Children of the Sun: Snakeheart, #3

By Damien Benoit-Ledoux

I didn't think things could get worse…

…but people started dying, and it was my fault.

At first, I thought someone was playing a cruel trick on me, but that didn't explain the bizarre truth that defied scientific explanation: I had unwillingly become part of something ominous and evil. I'm not the kind of guy who cries often, and I'm certainly not a killer. I wouldn't even wish death upon my worst enemy, if I had one. But after losing two of my closest friends, I questioned my morals and beliefs: could I kill to survive?

I didn't have time to mourn because I needed to discover where I fit in the supernatural world of Vampires, Lycan, and Spellcasters. If the crazy old priest and the Fae were right, then my place is second only to Lucifer Morningstar himself.

Children of the Sun is the third book of The Snakeheart Series (Season 1), a supernatural novella series about Dante Coranguis and the ancient prophecy of the End Times.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Purple Spekter™ LLP Press
• Release date: Jun 30, 2020
• ISBN: 9798215389539

Damien Benoit-Ledoux

Damien Benoit-Ledoux is an author and freelance editor. His mind is a magical and nerdy place where fantastic heroes defend amazing worlds from dangerous villains who run amuck in an epic struggle to take over the universe. Recently, the brightest and best from this colorful cast of characters have made their way into notes, plots, stories, and novels for you to read and enjoy. Damien strongly believes the real world we live in should be a place where LGBTQ equality and respect are second nature and never questioned. When he's not working or spending time with his husband, their son, and their dog, Damien weaves this philosophy into the exciting lives of his characters and the fantastic space battles and romances they endure so they'll stop taking over his dreams at night. And finally, he wants you to remember a very important thing: No matter how bad your day is at work, it’s always important to be grateful that you don’t work for a Sith Lord.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Dante Coranguis considered his organized and scheduled life to be normal by most definitions of the word. That is, until the recent turn of supernatural events unraveled his carefully crafted assumptions about himself and the world, threatening to plunge him into chaos forever. At the moment, he found himself uncomfortably hot, barefoot, and wearing only blue police gym shorts while crouched on a cool marble floor. To his right, Cadmar, a beautiful, naked shape-shifting man—if that's what he really was—intensely watched Dante, and next to him, Theodore Bartholomew, the stunned homicide detective, dry heaved on his hands and knees, probably trying to make sense of what just happened.

Dante ignored Cadmar’s extended hand and fought against the overall discomfort he felt as nausea bubbled in his stomach and the unusual hotness he felt produced cold sweats.

Why do I feel like I’m in a church?

Peeling his eyes away from Cadmar’s handsome nakedness, he looked around and confirmed he was inside a Catholic church. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be anyone else around. That’s good, considering I’m half-naked and Cadmar is buck naked… not that I’m complaining.

Dante paused as a strong wave of nausea washed over him, but he gritted his teeth and tightened his abs. When it subsided, he pushed himself back to his feet. Cadmar’s hand was still extended, but Dante ignored it. Why did you bring me here? he asked, his tone hostile and lacking gratitude.

Cadmar frowned and lowered his hand. It’s a safe place. They won’t think to look for you here.

I hate churches. He felt himself getting hotter, like he was in a rogue sauna set to the highest temperature. He wiped his brow with the back of his right hand, and it came away wet.

Too bad for you.

Detective Bartholomew finished dry heaving and rotated himself to a seated position on the floor. He reached for his gun with his right hand and pulled it closer but didn’t holster it. What the hell was that? He looked up at Cadmar, then quickly averted his eyes when he realized he was eye level with the man’s genitals.

Cadmar frowned. Duh, it was a portal. I transported us here from the police station to escape the Lycan. Problem?

And this location would be? Bartholomew asked, poking his head up to look around.

Saint Michael Catholic Church.

Bartholomew’s head whipped around, and he looked up at Cadmar. You brought us into a church when you’re stark naked?

Cadmar grinned, placed his hands on his hips, and slightly thrust his body forward. As naked as the day I was born and as the good Lord made me. Then he extended his hand. The name’s Cadmar Tyre.

Detective Theodore Bartholomew, the detective replied, pushing himself up under his own power and refusing Cadmar’s help, his gun in hand. What the hell were those things that attacked us?

Lycan.

Damn thing looked like a Werewolf. Then he pointed his gun at Cadmar, who didn’t flinch. What the hell are you?

Cadmar frowned again. Don’t be rude. I’m Fae.

What?

Fae. A Fairy.

The detective rolled his eyes. I don’t care if you’re gay. What supernatural monster are you?

Cadmar regarded the detective with wide eyes. "Don’t be silly. I am a Fae, which is a Fairy in the mythical creature sense of the word. I am not a monster."

Huh?

Cadmar rolled his eyes, and his body flashed with bright light. Then he was gone. Only a small, yellow-glowing firefly remained in his place. Dante recognized the buzzing sound of the Fae’s wings from the air duct at the police station. The tiny Fairy giggled.

What on earth? Bartholomew exclaimed.

Dante smiled. That’s a pretty cool trick.

Yeah, right—Werewolves and now Tinkerbell.

With another bright flash, Cadmar transformed into his nude human form. He glared at the detective. I’m definitely not Tinkerbell, copper.

Dante smirked.

Bartholomew frowned and asked, Fine. Where are your clothes? I should arrest you for indecent exposure.

You could try. Clothes don’t shift with us. My human clothes wouldn’t fit me in Fairy form and vice versa. Thus, we leave them behind. Normally, you can’t see us, so nudity doesn’t matter to our kind.

What do you mean, normally can’t see you? Bartholomew asked.

We are an ancient, hidden species. If we don’t want to be seen by humans, you won’t see us. Only the most spiritually sensitive of humans will sense us in the forests or wherever we roam, but rarely can they sense us enough to engage us.

Ancient… So are you as old as Valerian and Gaius? Dante asked, wiping his sweaty brow again.

Cadmar nodded. Indeed.

So, your magic powers—

They are innate, unlike the Spellcasters’. Their magicks are learned.

Wait, does that make my friend Solange ancient like you?

Cadmar shook his head. Highly unlikely. The Spellcasters’ power descends through lineage. They are not ancient immortals like the rest of us.

You’re immortal? Bartholomew asked, his tone full of disbelief.

"A misnomer. We do