The Demon King

The Demon King

Book 9 in the Big Bad Wolf spinoff series, The
Kings

by Heather Killough-Walden

Copyright 2016 Heather Killough-Walden

Smashwords Edition

Discover other titles by Heather Killough-Walden at
Smashwords.com:

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/HRKW

LIKE ME ON FACEBOOK FOR FRONT ROW SEATS
TO

DELICIOUS TEASERS, BREAKING RELEASE NEWS,

AND INCREDIBLE CONTESTS AND GIVEAWAYS!

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Heather-Killough-Walden/204947809542189?ref=hl

I LOVE MY READERS!

Heather Killough-Walden
Reading List

The Lost Angels
series:

Always Angel (eBook-only
introductory novella)

Avenger's Angel

Messenger's
Angel

Death's Angel

Warrior's Angel

Samael

The October
Trilogy:

Sam I Am

Secretly Sam

Suddenly Sam

Neverland
Series:

Forever
Neverland

Beyond
Neverland

The Big Bad Wolf
series:

The Heat

The Strip

The Spell

The Hunt

The Big Bad Wolf Romance
Compilation (all four books together, in proper chronological
order)

The Kings - A Big Bad Wolf
spinoff series:

(in their proper order so
far)

The Vampire
King

The Phantom
King

The Warlock
King

The Goblin King

The Seelie King

The Unseelie
King

The Shadow King

The Winter King

The Demon King

(future The Kings books
TBA; 13 total)

The Chosen Soul
Trilogy:

The Chosen Soul

Drake of Tanith

Queen of
Abaddon

Redeemer
 (stand-alone)

Hell
Bent 
(stand-alone)

Vampire,
Vampire
 (stand-alone)

A Sinister
Game
 (stand-alone)

The Third Kiss: Dorian's
Dream
(stand-alone)

Note: The Lost Angels
series (not including Always Angel, Warrior’s Angel and Samael) and
the Big Bad Wolf series are available in print and eBook format.
All other HKW books are currently eBook-only.

Visit Heather’s Facebook pages at:

http://www.facebook.com/killoughwalden

and

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Heather-Killough-Walden/204947809542189

for paranormal romance news, teasers,
updates, contests, and giveaways!

Also follow Heather on Twitter at:

@killoughwalden

Visit Heather’s website
and sign up for her newsletter to receive all the latest at:
www.killough-walden.com

Chess is not for timid
souls.

- Wilhelm
Steinitz

Not all who are born kings are born
good.

Not all who are born good are born
kings.

Some are born neither.

But we make ourselves who we become.

Life is the board. It’s your game.

And it’s his move.

*****

Titania the fairy of the Unseelie Realm
looked long and hard at her very old friend. She knew a little more
about her now than she did a hundred years ago. Lalura Chantelle
was not what she appeared to be. She was not only a human witch.
She was quite literally an ancient and brave soul, one willing to
sacrifice untold amounts to learn a little more about the world and
those within it.

“
You know,” Titania
ventured softly as she poured them both the obligatory up of tea,
“I get now why you wanted to be one of them. But I sort of liked it
when you were one of us.”

“
I bet you did. But nothing
lasts forever, even one of you.”

Titania snorted, which was
an impressively rude sound for someone of her delicate stature and
appearance to make. “I beg to differ. We
can
last forever. You just have a
habit of getting yourself killed.”

Lalura sighed. It sounded well and truly
tired. “You can’t gain perspective if you’re only ever seeing
things from one height,” her scratchy voice reminded Titania. There
was a pause before Lalura added, “And it’s not much of a height as
it is.”

Titania’s eyes grew wide at
the insult. The fact that fairies were short had always been a sore
point with her. “You know, when you say things like that, you sound
less like
you
and
more like, well,
him
.”

Now Lalura laughed, and the sandpaper sound
filled the small cottage with grainy warmth. “There is a little
wrong in all of us, fairy.”

Titania looked up, Lalura’s
words echoing through her mind. She understood why Lalura said
“wrong” and didn’t say “darkness.” There was certainly a darkness
in some, but not everyone. You had to be special for a darkness.
You had to be lucky. A wrongness, however… it was different. It
was
bad
.

And Lalura was right. There was some of it
in everyone.

*****

Introduction

Excerpt from The Phantom King, by Heather
Killough-Walden

Thanatos, who went by Thane most of the
time, knelt beside his latest project and ran his arm over his
forehead. He wasn’t normally bothered by temperatures or climate;
they rolled off of him the way they would a ghost. But today, he
was off his game.

The Phantom King could go a very long time
without sleep. Days, weeks, even months. Every once in a while
however, the energy that made him who and what he was needed to be
replenished. He’d slept last night. And that’s when the dreams had
come.

He’d been standing in the desert, alone as
usual. The air shifted, growing dark, and the ground became
checkered as if it were a massive chess board. In the distance,
outlined by the horizon, a shape appeared. He could see her long
hair blowing in the wind, highlighted by the sun like a flame. But
he couldn’t see anything else, no matter how fast he ran toward
her, no matter how long he dreamed.

He wondered whether it had anything to do
with the thirteen kings and queens that the Vampire King had told
them all about during a meeting a few months ago. He wondered…. But
he tried not to wonder too hard. Thoughts like that could drive a
man mad.

Now, after the dream-filled
sleep, he was physically whole again, but mentally exhausted. It
was a new sensation for him and one that left him feeling edgy.
Even
mean
.

Thane pinched the bridge of his nose and
closed his eyes. And then he felt the presence at his back in much
the same manner as he always did. It was a disturbance in the air,
an unsettled sensation, as if the wind were preparing to take a
breath and blow.

Thane did what he always did when he felt
that particular disturbance. He tossed the tool he was presently
using into the tool chest to his right and stood, coming to his
full impressive height before reaching for the rag atop the work
bench and wiping his grease-covered hands.

Then he turned in the dusty but relatively
cooler gloom of his garage and waited as the air in front of him
shimmered, warped, and separated.

Genius scientists hit the
nail on the head when they claimed that everything was
relative.
Time
was relative. Especially here in Thanatos’ realm.

This was Purgatory, it was a desolate layer
of reality, sparse and hopeless and dry. At least, right now it
was. It seemed to change over time, becoming a reflection of the
man who ruled over it. And because that was the mood Thanatos had
been in for several of the last few centuries, that was the mood
his plane was in as well. The vast desert stretched out as far as
the eye could see, its distant boundaries melding with those of the
astral plane and the faint, inconceivable borders of reality.

It was the land of lost souls – the place
where spirits went to die.

Thane’s realm took in every “essence” of
every human that had been dealt an untimely and unjust death in the
material world. And because, due to war and homicide, there were
simply too many of these to count, time in Purgatory worked
differently. It stretched itself out, turning the seconds into days
and the years into centuries.

As the Phantom King, Thane retained control
of this time loop, this suspension of quantum physics, and dealt
with the plethora of wronged one at a time.

Which is what he did now.

The air before him in the garage finished
breaking apart, and inside of this strange portal-like crack, a
human form coalesced. It crackled and shimmered into solid male
form, dropped to its booted feet before Thane, and the air around
it slammed shut once more, filling the space with the sound of
thunder.

Thane was used to this, but of course the
spirit was not. The Phantom King watched and waited patiently as
the newly-formed man slapped his hands over his ears and ducked
down in reflex.

A few seconds later, the man slowly
straightened once more, lowered his hands, and stared around at
Thane and the surrounding garage with wide, frankly terrified
eyes.

Thane frowned. The man had a familiar feel
about him. It wasn’t that Thane recognized him from anywhere, it
was more like an energy signature that his body carried. Like an
aura. He was sure he’d felt it somewhere before.

“
Where am I?” the man
asked. “Who the hell are you?” His voice was harsh and a bit
hoarse, as if he’d just been screaming at the tops of his lungs. He
was fresh from the fight, Thane could tell that much simply by
experience. He was also fully dressed, and if Thane wasn’t
mistaken, he smelled a bit like fire.

His silver gaze narrowed. “Don’t tell me
someone set you on fire.” It would be the only thing that made any
sense. But it sure as hell was a strange way to kill someone.

The man in front of him continued to stare
at him, and Thane had a chance to look him up and down. He was
clearly an American, given what he’d already said and the accent in
which he’d said it. Plus, Thane’s magic always fed him the basics
about a spirit when they appeared in his realm. This one had grown
up as an orphan and had no living family remaining. He was the last
of his line.

He was tall and well built, with a hard
edge. “You’re a cop, aren’t you?” Thane reasoned quietly.

The man swallowed hard and straightened.
“I’m dead, aren’t I?”

“
I asked first,” Thane
said, trying not to smile. It was just that he had so
few
chances at fun in
his line of work. And again, he was feeling mean. Also, there was
something about this guy that just ticked him off.

The man watched him in silence for several
long, contemplative moments – moments that Thane magically
stretched into the timeline ahead. After all, another murder victim
was sure to come along any minute now.

“
Detective,” the man
corrected as he straightened a bit and clearly tried to regain
control of his faculties. “Detective Steven Lazarus.”

Thane gave a simple nod.

“
Now please tell me,” the
detective went on, his expression desperate. “Am I
dead?”

“
Oh yeah,” Thane said,
nodding as he turned his back to the detective for a second and
bent to pick up the tool he’d been using a few moments ago. “As a
doornail,” he finished, and once more straightened.

He glanced at Lazarus, and the detective at
once came forward, rushing toward Thane with his hands out as if
pleading. Thane frowned as a wave of something strange washed over
him. It moved before the fallen cop like a ripple of water, dark
and tingly. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it took him by surprise.
Thane unconsciously took a step back and found his leg flush with
the side of the bike he’d been tinkering with.