer curtains made it possible for him to catch a glimpse of the woman’s silhouette as she passed by. Few sounds drifted from the house: papers being shuffled, dishes clanking, but mostly, it was quiet. She didn’t make noises like most humans. He expected to hear an occasional cough or a sigh, but her silence was total.

He sensed no other life in the house except for hers. He wasn’t sure how old she was but guessed her to be in her mid-twenties and in excellent shape. He recalled back to when he had tossed her aside. She’d barely stumbled; it was as if she had been barefoot and not wearing three-inch heels.

From somewhere within the house, a new sound reached his ears. Lucien crossed the street and easily hopped her neighbor’s tall fence. From a small window on the side of the woman’s house, he spotted her shadowed form running on a treadmill. What time was it?

He glanced up. Having experienced what felt like an eternity of nights, the shade of black against the night sky and the position of the pregnant moon told him it was almost three in the morning.

Something about the way the woman ran, the way she pushed herself, reminded Lucien of himself. When he was younger, his father, a strict disciplinarian and a captain for the Irish army, pushed Lucien and his older brother, Aiden, beyond what any normal children should have to endure. Because Aiden was smaller in stature than Lucien, he received the brunt of their father’s obsessive need to dominate and control.

Aiden had nothing in common with their father. He preferred books to brawn, studying everything from plants, insects, animals and even human behaviors whenever their father was gone, which was entirely too frequent and yet in some ways not frequent enough. Lacking a mother and love from a father, Lucien tried to get close to Aiden, but Aiden wanted nothing but his experiments.

Lucien and Aiden’s mother had died giving birth to Lucien. Their father, afraid their mother’s frail health would pass to his sons, demanded they go with him to battle. He would make them watch from a distance and, afterwards, if they couldn’t recount every vivid detail of the brutal skirmish, he would tie them upside down to a tree for the remainder of the night.

There were many times when Lucien feared, due to the loss of blood from his nose, he’d not live to see the sunrise. Aiden only had to endure a night like this once. His mind had an uncanny ability to pick out the most gory and horrific details that appealed to their father’s nature.

Because Lucien’s mind did not work like his father’s or Aiden’s, he was forced to prove himself physically, hoping to win his father’s approval. He continually pushed himself beyond what he thought his body could handle, making him one of the strongest and fastest boys in the region. Though he never heard it directly from his father, the fact that his father trained Lucien to fight at age ten was validation enough.

Watching the woman through the window, Lucien wondered what she was trying to prove and to whom. He looked back to the city, trying to decide if he should return to the hotel for a few hours or stay in front of the woman’s house. It wasn’t a hard decision. He climbed the Oak tree again until he was hidden from view. He stretched out one leg upon a thick tree branch and let the other dangle while he propped his back against the trunk. It was uncomfortable, but he’d endured much worse.

Thirty minutes later, the house fell dark. The woman breathed peacefully in a rhythmic pattern without the usual sleep restlessness of most humans. There was no tossing and turning, no troubled dreams. Why did her life seem so worry free? There must be something that caused her pain or sorrow. He vowed to find out what it might be, and then never return again, for surely she was just like the rest of them.

In just a few short hours, the woman woke just before sunrise. Lucien didn’t like to be outside when the sun came up. Its rays made his flesh itch and gave him a horrible fever. But he preferred that to not being able to go out in the sun at all, like other vampires. He had yet to meet one who could withstand the sun like him, a gift that had developed after many decades of being a vampire. He didn’t know why he had this ability, and for this reason alone, he kept it a secret. Other vampires might want to study him to replicate the power.

But today was different. He had a mystery to solve.

The woman showered quickly, faster than he thought possible for any woman, and stepped out into the early morning light, looking radiant. Stray honey curls escaped her loose bun and relaxed around her face, and a dark blue business pantsuit followed the soft curves of her body. She carried a small briefcase in her hand.

Lucien expected her to open the garage door and get into a car, but instead she walked down the sidewalk. A few houses down, she said “hello” to a female neighbor who rushed to get into her car. The neighbor gave her a weak smile and a brief nod in return. The woman continued walking, but stopped abruptly and turned back around, staring at the neighbor with an expression Lucien couldn’t read.

“I think there’s an alarm going off in your house,” the woman said.

The neighbor flashed her a frustrated look, but then glanced toward her own house as if deciding what to do.

“Really, I hear an alarm. You better go see what it is. It could be important.”

“Um, thanks.” The neighbor shuffled back into her house.

As soon as her neighbor’s back was turned, the woman reached into her purse and pulled out a switchblade. She crouched down and with one fluid motion, jammed it into the back tire of the neighbor’s vehicle. She stood up just as the other woman came out of her house.

“There was no alarm,” she said, her voice cold and callous.

“I could’ve sworn I heard it. Sorry to trouble you.”

The neighbor lady jumped in her car but not without glaring at the woman who hid the knife behind her back. As she drove away, Lucien could hear the air hiss from the vehicle’s tire.

The woman stood on the sidewalk with a satisfied smile as if she’d just cleaned up a big mess. Lucien couldn’t believe what he’d just witnessed. She didn’t seem the type to do something so malicious, but at the same time, the incident didn’t feel malicious, either. Then what?

Lucien leaned forward carelessly and lost his balance on the tree limb. He caught it with one hand on his way down, his legs dangling beneath him. He waited until the woman had disappeared around the block before he let go of the branch and dropped to the ground.

Her lilac scent made her an easy target to follow from a distance, but after only a mile of walking, Lucien took a guess as to where she was headed. He took a different route through the city that involved a lot less sun and moved quickly, unnoticed by humans, until he was back in front of the door labeled “Deific.”

He ducked inside the coffee shop across the street and sat by the streak-free window. Several heads turned his direction, but he ignored them, his usual response. Lucien stared through his reflection toward the Deific door and waited for the woman to appear. He guessed he was maybe fifteen minutes ahead of her.

It used to bother him to be near humans, but after centuries of living among them, it no longer disturbed him. Even the smell of blood did nothing but tease his senses. When he was first turned into a vampire, he spent years unable even to be them without wanting to tear them apart. His blood lust had proven too great. Eventually he learned to appreciate blood the same way humans appreciated aged wine, as a fine and rare delicacy.

Across the street, several people entered the black door. They looked like regular, predictable people: same worried expressions, same nervous habits and the same smell of fear for the future. Humans always feared the future afraid time would bring them misery. He used to sympathize with this fear when he could still remember what it was like to be human. Over time, however, he came to resent their fearful nature, along with their inability to simply accept whatever fate life had in store for them. It was a pointless waste of time.

Another worried face, a blond-haired man, opened the door to the Deific and held it open while he talked to a woman who was also entering the building. Beyond them, just inside, was a black counter manned by two large men. Security guards. Lucien also took note of the cameras both outside and inside the building.

Within a few minutes, the strange woman appeared, walking alongside a tall, thin man with short curly brown hair. The curly-haired man opened the door and watched her as she passed through it. His look was full of emotion beyond mere friendship. This man had feelings for the woman.

Once the door closed, Lucien removed his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the only number he ever called.

Chapter 3

“How can I help you, Lucien?” a man’s gruff voice answered.

Lucien eyed the building across the street. “I need you to find out what you can about a place called Deific.”

“How’s that spelled?”

“D-E-I-F-I-C.”

“Are they here in Skystead?”

“Yes.”

“Call me later today. I should have what you need.”

“Thanks, Scott.” Lucien hung up the phone.

Scott Clark was as dependable as both his father and his grandfather had been. They’d been Lucien’s attorneys for decades. Lucien knew he would need some connection to the human world, and after watching Scott’s grandfather for almost a year, he knew he’d found a man he could trust.

The Clarks were shrewd businessmen but unfailingly honest. Lucien entrusted his entire fortune to them, and as a result, each Clark generation had tripled his fortune. But Lucien didn’t care about the money. He only worked with the Clarks because they never asked questions and were hard working.

After the woman disappeared inside the Deific, Lucien walked back to her house and used the hidden key in the siding to open the door. The inside of the home was abnormally simple. No pictures hung on the walls or lay on tables. The living room consisted of one couch, a small end table and a black lamp. There was no television and no dining room table. In fact, most of the rooms were empty except the bedroom upstairs, which was completely opposite from the rest of the house.

The entire upstairs had been made into one giant bedroom. Dark, paneled walls were ornately decorated with works of art, some of which he recognized from famous painters. A four-poster bed rested in the middle of the room; a shear black curtain hung around its top rail. The room reminded him of an eighteenth century manor. The only item out of place was a treadmill resting in the corner.

He searched the drawers of a heavy curved desk and found a letter with her name on it: Eve Andrews. After looking through several more personal papers, he discovered she had no debt and appeared to be extremely wealthy. He could find no personal letters from family or any work-related documents. She was as much a mystery to him as the first day he’d met her, but at least he knew her name now.

He walked to the window and peered out. Eve. He pulled out his phone and called Scott again.

Before Lucien could speak, Scott said, “It’s only been a few hours, Lucien. I need a little more time.”

“I need you to look up something else.”

Something shuffled in the background. “I’m ready.”

“I need you to find out what you can about an Eve Andrews. She lives at 141 Rose Ave, and I believe she’s an employee of the Deific.”

“You got it.”

“Could you also have a car pick me up at the address I just gave you?”

“Of course.”

“Call me when you have something.” Lucien hung up the phone. Of all the things he’d ever asked for, it was never information about a human.

When a driver arrived twenty minutes later in a black Mercedes, Lucien instructed him to drive to the Fairmont hotel. He wanted to stop by before he returned to the Deific.

Scott had purchased the historical hotel for Lucien over twenty-five years ago and had invested a lot of Lucien’s money into bringing it back to its former glory. It was now one of the most popular hotels in Skystead.

Lucien pushed his way through the rotating door. The hotel manager, Ronald, gave him a thin smile. Ronald was a small man with balding brown hair. He stared at Lucien with beady, hateful eyes, reminding Lucien of a hungry vulture waiting to devour him the second the hotel failed. Ronald clearly thought he would be a better owner.

Lucien kept walking toward the elevator, only giving Ronald a simple nod of his head. Lucien would’ve fired him years ago, but Ronald was Scott’s cousin, so he kept him on as a favor. Gratefully, there was no personality resemblance between the two.

Lucien approached the front desk. Molly, a reservationist with red hair and freckles, smiled at him as she leaned over on the desk, exposing cleavage.

“How are you doing today, Lucien?”

“Good. Any mail for me?”

“Just one. Brought in this morning.” She handed him a manila envelope.

“Thanks.” He turned to leave.

She called after him, “Don’t be a stranger!”

He raised his hand goodbye without turning back around.

Inside his hotel room on the top floor, he dropped the envelope onto a small dining table. He liked his penthouse suite. The walls were a dark olive color with black wainscoting. A black leather recliner sat in front of a huge flat screen television hanging on the wall and beneath it was a long bookcase that held his favorite books. The penthouse had two bedrooms, but he rarely used them.

After showering and changing into jeans and a t-shirt, he walked into the dining room and tore the top off of the envelope. Inside was a piece of paper with a single address on it. He would visit it later.

Lucien grabbed a black beanie off the counter and pulled it down over his head before leaving again. In the parking garage beneath the hotel, he unlocked the car door to his ‘98 military issued Hummer. It still had canvas seats and the inside was stripped of all personal comforts. The only change he’d made to it was to tint the windows. It was his favorite vehicle.

He turned the key in the ignition and pressed on the gas. A short time later, he parked near the coffee shop where he had a clear view of the Deific across the street.

It was three o’clock p.m. The inside of the car was hot from the beating sun, but it didn’t faze him. Over time, he’d trained himself to block out all outside stimuli. He could hold completely still for hours if needed.

Some time later, Eve left the Deific. The man who’d opened the door for her that morning walked with her. They moved side by side but did not hold hands. They looked like nothing more than coworkers, but Lucien couldn’t help but notice how the man’s eyes lingered on Eve. She, however, failed to notice.

Lucien shifted his weight on the leathered seats, feeling oddly uncomfortable. He swallowed and wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand.

The two crossed the street to the coffee shop and disappeared inside. A few minutes later, they reappeared and continued down the sidewalk toward him speaking about someone named Michael who lived in Wildemoor. Lucien also learned by listening in on their casual conversation that the man walking with Eve was named Charlie.

As they passed by Lucien’s car, Charlie stopped suddenly and gripped Eve’s hand. She stopped and looked at him questioningly. Then, as if nothing had startled him, Charlie continued walking, taking Eve with him.

Lucien started the car and pulled away from the curb. He didn’t like the way the man had stopped as if he’d sensed something.

What I am doing?

His phone rang. He answered on the first ring. “What do you know?”

“Not a whole lot,” Scott’s voice said. “The Deific is registered with the state as an accounting agency. They also have offices in Rouen, Irondale and Coast City. They are also in Japan, Paris, London, Ireland—”

“Ireland?” Lucien asked, his heart skipping a beat.

“Yes, all over.”

“Is that normal for an accounting agency?”

“Not any that I know of, but that’s not the strange part. I couldn’t find the name of the person who started the Deific.”

“Isn’t it registered somewhere?”

“Yes, but by another corporation called McCullin Industries based out of London. I called my contacts there and they said McCullin Industries started in 1845 or at least, that’s when they officially registered. And back then, it wasn’t required to list the owner.”

“Do you know what type of business the corporation is?”

“Unavailable.”

“What about Eve Andrews?”

“Even more strange. The address you gave me for her home was purchased by a woman with that name. She has a social security number and a passport, but no credit history except for the house. I couldn’t find any school records, employment history, or even a social media imprint. It’s as if she was born a year ago.”

“Has she always been in Skystead?”

“She only just came here a month or so ago. Before that she was living in Wildemoor in the same building as their Deific office.”

“Anything else?”

“That’s it. I wish I could be more helpful.”

“Thanks for trying.”

Lucien hung up the phone and continued to drive through Skystead toward White Center, knowing he would eventually end up at the address written on the sheet of paper. Twenty years ago, White Center had been a hot bed of drugs and crime, but after enough time and a community who finally decided to fight back, the neighborhood once again became a fairly nice place to live. Part of White Center still had its problems, but overall, the large urban area thrived.

As Lucien drove down Roxbury Street, he thought about the Deific and the possibility of it being a legitimate accounting firm. There was no way an accounting firm would have the type of security he saw earlier. Living for over three hundred years had taught Lucien many things, one of which was, if something didn’t make sense, there was a problem. He didn’t try to justify the possibility of an accounting firm having security guards and offices all over the world. It would be a waste of time.

Somehow Lucien needed to find a way in, maybe from the roof. He decided to go there as soon as he completed this job.

He glanced down at the slip of paper resting on the passenger seat. It wasn’t the best employment, but he’d volunteered. The work was often dangerous and illegal, but most importantly, it satisfied several of his needs. And for a vampire, that was number one.

Lucien located the address. He slowly drove past a small, bright green house that was in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint. One of the home’s glass windows was broken and the other two were covered in tin foil. Three cars were parked in the driveway. One of them was a brand new mustang, way too nice for this place.

After a few blocks, Lucien parked in front of a large playground. It was the only place his Hummer would be safe, as parks were patrolled by cops more frequently than any other area.

On foot, he made his way back to a bus stop that gave him a view of the rundown house. He was grateful for the dark clouds that had rolled in within the last hour. It made waiting for nightfall more comfortable.

Just a few more hours.

During this time, Lucien watched several cars stop at the tiny house, all at different times from each other. People of different colors and ages disappeared behind the front door only to reappear minutes later after getting what they came for. Even without smelling the strong chemical odor, Lucien had no doubts this was a meth house. Once again, John, the Chief of Police, was right.

Lucien had met John through Scott. Scott and John had become friends over twenty-five years ago, because they shared a common goal and their jobs forced them to work together. John would catch the bad guys, and Scott was the prosecuting attorney who put them behind bars. As they got older, and witnessed the court system fail time and time again, their frustration led them to alternative means.

Scott had introduced Lucien to John about ten years ago. Lucien liked him immediately. He was a tall man with broad shoulders. He had buzzed blond hair making him look more like a drill sergeant than a Chief of Police. John was well known for being actively involved in every case rather than simply barking orders from behind a desk.

When Lucien had first met him, John’s grip had been firm, and he’d looked at Lucien directly in the eyes, unafraid of Lucien’s intense gaze that could often detect the slightest deceit. John was exactly who he said he was with nothing to hide. Other than John and Scott, Lucien had not allowed any humans to know his secret. And even contact with those two was kept to a minimum.

After that meeting with Scott and John ten years ago, Lucien’s life had changed dramatically. John would catch the criminals, and Scott would try to prosecute them, but if that failed, Lucien received an address. They trusted him to become the judge, jury and executioner in one fell swoop. The arrangement worked well for everyone.

Lucien only received an address once or twice a month, and they only led to repeat offenders whose rap sheets included the worst kind of crimes. This was the only time he allowed himself to feed. Before their arrangement, Lucien remained holed up in his room, only coming out when his hunger proved too great. Sometimes, he’d feed on animals, but that was like eating dirt and barely gave him enough strength to walk. As for blood bags, he could only order or steal so many before people started asking questions.

Midnight finally arrived A cold breeze pushed its way through the street and with it came the smell of rain. A sharp pain stabbed at Lucien’s gut. It had been almost two weeks since he’d last fed, but he didn’t mind. The pain helped him remember who and what he was: a monster.

As an old truck pulled out of the driveway, Lucien stood and faced the little green house across the street. It was time. Finally, Lucien could feed.

Chapter 4

Lucien didn’t bother knocking. He announced his arrival by kicking down the door, splintering it into several pieces. A sawed-off shotgun was immediately shoved in his face by a skinny, long-haired man with scabs on his arms. Lucien grabbed the gun and smashed it against the man’s face, breaking his nose. The man screamed and covered his face, but blood still sprayed from between his fingers.

Lucien shoved him aside.

Inside the small living room, a woman pressed herself into the corner screaming while another lay sprawled on a couch. She stared at Lucien with casual indifference, her pupils the size of the smoking light bulb lying on the floor next to her.

“Get out now if you want to live,” he growled.

The screaming woman scrambled for the door, taking Broken Nose with her. The other girl with chin-length brown hair and eyes that looked more yellow than green smiled at him and closed her eyelids. Lucien didn’t try to wake her from her stupor. Instead, he let her enjoy the escape she had chosen from life. It would become her coffin.

He ducked behind a corner when two pairs of feet pounded on the stairs leading up from the basement. His pulse raced with excitement, and salvia pooled in his mouth. He swallowed and licked his lips, very much looking forward to what came next.

Two men appeared, both holding handguns. Nothing he couldn’t handle. He stepped in front of them at the opposite end of the hallway, his hands balled tight and fangs extended. The men opened fire at the same time Lucien rushed them. Metal bullets tore into his body, some going right through him, but they did nothing to slow him down. The men backed up, their eyes widening as they continued to fire their weapons.

Lucien grinned wildly and attacked them through a spray of bullets. It was a simple dance for him, one he had perfected throughout the years. He dove in, grabbed each of them by the arm, spun around until the guns were forced from their grips, then back around until they were each pressed against the wall, Lucien’s tight grip around their throats.

“You have one chance to live,” he said. “Leave now or die.”

The man-boys glanced at each other. Lucien released them from his grip and waited for their answer. At the same time, both men scrambled for the door, pushing and shoving just to get away. Lucien was glad they’d chosen wisely. He took no pleasure in killing, but he wasn’t a saint, either.

Lucien closed his eyes and concentrated on the other sounds in the home. A faint shuffling, as if someone was searching through articles of clothing, whispered through the house. One more human still hid. Lucien crept down the narrow hallway. A lone light flickered above, and the house smelled of stale beer and burnt chemicals.

A bedroom door on his right was closed. Just as he was about to kick it down, the door swung open, surprising him. A heavyset man with a tattoo of an eagle on his left arm fired an AK47 directly into his chest. Lucien crashed into the wall behind him, temporarily stunned. He slumped to the ground, pretending to be dead.

The fat man chuckled and stepped in front of Lucien. He bent down and, inches from Lucien’s face, spat, “Come to take my money? You dirty, piece of shit.”

Lucien’s eyes snapped open, and he snatched the man’s meaty neck and jerked him forward, his fangs easily slicing through the man’s thick skin. Lucien held him tight while he sucked in the human’s warm blood, which in turn heated his own cold blood in a matter of seconds. It was like stepping into a hot bath, and Lucien couldn’t help but moan in pleasure.

But it wouldn’t last.

The large man’s body jerked and twisted in Lucien’s tight grip, clinging stubbornly to life. The initial pleasure turned to misery, and Lucien almost let go. He hated the taste of the last drop of life that man treasured most. Other vampires joked that it tasted like a maraschino cherry, but Lucien found the taste bitter and foul.

Lucien tossed the dead man to his side and leaned toward his knees, his stomach tightening into knots. He inhaled several sips of air until he knew he couldn’t take any more time. Police would be arriving soon.

He forced himself up, despite still feeling nauseous, and moved through the house, gathering any flammable objects he could find: cleaners, hairspray, paint thinner. He then crushed all of the containers and sprayed the liquids everywhere, including on the stacks of hundred dollar bills he’d found in the fat man’s bedroom.

Downstairs was a fully functioning meth lab. He didn’t spray anything down there — it would ignite on its own.

Lucien walked out the back door and lit a match. The orange flame dropped to the ground, then licked at the trail of chemicals until it had entirely engulfed the rundown house. He stayed for a few minutes, the heat warming his face, but when sirens wailed in the distance, he stealthily maneuvered his way through the many backyards to his car at the park. Just as several cops raced by, their lights spinning and sirens blaring, Lucien jumped into his Hummer.

Surprisingly, Lucien’s thoughts didn’t linger on the man he’d just killed. Instead, he thought of breaking into the Deific, and that made him think of Eve. Before he realized it, he found himself driving in the direction of her house. There was something calming about her presence, and right now that was exactly what he needed.

Fifteen minutes later, he stepped over a small bike to climb the Oak tree across from Eve’s house. He made it to the tallest limb possible before he finally looked over. The sight was enough to stop his heart from beating.

The moon was full, hanging above him like a giant clock-pendulum. Its bright light bathed Eve as she lay upon her roof, staring at the stars. She wasn’t aware, or didn’t care, that her golden hair was spread across dirty shingles. If ever there was a fallen angel, she was it.

Lucien gripped the tree tightly, the whites of his knuckles showing. It was painful to be so close to such a beautiful creature and not touch it. Of course, even if he could, he wouldn’t for fear his touch would destroy her.

For hours, she lay unmoving, breathing in and out quietly. The entire time, her eyes moved only to follow the moon’s retreat across the night sky. It was a slow and gradual process, and when the sun’s rays finally chased the moon away, Eve sat up and gracefully disappeared down the backside of the house.

Lucien sucked in the early morning air, letting his lungs fill to their capacity. He didn’t realize until that very moment that he’d been holding his breath the entire time.

Chapter 5

There are moments in a person’s life they will remember forever. For most humans, these snapshots are often a graduation, a wedding or the birth of a child. Other people capture simple moments, like the joy of watching a sunrise or a first kiss. Lucien had never experienced any of these, not while human and never as a vampire, until now. This sudden emotion was foreign to him, and it bled something he didn’t understand.

He was still in this confused state when Eve opened her front door an hour later, wearing a cotton floral dress with a lime green sash around her waist. Her long hair hung down in great curls, and as she walked, they swayed carelessly across her back.

Lucien followed her every step, not deterring from the path even though the sun’s early morning rays stung his skin. She had his full attention. The suburban houses turned into shopping centers, gas stations, grocery stores and eventually towering skyscrapers. Eve ignored it all. It was the people she noticed.

A woman with unkempt red hair and a long overcoat passed by Eve. Eve stopped abruptly and turned around just as the red head ducked into a nearby bar. Eve followed her inside.

The small building, made from black painted cinderblocks, only had two barred windows in front, one on each side of the door. On the roof, a bright green neon sign flashed “Billy’s”. There were only a few cars in the parking lot, no doubt late night customers who were too drunk to drive home.

Lucien wandered around the side of the building and waited. Eve didn’t strike him as someone who would drink this early in the morning, but then what would she want with the redhead? He tried to listen for her voice over the loud bar music, but he was only able to catch a few words that he recognized as hers.

After a while of leaning against the side of the bar like an uncommitted alcoholic, curiosity got the best of him. He peeked inside the grease-stained window. Eve sat in the corner with the red head, her back slightly to the front door. If he was quick, he could sneak inside and sit at one of the bar’s few booths. Just then, one of the bar’s patrons stood and moved toward the door. This was his chance.