Wings of Hope (8 page)
“Muse is mine!” he snarled. Every bellows breath he took rumbled with barely restrained anger.
A few rushed forward, too lost to the bloodlust to recognize when to quit. Mammon thrust out a hand and wrapped them in blue flame. They made it a few more steps before the fire exploded. Ashes blasted my face, and the foolish elementals were no more.
The mood of the crowd turned. Those at the front bent low and shuffled with shame. Others scurried back, falling over themselves in their haste to be free. Mammon could kill them all with a glance. Terror widened their eyes. I wanted him to do it. Breathing hard, bleeding, bruised and broken, I thirsted for their blood. Had I the power, I’d have slaughtered every last one.
Mammon sucked in a breath, and he let loose a primal bellow of rage that surely must have shaken the foundations of the fortress above. The cavern quickly emptied of elementals as they scurried over one another in their haste to be anywhere but within Mammon’s sight. Chaos fizzled to nothing, and the elements melted away. Clutched against Mammon’s behemoth body, bleeding, battered, but more alive than ever before, I regarded my fallen kin and only wished I could have killed more.
I
couldn’t speak. My ridiculous human body had decided speech was superfluous. Not that I knew what to say. We stood on top of this new world. At least, so it appeared. Beyond a smooth sheet of glass, the City of Boston glistened. Sharp towers reached like monoliths into an inky black sky dusted with diamond stars. We stood inside one such tower. Below, veins of red and white pulsed through the streets—cars, Ahkeel had said. There were so many. I pressed my hand to the ‘glass,’ expecting it to ripple like water, but it was cold and solid beneath my touch. Throat dry, heart pounding, I glanced behind me at the strange cube ‘apartment’. Here too, glass sparkled. The floor gleamed as though polished. Countless lights illuminated every angle. Leather, fabric, and stone wrapped me in a peculiar warmth. And bizarrely, I felt safe, although there was nothing here to suggest sanctuary. No barricades, no cages.
When we’d popped into existence in this apartment moments after leaving the pit, Mammon had demanded I wear my human skin. I’d obliged without a thought and wandered, awed and silent. I touched and gasped and peeked around doors, under fabric squares called cushions. I scrunched my little human toes into the soft pile of a rug. In a tiny room, I frowned at a little white seat and its pool of water. Was I meant to drink from that? How did I get the water out? In that same room, I’d seen my human reflection clearly for the first time. A curious thing. Dark straight-as-arrows hair skimmed my bare shoulders. Soft brown eyes betrayed nothing of my past. No scars. No wounds. Smooth, pink cheeks, plump lips. I’d emerged from the little room and found Ahkeel standing by the wall of windows, his naked human body beautifully framed by the landscape of Boston.
I didn’t know what to say to him. What words could possibly translate the myriad of feelings and emotions running through my human mind? He’d saved me. And now we were here, in a land filled with fantastical things, magical, impossible things.
“I will teach you how to be human.” The silvery purr of Ahkeel’s words sprinkled shivers across my bare flesh. “Something tells me you’ll catch on quickly enough.” He arched a brow and curled his indulgent lips into a smile.
Inside, my ‘demon’—as my other half was called here–purred, making her thoughts about Ahkeel quite clear. “You planned this? All of this? Teaching me how to call my element, the games in the pit, you gave me the tools I needed to kill him because you couldn’t, not without breaking the laws you’re meant to protect.” His eyes glittered. “Why?” Ahkeel’s smile lingered but seemed to take on a hungry significance. He slid his gaze back to the cityscape. He was my savior. He had orchestrated my escape. Yes, my demon would do anything for Ahkeel. But as I watched this impossibly alluring vision of a man, so deadly in his perfection, I vowed to never forget the demon inside him. If this was freedom, I had no intention of letting it go. I cast my gaze over Boston. This was my moment. Here, in this world, I would finally be free.
I would never forget my owner. Nor would I forget the ravages of the netherworld or that my savior was the demon who had orchestrated my freedom, the same demon who could easily wrench it all away from me. A prince among demons. He didn’t do any of this for me. Of that I was certain. But what could he want from a half-blood like me in this world? He had a mortal lifetime to spring his trap. I had no intention of falling into it. I would be his human. I would learn his ways. And then, when I understood this world, I would be my own person. Not even the Prince of Greed could stop me.
As for my demon, she slumbered in my mind and warmed my soul. She was the whisper in my ear, the voice of desire and hunger. I would not forget who or what I was. Half-human, half-demon, damaged, but oh so wonderfully free.
T
he real story begins now…
W
hat does Mammon really want with Muse and will she have the strength to outsmart him? Download The Veil Series novels
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THE VEIL SERIES REVIEWS
Moonrise Books
This is a fantastic book and one of my new favorites! ...a brilliant and original tale, entwined with a fascinating element of romance. I am eager to dive into the next book in the series to see what happens with these fantastic characters.
Goodreads reviewer
I absolutely adored this book and this series so far. It's unlike anything I've read before and probably will read for awhile.
Bitten By Books
This is a fresh twist on Urban Fantasy and I am very curious to see where Muse will end up. Likeable characters, fantastic pacing and flow, a solid paranormal foundation, and one hell of an ending make Beyond the Veil a truly enjoyable read.
Happy Tails & Tales
It goes to the excellence of writing skill when you love, and hate, ALL of the characters so much. Seriously, I think it could have had a bad plot and I would have loved the characters. BUT the plot is amazing. You’ll never be able to guess what’s really going on because it’s all about the unveiling.
Nocturnal Predators Reviews
I almost cried. It was THAT heart wrenching. After getting slapped upside the head with plot twists every five pages during the WHOLE book I still didn't see that ending coming.
Amazon reviewer
Nothing is as it seems and it's all too easy to get caught in Muse's story as the plot twists and turns
Smexy Books
From page one I was intrigued and as I turned the final page I still wanted more.
Publishers Weekly
This emotional, supernatural novel keeps up a brisk pace without leaving the reader behind... A solid start to the series.
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ALSO BY PIPPA DACOSTA
The Veil Series
4. Drowning In The Dark (Coming early 2015)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born in Tonbridge, Kent in 1979, --- "Wait a second. Let's cut to the chase. I write kick-ass urban fantasy novels with conflicted characters, breathless action, and no-holds-barred dialogue. My books may not leave you feeling all fluffy and warm inside, but they will excite you. There will be plot-wists, there will be angst, probably a few bodies, and very likely your favorite character will turn out to be the bad guy. Don't say I didn't want you..."
Pippa's family moved to the South West of England where she grew up amongst the dramatic moorland and sweeping coastlands of Devon & Cornwall. With a family history brimming with intrigue, complete with Gypsy angst on one side and Jewish survivors on another, she has the ability to draw from a patchwork of ancestry and use it as the inspiration for her writing. Happily married and the Mother of two little girls, she resides on the Devon & Cornwall border.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
With thanks to my very talented Cover Artist, Celairen, because you understand exactly what I want, even when I don’t. To all my readers; without you, these stories wouldn’t exist. Thank you so much for your feedback. I cherish every word. Thank you Karen, and Lynn, at Red Adept, for your endless professionalism and hard work.
To my two girls. You can read Mommy’s books when you’re (much) older.