Devoured by Darkness: Timecaster Chronicles, #1

By R.L. Perez

 

It's been six months since El Diablo's disappearance, but Desi Campbell still has nightmares.

 

Still adjusting after time-traveling, Desi hunts demons with her coven in 1899 Santiago.

 

Then she hears rumors that El Diablo is back—and he's in Manila, where Oliver is fighting in the Philippine-American War. She travels there to warn him.
 

A heart-crushing secret is exposed. Familiar faces resurface. And Desi is faced with dark magic she's never known before.

 

Demons stalk the city, preying on civilians. Desi is torn between protecting innocents and finding El Diablo. She continues fighting, until she finds herself surrounded by demons who practice the darkest magic.

 

But Desi will do anything to protect the ones she loves. Even if it means pledging herself to darkness forever. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: R.L. Perez
• Release date: Apr 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9781955035309

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Sweat trickled down my face. Breathing heavily, I ducked, narrowly avoiding a punch to the face. Guillermo grunted as I barreled into his legs, knocking him to the ground. He easily twisted, locking my arms behind me. I wriggled, but his grip was firm and unyielding. I groaned in frustration.

Don’t give up, he said in a strained voice. Use your head. Find a creative way out of your situation.

Creative. Right. I bit back a sarcastic retort and inhaled deeply. With the calming breaths came a rush of clarity to my mind. Think outside the box, I told myself.

I stretched my legs into splits and arced over backward, leaning into Guillermo so far that he had to fight to keep his grip on my arms. Sensing my freedom, I swiveled, pulling my arms free. I vaulted to my feet and cartwheeled in the other direction. With Guillermo now several feet away, I lifted my arms and Pushed him backward.

Guillermo floated to the other side of the room before he Teleported back to me with a soft pop. He crossed his bulky arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. You can’t always rely on that, you know.

I peeled my damp curls from my forehead. Rely on what?

"Dancing away from an opponent so you can Push them. One day you might face a different kind of demon. Someone who is stronger than me, or someone you can’t dance away from."

I shrugged. "Then I’ll find a new creative way out of that situation."

Guillermo pressed his lips into a thin line but said nothing. Darkness clouded his eyes, and I turned away, picking up a cloth to mop up my face and neck. I suppressed a shudder as I remembered being chained to a wall while El Diablo drank my blood last year. So helpless. So weak. Completely at his mercy.

Guillermo was right. If I was ever in that situation again, I couldn’t exactly pull the same move. But I wasn’t about to bring it up. Guillermo had only just started working with the coven a few weeks ago after transferring from Havana. I didn’t know much about him, but when we first met, he told me he was working undercover for El Diablo when I’d been tortured. He’d been there—seen it happening to me. I hadn’t noticed him there, but occasionally things got awkward between us as we were both reminded of that dark moment.

I glanced at Ramón, who sat quietly at the small square table in the corner, his beefy arms crossed like a bouncer as he watched us through impassive eyes. Our referee, in case training turned nasty. Also our chaperone. Not that we needed it. Guillermo definitely wasn’t my type—too brooding. But, for the sake of propriety, I played along and allowed the extra dose of testosterone to linger in my apartment.

"What do you think? I asked, gesturing at Ramón. How’d I do?"

Ramón lifted one shoulder. Fine. Your footwork is sloppy.

I sighed. The corners of Guillermo’s lips twitched as he pulled back his shoulder-length black hair.

The door opened, and Elena burst inside, breathless and eyes blazing with determination. I knew that look.

I straightened. What is it?

A Second Tier demon has been sighted, she said, dropping her bag onto the decorative end table by the door.

My eyes widened. Demons who performed a specific blood ritual could Ascend to the Second and Third Tiers, making them more powerful. After El Diablo’s disappearance last year, the coven and I had tirelessly hunted demons, cleaning up the mess from the demon war and the mortal war. We thought there weren’t any left but those of the First Tier. Easy targets.

So if someone had spotted a Second Tier demon, this was big news.

I set down my cloth and raised a hand toward Guillermo. We’ll meet you outside.

Elena darted to her bedroom down the hall. Ramón was already on his feet, and he followed Guillermo out the door. I rushed into my room, which was across from Elena’s, and searched for a pair of weather-appropriate trousers. My current leggings weren’t exactly suitable for Demonhunting outdoors.

Elena emerged when I did, also wearing a tight tunic and trousers. I smirked. At some point last year, the Huntresses in our coven realized that, however ridiculous I looked in pants, the attire was much more practical for Demonhunting. I told everyone we should start calling them Desi suits as a reminder of my contribution, but the idea didn’t stick.

Guillermo didn’t wear you out with training, did he? Elena asked, pulling her dark hair into a tight knot on top of her head.

I chuckled. Hardly.

He goes easy on you, you know. He could grind you to a pulp if he wanted to.

I wiggled my eyebrows as I slid into my jacket. Oh, Elena, you’ve got it bad.

Got what?

"You like him."

Elena blushed and scowled at me. "What? No! Not like that."

Please. Mr. Sexy Brooding Magic Spy? He’s perfect for you. That is, if he’d lighten up a bit.

Elena rolled her eyes and tugged at her sleeves. Concern flashed in her expression as we both headed toward the door. Before I could reach for the handle, she grabbed my arm, her brows creasing. I just want to make sure you can handle this. She paused, watching me cautiously. Desi, there are rumors that this Second Tier demon is American. A Teleporter.

My face slackened in surprise, and my blood ran cold. I swallowed. Don’t panic. Don’t panic. I inhaled through my nose and exhaled through my mouth, trying to calm my racing heart. But flashes of fire, pain, and blood seared across my vision. El Diablo’s laughter. My own screams. Oliver’s sobs.

A Second Tier American Teleporter? It had to be Howard, El Diablo’s henchman. What would he be doing here . . . unless El Diablo’s still here?

Elena touched my shoulder, snapping me out of the nightmare that threatened to swallow me whole. Are you all right?

I nodded, clenching my fingers into fists. Yes. Of course. I cleared my throat. It might not be him.

Elena raised her eyebrows.

I shook my head. Yeah, right. Either way, I can’t stay behind for this one. Let’s go get him.

We stepped outside to find Guillermo leaning against the concrete wall of our apartment. The casual, innocent bystander. He blended in perfectly with the locals who were bustling up and down the street.

Where was he last sighted? Guillermo asked, straightening and stepping toward us. I looked around for Ramón, but he’d left, no doubt to go relay the news to Alba.

On the outskirts of town, Elena said. Near the sugar plantations.

Guillermo nodded, his jaw ticking back and forth in contemplation. His eyes roved up and down the road. A few familiar neighbors ambled by as well as some American soldiers.

My stomach twisted. Oliver. Every time I saw a soldier, I thought of him wearing the same uniform only months ago. But he wasn’t here. His unit had returned to America after the war last year. He had visited once since then, but I wasn’t sure when I would see him again.

We’re too exposed here, Guillermo muttered, jerking his head toward the end of the road. This way.

A breeze tousled my brown curls as we strode down the road. I rubbed my arms to ward off the winter chill. Winter in Santiago was tame compared to what I was accustomed to in North Grove, Wisconsin, but my body had adjusted after six months of being in a warmer and wetter climate. My friends back home would’ve laughed at the wuss I’d become.

After we ducked into a narrow alley between two apartment buildings, Guillermo grasped our hands and closed his eyes. Our surroundings rippled and shifted, and with a small pop, we Teleported.

The blinding afternoon sun beat against my face, no longer hidden behind palm trees and buildings. A wide expanse of grass and fields beckoned to us. Just behind us, the tall buildings of Santiago melded into the horizon.

I gazed forward at the small mountains beyond the fields and inhaled deeply. Fresh scents tickled my nose—citrus, sugar, and a woodsy scent that achingly reminded me of Oliver.

A sudden burst of exhilaration pulsed through my mind, quickening my heart rate. Adrenaline coursed through me. I blinked and shook my head as Oliver’s eager grin appeared in my mind.

He was excited about something.

Last year, to save him from being enslaved to El Diablo, I’d performed a blood oath with Oliver, which meant our minds were connected. Every so often, I felt a flash of emotion from him: a pang of longing, a twinge of annoyance, a spark of laughter.

I swallowed back my desire to be with him—to talk to him about this excitement—and looked at Guillermo.

You ladies ready? Guillermo asked, flexing his muscular arms.

I ensured my athame and stake were secure in their ankle holsters as Elena did the same. We nodded at each other.

Then the three of us set off, combing through the sugar plantations and passing by farmers maintaining the fields. Some workers tipped their hats toward us, and others ignored us completely.

Elena and I followed Guillermo, whose senses were sharper than ours. My sense of smell had evolved over the past six months, and I could now smell demons but not from a great distance.

Guillermo held up a hand to stop us as he sniffed the air, his eyes closed in concentration. There are demons here, he murmured to himself. But it’s hard to pinpoint where. If a Second Tier demon is hiding here, he’s cloaked himself. It makes it harder to smell him.

We continued down the road past massive stalks of sugarcane, some wilting from the winter climate. I gazed up at the enormous plants as their sweet scent tickled my nose, mingling with the faintest smell of—

I froze in my tracks and sniffed the air again.

Gunpowder. Blood. Black magic.

My mind returned to that horrifying magic circle of runes and powder. The demons hooded in black cloaks. El Diablo with Oliver lying there at his mercy. A blade poised to tear through innocent flesh for the blood ritual.

Stop, I hissed.

Elena and Guillermo halted, and dirt from the road puffed underneath their feet.

I closed my eyes, my ears prickling from sounds that whispered with the wind. My hair ruffled, and the sugarcane stalks whispered.

My eyes opened, and I pointed into the maze of sugarcane. He’s in there.

Guillermo and Elena exchanged looks.

It makes sense, Guillermo said. There aren’t any workers in this field. It must be cloaked. He pointed two fingers at me and Elena. You two canvass the area. I’m going to Port to the other side and meet you back here.

With a small pop, he disappeared.

It’s so weird he calls it Port instead of Jump, I thought to myself. In my time, we called Teleporters Jumpers. I jerked my head behind me. I’ll go to the right.

I turned to leave, but Elena grabbed my elbow, her brown eyes wide with concern. Don’t do anything reckless, okay? Wait for us.

I frowned. Of course.

We parted ways, and I slowed my steps to a stealthy creep, my feet barely brushing the dirt as I slid along the edge of the sugarcane. Whispers surrounded me, taunting me. A phantom slice of pain slithered into my chest—a reminder of the sacrifice I’d almost made to empower El Diablo. To save Oliver.

A stench of demon stung my nostrils so intensely that I stopped, my head jerking toward the sugarcane. It smelled of blood, black magic, and hot metal.

Howard, I whispered.

The sugarcane bristled in response.

He’s in there. I know he is.

My nostrils flared as I stepped closer to the sugarcane.

Elena said to wait, I reminded myself. If the demons outnumber us, we’ll need backup.

The sugarcane hissed again. El Diablo’s fiery red eyes seared through my vision.

I had to know if he was back. And if he was, Howard would tell me where El Diablo was so I could end him once and for all.

My feet slid forward as I vanished into the tall stalks of sugarcane. It felt like slipping into a corn maze. The long leaves clawed against my forearms as I weaved in and out following the stench and the whispers.

I’d become stronger in the last six months. My senses had sharpened, and I felt powerful. Unstoppable. If the demons outnumbered me, I knew I could handle it. And if I couldn’t, Elena and Guillermo wouldn’t be far behind.

I brushed past the tall plants surrounding me. Their sweet scent mingled with the filthy demon smell, creating a sickly perfume.

Flames flashed in my eyes. My skin burned from the fiery assault.

Faster. My legs pushed harder through the sugarcane, my curls flying as I sprinted.

I have to end this. He can’t be back. He won’t haunt me anymore.

I stopped short as a figure came into view, his red hair contrasting against the green fronds of the sugarcane.

His head whipped toward me, his eyes wide with terror. His body shimmered, but I thrusted my arms forward, Pushing him before he could Jump.

The force of my magic hit him in the chest. He tumbled, knocking over several stalks of sugarcane. I rushed to his side and planted my foot on his chest.

Howard coughed and wheezed. Dirt was smeared along his cheek and in his mustache. His nervous eyes flew from me to the surrounding plants.

Where is he? I growled.

He’s not here, Howard said quietly.

"Then why are you here?"

Howard’s nostrils flared as he looked at me, his eyes blazing. "I’m a member of the Council. I’m neutral. I’m not his slave."

That’s not what it looked like last time I saw you. I pressed my foot harder into him, and he grunted in pain. Tell me.

I’m here . . . for Oliver, he gasped.

I eased my foot off, my jaw dropping in surprise.

Howard shimmered again, Jumping just far enough to evade my hold on him. My arms flew forward, my magic catching him mid-Jump as I Pulled him toward me. The effort of dragging a Teleporter brought me to my knees as if he weighed as much as a bus. I Pulled and Pulled, and we both screamed from exertion.

Finally, he toppled over at my feet. I sucked in huge gulps of air, trying to calm my racing heart.

Don’t . . . do this, he panted.

I Pushed, slamming his face into the dirt. He groaned, his head lolling and his eyes blinking dizzily at me.

My chest heaved with my breaths as I pointed a finger at him. Why—

Something heavy slammed into me, crushing me against the earth. Dirt and rocks scraped my cheek, and a small pop told me Howard had vanished.

I swore and grappled with whatever had slammed into me. Then I froze.

Oliver’s face stared back at me, his green eyes wide with fear and his blond hair disheveled.

My heart stopped, and I shrank away from him, but he pressed harder against me.

Look at me, he whispered.

The soft caress of his voice made me shiver. It’s not him. It’s not him. I turned my head away from him, pressing my lips together. Without looking at him, I forced my hands onto his chest and Pushed him off me.

He flew into the air, landing several feet away from me. While he staggered to his feet, I drew my athame.

Oliver’s green eyes shifted to gray, and he cocked his head at me, smirking.

I knew it. Shapeshifter, I spat. I swiped my athame at him, and he dodged. His body shifted and rippled until he vanished into nothingness.

I closed my eyes. They wouldn’t be much help anyway. I sniffed the air. Demon stench tickled my nose just ahead of me. It floated closer and closer until . . .

My hand shot forward, embedding the athame into the shapeshifter’s chest.

A hollow gasp rippled through his body as the shapeshifter’s scaly gray figure came into view. He wriggled and writhed until he collapsed. Blood oozed from the wound as I yanked the athame from his flesh.

Then, something sharp cut into my arm. I hissed as slice after slice dug through my skin.

What . . .? I gasped. My eyes closed against another stab of agony. I screamed and sank to my knees.

Beside me, the shapeshifter cackled and then gurgled, choking on his own blood. Then, he fell silent.

Teeth cut into my flesh. Needles of agony tore through me. The pain pulsed in waves until I couldn’t see anything. My body was on fire. Warm blood soaked my clothes. I jerked and flailed against my assailant, but I couldn’t see anything. The stench of demon surrounded me, suffocating me.

I flung my arm around, trying to stab whoever attacked me, but it was no use. My body crumpled as the sharp knives dug into me, feasting.

A loud shout echoed next to me, and the pain subsided briefly. A ripple of colors drew my attention as four shapeshifters materialized next to me, their sharp teeth gleaming with blood.

My blood.

The one I’d killed had been a diversion. A trick. And I’d fallen for it.

Darkness crept into my vision, blinding me. Heavy footfalls pounded towards me. Blades hit flesh and bone. Demons screeched and shrieked.

My head fell to the earth as I stared blankly at the blur of motion before me. A blast of blue magic. A howl of despair.

And then I blacked out.

CHAPTER 2

I blinked as several familiar aromas filled my nose. Spicy and sweet, sharp and powerful.

I sat up, and my arm throbbed. I glanced down, my mouth falling open in horror. Jagged, red scars zigzagged along my arm. They were dry, but the redness of the grooves gleamed like fresh blood.

I was almost devoured by shapeshifters.

I swallowed down bile and glanced around the room. African masks and jarred herbs lined the shelves around me. The last time I’d been in this room was right after El Diablo stabbed me. I’d been healed by Sofia, who practiced Santería.

I slid off the bed and opened the door. Low voices echoed from the kitchen. My brow furrowed as I tried to identify the speakers. One I easily recognized as Sofia. It was her home, after all. But the other . . .

I stopped in my tracks, my heart jolting. Then I flew down the hallway and into the kitchen. The scene before me froze me in place.

Sofia was washing dishes, the beads and trinkets around her neck jingling as her arms moved. A white turban covered her head, but small black curls poked out and rested against her face. Alba sat at the table, her hand pressed against her large, pregnant belly.

But my eyes were glued to the figure leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, his lips pressed together, and his green eyes tight with apprehension. Slowly, his gaze moved to me, his expression softening and his eyes exploding with heat and yearning.

Oliver, I breathed.

I rushed forward, and his arms caught me, winding around me as easily as if we were two puzzle pieces always meant to fit together. His musky grass and gunpowder scent enveloped me, and I sighed with relief, pressing my face into his shoulder. His fingers wound through my hair as he kissed my forehead. Heat and butterflies swarmed inside me along with an unfamiliar swelling sensation that I knew must be Oliver’s. The emotions from our blood oath mingled and filled my chest until I couldn’t tell which were mine and which were his. They were powerful and all-consuming as my chest burst with happiness.

I pulled back and kissed him. My fingers pushed through his short cropped blond hair. His soft lips roved over mine with urgency and excitement. His hands snared my waist. I pressed my hands against his cheeks. My kisses became faster, more desperate, as our tongues met, and a river of pleasure coursed through me.

Alba cleared her throat loudly, and we broke apart. Oliver’s cheeks were beet red, and I grinned breathlessly at him.

My, my, Sofia said, pressing a hand to her chest. Her eyes were wide with shock, but her lips twitched with a smile.

Panting, I tucked my wild brown curls behind my ears and looked from Alba to Oliver. What are you doing here? I shoved his shoulder. Why didn’t you write to say you were coming?

I didn’t have time, Oliver said, spreading his hands wide.

My smile faltered as I looked him over. He was dressed in his uniform.

My heart dropped all the way to my feet. Where are you going? My voice sounded hollow and empty.

The Philippines. Manila.

I frowned. I didn’t remember America fighting a battle in the Philippines. Then again, before I traveled through time, I didn’t know anything about the Spanish-American War either. Or rather, the Spanish-Cuban-North American War according to the locals.

Worry wriggled in my stomach as I pressed my fingers along his shoulders, dusting off a few blond hairs. I swallowed. When do you leave?

Oliver’s lips tightened. Tomorrow.

One day. I only get one day with him? My heart raced at the thought of him fighting in another country. What if something happened to him? Being separated from him for so long was bad enough—at least he’d been safe in America working on the Council for the past six months. But now I had to say goodbye to him, not knowing if he would survive? If I would ever see him again?

Desi, don’t worry, Oliver said quietly, ducking his head to meet my gaze. I couldn’t tell if he was reading my expression or the emotions he was sure to feel from our blood oath. I’m a good soldier. And I’ve got my powers. I’ll be fine.

A chair groaned against the floor as Alba slowly rose to her feet, pressing her hand against her stomach. Her brows creased, and her dark eyes hardened, indicating she was about to say something I didn’t want to hear.

Desi, we need to talk about what happened in the field, she said, crossing her arms over her chest. What in Lilith’s name were you thinking? Guillermo and Elena said you were supposed to search the perimeter before breaching.

I dropped my hands against my thighs. I know. I’m sorry. I thought I could handle it.

"Whether you could handle it or not isn’t the issue here. The issue is that you disobeyed an order. You superseded our standard procedure. We never breach without knowing what we’re up against."

My head reared back, my eyebrows pinching in confusion. Disobeyed an order? From whom?

From Guillermo.

He’s not my superior. You are.

Alba pointed a finger at me, her eyes flashing. "He is your superior, Desi. He has more experience and training than you. Just because you’ve been here longer doesn’t mean you don’t have to listen to him."

I—

Alba raised a hand, silencing me. "You need to be smart, Desi. I know you’re stronger and more capable. But don’t get too confident. The demons we fight are smart too. Promise me you’ll think next time?"

I gritted my teeth, my nostrils flaring. Stiffly, I nodded.

Oliver’s warm hand gripped my forearm. You almost died, he whispered. I felt your pain during the attack and got here as quickly as I could. When I arrived, Sofia was healing you. Your arm had nearly been torn off, Desi.

His pain and agony laced through my heart from our blood oath, and I knew it was only a taste of what he’d felt seeing me like that. I swallowed as my anger melted away. I exhaled, my body deflating and sagging with remorse.

I’m sorry, I muttered. I blew air through my lips, my cheeks puffing out. What happened to Howard?

Elena found a few drops of his blood in the field and tried scrying with it, Alba said. But he isn’t here. He must’ve left the island.

Damn it. My eyes closed as self-loathing consumed me. If I’d only listened and been more careful, he wouldn’t have gotten away. Sighing, I opened my eyes.

Do we know why he was here? Oliver asked.

He said he was here . . . for you, I said quietly.

A cold, tense silence filled the room. Even Sofia froze, glancing between us with wide eyes.

I shook my head. But it could’ve just been a diversion. Something to distract me while the shapeshifters attacked. I stared at the cuts still gleaming on my arm and shuddered.

Alba frowned. Even so, Oliver, you should exert extreme caution while you’re here. Howard may have left the island, but he could still return.

Oliver nodded. Of course.

My gaze shifted to Sofia, whose eyes tightened. Thank you, Sofia. I’m indebted to you. Again.

Sofia raised a hand and inclined her head politely. It’s nothing, darling.

My lips pinched in a small smile. I’d been in Cuba long enough to know the exact phrase in Spanish: No es nada, querida. The innate translation charm between those of us with magic helped me to communicate with the coven. But I had to rely on my own