“Remember all those old stories from Earth-that-was—people thinking they’d been abducted by extraterrestrials and probed?” Hesler raised an eyebrow. “It looks like they might not have been just stories. Some of the other things Stamos found…well, it’s probably better not to go into details.”
“Let’s just say whoever carved that passage was looking for a whole lot more than pshalite,” Neely deadpanned. “And it wasn’t the only passage they were interested in.”
“Very funny,” Hesler said sourly. “The point is, the passage leads back to the time you’re talking about—to Earth-that-was in the twenty-first century. Stamos tried it out.”
“And nearly died,” Neely pointed out.
Hesler lifted his chin. “Only because he wasn’t prepared.”
“How could he be?” Neely demanded. “You can’t take anything through the passage—nothing non-living anyway. So you can’t take tools or instruments or food…”
Hesler shrugged. “So? I don’t need any of those things.”
“You can’t take your suit either,” Neely said quietly. “You’d have to take it off, Hesler.”
Boone frowned. “But the suit’s a semi-sentient organism. It’s alive—should be able to go through.”
Hesler shook his head. “It doesn’t have higher brain function, which seems to be what the passage requires.” He looked at Neely. “Which means you can’t come with me.”
“Why? You saying I don’t have higher brain function?” Neely arched an eyebrow at him.
“You know that’s not what I’m saying. The suit might be what caused your problem in the first place but it’s also the only thing holding you together—you can’t take it off. Besides, going through the passage would probably strip away all the dead tissue.”
“You can’t do this,” Neely argued. “Without your suit you’d be without your emo-dampers and blockers. Hell, it might even start your damn sex cycle again.”
Even the emo-dampers coursing through his system couldn’t help Hesler suppress a surge of dread but he kept his face completely impassive as he stared at his best friend.
“I can manage. For a few days, I can manage.”
“Not if your cycle starts up. Then you’ll need a hell of a lot more than food or instruments to see you through—you’re going to need a female—a touch partner. Or you’ll die. And you know how that worked out for you last time.”
“Shut up, Neely,” Hesler growled. “I’m going and that’s final.”
His best friend opened his mouth to protest again but Hesler wasn’t listening. He was already calculating how long he could go without his skinsuit—and trying not to think about what would happen once he took off the black second skin he’d worn from the age of nine cycles. He had a love-hate relationship with the damn thing, that was for certain. He didn’t want to need it and yet he couldn’t do without it.
Except he was going to have to—at least for as long as it took to get Neely his medicine.
I can make it, he told himself grimly. I fucking have to if Neely’s going to live. He didn’t need Boone to tell him that the rot that was traveling up the other man’s arm would eventually reach his heart. And then…lights out.
Not if I can help it, Hesler swore to himself. How many times had Neely saved his ass? Hell, Neely was the one who’d convinced him not to purge himself after his initial contamination, when the High Sentinel demanded his death. They’d been through Hell together and Hesler was damned if he was going to sit back and watch his best friend die.
Even if it meant taking off the suit.
Read on for a sneak peak at Ruby Shadows, the third book in the Born to Darkness series, coming in Fall of 2013…
Ruby Shadows
Prologue
When you’re dealing with demons, nothing is for free.
Believe me—I found that out the hard way. My name is Gwendolyn LaRoux and I’m a witch. Not a green-skinned cackling old hag with a hump on her nose and a skinny black cat kind of witch, though. I’m actually quite modern, thank you very much—a typical twenty-something just trying to make her way in the world.
Well, except for one minor detail—I’m still a virgin.
But lest you go thinking it’s because I’m a prude, let me set the record straight. Witches need to keep themselves intact until they find someone to form a love bond with. No love bond equals no sex because casual encounters and one night stands without love involved will cut a witch’s power in half and greatly diminish her potency, leaving her vulnerable to attacks by rivals and other supernatural creatures who might wish her harm.
This particular rule doesn’t apply to warlocks—male witches—though. It’s just those of us with girly parts that have to keep our legs crossed. Not fair, right? No, not a damn bit but that’s the way it is and as my Grams keeps reminding me, I have to stay pure to stay powerful. Though she doesn’t say it, I know what else she’s thinking—stay pure to stay protected. She always worries about me so much and I can’t say I blame her. The women in our family aren’t known for being able to stay out of trouble.
Take my mom, for instance. She got on the wrong side of a fire demon back when my sister Kiesha and I were just little girls. Grams always says she went too far toward the darkness and just couldn’t come back. Unfortunately, it ended up killing her which left Grams to raise us. After that, I promised Grams I would stay pure. Kiesha did the same but unfortunately, she couldn’t resist a certain boy in high school who promised he would love her forever. She gave in and lost half her power—no surprise since he was a player who never really cared for her in the first place. It takes two to form a love bond and unfortunately, Kiesha judged unwisely. After that her life just got worse… I’d rather not say any more about her.
As for me, I’ve had my share of ups and downs—not that I would let my Grams know. Well, she does know I used my power to form a soul eater for a local vampire by the name of Corbin—but that was for a good cause. And he offered me his blood in payment, which I happened to need for a spell.
What Grams doesn’t know is that I called on a minor demon for help in forming the soul eater. I promised her I’d only use my powers for light and stay away from the darkness that ate my mother, but I had to make one little compromise—just once.
Unfortunately, that one little compromise came back to bite me in the ass. The demon I’d called goes by the name of Laish and ever since he helped me, he’s been all up in my business. It’s incredibly irritating—especially considering that he’s ridiculously good looking with coal black hair, a big, muscular body to die for and these weirdly attractive ruby-red eyes. I’ve never dated outside my race before—to be honest, I’ve never dated much at all—but Laish would tempt me to give it a try. If he wasn’t a demon, that is.
I don’t know how Grams would feel about me dating a white guy but I do know how she’d feel about me dating a demon. Especially one so sinfully attractive he makes me feel hot and cold all over every time we’re in the same room together. Laish has this deep, smoky voice and when he looks at me I feel like I’m naked. He’s always calling me annoying little French nicknames—mon chatte, and mon ange—which I’m sure is a dig at my Creole heritage. Naturally I don’t give him the time of day. Demons don’t have souls so you can’t bond with them—not that I would trust Laish to form a bond with me. He just wants to get into my pants and take whatever he can get—that’s his demonic nature.
I shouldn’t even be telling you about him anyway. After my last little adventure where I rescued a vampire friend from the depths of the Abyss, Laish showed up after the fact and yelled at me. His point was that it’s strictly forbidden to snatch a soul from Heaven or Hell and dangerous to enter the Abyss, even in spirit form, which was what I had done. He further reminded me that if I’d left the door I opened into the afterlife’s darkest pit cracked, even the tiniest bit, there would literally be Hell to pay—literally. At that point I told him to leave me alone and never come back. I know my business. I kn
ow I closed that door.
I’m pretty sure, anyway.
To make a long story short, (I know, too late), I got rid of Laish forever. It’s now been several weeks since I gave him the heave-ho and he’s stopped popping up everywhere, asking if I need help and calling me by those irritating little French nicknames that drive me crazy.
I don’t miss him a bit—really. I’m just trying to get back to the business I’m best at—being a witch and helping my Grams run her magic supply business in Ybor City. At first I was a little worried but things have been quiet and calm. I can almost forget about the dabbling I did in dark magic and the fact that I went way past the line any witch who wants to keep her magic strictly white and good should have.
Well…except for the dreams.
I keep on dreaming of a thing made of shadows—a thing with no head. No head but somehow it still has crooked yellow teeth. And it’s hunting me—looking everywhere for me. Trying to track me down…
Sorry! There I go again, letting my imagination run away with me. After all, a few bad dreams are to be expected considering what I’ve been through lately. And anyway, it’s not like they’re a warning that something evil is stalking me…
Are they?
About the Author
Evangeline Anderson is a registered MRI tech who would rather be writing. And yes, she is nerdy enough to have a bumper sticker that says “I’d rather be writing.” Honk if you see her! She is thirty-something and lives in Florida with a husband, a son, and two cats. She had been writing erotic fiction for her own gratification for a number of years before it occurred to her to try and get paid for it. To her delight, she found that it was actually possible to get money for having a dirty mind and she has been writing paranormal and Sci-fi erotica steadily ever since.
You can find her online at her website www.evangelineanderson.com Come visit for some free reads and to find out what’s coming soon. You can also connect with her on Facebook http://www.facebook.com/evangeline.anderson.773
Evangeline Anderson, Purity
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