Dusk and shadows, p.1
Dusk and Shadows, page 1
Dusk and Shadows
Fae Wilds Series, Volume 7
W.J. May
Published by Dark Shadow Publishing, 2023.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
DUSK AND SHADOWS
First edition. June 15, 2023.
Copyright © 2023 W.J. May.
ISBN: 979-8215091784
Written by W.J. May.
By W. J. May
Copyright @ 2023 by W .J. May
THIS E-BOOK OR PRINT is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book/paperback may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the arduous work of the author.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2023 by W.J. May
Dusk & Shadows, Book 7 of the Fae Wilds Series
Cover by: Book Cover by Design
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Have You Read the Kerrigan Series?
The Chronicles of Kerrigan
Book I - Rae of Hope is FREE!
BOOK TRAILER:
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How hard do you have to shake the family tree to find the truth about the past?
Fifteen year-old Rae Kerrigan never really knew her family's history. Her mother and father died when she was young and it is only when she accepts a scholarship to the prestigious Guilder Boarding School in England that a mysterious family secret is revealed.
Will the sins of the father be the sins of the daughter?
As Rae struggles with new friends, a new school and a star-struck forbidden love, she must also face the ultimate challenge: receive a tattoo on her sixteenth birthday with specific powers that may bind her to an unspeakable darkness. It's up to Rae to undo the dark evil in her family's past and have a ray of hope for her future.
The Queen’s Alpha Series
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Everlasting
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Forever
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Protected
Foretelling
Revelation
Betrayal
Resolved
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Fae Wilds Series
Twist & Turns
Curse of the Fae
Force the Truth
Crown & Glory
Enemy & Rivals
Light in the Dark
... THE SERIES CONTINUES...
Dusk & Shadows
WHAT'S A GIRL TO DO when a vampire claims to be her mate?
For Hollie, a human bystander drawn into a world of supernatural beings, not running was never an option. The problem is, he keeps finding her.
With the help of her Fae friends and a witch with a clutter issue, Hollie has a plan to knock the vamp out of her life permanently. It's easier said than done when an imp in disguise starts to interfere. She's not sure what's worse: running away from the vamp or being caught by him.
Contents
Have You Read the Kerrigan Series?
The Queen’s Alpha Series
Find W.J. May
Fae Wilds Series
Dusk & Shadows
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
Called by Midnight
Fae Wilds Series
Find W.J. May
More books by W.J. May
Prologue
THE STONE CORRIDOR rang with screams, but Maz no longer heard them, so inured was he to the sound. Millennia of ragged shrieks and desperate pleading washed over him like surf on the rocks of a jagged shoreline under a night of endless darkness. And like those rocks, he was unmoved. Unchanged in his stoic resoluteness.
It wasn’t that he didn’t care. It was that had hadn’t cared for so long that he no longer noticed the pain soaked into every inch of the Halls of Punishment. The atmosphere of the place, like the rest of the realm, was lost on him. An off-worlder who found himself in the realm ruled by the Angel of Death might tremble at the sulfur-tinged gloom, the moans of agony that seemed to echo from every square inch of the place, but to Maz, it was as normal as a cup of tea.
Simply put, Pluto was home.
Letting himself through a heavy wooden door, he nodded to the guard stationed on the other side. The guard nodded back, the strips of decaying skin hanging from his cheeks shifting against the exposed bone of his skull. Maz could smell the sickly sweet stench of roasted flesh, an odor that used to make him queasy when he was young, just after Samael had turned him. It was so long ago he could barely remember it.
Maz would never forget the circumstance that had brought him to Pluto, one of the Seventeen Hells of the multiverse. Samael had taken pains to make him remember, the memory an example of the absolute power the Angel of Death held over him.
Samael was one of the Princes of Darkness, members of the Court of Chaos, servants of Shayatan himself. The Princes, known as Archons among those with the longest memories, were beings of enormous strength, their abilities second to only Shayatan, who many considered the most powerful single being in the Web. Each Archon ruled over a realm of their own, though none so vile and feared as Pluto. And of all the Princes of Darkness, Samael was the one most cloaked in mystery.
Not like the multiverse is missing out, Maz thought to himself as he made his way into the bowels of the stone keep where prisoners were kept for punishment. If they knew the Angel of Death like I do, they might wonder what all the fuss is about.
It wasn’t that his boss wasn’t capable of dark deeds. He was, and on an epic scale. Civilizations had fallen at the arch of his eyebrow. It was the prince’s penchant for scheming that made him less than entertaining. Samael was obsessed with his machinations, manipulations that spanned centuries and family lines, dynasties raised to vaulted heights only to be devastated by their own hubris in some poetic way. The Archon was an expert at creating high drama, but in the end, he really wasn’t that dramatic himself.
The Angel of Death was skilled and efficient, matter-of-fact and to the point. Case in point, my welcome to the realm. Barely able to string sentences together on my own, I was led by my mother into the cave where the shaman of our village said the Devil dwelled. His confusion had given way to horror when he realized why his mother had taken him there.
“He is yours,” she’d announced once they were deep enough inside for the light to be little more than a gray shroud. “In exchange for an end to the black throat.” He would never forget the tone of her voice, cold and hard but with a brittle quality, like the crust of frost that forms on snow after several days of freeze. His limbs absorbed the cold, and he’d shivered unexpectedly.
Maz had frozen as shadows formed themselves into a cloaked figure who seemed to walk out of a gloom he’d been a part of only a moment before. Maz’s mother gave him a shove forward, and he’d looked back over his shoulder, his eyes begging her to enfold him into her warm arms and take him from this waking nightmare.
Her expression was hard, her eyes staring ahead at the creature that was reaching out for Maz. She never looked his way again, not when the being clamped a hand around his small wrist and drew him into the shadows. Moments later, he’d found himself in a world wh ere the gray haze in the air had hit his lungs like a blow, and he’d staggered and coughed, his vision struggling to adjust to the dim surroundings.
Broken columns and tumbled ruins seemed to surround him, shrouded figures weaving through the debris as if part of a strange, synchronized dance. It wasn’t a dance, he realized a moment later when he saw that they were all linked together by an elaborate system of intricate chains that were connected to rings pierced through their flesh, dragging them along through an obstacle course of toppled towers and uneven walkways.
Then he’d heard the screams, so loud and pitiful that he’d rushed to cover his ears. The cloaked figure had released his hand and pushed back the hood that had obscured his features. Maz was surprised to find a handsome, angular face beneath it topped by hair so blond it was nearly white. Red eyes bored into him, and young Maz had felt the heaviness of the moment in the weight of his gaze.
“You won’t forget this moment, boy,” Samael had told him roughly. “The moment your own blood traded you away to the Devil to save their own selfish skins.” The Angel of Death had smiled at him then, revealing a pair of long white fangs.
Maz swatted the memory from his mind, barely registering the faint annoyance he felt every time he trod the same ground over and over again. That had been Samael’s intent, to burn the moment into his psyche in a way that would scar him for eternity. It was a job well done, but that didn’t mean Maz had to appreciate the prince’s mastery. I’ve lived in worshipful fear long enough, haven’t I?
Things had started to feel different after the long centuries of being the Archon’s lackey, doing his boss’s bidding without the opportunity to refuse. Maz had never felt the weight of eternity like he did now, millennia after Samael had turned him. An endless monotony of torture, pain, misery. Even if I’m the one inflicting it, on a long enough timeline, it still gets boring. There has to be something more.
The image of a fiery-haired temptress with eyes that reminded him of the jungles of his homeland appeared in his head, and his muscles clenched with need. Frustration overwhelmed him, and he looked down to find his fingernails expanding into claws that struck sparks against the stone while he walked down the corridor toward the iron door that marked the most secure section of the keep. Taking a breath to calm himself, his claws retracted, and Maz took a moment to straighten his attire, readying himself for the confrontation ahead.
How I long for her scent, that enchanting whiff of innocence and sunlight. Ache burned inside him. Maz remembered the first time he’d seen her. A crescent moon had hung overhead, its white glow seeming to illuminate her perfect skin. He’d known the moment he’d laid eyes on her that the woman was his mate.
It was a terrifying and intoxicating notion, both wonderful and terrible, knowing that his life was destined to be entwined with another, their lifeblood weaving together, two becoming one. But he’d not been able to consider the romantic and philosophical aspects of matehood in that moment. Instinct had taken over, that instinct screaming at him to claim his mate as quickly as possible and never let her go.
And thanks to my impeccable luck, I’ve hit on the most impossible female in the multiverse. I can’t claim what I can’t find.
His anger flared, filling him with righteous rage. Ready to do what needed to be done, he opened the heavy door with a violent flick of his wrist. He tried not to think about the fact that the human had disappeared shortly after he’d found her. Sure, I might have fumbled our introduction a little, but surely that wasn’t enough to drive her away permanently.
But she’d vanished, a neat trick for a human. That race was known to be magic-deprived and intellectually backwards. Still, she’d somehow managed to avoid him for weeks until he’d stumbled onto her dream and discovered her location. The Fae Realm of Valantia was a surprise, to be sure, and not a good one since off-worlders could not enter the realm without being detected.
So Maz had hastened to the Rough, a dimension linked to Valantia, to figure out how to reach the human, but she’d nearly come to him. He’d smelled her on a Fae and almost managed to get close, but the situation hadn’t shaken out like he’d planned once again.
And that’s what brings me here, he thought, his eyes on the rusted bars that lined the cell of the prisoner before him. Maz turned his mind from the longing that was slowly consuming him to the figure chained to the wall across from him. Unlike those in cells throughout the Hall of Punishment, the captive wasn’t crying or begging.
He was smiling.
“I wondered when you’d be back for another chat,” he said convivially. “This place isn’t exactly flush with stimulating conversation, you know.”
“Are you trying to say that you missed me?”
The prisoner barked out a laugh at Maz’s sardonic question. “I guess I am. You’re the only company I’ve had in this place, after all. Still, for accommodations, it’s not half bad.”
Maz held back a sigh. “You can’t tell me you’re eager for another round of heartless torture. Aren’t you tired of it yet?”
The figure shook his head. “There are worse things I could be doing. Like following behind your boss like a little toady, jumping whenever he crooks a finger.” The prisoner looked him over. “Besides, it looks like you have that job sewed up.”
Maz shrugged his shoulder. “Beats hanging around all day.”
The captive laughed, a deep belly laugh that had his handsome face turning red. “Oh, that was a good one. I have to say, for a leech, you’re not half bad.”
“And for an imp, you’re an idiot.”
The prisoner laughed again, then made a show of trying to wipe the tears away from his eye but not being able to thanks to the chains. Maz’s tone turned serious. “Why are you doing this, Dallon?” he asked again.
There was silence, save for the sound of the prisoner’s chains clinking softly against one another as he adjusted his position. “You know, I’ve thought about that question for a long time. Hells, all we have is time, am I right?” When Maz didn’t nod, the figure seemed to deflate a little. “I don’t want this life anymore,” he said simply after a moment, then turned his head to stare at the wall, his earlier jovialness diminished.
“We all have our roles to play,” Maz said softly, his tone as close to conciliatory as it got. “Destiny makes the rules, not us.”
“The same destiny that links you to a woman who refuses to be yours?” the captive retorted. “I’m sorry, leech, but I refuse to be pushed around by destiny. I’ll leave you to chase after your precious destiny like a dog in heat.”
His rage returned in that moment, and Maz’s fangs flashed in the dim light. I’m ready to punish, he thought as he stepped toward the imp draped in chains before he lost the ability to think.
Chapter One
SHE WOKE SUDDENLY, her hands clutching at the sheets as the memory of a pair of white fangs followed her into the daylight. Breathing hard, Hollie pulled herself into a sitting position, her back resting against an ornate wooden headboard. She gathered her thoughts, willing the remnants of the dream to fade.
Birdsong and the golden morning light helped drive the ghost of the vampire’s grip away, and Hollie stood, trudging from the plush bed toward the bathroom. It had taken a little time to get used to the facilities in alternate realms, but the luxury of Exeria was already becoming normal to her. Although the accommodations were top notch, Hollie couldn’t help missing her own home. It might not be as lavish as the palace of the Fae Queen, but it was hers.
She washed up, wondering if she’d ever see Earth again. I wasn’t cut out for a life on the run, she told her reflection as she fingered an imaginary wrinkle on her face and searched her head for gray hairs. Hollie was far too young to find any, but with the level of stress she’d been subjected to lately, she wouldn’t have been shocked to find her whole head had turned white overnight.
Padding back into the bedroom, she opened a closet and reached inside, not caring what color of pastel dress she pulled out. Each one was impeccably embroidered and painstakingly formed from intricate, expensive fabrics. Hollie tugged one on, then pulled a comb through her hair before stuffing her feet into slippers and entering the airy hallway outside her suite.
