Forsaken Paradise Read online

  Forsaken Paradise

  by

  Elise Whyles

  Forsaken Paradise

  Copyright © 2012, Elise Whyles

  ISBN: 9781937325435

  Publisher: Beachwalk Press, Inc.

  Electronic Publication: October, 2012

  Editor: Pamela Tyner

  Cover: Fantasia Frog Designs

  eBooks are not transferable. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations in articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Back Cover Copy

  What could be more dangerous than loving a rogue?

  Condemned as a rogue and punished by his master, Angrail, one of the Seven Paradise Walkers, has wandered mortal and immortal worlds for centuries. He’s determined to find those responsible for killing an innocent woman and the child she carried, no matter the cost to himself.

  Ephynia, a demoness with scars, has spent a lifetime serving Nerafail, Lord of the Dead. When she unwittingly stumbles upon the one being who can end her loneliness, the battered Angrail, her life changes forever.

  Unknown to Angrail and Ephynia, evil lurks in the shadows. There are those who believe Angrail and Ephynia are the key to preventing a coming war—a war that they need to take place—and they seek to end their lives.

  Can Angrail find love in the arms of a demoness at war with herself? Or will the secrets hidden within the bowels of their worlds destroy them before they can find peace?

  Content Warning: contains violence, demon temper tantrums, graphic sex, and anal sex

  Dedication

  Celeste, my eternally faithful and patience writing partner, who has helped me through more than one round of writer’s block. A huge thank you to James—even though you don’t really know what Mom does, your love and excitement over each success has given me lots.

  Acknowledgements

  I wish to acknowledge several people.

  Pam—your faith in this series has been a huge blessing for me and Ciara, and we truly appreciate all the effort and time you put in.

  To our cover artist, who has once again worked magic on the cover and given me a book that I’m beyond elated to showcase.

  To my fans—without your support and love of this series it wouldn’t be as big and as intriguing as it has become.

  Prologue

  Vampire Realm, 400 AS

  Warriors lay tangled in careless disarray as Angrail drifted over body after body. Swords and shattered spears protruded from the mangled remains. Blood streaked across the floor in dark rivers, congealing with each passing second. Dark scorch marks scarred the walls, and tapestries hung in tatters.

  He noted two of his siblings moving among the bodies, occasionally pausing to bend over one. Drifting through the doors, through the walls, Angrail eased up the stone staircase, past groups of battle-weary warriors, grief clinging like a second skin to their hunched, dejected frames.

  Firelight danced and jumped on the walls, muted only by the sheer curtains hanging from the massive bed in the middle of the room. Several warriors hovered next to the king, his head bent, his long hair pulled back with a golden ring. Sobs shook his shoulders, his arms wrapped around the bloody woman staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

  “Curse them all. For this treachery they will know no peace. Take that beast from my sight! I will have your head before the sun rises, Saltar! Do you hear me? This I vow in my beloved Muandy’s name!”

  “Let me take his head, my lord, end this for us all.” The young warrior rubbed at the blood dripping down his face. His dark eyes were filled with such loathing and hatred Angrail shuddered.

  “Nay! I will have vengeance, justice for his crime. Take him to the cells.” King Hema spat blood across the floor. “Bind him well, Gawain, Dorstan. I will have his penance shortly.”

  Angrail knelt beside the queen. He reached out to draw his fingers through her tangled hair, pausing to separate the strands from the congealed blood staining the golden locks. “Wake, Muandy. Come, this be no place to rest.”

  “Hmm, who…” The queen’s pale gold eyes flashed before they settled on him. “Death walks among us.”

  “There is much death this night. Come, majesty, let me escort you home.” He held his hand out, and her soul rose from its mortal shell.

  “I am…” Muadhnait blanched when she looked at the blood soaking her gown. “He killed me, didn’t he?”

  “He did. Justice will be gained before his time is up,” Angrail promised. The pale gray fog swirling around his ankles spread, filling the room. “Come, we have a long journey this night before the sun rises.”

  “Where am I to go?” Muadhnait studied her husband’s hunched figure. “And what of Hema? He is a good man, he deserves an easing of his grief.”

  “His grief will lessen. Come, it is time.” Angrail directed her to the balcony, the night air alive with the echo of grief and battle.

  Behind them the sounds of Hema’s fury grew with each passing moment. Before them, stretching out like a ribbon, a stone path grew. Trees lined it, their branches woven together like arms as if standing guard. In the distance, a portal opened and a million sunrises spilled forth.

  “It will be all right.” Angrail pulled her along, the soft slap of their feet the only sound. Pausing before an intricately carved stone, Angrail brushed a hand over her head, cupping her cheek. Power punched, hitting him in the gut. The doorway groaned and crumbled before opening to reveal a stunning woman dressed in white, her silver hair curling around her ankles.

  “What do you bring me this day?”

  “I bring you Muadhnait, Queen of the Vampires.” Angrail bowed slightly before stepping back.

  “Come forth, child. Only those condemned to torment are forbidden beyond the gate.”

  “I must depart. Take care, my queen. Rest here until it is your time again.” Angrail leaned closer, his lips pressed to her ear. “There will be justice, majesty. I vow this on the head of my master.”

  * * * *

  Striding through the darkness, Angrail watched the warriors gathered around several figures. The smell of death and blood hung heavy in the air. Their raucous laughter rose above the whimpers and moans of pain from the dying. Around him, mist gathered, its gray tentacles slithering to and fro, searching, touching the innocence of the dying souls. Beyond him he could see his siblings as they moved among dragon and vampire alike, disgust in their eyes as they collected the souls.

  The last fading heartbeat stuttered then fell silent in the night. Angrail shifted, his eyes following one young vampire whose face was marred by a fresh set of claw marks, his chin and mouth covered in blood. Ignoring the other guardians, Angrail gathered his cloak about his shoulders and drifted after his prey. Tonight the hunt would not lend itself to paradise but rather to the crystalith caves. For two centuries he’d tracked those responsible for the queen’s demise, collected souls befitting his punishment…souls his lord, Nerafail, turned a blind eye to collecting.

  Slipping past two scantily clad vampire women, Angrail followed the one he stalked into a narrow corridor. Beyond the shadows he could hear the faint sounds of screams, of torment, but he didn’t pause. He glided through the darkness to come upon the one he followed standing in front of a non-descript door. The sound of sobbing came from within the small home as the vampire opened the door.

  Chained to the wall, a young demon boy hung, his body covered in welts and cuts. His face bore the marks of repeated beatings, his eyes almost swollen shut. Angrail eyed the lad and knew
death would be a welcome relief to him.

  The boy gave a garbled scream when his tormentor ran a claw down his body. The vampire tilted his head and snickered.

  “Not this night.” Angrail closed his eyes, the room filling with fog, his power gathering within him as he pulled the low, curved blade of his sword. Moving stealthily, he closed the door and traced to stand before the vampire, the boy behind him. A cruel smile twisted his face as he materialized, his body becoming visible to the murderer he had come for. “Judgment has been passed.”

  “How dare you trespass…” A gurgle of pain slipped from his lips as blood bubbled up, coursing down his chin to stain his clothes. His eyes dropped to the sword sticking from his chest. “One of the Seven. Selene above, I am…” The sound of metal against bone filled the room as Angrail pulled his sword from the killer’s chest.

  “Cursed.” Angrail swung his blade, severing the vampire’s head from his shoulders. Bending, he picked it up in his fist and turned to look at the child. Sparks flew when he sliced through the bonds with his sword, sending the boy to the floor in a tangled heap.

  “Ariel, come to me,” Angrail intoned. A moment later the room filled with a pale glow. “Heal the boy, sister.”

  “Come, child, I will help you.” Her long, golden hair cascading around her shoulders, she glanced at Angrail, and her pale blue eyes widened at the object in his hand. “What have you done, brother?”

  “Justice.” Angrail lifted his prize, his eyes narrowing. “Come along, vampire. ’Tis time to enter the crystalith caves for eternity.”

  The vampire’s eyes narrowed, glowing scarlet. “You cannot…” His guttural voice filled the room as his essence, his spirit, struggled within Angrail’s grip.

  “I can.” Angrail wrapped his mists around him. A moment later he blinked at the searing heat of the caves, his grasp firm on the soul he’d claimed. Looking up, he gestured. “Ah, it is almost ready for you.”

  Silver threads wove together quickly, forming a strange, oblong tomb with an opening above the flowing river of fire. Rising above the current, Angrail met the red eyes of his prisoner. “You will know suffering, vampire, and you will come to repent your sins in time. But you will never be free of this prison, just as your master will never be free of his.”

  Before the vampire could respond, Angrail tossed him into the tomb, sealing the bottom with barely a thought. Ignoring the screams of torment, the pleas for mercy from the other tombs, Angrail teleported away. He would rest before his next hunt.

  * * * *

  “You dare to presume you are above my judgment!” Flames leapt and rocks crumbled around the throne room as Nerafail, Keeper of the Dead, roared his displeasure.

  “I feel no remorse.” Angrail braced himself in the face of his master’s fury. “You would not act! They have committed the ultimate of sins, taken—”

  “I am aware of the crimes, Angrail. You are a servant of my order. You are not the judge, jury, and executioner. I will give the orders. There is a reason I have my huntresses, and it is not for you to—”

  “I see none of them going after those who were party to the brutality, my lord.” Angrail waved a hand at the demonesses standing guard next to the throne. “Instead, they stand about your throne room, flaunting their attributes, and leave the task to others.”

  “You dare to challenge my warriors?” Lemraya roared, her horns flaring, claws lengthening.

  “Silence.” Nerafail waved a gnarled hand at her sending her back into line. “I will deal with Saltar and his followers in due time, Angrail. Show remorse and I will grant you a boon.”

  “I cannot show what I do not feel, my lord.” Angrail raised one eyebrow, his gaze sweeping the room. “Eternity stretches beyond all our grasps, sire, we are all but pawns. I serve you loyally, but I cannot stand by and allow life when they have taken it from one not deserving of death.”

  “So be it.” Nerafail leaned forward, his dark eyes narrowing. “I bind you, Angrail. Bind you to a mortal form. You shall walk among those you choose above your brethren until such a time as you remember your place amongst us.”

  Angrail cringed at the searing wash of pain along his shoulders, gasping as his knees gave way and he fell to them on the cold, wet stone. His eyes squeezed shut, he screamed in agony as Nerafail’s binding wrapped around him, casting him from the depths of Stylox and into the living world.

  Chapter 1

  Rotted flesh and sulfur filled her nostrils as Ephynia hurried through the dank stone cavern. Flames flickered and danced along the edges of her peripheral vision. She could hear the faint echo of the tortured screams of those condemned to an eternity of torment.

  Beyond the screams, she could make out the shuffle of feet of the other members of her order. None seemed to be moving toward Nerafail’s chamber. Nay, they all seemed to be moving away. Was she the only one to be summoned?

  Adjusting the wide leather band sitting across her breasts, she paused before the massive stone door. Faces locked in tortured visages stared back at her. Scrolling lines of flames and liquid had been carved between each face until it told a story she had no desire to repeat.

  “Come, Ephynia.” The low rasp of her master’s voice penetrated the silence as the doors creaked open.

  Nodding at the two beautiful demonesses who held the doors, Ephynia strode toward the throne. She kept her eyes lowered, respecting the ancients who clung to the walls, their red eyes cast in shadows. Each served as a silent witness for Nerafail in all matters concerning those who served him. Five hundred years of service and she still loathed having to be in this room. Death hung like the silk curtains of her bedchamber.

  “My lord, you summoned me?” She sank to her knee, head bowed before the massive stone dais.

  “Indeed,” a watery gurgle reached from the shadows. “There is one whose time draws near. His soul is blackened by hatred, by greed. Two days past, under the guise of a truce, he entered a village and slaughtered willfully.”

  “Who did he kill, my lord, that you would—” Ephynia cringed at the flare of flames in a large, bronze cauldron.

  “Not who, but what.” A gnarled, scarred hand reached from the darkness. “Freedom was granted to two of your order, their hearts belonging to those in the world above. My dearest Saphron bore a son, both her and her child were slaughtered. Death I can accept, but to enter a home in peace with such trickery, such betrayal in his heart... Nay, I shall have his soul to torment for eternity. Bid you make all haste.” Nerafail leaned forward, his disfigured face partially covered by the folds of his hood. “He is on a field of mortal battle. Find him. Bring me his soul and his head.”

  “Who do I seek? How will I find this warrior?”

  “Look for the one with the mixed blood. He will be unkempt, a stench of death about him as he follows on the instinct of the vampire. He has sworn his allegiance to one undeserving of such loyalty.”

  “My lord, is he a servant of Amuliana’s?” Rising to her feet, Ephynia bowed her head. “If he is, you know my sword is forbidden to take—”

  “You will find much in the world above has changed. Worry not of Amuliana, she is not worthy of your note. Go, make haste. I expect your return to be swift. Too long have I forgiven those who have done wrong and punished those who sought justice.”

  “As you wish, master.” Ephynia turned, her mind already going to the coming hunt. She made her way through her realm to the gate. Her eyes met those of the gatekeeper who nodded slightly. Even among her covent there were those who feared her blade, forged by the very hand of Nerafail himself.

  “Good hunt, sister.”

  “Good hunt.” Ephynia straightened, her gaze on the doorway as it opened with a shimmer of gold light. Beyond it she could see the blurred images of men, and she sighed. How typical. To find one condemned she’d have to deal with mortals in their lust. Stepping through the doorway, she froze, her hand flying to the hilt of her sword.

  Before her the ground stretched out in a dizzy
ing mass of dust and smoke. The heat of the sun beat down on man and beast alike. Screams of pain and rage filled the air along with the clashes of metal. Horses nickered and squealed, their hooves thundering across the ground as they raced over the mutilated corpses littering their path. Flames and smoke streaked upward, as if searching for something.

  Her blade sung when she pulled it from its scabbard, the metal glinting in the light. She saw the arch of a blade as a soldier whirled, racing toward her, a primal scream on his lips. Slicing through the oncoming body, she watched the mortal fall. His face twisted into a mangled tortured expression of pain and horror. Across the battlefield she could see the faint glimmer of sunlight on breast plates.

  Narrowed, her eyes scanned the battlefield. Mortals fought with immortals at their side. In the distance she caught sight of a male who was too large, too skilled to be human. He towered over those around him, using his hands and mouth as weapons as well as the sword he carried. With a silent demonish curse, she shook her head. The fool would have done well to pick a disguise that afforded him some obscurity. In the light of the sun the illusions were gone. Instead of flesh, the scales and reptilian eyes revealed his true form. But perhaps he didn’t fear anything because he assumed his immortality would protect him from everything.

  Stalking her prey, she spun the hilt of her sword over her hand, balancing it. She ignored the humans battling, her attention focused on those beyond them. She paused, her legs braced as a male charged at her with a spear. Foul words and threats spilled from his lips as he thrust his weapon, intent upon impaling her. The curved edge of her weapon sliced through flesh and bone, severing the arm from his body. Blood splattered across her chest, her throat, and jaw. Kicking away the remains, she tossed another warrior aside, her eyes on the figure in the distance.