A Demon's Desire

By Lizzy Ford

Novella. Emma crossed paths with a black witch in an ill-fated love triangle that ended in Emma fleeing and the death of the man they both loved. Two years later, the witch is seeking revenge and strikes against Emma’s family. Emma turns to the only person who can help her: a man rumored to be half-demon with the power to control the shadows. Tristan agrees to help her lift the curse on her family but isn’t prepared for what he finds hidden in Emma’s secrets.

Includes exclusive excerpt from paranormal romance author Heather Marie Adkins' latest novel, "Abigail."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lizzy Ford
• Release date: Oct 18, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465798428

Lizzy Ford

I breathe stories. I dream them. If it were possible, I'd eat them, too. (I'm pretty sure they'd taste like cotton candy.) I can't escape them - they're everywhere! Which is why I write! I was born to bring the crazy worlds and people in my mind to life, and I love sharing them with as many people as I can.I'm also the bestselling, award winning, internationally acclaimed author of over sixty ... eighty ... ninety titles and counting. I write speculative fiction in multiple subgenres of romance and fantasy, contemporary fiction, books for both teens and adults, and just about anything else I feel like writing. If I can imagine it, I can write it!I live in the desert of southern Arizona with two dogs and two cats!My books can be found in every major ereader library, to include: Amazon, Barnes and Noble, iBooks, Kobo, Sony and Smashwords.

Book preview

A Demon’s Desire

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By Lizzy Ford

www.LizzyFord.com

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Cover design by PhatPuppy Creations

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Smashwords Edition

Published by Kettlecorn Press

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A Demon’s Desire copyright ©2012 by Lizzy Ford

www.LizzyFord.com

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Cover design copyright © 2013 by Phatpuppy Creations

All rights reserved.

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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

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This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events; to real people, living or dead; or to real locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.

Chapter One

Olivia flew through the restored Victorian, a crumpled shopping bag clutched to her chest. Most of the members of the coven were in the living room, watching the latest episode of True Blood. She didn’t stop to greet them but hurried through the kitchen and to the door of the basement. She opened it, her elated thoughts sliding into unease at the unnatural glow emanating from one wall of the basement. She descended a few steps and paused. The scent of sulfur made her nose wrinkle, and heat rendered the basement hot compared to the rest of the drafty, old house.

Forcing herself onward, she let her eyes fall to the fissure in the basement wall through which the orange flames of Hell glowed.

It had grown larger the past few months. Not by much, maybe half a foot or so. Two years ago, it had appeared after she killed her third victim and was no larger than a tiny crack the size of her pinkie. The more black magic she practiced, the larger it became. The only benefit of the heat of Hell: it kept the coven’s electricity bill low during the coolness of the late October autumn in rural northern Maryland.

One of her ghostly slaves moved from its place in the poorly lit basement, and she jumped in surprise.

Not now! she barked at the shadow demon. It slinked back to the corner. Olivia plucked the content of the bag and set it on the wooden desk by the wall of the basement opposite the fissure. She clapped her hands in delight at the sight of the decomposed finger. It stank, but not as much as the portal to Hell.

You’ve been out all day, a man’s voice said. She tensed at his voice. She never heard him coming. Must’ve been important to leave my bed so early.

It is, she said. Leave me alone, Jeffrey. I’m busy.

"Not the proper way to thank your host, especially since you’re a member of my coven."

She spun on him with a glare. With silky black hair, chiseled features and a lean frame, Jeffrey’s looks alone had drawn more than one witch to his coven. And he slept with all of them. He was not the kind of man who would ever know how deep and satisfying loving another could be, which was why she didn’t give two flips about pleasing him the way the other girls did. She did what he expected of her to retain her place in the coven-- and nothing more.

None of them brought you that, she said and pointed to the fissure. You were a poser, Jeffrey, and everyone knows it. I made you legit.

I’m more legit than you’ll ever understand. But yes, you brought me the fissure, he said with irritation. He lifted his chin toward the table. What is it?

Nothing.

He strode across the basement and pushed her aside to see her treasure. She shoved him back, but not before he saw what it was.

I’m being replaced by a dead man, he said. Where’s the rest of him?

I’m trying to figure that out. He’s my soul mate-- I’m meant to find him.

And I’m …?

Just a warm body.

You obsessed bitch, he whispered. His jaw ticked in anger. He was close enough for her to feel how tense he was. You know Hell will demand your soul for helping you.

I’ve promised it a soul. Doesn’t have to be mine! she snapped. Leave me alone, Jeffrey!

He gazed at her for a long minute. Of all the witches in the house-- and people on the planet! -- he was the only one who seemed immune to her mind influence spells. He turned away finally, and she watched him go, again wondering why he was immune to her spells. The basement’s darkness clung to him like it did her shadow demons. He stopped near the stairs, and his gaze went to the fissure. He closed his eyes, pleasure crossing his features.

With a shiver, she looked at the gateway to Hell. As adept as she’d become at using black magic, even she didn’t feel so comfortable around the fissure. The emotion passed, and Jeffrey trotted up the stairs. She returned to the severed finger and held it up. Her only love had been dead for two years, and still her soul sang when she touched his body!

Soon, my love, you’ll be back with me forever, she said and lovingly wrapped her hands around the finger in the only hug she could give her dead lover. It was the culmination of two years of spells and research. One of her shadow demons had finally found him. Just one more thing, and I’ll recall you from the dead. She set the finger down and pulled her wallet free from her purse. Slave!

Yes, mistress. The shadow demon’s voice was monotonous and his presence cold as he joined her.

Find this girl, she ordered, pulling out the only picture in her wallet. It was of two people: her soul mate and the interloper who stole her soul mate from her. Ages ago, the three of them had been friends. Her gaze lingered with repressed anger on the woman in the picture. The interloper’s was an earthy beauty: peachy skin, light brown hair, dazzling green eyes, and a beautiful smile. Olivia’s own beauty was cold, gothic: her skin was porcelain, her hair straight and black, and her eyes a mesmerizing blue. Her spells had taken some of her beauty from her, which made the jealousy in her blood burn hotter.

Adam, the shadow demon said and took the picture. I will bring him back soon, as my mistress demands.

My sweet Adam. I’ve waited two years for this, she whispered. "I’m almost ready for you, bitch. You won’t run from me this time, Emma, and Adam will stay with me forever. She looked at the shadow demon. Go find her, slave!"

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Across the state line in northern Virginia, Emma shivered as she reached the door to her sister’s apartment. The hair on the back of her neck was standing on end, as if she were being watched. It was the same sense she felt every time she came to visit her sister, though this time, she could almost feel the presence of someone lurking in the darkness of the stairwell. She looked around then shook off the feeling. She was beyond tired from her late work schedule and frequent visits to her sick niece.

She entered the quiet apartment. Her sister was curled on the couch, asleep. Emma pulled a blanket over her before she went to the doorway of her niece’s bedroom. Sissy’s baffled doctors had finally given up the day before with a grim prognosis that Sissy would probably die within the week. Emma felt the black witch’s curse: the coldness of the shadows crowding the corners and stuffed animals. Earlier, in broad daylight, she’d ventured into the room to snag a toy and shoved it in a box, running out before the dark shadows could claim her, too.

She balled up her fists. She never suspected Olivia’s cruelty ran so deep as to target a four-year-old.

Damn you, Adam. As usual, you took the easy way out and left me alone to deal with the witch.

If he hadn’t jumped off the Bay Bridge two years ago, she’d push him and Olivia off the bridge herself to make sure they both stayed out of her life for good. The outcome of that doomed affair-- sweet, innocent Sissy pale and limp on the bed before her-- made her stomach roil.

I’ll fix this, Amber, I swear it, she whispered to her sister.

No one … can help her, came the despondent, drowsy response. Emma turned to face her sister, who pushed herself up from the couch.

I know I can. I did some research, and I’m going up the Maryland coast to a small town north of Annapolis.

You think you found a doctor?

Maybe, Emma replied vaguely, unwilling to tell her sister no doctor could fix Sissy.

Hurry, Emma, Amber said.

I will, Amber, I promise, she said. Take care. I won’t be gone long. She took one last look at Sissy’s tiny frame and Amber’s haunted features and left the apartment for the parking lot. Even as she neared her car, she could feel the coldness of the toy in the box on the passenger seat.

If someone like Olivia could inflict Sissy with illness, only someone with the same skill could lift the curse. A list of addresses and names of people and places associated with the occult and witchcraft were scribbled hastily on the notebook next to the box in the passenger’s seat and her GPS was already loaded. She’d gone only to say farewell to her sister on her way out of town.

The late October sun was setting earlier than she wished. She flipped on the interior lights of her car, hating the darkness. She already had a headache from a couple of sleepless nights of research, but seeing Sissy’s helpless body reignited her desperation.

She had to fix this. No doctor could help Sissy, but maybe, just maybe, she could.

Her hope held out until sunset the next day, after she’d visited the two dozen shops that lined Demon’s Alley, the downtown of Wooster, Maryland, which boasted of its ties to witchcraft and the occult.

Sure, we can help. It’ll cost you your soul. The clerk with black nails and pink hair burst into laughter.

You know, that joke is getting really old! Emma snapped. She snatched the box off the counter and left, agitated to see the sun was near setting. She’d been to almost every store on the Alley with no success. The tourists had thinned out for dinner and were replaced by Goth vampire wannabes and fairies in heels. The locals took pride in their hallmark Alley, enough so that the street was decorated in Halloween colors and signs that read Welcome to Hell on Earth.

They got that right, she mumbled to herself. Her eyes settled on the only storefront she hadn’t visited. The Devil’s Depot was