Sweet Peril Read online

  DEDICATION

  For Nathan Higgins,

  whose life is a snapshot of perseverance,

  hard work, and loyalty

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Auras

  PROLOGUE: Emergency Summit, 1748, Rome, Italy

  Epigraph

  JUNE, SUMMER BEFORE SENIOR YEAR

  CHAPTER ONE: Party Girl

  CHAPTER TWO: Different

  CHAPTER THREE: Words of the Angel

  CHAPTER FOUR: For Now

  CHAPTER FIVE: First Assignment

  CHAPTER SIX: Non-Date

  CHAPTER SEVEN: Damascus

  FALL: SENIOR YEAR

  CHAPTER EIGHT: London

  WINTER: SENIOR YEAR

  CHAPTER NINE: Land Down Under

  CHAPTER TEN: The Ghost

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: Singles Awareness Day

  SPRING: SENIOR YEAR

  CHAPTER TWELVE: Spring Break

  SUMMER: END OF SENIOR YEAR

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Graduation Visitors

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN: California Dreaming

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Heights

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Breakdown

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Maid Service

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Mine

  CHAPTER NINETEEN: Strangers

  CHAPTER TWENTY: Motocross Surprise

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: The Island

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Submerged

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Truth Comes Out

  Duke Names and Job Descriptions Index

  Back Ad

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  AURAS

  COLOR MEANING DISTINCTIONS

  Pink Love Lighter pink represents comfortable, familial love, while darker, hot pink represents passionate love.

  Red Lust

  Yellow Happiness Buttery, pale yellow represents contentment, while brighter yellow represents joy.

  Orange Excitement

  Pale Green Gratitude

  Dark Green Envy/Jealousy

  Lavender Peace

  Dark Purple Pride

  Pale Blue Hope/Relief

  Dark Blue Sadness/Grief

  Gray/Brown Negativity Shades of gray depend on the severity of the emotion. Light, hazy gray represents mild negative emotions, such as embarrassment and irritation. Medium grays/browns represent harsher negative emotions, such as shame, guilt, fear, and anger. Dark gray (nearing black) represents deeper negative emotion, such as fury and depression.

  PROLOGUE

  EMERGENCY SUMMIT, 1748, ROME, ITALY

  Unbeknownst to the Roman community, 666 earthbound demons were making use of the infamous Colosseum. Twelve of the fallen ones, the Dukes, were present in human form, while the others hovered as spirits, blotting celestial light from the night sky.

  Rahab, the Duke of Pride, took his place in the center, exhilarated by the attention his presence commanded. He looked out with vehemence on thousands of Duke descendants, the Nephilim race, who had been summoned to the meeting from all corners of the earth.

  “Let us officially open this summit,” Rahab ordered.

  A reverent combination of hissing and chanting filled the Colosseum—the ghoulish melody issued from the Dukes and the spirits overhead as they flapped their massive wings in unison. A chill spread across the expectant audience as Rahab poised himself to reveal the purpose of their gathering.

  “It has come to our attention that two of you Nephilim no longer find it necessary to focus on the work for which you were bred.”

  Nobody moved.

  Rahab turned his stare to a teenage girl in the crowd, who flinched as if stung by his cruel gaze. She averted her almond eyes, a dark lock falling from her upswept hair as she shrank back.

  “Come forward, daughter of Alocer.” At these words from Rahab, the girl gave a violent shudder.

  “Femi?” Duke Alocer made his way to the front, forehead creased with displeasure as he sought his daughter.

  “Father . . . Femi whispered so low that normal human ears would never have caught it, but every being in the Colosseum that night heard.

  “Come here,” her father said. “What have you done?”

  Femi made her way to him, in layers of Egyptian silk.

  “Father, have mercy on me, I beg you. I carry your grandchild.”

  Alocer paused, and his forehead smoothed over.

  “Is that all?” he asked. “You know you will not survive the birth.”

  She lowered her eyes again and nodded. Alocer turned to Rahab.

  “This is commonplace, Rahab.” He did not bother disguising his irritation. “Pregnancy is hardly a worthy reason to call forth an emergency summit. The girl is a hard worker.”

  “Ah, yes.” Rahab turned his sneer to Alocer’s daughter. “I’m sure this pregnancy is a result of all your hard work. No doubt, you conceived while in the act of leading a human to sin. . . . Isn’t that right, girl?”

  A look of horrified realization crossed Femi’s face as she searched the crowd, meeting only blank and hostile stares. She collapsed to the ground at her father’s feet and sobbed, kissing his toes and ankles. Alocer stared down, bewildered.

  “Who have you been with?” he asked her. She shook her head, hair dragging on the ground around his feet.

  Rahab bent down and yanked Femi by the hair, forcing her to look up. “Answer your father. Tell him!” Femi only cried harder and screamed as Rahab’s fingers pulled tighter. “Fear keeps her silent, and so it should, because the father is not human. He is one of them—one of her own kind.”

  A collective gasp rose from the crowd, followed by quick whispers and a hush. Duke Alocer’s eyes narrowed to thin slits as he searched between Femi and Rahab.

  “That’s right.” Tiny specs of foam formed at the creases of Rahab’s smile. “Suspicions were raised by one of my very own Legionnaires, and confirmation was made by a fellow Neph.”

  “Who was it?” Duke Sonellion asked, icy hatred in his crystalline eyes. “Who do we get to punish?”

  Rahab raised an eyebrow, anticipation drawing out. “Yoshiro, son of Jezebet.”

  “This cannot be!” The eyes of Duke Jezebet shone deep red as he stepped forward to face Rahab. He was the smallest of the Dukes, but his quickness and sharp eyes lent him a powerful presence. “Where is the Neph who has made this claim?”

  “I regret to say she took her own life after revealing this hideous truth to us.” Rahab settled a hand over his heart.

  “Yoshiro has faithfully served our cause!” Jezebet shouted, ignoring his antics.

  “We shall see about that,” said Rahab. “Come forward, Yoshiro.”

  The crowd began to part. All turned toward Yoshiro as he came through, taller than his father, carrying a thin sword.

  “Stop right there,” Rahab said. “Lay down your weapon or it will be taken from you.”

  “Stupid boy!” Jezebet chided him. “Have you no sense? You are to work against humanity, not waste away your days with a sister Nephilim!”

  Yoshiro looked at Femi, who still lay in a pile of grief at her father’s feet. He set down his sword.

  “This is my doing,” Yoshiro said to the Dukes. “Do not bother with Femi.”

  “How very romantic.” Rahab’s voice was softly mocking. “But must I point out the obvious? You both forfeited her life the moment she conceived. Pity.”

  Rahab paced for a moment, eyeing the distance with a dark smile. “Did you know some half-million humans perished in these very walls?” he asked. “These grounds are thirsty for the blood of their youth. It is the perfect venue for our own games, wouldn’t you say? I do so hope that our two little gladiators will attem
pt to escape. . . .” He paused, raising an eyebrow at Yoshiro and Femi, who were stunned into stillness, as if disbelieving that their secret had been made known and their lives had come to this. Several Dukes laughed without true humor, while the remaining Nephilim moved farther away, placing as much distance as possible between themselves and the unfolding events.

  “Well?” Rahab threw out his arms, a cruel smile on his lips as he called to the couple. “Now’s your chance. Run!”

  Femi rose to her feet with a sob and pushed her way through the Dukes to Yoshiro. They grabbed hands, and together they sprinted the length of the broken Colosseum, flanked by pestering spirits who gave chase above them. Several Dukes cheered with malicious glee at the sight.

  “You.” Rahab scanned the crowd and pointed to a male among the outskirts. The straight-faced young man stepped out with a bow slung across his shoulder.

  “Kill them both,” Rahab commanded.

  The Neph set his jaw and hesitated only a moment before nodding. He took an arrow from the quiver on his back and readied his bow. Despite the cool night, a bead of sweat rolled into his eye and he bent his head to his sleeve, wiping.

  “They’re getting away, fool!” shouted the Duke of Hate.

  The boy homed in on the running couple using his extended sight and auditory senses, then with a rise and fall of his Adam’s apple, he let the first arrow fly, followed immediately by the second.

  His aim was perfect. For two heartbeats, the Colosseum was ghostly quiet as Femi and Yoshiro fell, limbs draped across each other in a macabre heap. The young man’s bow arm went limp at his side and he moved back into the crowd, head lowered.

  “That’s it, then?” hollered Thamuz, Duke of Murder. “Where’s the sport in a quick kill, I ask you?”

  Rahab chuckled. “Be still, Thamuz. I suppose we shouldn’t expect much more when we have a Neph boy doing a dirty job for us. Consider this a reminder to you all!” Rahab’s voice rang out to the fringes of the Nephilim. “Your single purpose is to carry forth sin to humanity. If you choose to do otherwise, you forfeit your time on earth. And if you choose to forget your fates, rest assured that I will not. Now go! Leave us to our summit.”

  The horde crammed together, shuffling and shoving to exit the presence of the Dukes.

  Jezebet and Alocer stood with stony expressions as the Nephilim filed past.

  Rahab cracked his knuckles and stared at the backs of the last retreating bodies. “For centuries I’ve said those unpredictable half-breeds are more trouble than they’re worth, but you lot insist on having them. They’re an abomination—as stupid as humans but as dangerous as wild animals.”

  He smiled to himself before whispering his next thought out loud.

  “Even God himself has forsaken and forgotten them.”

  EPIGRAPH

  Hope is the thing with feathers

  That perches in the soul,

  And sings the tune without the words,

  And never stops at all . . .

  —Emily Dickinson

  Love cannot be forced, love cannot be coaxed. . . .

  —Pearl S. Buck

  June

  Summer before Senior Year

  CHAPTER ONE

  PARTY GIRL

  I promised myself I’d never do the work of my demon father—polluting souls—leading humans to abuse their bodies with drugs and alcohol.

  I’d been naive to make such a vow. I’d been naive about a lot of things.

  Bass boomed through the darkened room where we all danced. I’d climbed onto the coffee table, feigning unawareness of the eyes on me: mostly friendly but some lustful, some judgmental or envious. Tonight, my place on the table was less about being in the spotlight and more about having the best view. I’d witnessed a demon whisperer prowling and I needed to keep an eye out. It’d been a whole week since I’d seen one—the longest stretch since the New Year’s summit.

  Jay and Veronica were around somewhere. My two human best friends had been an official couple for four months, finally having made up after the New Year’s party where he kissed my Neph friend, Marna, a daughter of Astaroth, the Duke of Adultery. Marna had a crush on Jay, but she’d kissed him knowing he and Veronica had strong feelings. The events of that night had become a taboo subject.

  I searched for Jay and Veronica now, but they must’ve been in the basement, playing cards. They would want to go home soon, but I couldn’t be caught leaving a party so early. It wasn’t even midnight.

  There it was—the whisperer. My heart caught in my throat, but I kept dancing.

  The lively, fun atmosphere thickened into something dark and sinister as the vile presence moved along the ceiling like an oil slick. Needles of dread stabbed at my gut. After all this time whisperers still gave me the creeps. The spirit surveyed the crowd, scowling at the smiling partygoers and lashing out with biting whispers. Dancers became agitated with one another. Drinks spilled, voices rose, and shoving began.

  I stepped down from the coffee table and headed for the kitchen. The demon changed its direction to follow. I pretended not to notice people trying to stop me and talk to me as I moved through the crowd.

  Within seconds the dark whisperer loomed over me and said, “Daughter of Belial, this party is too tame.”

  I gritted my teeth and fought back a visible shiver as its voice oozed into my brain like slime. I wanted it out of my head.

  “Yeah, I know.” I sent my telepathic response to the spirit. “But that’s about to change.”

  I received a warm reception in the kitchen. Raised glasses and shouts of my name.

  My peers had forgiven me of past awkward offenses and laid the old me to rest. They’d embraced the party girl when she came to life unnaturally six months ago, like a bloom forced open in winter.

  “What’s up, y’all?” I plastered on my most playful smile.

  One week after the summit demon whisperers began to stalk me. For six months. Every. Day. Until a week ago. I thought maybe it was over. Maybe I’d proven myself and they’d leave me alone. Wrong.

  I’d shocked my own self with my sudden and fierce will to live. My eyes had been opened that night in New York City. I was meant to live and fulfill a purpose. They’d taken so much from me already—my former dreams and aspirations. I refused to hand over my life after all I’d been through, so I came out fighting, despite my sensitive, angelic side.

  Ravenous for life, I’d searched for trouble with a sort of desperation. If there was a party, I was there. I drank sometimes—but mostly just pretended—I dressed to the trends, got three piercings in one ear and two in the other, plus a belly ring, and let the übercool stylist do whatever she wanted to my hair as long as it stayed blond. Very blond. Because blondes had more fun, right? I appeared to be having a blast.

  Funny thing, appearances.

  “Will you make us some dirty kisses?” one girl called out.

  I smiled.

  I’d made up a shot at a party and named it the dirty kiss. It’d become my signature drink, requiring the drinker to lick chocolate syrup from the bottom of a shot glass.

  I gave a disappointed tsk with a smack of my lips. “I don’t have the stuff tonight. But I’ll make you something good, don’t worry.”

  They cheered, and I was ashamed by the thrill I got from their attention. I turned toward the fridge, stomach churning. I’d gotten good at putting on a show under the stress of a demon’s eyes. Right now, I knew it was slithering above the people behind me. The sooner I could get rid of it, the better.

  And I was in luck. At the bottom of the fridge were two trays of Jell-O shots.

  “Well, hello there,” I said, pulling them out. I had no idea where the party host was or if the trays were being saved for something in particular, but none of that mattered. I held up the blue beauties and said, “Jell-O shots, anyone?”

  They all hollered with excitement like I was their hero.

  Egged on by the demon’s dark whispers, all sense of decision making
among the partiers became suddenly muddled. Designated drivers reached for shots. Curfews were forgotten. Hands felt for bodies that weren’t theirs to touch. It hurt to keep a smile on my face as I watched the spirit work.

  The demon’s gurgling cackle rang in my ears for only me to hear. The party had begun.

  I woke with thumping behind my eyes and a dry mouth. I reached for the half-full water bottle by my bed and was chugging the contents when the events of last night floated to the surface of my sluggish memory.

  A beer bong. A drunken kiss in the bathroom between me and some random guy. People getting sick in the bushes outside. Arguments with people who’d been drinking and wanted to drive anyway. A guy from school, Matt, wrestling his keys from me and stumbling to his car with his girlfriend, Ashley.

  I bolted upright in bed and clutched my mouth to keep from spewing the water.

  Oh, no. Matt drove. Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no.

  With shaking hands I grabbed my cell phone from the nightstand. It was only nine in the morning, probably too early, but I didn’t care. I texted Ashley to see if they’d made it home safely, then held my breath until she texted back, saying they were fine.

  With a ragged exhale, I slid down from the bed and hit my knees, leaning my forehead in my palms. I hated this—this life of being a Nephilim. What would happen the day someone wasn’t okay? When a night of partying with Anna Whitt resulted in tragedy? It was hard to believe I lived a blessed existence in comparison to other children of demons. My father was a “good guy,” but he sure played the role of bad demon to perfection.

  Feeling steadier, I rose and went to my dresser, taking out a small black-handled dagger. I faced the thick plywood board I’d rigged against the wall with a painted life-size body on it, now covered in punctures. Patti found the thing gruesome. I began a therapeutic round of throws, using memories from the past half year to fuel me.

  My father’s ally, the demon Azael, ironically also the messenger of Lucifer himself, came to me that night six months ago when I’d found out Kaidan Rowe had moved to L.A. Rahab has issued an order for all Neph to be under watch until further notice. Your father is also under investigation. Good luck to you, daughter of Belial.