Thea's Truth: Zodiac Assassins, #10

By Artemis Crow

Thirteen Zodiac Assassins

Forged in the Darkness of the InBetween,
Ruled by the Shadow Side of their Stars,
The Only Hope for the Light of Humanity.

What would you sacrifice to live your truth?

A Paranorm Woman Afraid Of The Truth

Raised in a quaint New Hampshire town, Thea has lived so long being protected from the truth that she's too afraid to reach for the answers about who she is and why she was taken from the paranormal world of her birth. Until the Hunter crashes into her life and secrets are no longer an option. 

A Man Desperate To Learn The Truth

After the murder of his wife and child, the Hunter lives only to discover who killed them. So, he accepted the role of Hunter, part of a team who finds, collects, or kills paranorms for the archangels in exchange for the answers he seeks. When Hunter tracks down his latest assignment and learns who she is, his loyalty to Uriel and his quest to find answers is tested.

The Powerful Forces Determined To Destroy Them

When Hunter's partner, the Collector, and Uriel learn where Thea lives, they attack, forcing Thea to choose between rejecting her legacy, or accepting the power only she can wield to defend her family and home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Artemis Crow
• Release date: Oct 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201588502

Book preview

Thea’s Truth

ZODIAC ASSASSINS BOOK 10

ARTEMIS CROW

Thea’s Truth

Copyright © 2021 by Leslie Bird Nuccio

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Printed in the United States of America

First Printing, 2022

Print Book ISBN 979-8-9860261-1-4

Cover Art by DAZED Designs

OTHER BOOKS BY ARTEMIS CROW

Zodiac Assassins series

Lyon’s Roar Book 1

Leona’s Descent Book 2

Libra’s Limbo Book 3

Leona’s Cage Book 4

Gemini Asunder Book 5

Abella All In Book 6

Cancer’s Moon Book 7

Bryn’s Flight Book 8

Aries On Fire Book 9

Dedication

To the truthtellers among us, those who seek it, those who cherish it, those who never run from it no matter how stark and painful the truth may be. Stay strong, be free.

Contents

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

1

Thea watched the late morning sun inch across the wooden floor of her attic bedroom, watched the rays caress the curlicues of her Victorian dresser like a lover only to abandon it for the chair and ottoman, its bright light illuminating the faded, floral fabric and leaving deepening shadows in its wake. Shadows that whispered to her of secrets long held, secrets of a past she’d never known, secrets she shied away from with a growing constancy each passing year.

A door slammed; she jerked herself away from the secrets lingering in the shadows and into the present. She turned to face the vanity mirror again, adjusting the long, white wig until the bangs were no longer over her right ear, but squarely centered on her forehead. A lock of her natural hair slowly escaped and fell onto her shoulder, the thick, straight-as-a-stick, someone-painted-it-like-a-chrome-car strands reflecting the morning light like a mirror.

Damn it. Rena!

Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs to Thea’s attic bedroom. The door flew open, and Rena, Thea’s Aspis best friend—one of the most unique of the InBetween’s paranorm species—stopped in the doorway, her entrance as dramatic as the rest of her.

Good goddess, you’re a grown woman, Thea. When are you going to learn how to girl?

Rena strode across the room, which took her all of five steps—undermining the effect of a good strode—and snatched the ratty wig off Thea’s head. She tsked and worked the hairnet free, letting the rest of the shimmering, chrome hair fall down Thea’s back.

Honestly, it’s October in the northeast, home to witches and all manner of spooky things, and you want to hide this stunning mane? Rena asked, squinting against the hair glare.

And blind someone?

Okay, maybe you have a point, but when the sun is down…

Thea closed her eyes and dropped her head back. Ugh. Just help me, no lectures. She lifted her head again and gave Rena her best pleading look. My clients expect a white-haired witch to do their reading, just as I’ve done for years, and that’s what they’re going to get. At least the wig is white instead of black.

Yeah, yeah, Rena said, gathering Thea’s hair. Let’s do a plait, then add the hair net. That’ll contain this thing of beauty you so desperately hide and give me something to anchor the wig to.

Thea kept her grin to herself, instead opting to close her eyes again and relax under Rena’s quick but gentle hands. The woman was magic with hair and makeup, far better than the Fae—Dark or Light—and without the pesky after effect of owing a favor to a dangerous and fickle creature.

Not that Rena wasn’t dangerous; the woman was an Aspis, after all. A humanoid snake who hid her black, blue, and green, iridescent skin with makeup and layers of all-black, goth clothes, who wore contacts to conceal her gold eyes with viper-slit pupils, who had to take care not to bite or scratch anyone because her venom was many times deadlier than the most poisonous snake. Oh, and fangs that she couldn’t hide or file down, thus the goth attire to give her an excuse for long, sharp, needle canines.

The wig secured, she tipped Thea’s face up with a finger and studied her neck. Hmm, I need to fix this.

What?

Rena dug through the mostly unused pile of makeup she’d given Thea. Your makeup is a mess, and your birthmark is showing.

Not too much makeup. I don’t want any undue attention.

With your face and figure, anytime you leave this village, you create undue, even without makeup. It’s rather annoying.

Thea snorted and frowned until Rena flicked her cheek. Did you just flick me?

To get you to stop scowling, hell yes. Now sit still and tell me again why you turned down that job in Boston because I know I didn’t hear you right the first time.

Rena lifted Thea’s chin then reached for the concealer.

Head tilted, Thea watched her friend cover the eight-arrow Chaos Star birthmark on her neck, the nevus so distinct it could have been a tattoo. I can’t leave Mom and Gram. You know this.

You wouldn’t be leaving them; you could commute.

But I’d have to leave the village every day for work. You know I can’t.

The birthmark covered, Rena straightened Thea’s head and worked on her makeup. She grunted, brushing rouge on Thea’s cheeks. Your Mom and Gram brought you here as a baby. Surely they don’t want you to leave in a pine box.

I leave plenty of times, like tonight and tomorrow night, and every night in October that I can get booked.

In a costume, only a few miles away, and with that birthmark on your neck for protection, Rena said.

Thea resisted touching the freshly concealed nevus to avoid Rena’s wrath. Instead she lifted Rena’s Chaos Star and rubbed her thumb over the intricate pendant, the metal old and unique and no doubt valuable.

The Star of Chaos, her Gram had told her when she was old enough to understand, was a symbol of the primordial goddess who had created all the known universe, including the Portends, of whom Thea was one. Her birthmark purportedly hid her from the goddess-created, subterranean, paranorm world Mom and Gram had taken Thea out of at the Moment of her birth. They’d never said why she had to be removed from her kind and the protection that the InBetween afforded all persecuted paranorms.

As the years rolled on, Thea stopped asking, growing afraid of the truth her Mom never wanted to speak, content to live her small life in their small New Hampshire town, or village as Rena liked to call it. But secrets didn’t die because you ignored them. They lurked and slithered in the shadows waiting for their Moment to choke you. Thea glanced to her right, flinching at the deep dark in the corners, waiting for their turn.

It’s just a symbol, Thea finally said, gently releasing the pendant. I notice you haven’t taken yours off since the day she gave it to you.

Rena smirked. Not true. I hang it on the bedpost when I have company.

So, fifty percent of the time.

Oh, honey. Try a lot north of that, Rena said with a laugh. She opened the lipstick tube. Give me pouty lips.

Speaking of the bedpost, how was your date with Tad? Thea said in as taunting a voice as she could manage between her pursed lips.

Once again, the -oid struck.

The what?

You know, the -oid.

I need a Rena-isms glossary.

Rena capped the tube and set it down, studying Thea’s face. There’s a wide, wide chasm between human and humanoid, known as the -oid. Tad didn’t have the ability, or interest, to cross that chasm to be Rena-fied.

There was much Thea envied about Rena: her brash, bold personality, her style, lighting up a room with a simple smile, but she didn’t envy having to hide the most personal part of who she was, her identity. I’m sorry.

Rena shrugged it off, just like she did everything that didn’t fit with her view of herself and the world; another ability to envy.

You’d think a herpetology student would be all over this, she said, her hands passing over her body. But I’ve come to expect it. Okay, makeup is done. Rena pulled her phone out of one of her many pockets—the woman had a thing for pockets—and tapped the screen. Oh crap, I better scoot. The book signing is in thirty minutes. You sure you won’t come? We are co-authors; people should have a chance to meet you.

We agreed. You’re the face of our partnership. Thea pointed to Rena’s long, black maxiskirt and tight, long-sleeved tee, topped off with a floor-length, black, velvet robe edged with lace appliques. And you’re the perfect branding for our urban fantasy series.

About a paranormal-populated, subterranean world that actually exists even though humans haven’t a clue?

Thea smiled as she stood. They do say write what you know.

She picked up her witch’s hat and started for the door.

Rena gently gripped Thea’s arm to stop her. You may have been born there, but you’ve never seen the InBetween first-hand. I have.

"I will never see it, but Gram and Mom told me a few stories. From that I can imagine far more. Thea placed a hand on Rena’s shoulder. That’s why we’re a great team."

You have the writing chops and a wicked cool imagination, and I know the world. At least the Aspis part of it. The other paranorms are so reclusive, it’s hard to know any of them well, but the Portends are particularly antisocial. Rena tapped her temple with a forefinger. Must be the living in your heads.

Thea nodded once. If the Portends in the InBetween are anything like Mom, with her crazy, out-of-control empath abilities, I can understand why. They don't have the benefit of our sensory deprivation tanks.

Rena lifted her right hand and stuck her pinkie out like she was holding a teacup. Having such a close tie to the goddess Chaos makes them ultra-snooty too.

They laughed at the old joke.

Except for you and your Mom and Gram, Rena said. You guys are awesome. Too bad your family refused to meet our readers.

Thea snorted. Can you imagine them meeting Gram?

They'd die of shock.

Thea pushed against Rena to get her moving. Time to go be your fabulous self and sell a boatload of books. And hey, we can celebrate with pizza when I get home.

I never turn down a pie, but I can’t tonight. I’m going to the Fall In Love New England conference in Marlborough right after the signing, remember?

Crap.

Thea paused, her gaze on the lingering shadows that wouldn’t leave her bedroom, a chill running down her spine for reasons she couldn’t explain. Secrets haunted her daily, but today the secrets were pressing on her, grasping, greedy, demanding, so she let them chase her away, like always. Hot footing it down the steep stairs of the old saltbox house to the second floor, then again to the first, she ran from the heebie-jeebies, escaping the chill that had settled in her bones.

I don’t know how you can run down these stairs without killing yourself, Rena said from far behind her, taking each step sideways and slowly, a hand gripping the railing tight.

Practice.

Thea dropped the hat on the drawing-room sofa and looked around for her tote bag. When will you be back?

Sunday around lunchtime, hopefully with zero books left, and an award for the Halloween costume contest. Rena rubbed her hands together. I plan on winning that bad boy.

You’ll send pictures?

The Moment they’re snapped.

Thea turned to her friend, as different from her as could be, and pulled Rena in for a bear hug. Pizza on Sunday then.

Absolutely, but you’re paying with all that woo-woo money you’re going to make, Rena said, pulling away.

She ran out of the house, a whirlwind of black and spice and salty-sweet that Thea loved like a sister.

Thea resumed her search for her tote bag. Not in the drawing-room. She worked her way into the kitchen, pausing by the man-sized, stone fireplace, the dancing flames merry and warming. The house had been built in 1860, a time when the kitchen fireplace provided heat for the house, a flame to cook, and a gathering place for family to eat and talk about their day.

And there, on the dining table, sat her black tote. Not where she had placed it earlier.

Thea shook her head. At least, I didn’t think so.

She shouldered the big, leather bag and was starting down the hall for the front door when a scream echoed from deep underground.

Dropping the tote, she ran into the kitchen and opened the short, narrow, wooden door that led to the basement. Gathering her skirt in one hand, she ran down the steps, and to the Alice-in-Wonderland-sized door that opened into a small, low-ceilinged, rectangular room carved out of rock. She lifted the wooden platform with an old chair bolted to it, leather straps nailed on the arms and legs. They’d wondered about the history of this room, wondered but hadn’t really wanted to know about a secret room with that kind of chair.

She raced down the next set of steps, the layers of cool air growing colder with each foot she descended until she reached the sub-basement. The frigid air cooled her adrenaline-fueled sweat as she ran into the cave her mother and grandmother had uncovered years ago and set up as a shelter in the event of a possible attack that Thea had grown to believe was a figment of their fevered imaginations.

She slid to a stop at the three sensory deprivation tanks sitting in one corner of the cave.

What are you two doing? she asked, but her question was ignored.

The lights were soft, but even the dim light couldn’t hide her mother and grandmother, naked and sweaty, in a gladiatorial clench. The two women grappled, their silver-gray hair billowing like cotton candy around their red, contorted faces.

You’re going to get into that tank if I have to knock you on the head and throw you in like a fish into a bowl! Thea’s Mom yelled, with a shove for emphasis.

You haven’t got the stones, figuratively or literally, to do more than wag a finger and grouse! her Gram fired back. And I’m not getting in there without my new happy toys!

You mean your dildos? her Mom asked.

Thea covered her face with both hands to hide her hot cheeks and her laughter. It was one thing to know your parents and grandparents had a sex life. It was an entirely different matter to have a grandmother who bought every waterproof sex toy on the market and stashed them in her tank to prevent boredom while she floated for hours.

Stop, just stop, both of you! Thea finally managed to get out.

Both women stopped shoving and grunting and faced Thea.

What’s the problem, dear? her Mom asked. I thought you’d left for the Salem Witchapalooza already.

Aw, jeez. At least put on your robes, Thea said, looking away. You know it’s called Haunted Happenings. Is this what you two do when I’m out? Recreate scenes from the Roman Coliseum?

Gram giggled as she belted her robe. "No, but I do have an XXX-rated recreation of the movie Gladiator. Sadly, without Russell Crowe."

Thea shook her head. Then what are you fighting about?

Your mother isn’t happy that I bought new dildos—

Again. You bought new dildos, again, her Mom said.

Well, they’re waterproof this time, so these should last a good long while.

And that video player? her Mom asked, her fists planted on her hips.

Gram swept her hands over her hair, trying to tame it, but it bounced back tall and wild as ever. It’s a waterproof Kindle so I can watch all my movies—

Porn, her Mom said.

And read all my books.

Erotica and porn.

Gram slowly turned to face her daughter. So I can entertain myself in the tank.

Thea’s Mom threw up her hands. Watching NOVA is entertainment. Reading Shakespeare or romance novels, that’s entertainment. What you’re doing—

—is fun. Have you forgotten fun, Carys? Gram asked, her voice soft with sadness and love.

She stepped closer to her daughter and gently touched her face, the sass and irritation gone. Carys covered Gram’s hand and closed her eyes, sagging into the compassion.

You can’t forget what you’ve never had, she whispered.

Oh. My. Goddess, Thea said. You two are killing me. I can’t cry, or I’ll mess up Rena’s makeup, and she’ll chew me out for days.

She had to break through the sadness enveloping the women because it was a universal truth that they didn’t do sad well…at all.

Mom, let Gram have her toys and be grateful she doesn’t try to knit in the tank or some other hobby that would cost a fortune and clog up the pipes.

Carys turned away from Gram’s touch and opened the lid of her tank.

And Gram, please, ease up on the porn talk, okay? Howl at the moon, orgasm yourself into an early grave, but stop torturing Mom.

Carys picked up a pair of waterproof, noise-canceling headphones and put them on, letting the muffs clamp onto her ears with a pop.

So I don’t have to hear the howling and orgasming, she said a little too loudly before climbing into the tank and throwing off her robe.

It hit the floor only a Moment before Carys sank naked into the salt-saturated, body-temp water and closed the lid, shutting out the world with a huff and a click.

Gram stared at the closed tank for a Moment. She needs to get laid, for all our sakes. She flapped a frail, liver-spotted hand in Thea’s direction. You do, too, for that matter. Rustle up a pair of hotties tonight and bring them home so I can live vicariously through you.

You get more action in one tank session that we’ve gotten in years…combined.

Gram dropped her robe and opened her tank. Dearest girl, there’s a world of difference between having a hot, sexy body pressed up against yours and watching porn with some decidedly inventive dildos to pass the time. If you haven’t figured that out by now, then I have failed as a grandmother.

Thea rolled her eyes and pointed at the tank. "Grandmothers are supposed to teach you how to bake, tell you about what life was like in their day, defy all the rules to spoil you rotten, not teach you about sex. Get inside, now, or I’m going to be late. As excuses go, I don’t think having a debate with my grandmother about sex with men versus inanimate objects is going to fly."

Gram sat in the tank and nailed Thea with the same look she’d given Carys: love and sadness. And when are you going to fly, little one?

Gram shut the lid before Thea could say, Never.

2

Hunter squeezed his rental sedan into the compact car space, ignoring the honks and yells echoing in the parking garage. Anger barely registered with him anymore—his own or others’—which was a good thing. When your bosses were archangels and your job was to track