Constricted: Beyond the Brothel Walls (27 page)

Epilogue

P
etre’s eyes opened to the whitewash of snow covering his body ...

Acknowledgements

M
any people helped bring this story to life. Writing is only one aspect of creating a book.

I’d like to thank my editor, Jenny for her ability to maintain my voice and catch nuisances. My beta readers, you ladies all rock, and I would be lost without your guidance. My designer, Zack at Raven Tree Design helped shape the cover and develop the theme for this saga.

Book bloggers and you, the reader, for taking a chance on an unknown author, I thank you too.

If you enjoyed
Constricted
, please leave a review or send me a message. I love to hear feedback from fans.

Love, Rae Z. Ryans

Excerpt from
Altered

Cain Morning Star

E
nd times crept closer with each passing day, yet there promises to fulfill hung over my head; the ground tremored, and fissures hissed in the wilderness of the once breathtaking Canadian landscape even twelve years after the initial sundering. Failure had greeted me around every bend, and vows I’d promised my mother hung over my head. The perils rooted and hid in the shadows. Danger rested in uttering my name: Morning Star. I was a descendent of Lucifer, one of the Seven Princes of Hell, but I was not him.

Iced over streets of Arcadia were nothing new, but my steps lightened as I approached the bar. Belle from the Lost Souls Division of the Arcadian Bureau of Demonic Affairs had planned our meeting there. I laughed recalling how she had answered the phone and said, “Lost Souls, to hell with the rest.”

To the masses of demons inhabiting Arcadia, I was another former slave in search of a fresh start in the free country. They had pitied me with their pained stares and hushed whispers. My story and freedom had not mattered. The history and all I had overcome were just that, the past. Only the future concerned me, and even then, it was not mine.

Following up on a stolen lead, I contacted the agency on referral of my sponsor, Tomas. The secret sect of the Arcadian Bureau of Demonic Affairs had specialized in locating and retracting demons from Delphia and Garland; I had two to find and rescue. With my mother’s last wishes fulfilled, I could disappear from the world for good. God have pity on my cursed soul, but Hell had awaited my arrival.

Lips pressed together whistling an old but familiar tune, yet I had forgotten the name. Eyes swept my surroundings as I traipsed through the familiar ruined city sectors. I lost count of the years since the world fell to shit. In some ways, earth shitted on the elioud families sharing the earth with unsuspecting humans. Like a bubble hidden inside a bubble that was how I saw the world.

The seven families fought for power as the children of the fallen angels rose and fell. All of this happened under the noses of the human population or the new swept under the rug as human trafficking stories flashed through headlines. Yes, some were humans sold into slavery, but the sundering changed the world as the humans departed. The idea sickened my stomach no matter the victims human or demon. Angelica and Lilith fell captive, lost within the remnants of the shattered world eighteen years ago but enslaved long before the first rumble rocked the world.

We saw the signs as the archangels unleashed the seven seals and bought our time until the world became ours. God promised as much when he unleashed the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Boric Garland had other plans and cheated his way into power over the remnants of the southern lands, renaming them after his forged bloodline. On a prayer and dashed dreams, I escaped his world and traveled north, dodging bounty hunters sent after my saviour.

Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, the world belonged to us. “What’s left of it,” I muttered and blinked at the silence. A glance shot up and down the street. My eyes settled on the bright afternoon sky as a peculiar sensation tingled my half-frozen skin.

When the rapture ended, all that remained were demons in one form or another. Morning Star was my bloodline, and we were one of the seven royal families cast down from Heaven--
The Grigori
- according to God himself. Seven archangels fell and proclaimed themselves the seven princes of Hell according to the Book of Enoch.

Enoch was not too far from the truth. Each bred with humans and formed the Nephilim, who went on to breed a third generation: the elioud. My sisters and I were elioud.

After the sunder, Hell bled other demons into the world. Arch demons saw a leader in Boric and supported his claims while drawing strings behind closed doors. I witnessed this as a servant in his houses during the early years of the reformation. My brain reeled thinking about the new grand design they created for the new world.

I halted in front of a distressed church. An old iron bell hung in the steeple and clang with the strong wind. Stained glass painted vivid biblical scenes and reflected the bold colors humanity could no longer create. Pieces lay broken in their frame like me. I studied the scenes and ignored the draw of muffled music from the corner bar.
The ADBA would wait.

The glass retold revelation. All worlds must end, but in the final days, the humans ascended, and the demons remained. Not all of us were evil but like humans, we were capable of both goodness and wickedness. I had not asked for my birth. God chose me for this life. Captured, tortured, starved, and raped by the descendants of Amon, few of us survived as the years swept by.

I blinked at the shrouded grey sky recalling the exact color on the day of my escape eighteen years ago. Snow blanketed the world as my savior brought me into Delphia, and I alone journeyed north to Arcadia. The snow fell then as it did now when the world tore apart years later.

The urge to enter the church ruins rushed through my veins. When had I last prayed to Him? Shaky palms held to the skies and the tremble reached my booted toes. Being elioud did not make me evil in his eyes, but our kind could not ascend even though we had not asked for our existence. God gave us this broken life instead. I shook my head and wiped the melted snow from my face. No prayer today, I thought and jumped from the steps. The draw wrenched at my heart, and I halted again, turning and staring at the battered old door.

Quick glances narrowed over my shoulder although I was not certain why. Prayer and churches had not insinuated weakness even for the damned. The door squeaked as I pressed on the worn surface and slipped through the gap. A sneeze tickled my nose from the ten years of dust and moldy decay as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. Birds cooed in the rafters. God had not ascended the animals; demons required food. Pews and papers lay on their sides as if everyone had disappeared.
Oh right, they had departed the cruel world for a better place
. My lips pursed as my eyes roamed over the damage.

Soggy carpet squished beneath my feet as I found the sturdiest pew and sat, bowing my head and clearing my thoughts. I could not have told anyone the denomination of the church, but it was not Catholic. Depicted scenes bathed Jesus in a positive light as opposed to his crucifixion. No pictures of saints or the Mother Mary either. Protestant perhaps but that had not mattered in God’s eyes. “All that mattered rested in your heart and soul,” mother used to say to the three of us, and I believed her even after all I had survived.

Lips repeated the same words I had said since departing Garland: “God, please protect my sisters. You and I both know firsthand what they do and the horrors they face. Please let your love fill them, so they never know hunger and allow your light to protect their souls in their darkest hour. I have to believe they can heal where I haven’t.”

The inflicted wounds of my captors had never healed. Did they heal for anyone or was it all a dream? I stared at the cross. After ten years of freedom, the nightmares had spilled into my waking hours. No man alive would ever love the real me. A tear rolled down my cheek as I bloodied my lip between my teeth. They saw either my birth name or the scars left behind by slavery.

A bright light flooded the quaint church, and I shielded my eyes as a white clad woman floated to my side. Long blond hair flowed and billowed as she smiled.

“
Demons don’t usually pray.” My head bowed until her light had dimmed. “I am Hallowed, the angel of Conquest and Virtue.” Her warm hand smoothed over my forehead and heat spread throughout my body, defrosting my cold body. The darkness of their deeds skittered into the recesses as my heart swelled. “Great change comes for you, Cain Morning Star. Will you be ready to accept it?”

My gaze met her sapphire eyes, and I blinked as they glowed in the dim lit church. “You know my name,” I whispered.

“God heard your pleas.” My brow twisted mirroring my gut. He still listened? Where was God when they beat me? When they … I swallowed unable to utter the words after all these years. “Go. Your future waits.”

My lips parted to speak, but Hallowed had vanished. Hands rubbed sleep deprived eyelids as my neck craned forward.
Had I imagined her?

My watch ticked and I removed the pocket watch from my jeans pocket. A curse tickled my lips; I ran later for my meeting than I’d realized. Leaving the church, I paused at the door and stared at the barren cross again. “Please, save Lilith and Angelica. Forget about me.” My eyes closed, picturing their smiling faces. Twenty years had passed since I last saw Lily. Ten years ago, I saw Angel.

Already damned, like me but perhaps they held a chance at happiness, love, and freedom where I had given up on the notion years ago. Three hundred years of servitude had altered my views. No demon could set me free; my one true wish was true freedom. The door groaned as I yanked on the corroded iron handles. Fresh air filled my lungs and chased away all warmth. Change waits, future waits, but I had cared little for myself. The odd draw vacated and altered its path toward the bar. That had to be a sign; try as I might my feet refused a faster pace. Weight lifted from my shoulders and my steps grew lighter, yet I could not reach the door fast enough.

“He listened,” I whispered. “My sisters will be freed.”

Easing through the bar door, my eyes squinted as the smoke cloud billowed from the bar. My heart pumped harder, and hairs on my neck stiffened. Green eyes flared to life, glowing among the nicotine haze releasing from his lips, but I knew that gaze. “Dorian,” I said and swore he had mouthed mine. He knew my name too.

Ache swelled in the center of my chest as he reached for a woman with dreadlocks. The elioud slipped through his grasp and approached me, but my gaze refused to budge from the swell of muscles extended and framing the bar. Insides squeezed as his thoughts roared to life. Dorian’s eyes widened, darting toward the exits. I could not help but grin and shake my head, as I read his thoughts.

Did he think I’d kick his ass again?

The woman I now assumed was Belle extended her hand and asked, “Cain?” I nodded as she continued speaking a mile a minute, but her words mattered little.

The man I had spent the last seven months searching for sat at the bar. Snug jeans clung to Dorian’s sprawled thighs, accenting the muscles hidden underneath the fabric. Another puff of smoke released as he blew out a lengthy drag, and my insides ignited. Blood pumped hard, and my dry throat constricted. Tingles caused by his gaze rushed over my skin, and I blinked as my brain fought against my body. Dorian cocked his head as the heat rose in his scruff-covered cheeks. Under the layers of acrid smoke, I swore I even smelled his seascape aftershave.

“Oh no,” Belle said but my eyes still refused to acknowledge her as he downed his drink.

Dorian wiped puffy lips across his duster sleeve and slammed the glass down on the bar. My mouth hissed a breath as he stormed from the bar, escaping through the side entrance. I had failed to notice the dim exit sign. No, I screamed without words and felt my eyes widen. Seven months I had searched for him, and there was no way in hell I’d allow him to run away now.

Coming Soon

Spring 2015