The 13th Demon (Demon's Grail) Read online

  Copyright 2015 Amy Cross

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, entities and places are either products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, businesses, entities or events is entirely coincidental.

  Kindle edition

  Dark Season Books

  First published: January 2016

  “The thirteenth demon will rise to rule the world.”

  Finally drawn to a fateful encounter at Karakh, Abby Hart must face her destiny. She has long known that an ancient prophecy predicts her death, but she also knows that someone has to stop the demons as they work to bring forth the child that will secure their future.

  When she arrives at Karakh, however, Abby quickly finds herself drawn into a nightmare that has been planned since the dawn of time itself. Meanwhile, her brother is confronted by a vision from his own past, forcing him to make a terrible choice, while Emilia struggles with the knowledge that she's the last of her kind. As the demons' plan comes together, it appears nothing can hold them back.

  The 13th Demon is the third book in the Demon's Grail trilogy.

  The 13th Demon

  (Demon's Grail book 3)

  Prologue

  Ten thousand years ago

  “I don't have time for this!” Arachnos hissed as he followed the old man through the cramped, dark passageway. “In case you hadn't noticed, we're on the brink of a battle that will settle this war one way or another!”

  “All the more reason for us to hurry,” Emitus replied, ducking down as he clambered through a particularly narrow gap in the rock wall. “Before you leave for the battlefield, you must be shown the secret that has been revealed to every ruler of the spider empire.”

  “I have no need of secrets,” Arachnos muttered darkly, under his breath. “I have need of more soldiers, and more -”

  Stopping suddenly, he saw that the burning torch in the old man's right hand was illuminating a set of rotten-looking wooden pillars that were partly hidden in a section of rock. With Emitus waiting a few feet up ahead, Arachnos stepped forward cautiously, and a moment later he realized that there was a separate, smoother piece of rock upon which a set of strange shapes had been carved. Although he'd never seen anything remotely resembling the shapes before, he immediately felt a strange sense of fear in the pit of his belly, as if some part of his soul was uneasy.

  “What is this?” he asked, even though he worried the answer would bring more fear. “I don't recognize any of the lettering.”

  “Apart from the ruler of the empire,” Emitus explained, with a hint of fear in his voice, “only I and two other elders have been permitted to hold this knowledge.” He paused for a moment, as if scared by the words he was about to say. “Before the spider empire rose, Your Highness, the universe was not a barren and empty place. There was an earlier civilization that spread across this land, a race that built great wonders long before the first spider was born. A race that fell many centuries ago, for reasons that we cannot possibly understand. There is almost no trace of them now, but the early spiders found these ruins.” Reaching out, he placed a trembling hand against the carved letters. “We don't understand them. We know almost nothing about these creatures that came before us. Apart from the ruins you see before you, they left almost nothing behind, no literature or art, nothing that might give us insight. Our forebears chose to build the palace of Karakh directly over these ruins, out of some superstitious desire to seal them beneath the ground forever and -”

  “Why is this not more widely known?” Arachnos snapped, stepping closer. “Why is it a secret?”

  “The elders were able to translate just enough of the carvings,” Emitus continued, “for them to understand that whatever species dwelt here all those years ago, they were immensely powerful. The name they chose for themselves cannot be directly understood in our language, but it would appear...” He paused again. “The Book of Karakh makes brief mention of a race of demons.”

  “A myth,” Arachnos said darkly. “Nothing more.” He waited for a reply, but Emitus had fallen silent. “Those so-called demons are just a story told to children, a way of frightening them before sleep.”

  “No, Your Highness,” Emitus continued, “they are far more than just a story. It was decided many, many years ago to excise almost all references to these creatures from our official records. A lingering mention was left in, because it was felt that this might satisfy the concerns of those with curious minds. The race of demons was long dead by the time the palace of Karakh was built, and there is simply no way that they can ever return. Whatever happened to them, they are surely lost now to the mists of time.”

  After running his fingertips across the carvings for a moment, Arachnos finally turned to the old man. “Why am I being told this now?”

  “Because you ride to battle tomorrow,” Emitus replied, “and because... Well, because it might be the last chance. As I said, every ruler of Karakh is told of this secret, because it is felt that withholding it would be wrong and maybe even dangerous. It's better to control knowledge than to deny it and risk giving it a life of its own. All our children, Your Highness, have been taught a lie, they have been told that before the spiders there was nothing else, that spiders were the very first life. The vampires and werewolves are similarly ignorant, we are the only ones who know the truth. I beg of you to understand our reasoning, and to hold this secret to your chest.”

  Arachnos stared at the carvings for a moment longer, before turning to Emitus again. “Then there is nothing I need do, is there? This does not affect our present endeavors in any way?”

  “The demons are long gone,” Emitus continued. “All that remains of them are a few ruined slabs of stone, some carvings, and what little knowledge we have managed to gather.”

  “Then let them remain that way,” Arachnos declared, taking a step back. “We have enough concerns already, without worrying about unknown creatures that existed long before we were born. I have other matters to which I must attend before setting out.” With that, he turned and made his way back along the passageway. In ordinary times, he would have dwelt on the matter of the ancient demons, and he would have demanded to see every scrap of information gathered by Emitus and the other scholars. On this particular night, however, more pressing issues were weighing down his soul, and by the time he reached the main hall of Karakh his mind was already focused on -

  Stopping suddenly, he heard the sound of footsteps, and when he turned he saw his wife hurrying from one of the banquet halls with an infant wrapped in her arms.

  “Have you decided?” she asked as she reached him. “Please, there's no time to lose.”

  Staring down at the wriggling baby, just a few hours old, Arachnos seemed lost in thought for a moment.

  “We have four sons already in the army,” he said finally, “and four daughters with them.”

  Cautiously, he placed a hand against the child's cheek and brushed her soft skin; a moment later, with her eyes still closed, the child reached up and felt her father's index finger with her hands.

  “Since she is too young to fight,” Arachnos whispered, “there is only one option. She cannot remain here, not while there is a risk of danger. I shall have her sent away.”

  “But -”

  “The decision is made,” he said firmly, watching as his daughter's eyes slipped open just a little and she stared up at him for the first time. “I will have her hidden far from here, not only in space but also in time. In the unlikely event that Karakh ever falls, at least this one daughter of ours will survive and remain hidden. And if, as I fully expect, we win this war against t
he vampires, the child can be retrieved.”

  “I...” His wife hesitated for a moment, with tears in her eyes, before finally nodding. “I am sure you are right,” she told him. “I just hope she returns to us soon.”

  “Take her and get her ready for a journey,” Arachnos continued. “I shall have someone notified of the plan.” He watched as his wife turned and carried the child away. “Wait,” he called after her, “have you chosen a name yet?”

  His wife stopped for a moment, before glancing back at him. Tears were running down her cheeks, and for a moment she seemed unable to say a word. “Emilia,” she whispered finally. “I wish to name her Emilia. After my own mother.”

  “Emilia,” Arachnos replied, stepping over to them and looking down at the girl for a moment. Slowly, a faint smile crossed his lips. “You will be safe, Emilia,” he said finally, brushing his hand against her cheek again. “Whatever happens to the rest of us, you will not be in danger. And one day, you will return to Karakh to claim your rightful place on its throne. You will be the ruler of all you survey.”

  ***

  Today

  “No!” she sobbed, reaching up toward the bars above her head. “Come back! You can't leave me like this! Come back and kill me!”

  Slipping her fingertips between the bars, she held on tight and began to haul herself up into the patch of light that broke through from the nearby doorway. For a moment, her ravaged, bloody face was just about visible, with tears rolling down across torn flesh and patches of clear bone. She tried to pull herself up a little further, but her body had been carved open in several places and finally she slumped down, letting go of the bars and falling back down into the darkness of the cell.

  “Kill me,” Emilia sobbed, shivering in cold, wet clothes that had already begun to freeze. “Come back here you coward, and kill me...”

  Part One

  Hunted

  Mark Gregory

  “Great,” I mutter, flicking the light-switch several times but finding that the power is out again. Pushing the door shut, I make my way across my apartment's dark hallway and into the front room. I try another switch, with the same result. When I head over to the window, however, I look out and see that every other building around here is lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree. Pushing the window open, I lean out and look along to the next apartment, and I see that their lights are on too. It's as if this power cut has only affected my place.

  “What the hell?” I sigh, stepping back and pulling the window shut. “I paid this bill, like, two weeks ago.”

  “I'm sorry about the darkness,” a voice says suddenly.

  Turning, I see a figure standing in the shadows on the other side of the room. My first instinct is to reach for my gun, but in the back of my mind I already know that I recognize the voice, even if I never expected to hear it again.

  It can't be her.

  This is impossible.

  “Hey,” Abby says, stepping forward until her face is just about visible in the window's low light. “Long time, huh? I had to disable your security system to get in, and I think I pulled out a few too many wires. I tried sticking them back in, but I couldn't get the lights working again. I guess I'm not exactly the stealthy kind.”

  Staring at her, I realize that it's true. She's really here.

  “It's been almost a year,” I reply cautiously. “Abby, where the hell have you been?”

  She pauses, and I can see the fear in her eyes. Not just fear, either; there's pain, too, and as my eyes become accustomed to the gloom I realize that she looks older somehow, not just physically but also in terms of her expression. It's as if she's seen things that have left marks on her soul.

  “Where have you been?” I ask again, stepping toward her. “Abby, a lot of people are looking for you.” I reach out to touch her arm, but she pulls back.

  “Like who?” she asks.

  “Like the people who realized you weren't dead,” I continue. “After you ran away -”

  “I didn't run away,” she says firmly.

  “After you left,” I continue, correcting myself, “there was a major investigation into the death of Senator McAllister. All the stuff about Everard Constantine and the Albertville Jackson Orphanage came out, but there were other things too. When they started digging into your past, they came up with a whole lot of inconsistencies, and links to some group called the Watchers. The trail led all over the place... Dedston, Boston, Louisiana, Callerton... I tried to cover for you, but it was impossible. People know you're alive, and they want to know why you've been in hiding.”

  “None of that matters now,” she replies, stepping past me and heading to the window. “There's no point in going over where I've been for the past year. You probably wouldn't believe me, and even if you did -”

  “I'd believe you,” I say firmly.

  She turns to me.

  “I would,” I continue, “but I need you to be honest with me.”

  She pauses, before shaking her head. “It doesn't matter. I'm not sticking around anyway, I'll be gone by morning.”

  “So why are you here?” I ask.

  “When I went to my apartment this evening,” she continues, “I quickly found it wasn't my apartment anymore. I figured most of my stuff was probably tossed out and burned, or held as evidence, but...” Another pause. “I guess I was hoping that maybe someone managed to sneak in ahead of time and save anything that seemed important. You know, seeing as there was a police investigation going on.”

  “Something important?” I reply. “Such as?”

  “Such as a dusty old book wrapped in a blanket in the closet, and maybe some photos from the desk.”

  “Sure,” I reply, “I have those.”

  For the first time, a faint smile crosses her lips. “Thanks. I know I have no right to ask for your help, but -”

  “I'll do anything,” I tell her, stepping closer and putting my hands on her shoulders, only for her to once again step back, as if she really doesn't want to be touched. “Abby,” I continue, “I was worried about you. I didn't know what had happened, but I thought maybe those spiders had finally managed to get to you. I've done so much research over the past year, trying to find even a scrap of information, but there was nothing. I scoured the records, I came up with information about your family history, about your mother and your uncle, about your time in Dedston, but it was as if you'd vanished from the face of the earth.”

  “I had.”

  “What about Emilia?” I ask. “Did you catch up to her?”

  “It's complicated,” she replies. “I've seen her a couple of times, but right now... I have a pretty good idea where to find her. I just needed to come here one last time and...” Her voice trails off.

  “One last time?” I ask.

  “It was dumb to look you up again,” she continues, “but I need another favor from you. One final thing. Please, you have to understand that I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't desperate. I don't have much time.”

  I pause for a moment, my mind filled with questions. “Okay,” I say finally, “shoot.”

  “There have been some killings in the city,” she replies. “A prostitute last night, another on Tuesday, and a vagrant in Central Park on Sunday evening.”

  “It's not my case,” I reply, “but I've heard about it. So far all they've got is that the perp seems to drain his victims of their blood. It's obvious that he's choosing people he thinks won't be missed, people who might have reason to be out alone at night, maybe people who can't fight back so well. The fact that there are victims of both genders is causing a few discussions, but it's definitely a serial killer case.”

  “It's my brother.”

  “Your...” Pausing, I realize there's a hint of fear in her eyes. “What do you mean? Your brother's the killer?”

  “It's definitely Jonathan,” she continues. “We came to the city about a week ago, there were certain things I had to take care of before the next stage of our journey. I knew Jonathan was struggl
ing with his emerging needs as a vampire, but I was convinced I could keep him under control. Unfortunately, when his desire for blood grew too strong, there was nothing I could do. For the past five nights, I haven't seen him and I can't quite sense where he's hiding, but I'm certain he's responsible for the murders of those people.”

  “So he's feeding?” I ask.

  “He's not a monster,” she replies. “Please, Mark, you have to understand that when a vampire isn't able to feed on blood, or chooses not to, the pain is immense. It's a kind of violent, crippling agony that burns through your belly, like a thousand hot little fingers wriggling and calling out for sustenance. It's possible to resist when you've had some training and experience, but not when you're new to this whole thing. He most likely isn't even himself right now, he's driven by the need for blood. Based on the pattern of the killings, I can tell he's trying to resist, but he's woefully ill-equipped to handle these new physical desires. I came to you because I need to access the police files, and maybe that way I can work out where to find him.”

  “I don't have access to those files,” I reply.

  “But you could maybe get me into the old office building,” she points out. “Once I'm inside, there are certain tricks I can use to acquire the information.”

  “So what are you, some kind of hacker now?”

  She smiles. “Better than that. I won't even need to touch a computer. Please, Mark, I've come to you because you're my last hope. I need to find my brother!”

  Sighing, I realize that there's no way I can turn her down. “We'll have to be quick,” I tell her as we head across the darkened room, making our way toward the hallway. “Wait -” Turning to her, I realize that one thing about this doesn't make sense. “If Jonathan is driven crazy by the need for blood, if he's got this terrible pain you described, then what about you?”