The Healer: A Young Adult Romantic Fantasy (The Healer Series Book 1) (41 page)

The Black Blossom: Book 2

The Grass Cutter Sword: Book 3

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Double Booked

My Fair Assassin

Marry Your Billionaire

Continue following Hope’s journey as she relives her life as Princess Mikomi in
The Back Blossom, Book 2
in
The Healer Series. Keep reading to sample the first chapter of the second book.

Forced into a dream-like state, Hope is reliving her life as Mikomi,
Princess of the Kagami Empire and The Healer of the world. Life as an Imperial Princess is rife with danger, betrayal, and intrigue as Mikomi joins forces with a rebel group of samurai warriors in order to usurp the throne from her tyrannical father. To win this seemingly hopeless war, she must train with Musubi, a warrior in the rebel army, and learn the art of the sword without revealing her identity as The Healer.

Unbeknownst to her, Musubi harbors his own secret identity and personal agenda, both of which holds dark consequences for Mikomi's future. Neither one can afford to share their secrets, nor can they ignore the powerful chemistry building between them.

Further complications arise at the arrival of her betrothed, Katsu, who must aid her in mastering control of her own gift before she ascends as a full kami on her eighteenth birthday. Katsu is not the cold-hearted warrior god she expected, but how can she spend eternity with a deity she may never love?

Determined to avoid her destiny, she spies on her father and his generals, collecting intelligence for the rebel army in the hope that one day the empire of Kagami will be liberated and her own future will be hers to control.

Turn the page to read the first chapter of the second book in
The Healer Series: The Black Blossom.

Prologue: The God of Love and Marriage,

700 A.D.

Musubi-no-Kami, the god of love and marriage, was preparing to make a deal with the devil…literally.

Stone steps crunched beneath his sandaled feet, and the temperature dropped with his slow yet determined descent. The path he took now was one he never would have considered a millennium ago. He never would have considered it a month ago, but Edana was gone, dead by her own hand, and someone needed to pay. That someone was Masaru Katsu, warrior god and keeper of the Grass Cutter Sword.

Musubi had done his best to curb Katsu’s inappropriate relationships with human women. He’d tried thousands of times over the past centuries to help the warrior god understand the kind of devastation he left in his wake every time a heart was broken and another girl abandoned. It left his job of helping these women find their soul mates virtually impossible. They became unwilling to ever open up and trust again.

It was selfish of Katsu. He was one of the few kami in all of creation destined to have a soul mate, destined to have the kind of love and companionship that Musubi could merely dream of and never hope to achieve. Yet the warrior god showed very little emotion whenever his future bride was mentioned. He clearly took his good fortune for granted. He didn’t even care, and now he’d gone too far. Edana was gone and it was Katsu’s fault.

He ground his teeth together as he continued to descend the cold, black stone steps to the underworld. His previous existence had centered solely on bringing happiness and joy to others. He’d done it for thousands of years and always assumed it would be the only thing he would ever desire. Now, the only thing he desired was revenge.

Musubi took his very last step into the underworld and waited. The nekomata, one of the demon god’s trained assassins, had been very specific in their previous conversation. Musubi was to wait there until he was sent for. Wandering off and getting lost in the underworld was not only unwise but hazardous to one’s health, even for an immortal being. He didn’t have to wait long. Despite the dense darkness surrounding him, he was able to hear the padded approach of one of the demon god’s servants. He hoped it was a servant and nothing else.

The padding came to an abrupt halt a few feet in front of him. A small flame pierced the oppressive blackness, and a torch was lit, illuminating the desolate cavern. He eyed the nekomata critically. The depraved soul had once been a kami himself, but he’d defected centuries ago, never to be heard from again.

“Musubi, it’s been a long time,” it hissed.

“I have a meeting with your master,” was Musubi’s short reply.

The nekomata’s cat-like eye narrowed and then seemed to glow a deep green color.

“Of course, I shall take you to him now.” He turned and motioned for Musubi to follow. “I must admit, the news of your arrival here has created quite a stir, but I for one am not surprised. It’s always the best of us that falls the hardest.”

Musubi suppressed an angry response and followed his guide deeper into the dark recesses of the underworld. Before long, he was led into a large opening. Lighted torches hung on black metallic posts in the air. The black stone surrounding them seemed to absorb any light the fire from the torches created. They were in some kind of dungeon, to be sure, but one that no longer resided in the world of the living. A black throne lay thirty feet ahead of them, and seated on its edge was the demon god and lord of the underworld, Amatsu-no-kami.

He thought he was prepared for the sight of the demon god, but at that moment he doubted anyone could be completely unaffected by the pure malevolence that radiated from the god of the underworld. It was difficult to take in the fallen deity’s appearance because he had the same face and form as always, and yet here he sat, horrifically different from the day Musubi witnessed him cast out of Heaven. The whiteness of his skin was just as blinding as ever, but he was and had always been, a devastatingly handsome individual with jet black hair and eyes, a strong chin and firm cheekbones. He still wore his sparkling white robe almost as if he were mocking the Parents who originally bestowed such pureness upon him.

His appearance suggested power, aggression, and absolute dominance. He was someone you might mistakenly consider as a trustworthy leader, a valuable asset, an individual you hoped to have on your side. A demon in angel’s clothing. The juxtaposition was jarring.

“It’s been such a very long time since I’ve basked in the presence of the god of love and marriage,” Amatsu said. There was a mocking lilt to his tone.

“Seems like an eternity,” was Musubi’s clipped response. He noticed Amatsu’s eyebrow rise in amusement.

“Tell me, dear Musubi, what brings you from the land of the living? Why this completely unexpected honor?”

“I think you know why I’m here.” He tried his best to look unaffected as Amatsu scrutinized him with his scalding gaze.

“Revenge,” Amatsu said, almost laughing. “Seems a bit beneath you, punishing Katsu for the death of your one true love.”

Musubi held his tongue at Amatsu’s flippant remark.

“You won’t help me then?” Musubi held his ground but began to taste the bitterness of defeat. If the demon god wouldn’t help him, he didn’t know what path he could take next.

“I said it was beneath you. I, however, have never turned my back on the idea of giving others exactly what they deserve.”

Musubi tried not to let his relief show.

“I am extremely curious as to what exactly you have in mind for our dear Katsu, and how you think I could possibly help you. I am, after all, trapped here.” Amatsu’s voice took on a scary edge. Signs of his displeasure with his lot in life seeped through the calm mask of indifference he held.

“Katsu has to pay for what he did to Edana. He took away the woman I love, and now I’m going to take away the woman he loves.” It sounded worse saying it out loud than it had merely thinking and plotting it in his head, but thoughts of Edana steeled his resolve, and he didn’t lower his eyes when Amatsu studied him again.

“Katsu loves no one. Of this I am certain. So again, I ask you, what is it that you require from me?” Amatsu’s tone was becoming less pleasant.

“Katsu loves no one at the moment, but it is prophesied that he will.” The demon god’s eyes seemed to flash with a strange green light.

“The Healer,” he whispered to no one in particular.

Musubi nodded. “I’m sure you wondered why I would take such a huge risk in coming here. I know my revenge will not only benefit me, but will also eliminate a problem you have no doubt wished to remedy since the day the prophecy of The Healer was given utterance.”

“You want to kill The Healer? The Savior of the living? The half-mortal child destined to heal the veil between the living and the dead?” Amatsu began to laugh quietly to himself, and then the laughter grew louder until it echoed against the blackness of the stone walls. “You have wasted my time and yours, Musubi. The child cannot be slain. Her immortal paternity has ensured that nothing save a sword forged from this land can kill her. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to send an assassin through the veil?”

“I didn’t say I wanted to kill her.”

“Then what—”

“I want to take her for myself. How can she heal the veil if she is never bound to Katsu?”

Amatsu raised his head, and for the first time showed some real interest in what Musubi had to say.

“An interesting proposition, but tell me how you plan to woo The Healer away from the one she is destined to love and belong to. She will be created specifically for Katsu. Denying one’s soul mate in favor of someone else? You and I know that this is as impossible as killing the child and being done with it.”

“I agree with you, which is why I need your help. I need something that will sever her connection to Katsu and make her fall in love with me.”

Amatsu looked triumphant, though nothing had been decided or resolved.

“Something that can sever the link between soul mates? Now that is an idea, and quite a nasty one if you don’t mind my saying so. Not like you at all, really.”

“And yet, here I am.”

“Indeed.” Amatsu gave Musubi an appreciative look. “I may have something capable of accomplishing exactly what you propose, but I warn you, it will come with a price.”

Musubi let out an impatient grunt. “Name your price, and I’ll pay it.”

“Well, obviously money is out of the question. What would I need that for in this place?” The demon god let out a perverse laugh. It was as if its facetiousness was all the more macabre due to its infrequent occurrence. “And having you here serving me prevents us both from getting what we want. So here is what I propose. Once the deed is done, the girl has fallen for you and her connection to Katsu has been irrevocably severed, you will deliver her to me and walk away without a backward glance.”

“Fine,” was all Musubi had to say.

“Yes, you say that now, but I’m afraid I will need to ensure that if I grant you this favor, you don’t suddenly become consumed with a guilt-ridden conscience and go back on our deal.” “What more can I do to prove I will uphold my end of this transaction?” Amatsu merely smiled, a smile that sent rippling chills up and down Musubi’s spine. He held his hand open, palm up, and then flipped it with a flourish. When his hand came to rest palm up again, there stood, levitating above it, the blackest flower Musubi had ever seen. It pulsated with darkness. “What is that?” “This is a black cherry blossom, the solution to both our unfortunate situations.”

Musubi shook his head. “I don’t understand. How does this—”

“The black cherry blossom is an interesting piece of magic, very old magic, mind you, something I’m sure not even our First Parents are aware exists.”

“How could they not know about this?”

“Why, because I created it. This cherry blossom has the power to sever the connection between two soul mates by literally changing the destiny of the one who holds it. Come forward, please.”

Musubi walked to Amatsu slowly, never taking his eyes off the black, floating flower.

“Hold out your hand.”

He did as he was told. Amatsu moved his hand away from the blossom, but it still remained suspended in mid-air. Then it began to move toward Musubi’s outstretched hand. The blackened stem grew longer as it descended, and then wrapped itself around his wrist. He looked on in fascination as the stem continued to creep its way up his arm, under his clothing and toward his chest.