Knights of Souls and Shadows, Book 1 Read online

  “But she did. Camila wasn’t Camila. Don’t you remember? Didn’t you see her transform into that three-story tall, purple-skinned demon named Shamara?”

  “No,” she seethed. “I apparently missed that when my papa dropped dead in my arms. Because of your mother. Because of you.”

  My body trembled as I tried to maintain control, to stay calm and explain, when part of me wanted to shake her silly until her common sense returned because apparently they’d brainwashed it out of her. My words came out as measured as I could make them. “Yes, our mom was trying to protect us when she realized Shamara had us surrounded. I told you Brielle and I were wanted by a lot of powerful beings. Even the dark fae had come to this realm for us. Shamara surrounded us with all of those demons she’d had possess the humans. Including your father. They would have killed everyone here! All of the humans!”

  “But your mom did it for her.”

  Tears of frustration burned the backs of my eyes and thickened my throat. “You’re not listening to me. My mom killed the demons. We don’t harm humans. Our purpose is to protect them, and that’s exactly what she did that night.”

  “For fuck’s sake!” Dani shouted. “Maybe you really are the stupid one here. I know exactly what happened that night.”

  “Then you know that wasn’t your father!”

  “No, I don’t know that! I don’t care about all the others who went crazy that night. Maybe they were possessed. But you spent the afternoon with us that day, Elliana—with him. Do you really think a demon could have faked that?”

  My eyes widened as I stared at her, my heart thundering in my chest. No. What she was saying couldn’t be true. Right? Papa Miguel had been so sweet. So warm and kind, sharing his home and food with us, even though he had so little. And wouldn’t Mom and Dad have sensed the demon inside him? We ate at their freaking house!

  No, this can’t be right. The only thing that had kept me from completely hating my mom was knowing that Shamara was the reason Dani’s papa had died. That her demon-minion had killed him long before his body ever dropped. Mom wouldn’t have done what she did if Shamara’s demons hadn’t basically seized the town, but had she been a little careless? Why would an innocent human have died, though?

  “Your mom killed a lot of humans that night,” Dani said, as though reading my mind.

  “No. Her power doesn’t work like that.”

  “Well, it did. And my papa was one of them. She’s going to pay, though.”

  Before my eyes, Dani began to transform, her skin taking on a bluish hue I could see even in the dark space. Two small horns sprouted from her head, curling inward as they grew, and her cheekbones sharpened as her brows curved in a severe arch. As though she’d flipped a switch from off to on, dark power flowed off of her, turning me on and making me sick at the same time.

  “Lucky for me,” she said, “I’m not human. Only half. I told you my mother died when I was little, but I’d been wrong. Shamara is my mother. That’s why papa had brought us here. He didn’t know what to do with me as I started coming into my powers. And no, not stupid evolving human powers. True power.” Her lips curled in a proud smile. “Your mother killed the wrong person, Elliana Knight, and that’s too bad for her. I will have my revenge on her, but for now, I can have it on you. And she can know what it’s like to lose someone she loves more than anything in this world.”

  With that, Dani strode off, a barbed tail flicking out from the waistband of her jeans, as my jaw gaped open. I’d fallen for a fucking demon. A half-demon, anyway. Still—ew. My whole body racked with a disgusted shudder, and it took everything I had to not puke up my measly dinner.

  I had no idea what this meant. I hadn’t sensed the demon in her. Was she just that good at suppressing her power? Maybe, if she was really Shamara’s offspring. Shamara was possibly the most powerful demon on this earth. At least equal to the Ancients, the major demons who had originated the Daemoni millennia ago. Maybe Papa Miguel had also been demon. Dani could have easily been lying. That’s what demons were best at, after all. Lies and deceit.

  Lies and deceit that possibly could have gone back to the beginning, from the moment I met her. Had she ever cared for me? Or had she been setting us up all along? After all, it was because of her we’d even come to Misery’s Edge in the first place that day.

  Dropping back into my corner, I tried to untangle the web of everything that had happened between us, searching for the tiniest clue that indicated any of it had been real between us. But I should have known better, even back then. I’d always known I was difficult to love. Why had I thought she’d be any different?

  Or Sadie for that matter.

  Not going there, I admonished myself. It would do no good.

  One thing I knew for sure: Dani was wasting her time with me. If she really wanted to make my mother feel her pain, she needed Brielle, not me.

  Of course, I’d never tell her this. I’d die here or go wherever they took me before I’d give up my sister. I just hoped Charleigh didn’t lead the demons back to Brielle. She was smart enough not to. But she’d return to Brie eventually. She was sworn to protect us. She’d take care of my sister.

  Again, I didn’t know how much time passed. More visions or dreams or whatever they were of the stone prison danced in my head. Eventually, five demons in human flesh came to my cell.

  “You’re being transferred,” one of them growled.

  We left the building under the cover of night, and they threw me up on a wooden wagon, binding me to the floor. Some kind of demonic beast pulled the rickety contraption through the town’s gates. I watched the moon overhead as we traveled for an hour or so, then stopped. A pale face surrounded by white hair peered over me. The male version of my aunt Vanessa—her twin brother Victor. Unlike my aunt, Victor was still part of the Daemoni.

  “Hello, love,” he said, his vampire fangs slipping down. “The Ancients will be pleased.”

  I couldn’t tell what was going on, but a few minutes later the wagon started moving again. My eyes rolled up as far as I could see. Victor’s white hair bobbed ahead, leading the wagon.

  Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I really didn’t know which was worse—Shamara or the Ancients. I did know, though, that the Ancients, the major demons who’d created the Daemoni, never operated alone. Not like Shamara did. That might have been her arrogance at play, but it made the Ancients ten times scarier. Or however many of them there were. I didn’t even know that. I could hope my brother would step in, but I doubted it. He’d made his place in this world clear to our parents years ago, solidifying his position as leader of the Daemoni with a string of atrocities. His soul was even darker than mine. Then again, he’d helped us escape to that other world through the gate he’d opened, so there was that.

  On the other hand, I knew I could take Victor, if he were alone. I just needed to break through these magical bindings.

  My chance came when we stopped again, and a moment later I felt the bindings released. I sprang to my feet, prepared to shoot a fireball, and my jaw dropped.

  My father stood in front of Victor.

  I blinked.

  No, not my father. My brother.

  Chapter 7

  Before I could move, Dorian flew at me, wrapped his muscular arm around my middle to hold me to him, and flashed. As far as we knew, only my mom and dad could take someone with them in a flash. It appeared as though Dorian had inherited that special trait as the path in the woods disappeared, and our surroundings were replaced by the inside of what looked like an old movie theater. Most of the seats had been removed, only a few rows remaining. The tattered curtains had also been pulled down, probably for repurposing, a few torn scraps dangling up near the ceiling. I saw that much before we flashed again, now appearing in the middle of a swamp. Possibly the bayou. Was he taking me to Crescent City? I’d half-hoped he was taking me back to Brielle and Charleigh.

  “Where are we going?” I demanded when we didn’t flash again right away.

&
nbsp; Dorian was a spitting image of our dad—light brown hair, emerald green eyes with specks of brown and gold that technically made them hazel, a square jaw, tall, broad and muscular. He wore his hair closely cropped, though, and sported a short beard. He also wore a silk suit, which our dad would never don, even for his and Mom’s wedding. Where Dorian could even get silk suits these days was beyond me, though I supposed silkworms had likely replenished by now and there were definitely plenty of seamstresses and tailors. Rather than answering me, he glared at me with hard hazel eyes, his arm still like a metal band across my back.

  “You’re not going to tell me?” I asked.

  He still didn’t answer, but another vision flashed in my mind: Dorian soaring at me, his hands gripping my head, his wrists twisting, snapping my neck. Blackness filled my vision for a moment before his face was in front of mine again. What the actual fuck. Was I seeing the future with all these visions? I cursed our witch professor, the one who’d prodded me to open up to my intuition, which had apparently unlocked a new power, and one I wasn’t sure I wanted. Seeing into the future could be quite handy, but like Mom’s telepathy, it certainly had some major drawbacks.

  Wait. Was my brother actually going to kill me?

  “What’s wrong with you?” Dorian growled.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I shot back lamely. “Are you just hell-bent on making Mom and Dad hate you?”

  His brows lifted, then he smirked. “I don’t give a fuck what they think, but if that was my goal, don’t you think I’d take Brielle?”

  Ouch. Dickhead.

  Grabbing my bicep with a large, strong hand, he twisted me away as he glanced around, as though looking for someone. Or something, actually, which became apparent when his gaze zeroed in on a point on the ground a few yards ahead of us.

  “There,” he murmured.

  “Where? What?” I squinted, trying to see what he did, but all I noticed was a small scattering of leaves and twigs—although, I supposed scattering wasn’t quite the right word. It almost appeared to be a purposeful arrangement, with four twigs creating a diamond shaped frame, blades of grass and stones assembled into the form of a snowflake, or perhaps a mandala. The whole thing was no bigger than my palm. Who the heck out here in the middle of the bayou had done this? Why did Dorian care?

  He ignored me, dragging me toward it, then just as we stepped over it, we left the swamps of the bayou and appeared in a frozen tundra.

  Snow carpeted the ground and covered the trees surrounding us. Low, dark clouds blanketed the sky, obliterating any sun and making it impossible to tell if it was morning or dusk.

  “Whoa. Was that a portal?” My breath plumed out in front of me as Dorian finally released my arm. I would have made a run for it, except I had absolutely no idea where we were or where to go. Never mind the fact that Dorian could easily overtake me. Of the three of us, he was easily the most powerful.

  “Welcome to Faery,” he said after glancing at my confused expression. “More specifically, to the Winter Lands, home of the Unseelie king.”

  My eyes widened, and I shook my head vehemently. “No. No, Dorian! You can’t do this!”

  “Would you rather go to the Ancients? To Shamara?”

  “At least they wouldn’t kill me. The dark fae want to end me.” I still didn’t know why. I could understand why the demons and Ancients would want Brielle and me. They assumed we’d be like Dorian and just needed to go dark like he had. Then they’d have all three of us to help them take over the world and whatever other nefarious wet dreams they had. But the fae? Nobody had ever explained their interest in us, but we’d seen them in Misery’s Edge on that fateful night, coming for us.

  “Not yet,” Dorian said as we stood on the edge of a forest, staring across a snow-covered field at a mountain whose height put the Rockies and Alps to shame. Near the top of it, overlooking a deep chasm, was the most beautiful piece of architecture I’d ever seen. A glass castle. Probably not glass, but ice. It wasn’t transparent, but white and gleaming, made up of several elaborately designed round buildings interconnected to each other. A bridge crossed the chasm to a smaller structure on the opposite mountain. Between them, through the chasm ran a river and water falls down the mountains and toward the forest we stood in.

  “Not yet,” I echoed. “So you’re going to let them torture me first and then kill me? You really hate us that much?”

  “You’re safer here. Now shut up.” Not giving me a chance to retort, he grabbed me again, and we soared toward the palace. I could have flown myself, but he obviously didn’t trust me. I hated flying with him. It was disturbing—Dorian didn’t need wings. Mom had told us how Dorian had been able to fly since he was a kid, long before even Mom or Dad were given their wings.

  The landscape below distracted me. Gray rock, green pines, and every once in a while, red berries or even a flower colored the otherwise snow and ice-covered terrain. Frozen mist hung over the tops of the trees, and we passed through layers of it stacked along the mountainside. The beautiful wintery scene reminded me of the small town by our college, but this was even more magical. And felt all the more dangerous.

  Dorian didn’t fly to the front of the palace grounds, which were surrounded by a high wall. He swooped to the side, over the chasm and dropped, making my belly drop too. We landed on a ledge toward the bottom of the castle but still high above the river flowing below. A door opened in what had appeared to be a blank wall a moment ago, and Dorian ushered me inside.

  We strode through dark corridors that twisted and turned. I expected to be thrown into another cell, but then we climbed stairs, passed through more darkened hallways, and ascended more steps, silence surrounding us. Maybe the Winter Court had been abandoned. Maybe our parents assassinated the king, and they had to deal with the aftermath to ensure everything was good here before returning to the Earthly realm. And maybe—no, definitely—I was too old to be believing such fairy tales. The hauntingly beautiful palace was getting to me.

  Finally, we stopped in front of a closed door, and Dorian turned around to me.

  “I hate this for you, but it’s necessary.” With those cryptic words, he pressed his palm against my forehead for a brief moment, then threw open the door and shoved me inside. He didn’t follow, and when I turned for him, the door slammed in my face. Of course, it was locked.

  “Hate what?” I wondered aloud as I turned back around. My breath caught. Well, I supposed this was better than a typical cell, if I were going to be imprisoned somewhere. “You hate this for me? Just when I thought you couldn’t be a bigger ass.”

  I’d never been in a bedroom so spacious or seen a bed so large. Who the hell needed such a big bed anyway? The room was decorated in white and blues, with white wooden furniture, including the bed, a dresser, a table with two chairs by the massive window, and a blue-upholstered settee in front of the fireplace, which was surrounded by a white wood mantel. Thick royal blue velvet drapes framed the floor-to-ceiling windows that spanned the entire opposite wall, and a thick comforter and pillows topped the bed in various shades of blue and white.

  The windows beckoned me, and I strode across the white carpet to consider my options. The window overlooked the chasm, but if I craned my neck, to the left I could see toward the far side of the mountain, where white crests of ocean waves undulated in the distance. To the right I could see a bit of the palace grounds and beyond them the expanse of snow-covered field that led to the forest where I was sure Dorian and I had first appeared.

  The windowpanes were solid and not freezing cold as I expected them to be. None opened, not so much as a latch. Turning, I surveyed the room again and went over to a door on the side wall. It led to a closet the size of our extra-large dorm room that the three of us had shared. Another door opened to an opulent marble bathroom with silver and blue finishings.

  “One door out, and it’s locked,” I murmured to myself. I considered the windows again. Could I break them? Possibly, especially if I used magic. Th
en again, we were in Faery, Dark Faery specifically, and I had no idea what magic was in use here nor how my own magic would behave. And even if I did manage to escape, where would I go? Dorian had said we were in the Winter Lands. I assumed that meant there were Summer Lands, possibly where my parents were. But I had no idea where that was in relation to here. I knew nothing about the Faery lands. I didn’t even know how to return to the earthly realm.

  Shit. We’d been home for what—a day?—and I’d already been caught by the demons, handed over to the Daemoni, and taken to the dark fae. Always the fuck-up, I was. At least this time I’d managed to keep Brielle and Charleigh out of it. I’d figure this out. I wouldn’t let them hold me forever. I was nobody’s prisoner.

  And in the meantime, I couldn’t deny the flutter of excitement of being in Faery. I was always a sucker for adventure, but more than that, if my parents were really at Summer Court, I was at least in the right realm now. I just needed to learn the lay of the land and anything else that would be helpful. How I’d learn, I didn’t know yet, but I’d figure that out, too.

  If I were really lucky, I’d find Sadie, as well. But I refused to get my hopes up, and if I were being honest with myself, I knew it was for the best that I didn’t find her. I’d inevitably hurt her again, just like I had Dani. Perhaps we were all better off this way.

  When night fell outside, bringing fat snowflakes with it, the door to my room finally opened.

  “Dorian?” I said, turning from the window.

  “No,” squeaked the waif-like figure. Barely more than the size of a ten-year-old, she carried a wooden tray laden with dishes, delicious scents wafting my way. My stomach growled audibly, and I nearly drooled as she crossed the room and set the tray on the table by the window. “I’m sorry to bother you. My lady thought you would be hungry.”