Entasy (Prophecies of The Nine) Read online

  "Everything is going to be fine, Kylah. I won’t let anything happen to you."

  "I know, Dillon…I know."

  I flipped through the contact list on my cell and hastily sent a text to my boss about my sudden case of the flu. The doors of the elevator opened to the office, and Dillon quickly stepped out. He headed straight for his desk, intent on finding something. He slammed the drawer shut and slid something into the back of his pants.

  Dillon glared at me. "We’ll talk about this later. Right now I have to take care of the man who is following you, but this conversation is not over." He grabbed the throw blanket off the back of the couch and motioned for me to come lay down. "I want you to rest, Kylah. I won’t be gone long, and you are safe here. You know no one but family may enter this floor. "Besides," he said with a wink, "I would like to see anyone get past Adaira. You know her temper."

  As Dillon shut the door behind him, I knew he was right. I would be safe here until he returned.

  Needing a cup of chamomile tea, I headed for the bistro kitchen and smiled as I passed by the chalkboard wall that still had the dirty joke Ty had written before he and Vivi left for Ireland. I missed them both so much, and wished they were coming home as scheduled. I was close to both of my brothers, but Tynan and I always seemed to be closer for some unknown reason.

  The tea kettle began to whistle as I grabbed a chocolate chip cookie out of the cookie jar. I poured the boiling water into the cup and couldn’t help but think of Mom. This had been her nightly ritual: a warm cup of tea and a good book. Tonight though, I was only going to partake in the tea; I was way too tired for the book. I settled onto the couch and pulled the blanket to my chin as sleep began to claim me. Hopefully tonight my dreams would be peaceful for once.

  Chapter Five

  The last time I set foot in New York City, Theodore Roosevelt had just returned from a fifteen month tour abroad, and Frank Woolworth had just begun construction on his new skyscraper. The skyline was much different these days and there were way too many people in this city for my taste. I preferred my secluded home in Donegal, Ireland, where it was quiet and tranquil. Lately though, the tranquil times were few and far between. Nowadays, I spent most of my nights fighting to save our race.

  We were back in New York for an extended stay. A new threat had surfaced that had turned Morrigan’s normal dialogue into daily revenge filled tirades. Since we arrived last night, she had been barking unusual commands to her maidens. No one would ever dare blame the goddess or correct her without fear of reprisal. She had suffered much since the tragic death of her daughter, Caolainn, and her granddaughter, Aednat. The loss of the girls left the goddess temperamental, and her anger had yet to subside after all this time. She sought retribution and had refused to give in to the notion that this was all part of the life cycle. We were immortal; we were to live forever, but the leader of the Sluagh had found a way to destroy all that. The plan, however, had one major flaw. He had pissed off a war goddess, and she would not rest until she enacted her revenge.

  I served Morrigan, the Goddess of war, and Brighid, the Goddess of Fire. They were not only my goddesses, but also my creators. I was not born, but made with the sole purpose of handling any threat the goddesses chose not to dirty their hands with. I was known by many names, but enforcer was my actual title. When the goddesses commanded it, I was compelled to follow. I used to fight because I was bound to do so, but now I fought to sate my lust for revenge. The one I wanted most in this world was taken from me centuries ago. Her life extinguished by the Sluagh. Now all had to pay for the deeds of a few rogue demons that believed they could capture a goddess and live to tell the tale.

  I nodded to the barkeep at McSorley's to pour another round as I felt the phone Obsydian had forced on me begin to vibrate. The text read, "The ninth has arrived. Meet at the penthouse at midnight."

  A millennium ago, the goddesses organized an elite group of warriors called the Naio. The nine were made up of various supernatural forces–each one with a specific skill-set that made us the perfect fighters. It wasn’t often we were organized together like this; we each had our own faction of fighters that kept watch over unsuspecting humans.

  Slipping the phone back into my jacket, I looked into the mirror above the bar and spotted a beautiful woman with long black hair sitting at a table, drinking with her friends. She brushed the hair off her neck and laughed as she took another sip of her cocktail. The female must have noticed me staring at her because she returned the glance. Her jade green eyes sent a jolt of lust straight through me, causing my jeans to tighten. For a brief moment, I had a flash of my beloved as the woman tipped her glass in my direction. I took the last pull on my ale and paid the bar tab. When I strolled past the table, I winked at the raven-haired beauty, which sent the rest of the women with her into a giggle fest. It had been a long time since I had taken a female to my bed, and if duty wasn’t calling, it might have been nice to take her into the back room to sate both our desires. But truth be told, there was only one woman that would ever be able to sate my needs, and she was long gone into the fade.

  I shook off the stroll down memory lane and headed out of the bar and into the night. I needed to focus on the days ahead. As dusk began to settle in, I walked down the crowded streets, taking in the city. Maybe I would get in a few kills before having to check in with the Naio. Obsydian and Calina had been here for the past few weeks tracking the fledgling Sluagh, following their habits and patterns. It seemed as though Liam, the leader of these soul devourers, had given an order to increase their numbers here because the city was now overrun with them.

  Even in the daylight, I could spot these creatures roaming around, waiting in the shadows for someone to die so they could feed. The sun began to fall behind the buildings as I made my way out of the east village, grinning wickedly as I awaited my first unsuspecting newcomer. The Sluagh did not usually attempt to feed in broad daylight. They shared their affection for the dark with their vampire counterparts. Vampires at least gave their victims knowledge of their intent through sexual desire, but the Sluagh were like hyenas feeding off what others discarded.

  I faded into the alley and saw a woman standing there shaking, her bakery box of cupcakes splattered on the ground in front of her. There was something unique about this woman, because in order to see the Sluagh, you must have supernatural blood coursing through your veins. I remained cloaked as I watched her looking towards the back of the alley in horror as the Sluagh mangled a fresh corpse. To the people ambling by, they would have seen a woman frustrated over spilled bakery items, but as an immortal, I could see it all. The horror before her was unimaginable, but for us it was an everyday battle the coven of Naoi fought to control.

  The Sluagh preferred to feed off the souls of the innocent, but they also devoured the souls of the wicked. The carnage from this mugging would feed the entire pack. The two human males who had silenced the man by slicing his throat would also become a part of this tragedy. The other fledgling Sluagh had gone to track them down while three devourers moved in to greedily feed as the young man’s life force left his body. The Sluagh never wasted any time claiming an innocent soul.

  Depending on who the Sluagh consumed, they would get a different high. The malevolent souls would give them a slight jolt, but the souls of the innocents were their perfect conquest. The chaste souls allowed the Sluagh to become corporeal for short periods of time: enough time for them to find their next victim. Enough time to wreak havoc on unsuspecting humans. As the red-haired female watched, it was obvious she could not process what was happening. It was as though she had never seen anything magical; her fear had her locked in place, unable to move.

  In her reality, humans didn’t "feed" off of other humans, but the Sluagh were not human. They were demons and ghosts that haunt and invade. They were your darkest fears. The nightmarish creatures were a part of folklore passed down from generation to generation. The Sluagh were in essence rejected by heaven and hell, existing i
n the human realm only to consume souls. Humans were blinded by the magic that existed in the world. They assumed fairytales were just someone’s wild imagination, creative tales told to delight and frighten children. It was this lack of acknowledgement that made humans the perfect prey for these outcasts.

  In their ghost forms, they were a hideous ash grey with claw-like fingers and beady eyes. They were shifters that could change form constantly to be whatever suited their needs. They were half-man, half-winged creatures with talons and crimson colored eyes. They came in all shapes and sizes, but the one trait they all had in common was the single focus of consuming souls for their own purposes.

  As the woman looked on, silently frozen in shock, she made a move to back away, but the shale-colored male noticed the movement and stopped, grinning as if he had just found the dessert to his entree. The elder of the group grabbed the grey male and spoke to him in broken Gaelic. He explained that they needed to take this one back for their father or they would be punished for taking too many souls. I could only assume they were speaking of Liam.

  Liam had always been a ruthless battle lord, even before he became the leader of the Sluagh. We were uncertain as to why Liam had recently relocated his legion here to New York City. All we knew for sure was that he had sent his finest warriors here to organize the new recruits.

  The woman screamed as she turned to run away, but out of the misty haze the three males become solid, surrounding her, scratching and clawing at her almost immediately to subdue her. Appearing in front of her, I blocked the next lash from the ashen male and grinned, knowing that victory was mine. "You really should play with someone your own size, you know."

  Chapter Six

  This could not be happening. Wake up, dammit! Pure fear overwhelmed me. I wanted to leave. I wanted to run away, but I was frozen in place. The hellish image before me made it impossible for me to do anything. Tears began to flow down my face as I watched the blood pool around the young man’s hair. Three men hovered over him, scratching and clawing at his clothes. His eyes were wide and fixated…he was dead. A misty image moved like a ghost trapped in water above the young dead man.

  The mist took a moment to look back at the broken and battered body lying on the ground, but just as the apparition began to rise higher, the tall, bald one with black veiny streaks covering his head grinned wickedly. He used some supernatural force to draw the ghostlike image into himself.

  Moving to back away, I clumsily kicked something, and as it clanged, the bald one turned to face me, his red eyes glowing as he watched my every move. The other two men turned to look at me but they were more cautious in their examination. I turned to run away, but they seized my wrist. Their sharp claws left deep puncture wounds in my arm, and the smallest of the three used his razor teeth to nip at my hand as I tried to free myself.

  Without warning, a large man appeared in front of me. My attackers backed away in shock, but only briefly before they began to lunge at him. He spoke, but I could not comprehend what he was saying for some reason. Instead, I watched as he moved in a protective way to shield me from the danger. He grabbed one of the men by the throat and turned him to ash in his grip. The other creatures moved in to attack, but they too were now dust floating away as the wind picked up in the alley.

  "Are you all right?" the mysterious man asked me, as he examined my wounds. Another tear slid down my cheek as I nodded yes. Unable to speak, I was frozen in place as I watched him intently. His copper-colored eyes flickered with golden flames causing me to stumble backwards over the broken box of cupcakes. He moved to catch me, his arms holding me as if I were made of paper.

  "Careful there."

  The sound of his baritone brogue was somehow soothing and familiar. I wanted him to continue to speak in the hopes it would distract my thoughts and calm my shattered nerves, but instead, the sensual tone of his voice made my body come alive. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him as he spoke.

  "You are safe now. You don’t need to run away; they won’t be bothering you again." As another tear fell, he moved to wipe it with the pad of his thumb.

  "What about that poor man over there? His body is still…and he is…dead," I muttered as tears continued to stream down my face.

  He leaned down close to my neck, and his erotic scent–a mix of leather and sandalwood–permeated my senses as he brushed his lips close to my ear and whispered, "How are you able to see the Sluagh? That is a trait relegated only to those with supernatural lineage."

  As much as I wanted to get lost in this moment, I knew this could not possibly be real. Real men in the real world did not look, sound, or smell this erotic…this was definitely a dream. His scent and his odd question left me shaky and uncertain. The only words I could muster were, "Excuse me?"

  My fantasy man was about to say something else when the sound of metal scraping snapped his attention to its source. The tattooed man that had tried to grab me at the park appeared next to the dead body, the large sword in his hand sparking as he dragged the tip along the ground.

  "Gavin."

  My fantasy man’s deep voice no longer sounded seductive but full of malice. The tattooed man seemed to enjoy taunting my protector when he pointed the tip of his sword in my direction.

  "That female belongs to Liam and I will die before I leave without her, warrior."

  "That can be arranged, you worthless piece of shit."

  In an instant, the two men were clashing. A sword flew into the air as the sound of fists meeting bone echoed in the alley. I backed up, trying to make my way out of this cramped space. I needed to run; I needed to be as far away from here as possible. This was not my fight and I was not meant to be here. I tried to contain the scream stuck in my throat, but as the two men moved unnaturally, I realized I needed to release all of the emotions I was feeling. The bloody male on the ground, this tattooed freak chasing me, this fight, it all came out in a high pitched shriek. My protector was momentarily distracted from the sound and he turned to look at me. The tattooed male grinned and unexpectedly appeared behind me. His breath hot against my ear, he whispered, "I have you now, bitch."

  * * * * * * * * *

  "LET ME GO!"

  Dillon and an unknown male barged into the room with their guns drawn. "What’s wrong, Kylah? Who is touching you?"

  "I don’t know. Just a minute ago I was…not here." I shook my head wildly in disbelief as tears began to fall. "But that’s impossible. How could I be in two places at once?"

  Dillon moved to sit next to me, holding me as I cried. Through my tears I curiously watched as this unknown man went about checking the office, looking in places that no one could actually be in. This must be one of Dillon’s guards, because why else would he be in the office? I was still trembling when Dillon pushed me off his shoulder to look at me. "Has someone hurt you?"

  The tall, dark-haired man with blue-green eyes made a final check of the kitchen. "Everything is clear, Dillon. Nothing here, and nothing ever entered the room."

  I addressed my response to this man. "No, not here. I was in an alley. I saw them, I felt them. They wanted to attack me after I saw what they were doing to the dead man lying on the ground."

  In a slow deliberate movement, he crossed the room, seemingly unaffected by my comment. "My name is Syd. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Kylah."

  More tears fell as I took his extended hand and spoke with a less than steady voice. "Hello."

  I shifted my focus back to Dillon. "I saw something feed off of a person…that is not possible, Dillon. THAT IS NOT POSSIBLE!"

  Dillon pulled me into another embrace. "You are safe now, deirfiúr."

  Adaira suddenly appeared in the room, but with everything else I’d seen tonight, that didn’t seem so odd.

  "Obsydian, you are needed downstairs." Obsydian turned to give her a look, but her response was, "Now, Syd! We have a problem."

  As Syd moved to follow Adaira, I moved out of Dillon’s arms and noticed the blood seeping through the sl
eeve of my top. I saw the bite marks covering my hands, and confirmed I had not been dreaming this time. I began to scream as reality set in…I lived this nightmare. I guess the truth was more than I could bear. One minute I was standing on shaky legs, and the next moment I was on the floor.

  Chapter Seven

  I slammed open the door of Keenan’s with fire in my eyes, sparks literally flaming as I attempted to control the anger I felt.

  "WHERE IS HE?" The shocked expressions on a few of the patron’s faces were of little concern to me as Adaira tried to calm me with a look. "Your tricks do not work on me, Adaira, and you know it. Tell me where Dillon is, or I will tear the place apart."

  She moved closer. "Lower your voice and calm your anger before your little temper tantrum causes bigger problems. I’ll go get Dillon, but not until you do as I ask, Aerric."

  With a growl I complied, knowing that I might not be concerned with Adaira’s threats, but Morrigan’s wrath I wasn’t willing to gamble with. In a movement too quick for the bar patrons to discern, Adaira left the room, returning a moment later with Obsydian in tow.

  "Adaira, we need to close the bar for the rest of the afternoon. Make the humans think it’s closing time. Aerric, you come with me."

  Obsydian moved towards the back of the bar to give Adaira a chance to do what he asked. No one knew exactly what Adaira was, but she was capable of compelling others to do as she wished with a simple thought. The majority would do anything she wanted because of the way she looked: all legs, platinum blonde hair, and full, luscious lips that begged a male to do whatever she asked. I had known Adaira for decades now, and her ice blue eyes cut straight into your soul…if you had one.

  I walked past a table of punk males who began to chatter about my abrupt tone with Adaira. It was charming that they believed they were the ones saving her. The immortals in the room all knew that she could annihilate this entire bar in less time than it took to set down a pint of ale. One of the males stood, believing he could foolishly assert himself. I glared and shoved past him. "Sit, boy, or you will regret your next move."