Crown of Darkness (Divisa Huntress Book 1) Read online

  Of all the couples in the world, I had to be related to the most powerful one in Divisa history. They were like Bonnie and Clyde or Romeo and Juliet. Their journey was a story in itself, worthy of a book, but no one reading it would believe it was nonfiction instead of a fairytale. Girl next door meets bad boy. Girl falls for the asshole, but this was where the story took a twist. The guy had a secret, and through this dark, hidden side of himself, the girl was forever changed, making her no longer human. Combining the abilities Chase and Angel were gifted made them a formidable force—unbreakable and feared.

  But I hadn’t been lying when I told Emma I could handle Chase and Angel.

  I had only two days left to get ready for the equinox, but I’d been planning this hunt for so much longer.

  3

  “Lexi.” My dad’s deep greeting came from the kitchen as I stepped around the corner. His clean-shaven face broke into a smile, and I spotted a sprinkle of gray hairs that hadn’t been there a few months ago.

  “Hey, old man.” I patted him on the back. My father was getting older, which was such a strange concept for me. He’d always been a solid rock in my life and one of the few humans who didn’t recoil at my presence when I walked into a room. When he smiled at me, it was pure and genuine, brimming with unconditional love. Without him, I don’t know who Chase, Travis, or I would have become (certainly not the well-rounded adults we were).

  Chloe bustled about the kitchen in a ruffled white apron, exuding warmth and motherliness. She handled our lifestyle better than most humans, especially now that her daughter had some demon abilities. “You hungry?” she asked.

  “If you cooked, then yes.” I headed for the freshly brewed pot of coffee.

  “It’s good to have everyone home,” Dad said, unable to stop the ridiculously large grin from spreading from ear to ear.

  I took my mug and sat at the table. “You’d think it was Christmas the way you’re getting all sappy.”

  He groaned, joining me at the rectangular wooden table. “I can’t even think about the holidays right now.”

  I leaned over and poked him in the belly. “Don’t give me that. You love going all out.” Dad wasn’t a fool. He knew how hard it was for the three of us half-demons, how left out we felt because of the internal demons we battled, which was why I suspected he overdid it on the holidays—a way to make up for all the bad in our lives.

  He was one in a million.

  On Halloween, our house was no joke. Hell, I didn’t even need a costume. I was born scary. One flash of my gold demon eyes sent the little kiddos packing, not that we got many trick-or-treaters in these parts. Too much land separated the houses, which were old and rickety and not exactly inviting for the neighborhood kids.

  “How’s school? Are you finally going to earn that degree all my money is paying for?” He asked the same question every time I came home.

  Bracing my elbows on the table, I kept my fingers curled around the steaming coffee mug. “Actually, I’ve been thinking of changing my major again,” I replied with a straight face.

  “Lexi,” he rumbled.

  My eyes danced with humor. “Chill, Dad. School is fine.” Especially the after-school program, where I go out and hunt the few campus’ demons. Fun, huh?

  He would die.

  Reclining in his chair, he lifted a leg and crossed it over his knee. “I forgot how funny you are. How did I raise such hilarious kids?”

  “It’s hereditary.”

  “You know what isn’t hereditary? Your credit card limit.”

  Ooops. I kicked up the sweet daughter act, charming him with a pout. “Just think how much I’ve saved you in therapy bills over the years. This is my kind of therapy.” Shopping. Some people stress ate, did yoga, or ran ten miles. I shopped, and when I wasn’t spending my dad’s hard-earned cash, I was chasing monsters. If I had stopped shopping altogether, it would have been a big red flag, a warning going off in dad’s radar. Appearances sometimes were everything when they involved keeping your family safe.

  “She’s got a point,” Chloe chimed in, setting a glass dish of hot, orange-glazed cinnamon rolls in the center of the table.

  I loved her.

  Not only was she an amazing cook but Angel’s mom had a girl’s back.

  My mouth watered as I inhaled the scent of sweet cinnamon and coffee. I reached across the table to pluck a roll out of the dish just as my father asked the question that killed the mood every time. “Have you heard from your mother?” His eyes flickered to my face.

  My hand halted halfway to my mouth before I set the piping hot roll on a napkin to cool. Ah, yes. My mother—a demon, who didn’t have a loving bone in her body. She could be cold, aloof, and absent, but in her own demon way, I believed she cared for my brother and me.

  Kira was a topic I avoided in this house not just for Travis’s sake but Dad’s as well. She hadn’t been around at all up until a few years ago, and even then, she made herself scarce. Mom was the only demon I hadn’t tried to run my daggers through. Yet.

  She wasn’t my hero by any means, but it was impossible to pretend I hadn’t wondered about or longed to know the woman who had given me life and then dropped me on my father’s doorstep. Travis took a different approach to cope with her. He wanted nothing to do with her, and I respected his choice, never forcing her on him or surprising him with visits.

  Too impatient to wait, I ripped off a hunk from the twisted roll and popped it into my mouth. Pure bliss erupted and my taste buds sang. “No, I haven’t spoken to her. Not in a few months.”

  “Oh, good I guess,” he replied, sipping his coffee. His eyes looked lost in a cloud of memories that Kira’s name always induced.

  There were times I hated Kira—hated that she had abandoned Travis and me to face this often cruel world alone, but then there were times I was glad she’d stayed away. Dad wouldn’t have been happy with her as a wife, and seeing him with Chloe—the peace and love she gave him—was all the reassurance I needed to keep Kira far away from my father.

  I stretched out my legs under the table as Chloe joined us, helping herself to one of the cinnamon rolls. As soon as Travis got a whiff of them, there’d be none left. “Are you getting excited about the party?” she inquired.

  Excitement wasn’t the first word that came to mind. Dad and Chloe didn’t know about the numerous frat parties I’d been too. After a while, parties all blended together and the buzz wore off, but I had my own plans—an after-party. “You know me, I love a good party.”

  The fall equinox had arrived.

  Let the games begin.

  I was brimming with anticipation and enthusiasm, but not for the reasons everyone else was.

  Spring Valley wasn’t known for many things. Cornfields. Bonfires. Strange happenings. It was your typical small town, except we were infested with demons. And since there was little in the form of entertainment, the town grappled at any excuse to throw a party.

  The Annual Autumn Bash was a night everyone looked forward to—a chance to get the community together, the high school kids to get drunk, and for the demons to slip into our little world, causing unruly havoc. Spring Valley PD would be busy tonight, and I pitied Chloe for the long night she had ahead of her. She worked as a dispatcher for the local police department—a job that took on a whole new meaning once she found out about us.

  Angel, Emma, and I spent the last two days hanging out, shopping for clothes, and drinking coffee. Basically, trying to pretend I was normal. Emma saw through my charade but kept her mouth shut. And Angel, she’d known for a long time that I wasn’t okay but didn’t know how to help me other than to be my friend. That was all I wanted.

  My boots clapped against the old wooden floors inside Angel and Chase’s house as I waited for Angel to finish getting ready. Chase leaned against the banister as he hollered up to her. “Angel, move your tight ass.”

  I rolled my eyes. “God, your romanticism makes me swoon.” I placed a hand over my heart.

  “What can I say? I break hearts daily all over the continent.”

  I snorted.

  He crossed his arms over his chest and eyed me. “You know what you need?”

  I was afraid to ask, so I said nothing, but it didn’t derail my cousin. Nope. Chase said whatever was on his mind.

  “Dick,” he announced.

  I gaped at him and then laughed. “No surprise that sex is your answer to everything.”

  “Why screw with a good thing?” He smiled, clearly pleased with himself over his pun.

  I hated to admit that he was sometimes amusing. “I’m not sure if I should feel sorry for Angel or concerned.”

  “Why are you concerned?” Angel asked, coming down the stairs at the end of my riveting discussion with Chase.

  “How much time do we have?” I mumbled.

  We forewent cute for comfort and warmth this year. The weather could be a finicky bitch at the end of September. Hints of winter were stirring in the air tonight, making me thankful for the extra layer the knitted cream sweater gave me.

  Angel dressed in a similar outfit to mine: tight black jeans shredded at the knees and an oversized sweater in red that made the rim around her eyes pop, bringing out her unnatural side.

  “Hey, sexy,” Chase said in a deep, sensual tone that made me want to turn away from them. Slipping an arm around her waist, he pulled her to him.

  I made gagging noises in the back of my throat, causing his smirk to deepen. He lived to make me uncomfortable, but on the flip side, there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep me safe, including sacrificing himself. It was all or nothing with Chase. That was who he was. The man didn’t do anything half-ass, and that included loving the shit out of his wife.

  Wife!

  It still blew my mind
that the two of them were married.

  He pressed a kiss to Angel’s lips, and she sighed, leaning into him. I stifled a groan. If I didn’t break this up before things really got started, we’d never get out the door and I’d be reminded of how lonely my life was. I cleared my throat before it got any hotter up in here.

  Fluttering her eyes open, Angel stepped out of Chase’s arms. “Sorry,” she said, her cheeks flushed.

  “Liar,” Chase whispered in her ear, brushing his lips along her lobe in an intimate gesture that made the rosy color deepen on her face.

  “He’s right, you know. You’re not sorry. And you shouldn’t be. For reasons I’ll never understand, you love my arrogant cousin.”

  “Thanks, I think,” Chase said, pulling away from Angel.

  I grinned. “Anytime.”

  Emma and Travis were meeting us downtown, so I was hooking a ride with the dynamic duo. I was used to being the third wheel in our group, but that didn’t mean it didn’t suck ass.

  Chase drove his car down the winding country roads. The wheat fields on one side had already been harvested for the season and the thick woods of oaks and maples stood on the other. The houses out here were a mixture of old, chipped farmhouses and charming ranches. Both conveyed a simple life, nothing special. That was the impression our town gave. Full-bloom mums and pumpkins graced front stoops. Deep red apples hung in the trees ripe for picking. Fresh-cut grass scented the air, and bales of hay were stacked in the endless rows of fields.

  Downtown was full of people braving the brisk wind, and kids loading up on candy from the local shops. A mix of music echoed from the town speakers, trickling through the backseat window I had cracked.

  It was all so familiar—it was home.

  Easing his car into an empty parking spot on the west side of town, Chase cut the engine. The three of us stepped out into the street across from Dawson’s Field. From a few blocks away, the scent of firewood, hot food, and pines wafted to us in the evening breeze. I breathed in deeply, letting the childhood scents fill my lungs.

  We had only taken a few steps on the sidewalk when Angel’s eyes lit up. “Tarot reading!” she proclaimed, all but jumping up and down.

  Chase and I followed her bright eyes to the window front. The fool had parked in front of Madame Estilla’s shop. It was a fairly new business to our little downtown area, so I knew nothing about the owner other than her name, which was written on the door. “I thought the only thing you got this excited about was the release of the next video game on your wish list.” Angel was a gamer girl. She would be sixty years old one day and still have a remote control glued to her hand.

  “True. But my mind’s been open to all possibilities, and this is perfect. What better time to get our cards read than on the equinox? We have a few minutes to kill until Emma and Travis show up.”

  “Go ahead.” Chase nodded toward the glass door with the words Tarot Readings painted on it as he boosted himself onto the hood of his car.

  Thanks for the help, cuz. I scowled in his direction, and he winked, knowing precisely what I was thinking.

  Angel grabbed my hand and pulled. “Come on. It will be fun.”

  What else could I say?

  I let her string me along, unable to dampen her excitement, despite the bomb of curses that went off in my head. I believed in many things, given my origin, but witchcraft or the power of the fates … not anymore. Those girly and fantastical ideas had died years ago.

  Ring-a-ling-a-ling. The chime above the door rang as we strolled inside. A raven sat perched on an iron curtain rod over the picture window that looked out onto the street. He gave one long squawk at our arrival. Its beady eyes stared down at us in a way that gave me the creeps.

  A middle-aged woman with unbound hair as dark as her raven’s emerged from behind a velvety black curtain. She gave Angel and I a friendly smile, her smoky, almond-shaped gray eyes heavily lined in black. The gypsy shirt she wore flowed with her as she moved into the center of the store. Each of her fingers was decorated with rings of different metals and crystals. Her long nails appeared to have been dipped in blood.

  “Blessed be. What brings you in this night?” Her voice was sultry and sleek. Wings flapped in the room, and the raven flew down to land on her arm, letting loose another squawk. “Shh,” she scolded the bird, stroking his feathery head. There was something not right about this raven.

  Madame Estilla portrayed her part well. My eyes roamed the shop while Angel answered, flickering back to the bird, and I was convinced there was something not right about that raven. “We’re hoping you have time to do a Tarot reading,” Angel explained.

  Clusters of sparkling crystals, glass bottles, and herbs shone under the soft dimmed lights. Candles burned in every corner, their flames flickering shadows over the tapestry hung on the walls, giving off scents of amber and jasmine. In a corner was a shelf lined with books on spells, Tarot readings, healing magic, potions, herbs, and other resources of the magical kind. On the opposite wall was another cabinet filled with oils, colored liquids, lotions, tealeaves, and various natural remedies for everything from heartbreak to sore muscles. It was quite the little shop the woman had here.

  I could see the appeal, and I was tempted to pick up a few things for myself. Nothing ritual, but a protection crystal, a jar of bath salts, and candles perhaps? Her wares were beautifully displayed in a way that was inviting. My shoulders eased a little. Maybe Angel was right. This could be fun, I just had to loosen up. I should have had a glass of wine before leaving instead of waiting until we got to the party.

  “What a perfect night to test the fates.” Estilla had a dazzling personality, which immediately made me not trust her. She indicated a sign on her desk with her rates.

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I grumbled under my breath for Angel’s ears alone, but the woman’s eyes snapped to mine, reading the doubt of her craft in my expression.

  Estilla smiled in a challenging way that said she was going to make a believer out of me. Doubt it. But really, what was the harm in playing along? She motioned for one of us to sit at the little round table.

  Angel pushed my shoulders. “Sit. You go first,” she insisted, and I stifled the urge to growl at her.

  I plopped my ass into one of the plush chairs that looked fit for a queen. Angel hovered behind me, content to look over my shoulder. Constellations decorated the dark blue tablecloth where Estilla placed her well-worn Tarot deck as she took a seat across from me.

  Silver bracelets tinkled on the woman’s wrists as she lifted the deck in her pale moon hand and turned her grey eyes on me. “What would you like to ask the cards?” she asked, shuffling and fanning them before she placed the deck back onto the table.

  This wasn’t my first time with Tarot readings, so I knew the drill. “What can I do to bring me closer to my soul’s purpose?”

  “Go ahead and cut the deck,” she advised, giving no reaction to my question.

  I obliged.

  Estilla’s eyes—the way they seemed to see into my soul—made me edgy. She flipped over the first card: Strength. The other cards followed until they were laid out on the table. Scorpio. Stag. Reverse Arrow. Ten of Swords. Queen of Wands. Shape Shifter. Relationship. She Wolf. Death.

  The last card hit the table and a bolt of electricity went through me. Shit.

  Death.

  It wasn’t looking great. Angel hissed at my back as she looked over the cards.

  Estilla pursed her lips and ran a finger over the Strength card. “You are an individual with a sense of empowerment. Your energy is like the Stag. You’re someone who is trusted.” Her hands moved over to the next card, a shadow flickered in her eyes. “I sense you lack balance and grounding like the reverse arrow card, which might be caused by the massive change the spirit is telling me will come up on the road ahead. But this change is going to manifest in ways you never imagined.”

  Glancing down at the cards, her face became bleak and grim. “Like the She-wolf, you have a wild side that needs to be released. You seek out danger and violence, something that you were protected from in the past. You fight for what you believe in.”

  This was hitting eerily close to home, and I rubbed the back of my neck to still the prickles creeping up my spine.