An Immortal Sacrifice

By Denise Summers

Eons ago, Kalum, an angel and demon hybrid, nearly wiped out humanity after a betrayal. Divine and supernatural forces conspired to imprison him in a cave with a single clue to his freedom: "A human life spilled will release him, but an immortal sacrifice will set him free."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Koehler Books
• Release date: Jun 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9781646636952

Denise Summers

Denise Summers has written several short stories for her friends and family over the years and received widespread encouragement from her loved ones to publish a book. As a romantic comedy junkie who devours books, movies, and TV shows like a carb addict in a bakery, she grew tired of shows going glutton-free and missing the special ingredient that makes an epic romance. To fulfil those cravings, she set out to write a romance herself. An Immortal Sacrifice is her debut novel.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Run.

Kalum catapulted to his feet while gray, funneling clouds rumbled their objections to his escape. Thunder, the battle drum of war.

Kalum pushed through the green explosion of shrubs and trees, ignoring this alteration from the brown landscape of sand and dirt he’d last seen before his imprisonment. In his prison, encased in complete darkness, time had been unreadable for him. It moved in secret. Though he wanted answers, wanted to know how much time had passed, discretion was now a priority. Others would search for him; he’d be ready.

Soft earth turned hard and unnaturally smooth against his bare feet. Beneath him a swathe of warm black rock cut through the land, making a path, with painted lines on the surface as a guide to follow. Under the moon and stars, he continued on until the trees became sparser, replaced by large, strange buildings and a sizeable painted sign that read, Welcome to Kara Creek.

Rain poured as he roamed and beheld sights stranger still: trees locked in cages every ten steps on the sleek wet walkway; fabric stretched above doors of massive dwellings three to four floors high, built with clay stone blocks and lined with large, clear windows. And at the center, that thick black path with broken white lines painted on top.

Unfriendly and unusual, the civilization he entered. Curious eyes shifted in fright when he glanced their way. From behind, the sound of pounding steps advanced with urgency, and his pulse quickened, matching its pace. How had they found him so quickly? In his eagerness, had he overlooked being watched? With tight fists, he turned to face his assailant, and a woman halted in her tracks.

For a moment, the shock of her beauty stabbed through his chest. A vision of contradiction. Her face was sharp under soft, creamy skin. Hair like sunshine. Eyes like moonlight. Full lashes with full lips and a dainty nose between. Too exquisite for a human, troll, or fae, regardless of her potential threat.

With breathless awe, she whispered, It’s you. Before he could question it, process how she knew him, she asked with concern, Are you okay?

I’m well, Kalum snapped, unable to relax muscles gone taut at her recognition of him. What were her intentions? If she planned to drag him to Hell, he’d fight. Let the town spectate and witness the consequences of taking away his freedom.

She brushed wet, golden strands away from her face and removed a set of white pebbles from her ears. Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor?

I’m uninjured; this isn’t my blood.

Her eyes widened. She shifted her head from side to side, catching the eyes of other spectators. Across the flattened roads and buildings, people approached them. He opened his mind to listen to their thoughts, bracing for an attack if needed, but they mainly seemed concerned for her well-being. If they acted, he’d take action, but assimilation was priority.

I haven’t spilled anyone’s blood and I’ve caused no one harm. I needed clothes and obtained them. He spoke loud enough for the crowd to hear, begging with his eyes for her not to cause a scene.

She sighed in relief, and people dispersed, retreating to their dwellings. I’ve been where you are. I know how hard it is and the difference a shower can make.

If she wanted to capture him, she’d need to summon others, warn them of his arrival. But she remained without fear or hostility. Kindness sparked in those smoky eyes, and he lowered his guard, scanning his own attire. Bare chest streaked with mud, pants stained with blood, feet blackened with earth. She was right; he needed to bathe and rid the evidence of his escape.

Indeed, I do.

The closest shelter is in Portland, a couple-hour drive from here. You can wash up at my place while I make some calls. She shot him a smile only a sorcerer could possess—a lure capable of pulling a man forward and bringing him to his knees. And he was no exception.

I have no coin to offer. As he ran his fingers through his hair, mud dripped down his forearm, emphasizing the desperate need to bathe.

It’s fine; pay it forward, she said, progressing to her dwelling.

Kindness from this beauty chilled his blood and stilled him on the spot. Fae.

Tapping into her mind for confirmation, he was instead met with silence. Quiet as some minds might be, none were ever silent to him. Why was hers? Determined, he focused on hearing her but failed again and again.

Though outside in the open, he struggled for air. He assessed his options. Run, but how far could he go before exposure? Within a single night, she had found him with the advantage of her silent mind.

While plotting his other option—fight, the universal cost of freedom—she whirled and paralyzed him with a glance over her shoulder.

I’m Genevieve, she said, her warm, cheery voice melting the ice in his veins and harpooning his heart, reeling him in.

Kalum remained silent during the quick journey to her dwelling. A careless move, to follow the enemy into another potential prison. Perhaps the result of a spell this Genevieve had cast on him, to forgo all logic and usher himself towards his doom. Time had strengthened fae tactics while he deteriorated in darkness.

Soon she stopped in front of a large rectangular building with a single glass door. Genevieve pulled out a metallic key and unlocked it. The last he’d seen of this peculiar mechanism, it had been used to store treasure in boxes. Never had he imagined it excluding and containing people.

They climbed a flight of stairs and crossed a long hall with doors on either side. When the fabric floor came to a stop, they reached their destination. Again, she pulled out a metallic key and opened the wooden door, ushering him inside.

The first thing he observed of the spacious dwelling were the wooden slat floors; there was one large room divided by a half wall, and a small narrow path off to one side, leading to a hidden door. Silent and empty. The next item of note was the grotesque, green, floral couch behind a short glass table; it was as revolting as it was inviting, and in line with a large window for a simple escape.

At the thump of her shoes hitting the ground, he jerked and turned to her, ready to strike.

Delicate fingers pinched a shiny clasp from the center of her chest. It slit the fabric apart, and she stripped it off. Exposed to him, now in a sleeveless shirt cut low, her cleavage peeked through the top as she hung her clothes in a closet. What was she? As creatures of mind manipulation, fae wouldn’t use seductive tactics. If troll, why the disguise? They were not his enemy. Or had they forgotten?

Inching closer, Kalum reached out to grab Genevieve’s arm, pull her close, put her at ease. Assure he wouldn’t harm her.

She jerked back, striking him across the cheek. What the hell are you doing?

At her appalled expression, he distanced himself. I’m not aware of this world’s customs regarding . . . appreciation.

Though her mind was silent, her face screamed her thoughts. Her eyes downcast, blush rose to her cheeks and neck. Guilt. She whispered a quick apology as she entered the open space.

Remorse for violence? A troll’s form of affection, and she felt the need to apologize for it.

A rumble formed in his belly. He didn’t recognize it until it erupted, and he laughed. What was she?

More heat rose to her cheeks, and she joined his merriment, inclining her head towards the hall. His feet squished across the hard floor, leaving a muddy trail obvious enough for even the novice tracker to find him.

In a small white room, Genevieve turned some nozzles above a familiar-looking basin, unleashing a small, miraculous waterfall. She placed clean clothes and a towel on top of a basket.

These were my ex-boyfriend’s. After you’re done, I’ll put your pants in the wash.

Unnecessary. You can discard them; they’ve outlived their purpose.

She snickered, shaking her head, and closed the door as she left. Before he stepped into the tub, he caught his reflection in the mirror—namely arctic-blue eyes, their color hinting at his inhuman identity. He hoped for his sake others were unaware of what they revealed. No matter his state of appearance and the pity others had for him because of it, he saw freedom in every smear of dried mud on his smooth face and each layer of dust coating his black hair.

The curtain swooshed as he pulled it aside, and warm water hit him, washing away dried blood, dirt, and the tension in his muscles. Soaped, rinsed, and physically clean, he stepped out and turned the protruding knobs until the shower ceased. Soft loose pants stretched and fit him around the waist. His upper half wasn’t as fortunate. The fabric clung to his chest and stomach. Tight, it lifted at the base yet remained malleable enough for him to breathe.

Kalum made his way to the sitting room, where Genevieve perched on the floral couch. He settled on the opposite end as her fingers tapped on a metallic book. She glanced up with an enormous grin when he sat, but it vanished at the sight of him.

Widened eyes wandered and scanned his clean face. A hint of color tinged her thin skin.

Well, you clean up nicely, Genevieve said to break the awkwardness.

Indeed. He focused on the device in her lap, the bottom half filled with letter buttons and the top a picture with words. She closed the device and set it aside.

I’m trying to find a venue that can hold over four hundred people in this town, but I’m coming up empty. She answered what she believed was his unspoken question. However, he pondered the nature of the device itself.

Why would you need to procure such a large location?

Because it’s my job. I’m a . . . She paused, and her focus shifted away from him. Army. Um, yeah, I work for the Army.

The slender woman beside him was a warrior? The woman who bestowed such kindness on him also ended the lives of others?

Yet again, he failed to find the truth in her silent mind. Perhaps she was lethal in her own regard and he should leave before he discovered her full abilities.

I appreciate your generosity but won’t take up any more of your time.

She looked over her shoulder at the large window. It’s coming down out there. And the shelters are closed this late. You got a place to go?

No. But I’ll manage, he said as he got to his feet.

Her hand shot out, and delicate fingers wrapped around his forearm. The heat from her touch shocked his system more than had the slap from that very hand earlier. And when she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, his body stiffened.

Are you one of the good ones?

Not in the slightest. What are you inquiring?

She released her hold and pushed the dangling fabric from the window behind the couch, revealing the world outside. It’s pouring down rain. I won’t sleep knowing you’re spending the night out there. She exhaled and turned to him.

He met her gaze, allowing her to read the truth in them. You have my word: I won’t harm you.

Concern melted from her shoulders. She lifted the corners of her lips. Good. You can stay here tonight. But know I have the police on speed dial and am trained to use a weapon. She stood from the couch and spoke as she neared another room. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. I know it’s late, but are you up for some pasta?

I won’t partake. My opinion is inconsequential.

You need to eat. Besides, I make a killer pasta sauce. Not tonight, though. Today is sauce à la jar, but it’s still good.

I’ll take your word for it.

Suit yourself, but my kindergarten teacher would scold me if I didn’t at least offer.

As she crossed the threshold to the other room, apparently a kitchen, he called out, I doubt anyone would scold you for your generosity. No other would allow a stranger into their home.

Her head poked out from the archway. Someone did this for me once, and I promised I’d pay it forward someday. Thanks for helping me scratch it off the old bucket list.

She cooked while he considered how his presence resembled a bucket she needed to scratch.

Beside him, on a small glass table, rested a worn book. The title captured his attention: Destroyer of Man, his moniker before being banished into the cave. He skimmed the pages and found the contents spoke of him. His history, his abilities, and his sentencing—all captured and bound in a book.

Bare feet pattered on the hardwood as she entered the room, wafting the stench of tomato and starch. Engrossed in the book, he didn’t move to acknowledge her presence, uncertain why she’d have such a detailed account of his life.

My friend Ayla recommended it. It’s about an ancient supervillain—the hybrid who could kill civilizations with his mind. Crazy, right? she said as she sat on the couch, swirling pasta on her fork.

Villain he understood; super, also true—but ancient had his heart fluttering. The book was set back on the table.

What’s the year?

She narrowed her eyes. It’s 2025. Geez, how long have you been living on the streets?

His face froze as icy shock doused his body. It would seem a great while.

A thousand years locked in a tomb, as the world evolved beyond adaptability. Escaped into a world where everyone he’d known had died—left alone to assimilate. Kalum rested his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes, breathing through his fury.

It’ll be alright. You can stay here tonight, and first thing in the morning we’ll go to the shelter.

Her voice was soothing, her words pouring hope over him, but her touch did the opposite. The soft hand pressed on his arm elicited an ache deep in his belly, spreading outward. He nodded, not trusting his voice to answer.

Thankfully, she pulled away and focused on her meal while he settled his reaction. For now, she was his only ally, his guide to this world, but could he trust her?

You thirsty? Genevieve asked as she left the couch with her empty bowl.

No.

You know, you make it difficult to be hospitable when you refuse everything I offer, Genevieve called from the other room.

It’s unfortunate I’m not thirsty, nor do I require fluids.

Her chuckles reverberated into the open room. What the hell does that mean? Did you want non-hydrating liquid instead? I’ve got a box of red.

Never had he hidden his identity before, and clearly he wasn’t a natural at deception.

Would it please you if I accepted the offer?

Yeah, if it means I don’t drink alone. She pulled a box from a cupboard.

Then by all means, pour me a glass.

The box looked awkward to pour, and as he mentally predicted, the glass fell off the counter and shattered on the white-tiled floor. He rushed over at the sound of her yelp to find her crouched, examining her hand. The reek of fresh iron brought his focus to the blood, and he offered his palm from the other side of the pond of shattered glass.

May I?

Genevieve placed her wounded hand in his, and he examined it. A trivial injury. A splash of water, and in a week’s time, it would heal and be soon forgotten. But with his ability, it would take mere seconds. He willed his hand to glow and mend the wound. Nothing happened. Focusing, he pushed again, but unsuccessfully. The blood continued to seep and drip.

Are you done? she scoffed and pulled back her hand, bringing it to the water basin. After washing it with a miniature shower and wrapping it with paper, she found herself trapped and pointed at a door behind him.

Can you hand me the broom and dustpan in the closet?

Not wanting to bumble about in completing her request, he stepped forward and lifted her by the waist to deposit her out of the room. She made a startled sound and grasped his arms to steady herself.

What are you—

You fetch. I’ll clean, Kalum ordered as he set her gently on her feet in the living room.

When she was out of sight, he tasted her blood on his hand. Not fae or troll, but human? A mere mortal immune to his gifts; it wasn’t possible.

After he cleaned the mess and ensured no glass shards remained, he returned to the sitting area to find she’d turned it into a makeshift bed with pillows and sheets.

Genevieve spun and smiled at him. Thanks for cleaning up.

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed her gratitude and drifted towards his bed for the evening. The book glowered at him from the table, and he asked, Where can I acquire other books here?

Hmm, well, you can borrow books at the university library. I can take you tomorrow, she answered as she unfastened her hair. Long golden strands cascaded past her shoulders; her sweet citrus scent hit him like a wave. He breathed until his lungs filled completely, and his insides warmed from her delicious perfume.

Instead of fully embracing the calm, he questioned it. The mortal woman was immune to his abilities, yet her aroma captivated him. When she caught her bottom lip between her teeth, his pulse quickened. He tilted his head as he continued to study her, and a question slipped from his lips.

What are you?

Tired, Genevieve said through a yawn. It’s late. We should get some sleep. With a flick of her finger, a click on the wall, the room succumbed to darkness, leaving him alone. Perhaps his first assumption was correct: a sorcerer.

Alone, he lay on the soft couch. The cushions molded around his body, and he welcomed the change to the hard earth of the cave. Smooth walls in a boxed room, with plush cushions beneath him. Her effect on him seemed to grow stronger in the darkness as his pulse quickened and his heart hammered in his chest.

The shadowed room morphed into a rocky black cave. It closed in and thinned the air. His lungs struggled as his body screamed to escape, and he rushed to the exit, only to find it sealed. He moved to the window, but the glass panes didn’t budge. Despair rushed through his veins. It chilled his body. His muscles trembled, yearning for freedom. Mind tormented by memories of the cave, his eyes tunneled towards the window, now fogging from his heavy breaths: a target for escape. He broke through the glass barrier, dropped three floors to the ground, and ran.

CHAPTER 2

Outside Kara University, Kalum waited on the entrance steps. An entire night alone while others slumbered. The loneliness, darkness, and silence tormented him. Though he’d escaped his prison, by nightfall he had relived the experience of being trapped, and only when dawn crept up, burning away the dark, could he breathe once more.

The sun sat low on the horizon when an elderly woman approached him on the steps. Thick glass discs in metal frames rested on the bridge of her nose, while her lids were painted in bold blue, and rose colored her cheeks. She wore a sweater over a long, pleated skirt, strange for the day’s warm weather.

May I help you, son? she asked as her weak knees struggled up the stairs.

Kalum offered his arm to assist, and she accepted it. I’d like to acquire some books.

What class are you taking?

A simple question, with a complicated answer. If this frail woman was the gatekeeper, he would not hesitate to destroy her to obtain the required books. But first, deception—then a stronger tactic.

Typical ones, he said with ease.

Of course. General studies. She nodded as they approached the last steps, and she unlocked the doors.

Once inside, he marveled at the massive size of the university. He could envision entire villages fitting into this building alone. Though the size of humans themselves remained the same, their buildings had grown over the centuries.

The woman led him towards a room the size of Genevieve’s dwelling, filled with solid, stained wood shelves, deep and high, stacked with books in various shapes and sizes in every subject. Overwhelmed by the oceans of knowledge, age-worn papers, ink, and leather, he had the sudden urge to swim. Like an ocean, he could get lost in it.

Where can one find historic books? Kalum asked the woman who brought him to this idyllic place.

A wrinkled hand littered with spots gestured towards the labels on the side of each shelf. He started with his era—the Sumerian civilization over a thousand years ago—and read about how history had changed without him.

Others trickled into the sea of knowledge. Eyes lingered on him, the accompanying murmurs shushed by the elderly woman. Suspicious stares tickled his nape hairs. His muscles tightened for an attack.

His book now ignored, Kalum opened his mind to the thoughts circling him. Superficial and unthreatening. He relaxed into his hard seat and continued his studies.

As he reached the history of World War I, Kalum’s head lifted at a familiar voice.

It couldn’t be.

Hey, Agnes, you got my TV for me?

You know, Ray, you should keep it in the class. You ask for it every day.

But then I wouldn’t see your pretty face every afternoon, now, would I?

It was him. He knew it. Kalum leaped out of his chair and towards the voice, and there he was: a familiar burly man with hickory hair as unkempt as his unshaven face. His massive body, hard as stone, intimidated everyone, while his killer smile eased them into false comfort. These qualities made him great in eons past, and yet here he stood, after all this time, youthful and unchanged. Youthful except for eyes dark with the wisdom of ages.

Rayphas, is that you?

The man turned and beamed in recognition. Fuck yeah, you’re out! Rayphas charged and hugged Kalum with crushing force.

The older woman lowered her lenses to examine the two, her head bobbing from one to the other with both suspicion and intrigue.

He got out of prison, Ray said. His words did little to ease the woman’s concern. Slapping Kalum’s back, Ray ushered him out. I’ve got a class to teach. Come sit in, and after we’ll catch up.

Together they walked endless halls with branches separating sections of learning. Students loitered and chatted, the air brimming with knowledge. Rayphas guided him into a large room with seats spaced meticulously on broad stairs. Centered on the main floor was a large desk in front of a white wall with writing instruments attached to it.

Rayphas slapped his bag on the desk and shook his head in disbelief. I can’t believe you’re here. How’d you get out?

A young man named Adam broke the curse. He spilled a drop of his blood on the plaque inside the cave and set me free. I regrettably left him at the falls, unconscious.

We’ll have to get him after class. He’s probably one of my students. I started the subject on you and hoped one of these kids would have the guts to free you. Guess Adam did.

Thanks, old friend. Kalum smiled, truly grateful for his efforts.

No prob. Now go take a seat in the back. Class will start soon.

Kalum climbed the steps to the top and squeezed into a seat with a protruding table. On close observation, the students used them to hold their metallic books, like the one Genevieve had used. Ray’s booming voice silenced the class.

Alright, now, on to Kalum, god among men, the one and only hybrid of Heaven and Hell. Yesterday we discussed his capture, sentenced for eternity in Angel Falls. Today we’ll discuss why.

The devices clicked like rapid fire as fingers hastily roamed the keys. Kalum studied a nearby screen in awe as the student recorded Rayphas’s every word.

The enormous troll maintained the class’s attention throughout his lecture. The Sumerians were good to Kalum; they offered treasures to invoke his mercy and generosity—to use his gifts to heal their wounds or better the town. Eventually, their downfall and Kalum’s came when they offered their greatest treasure, a wife. The ultimate gift unleashed his dark side, and he killed the entire civilization with his mind alone—true to his moniker, the Destroyer of Man.

A hand shot out beside Kalum. Professor Ban, how could one man kill millions so quickly?

"He isn’t a man, and you’d do well to remember it or suffer the same fate as the Sumerians. Though Kalum