Strife: Hidden Book Four Read online

  by Colleen Vanderlinden

  Published by Building Block Studios, LLC

  Detroit, Michigan, 2014

  © 2014 Colleen Vanderlinden

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email the author at [email protected].

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek: Nether

  About the Author

  Dedication

  As always,

  to my amazing husband and

  partner in crime, Roger.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to my husband and my crazy awesome kids. You guys are the absolute best, and I am so lucky to have you!

  Thanks to my lovely in-laws, Peggy and Roger, for their support and enthusiasm.

  Thank you to Will Vanderlinden for proofreading help with a touch of humor.

  Many thanks to the lovely Elizabeth Hunter. The advice you've given me, as well as the much-needed pep talks, have been such a help to this newbie indie author. Thank you!

  I was extremely lucky to have an amazing group of beta readers for Strife. You ladies absolutely rock, and I know for a fact that this is a stronger book because of your input. Huge thanks and many hugs to Susan Cambra, Shawna Cerda, Jolissa Cooke, Ginger Garff, Jennifer G., Katie Knudsen, Sarah Leenart, Kathie Littlemore, Jayna Longstreet, Katherine Helen Peters, and Rachel Scott. Let's do it again sometime, shall we?

  Thank you to everyone who has followed Molly's story up to this point. Every writer dreams of the day when their words will actually be read by someone, of the day when they hear the words "I was up all night reading this!" You guys have helped make that dream a reality for this particular writer, and I cannot thank you enough.

  Colleen Vanderlinden

  Detroit

  June, 2014

  Chapter One

  My name is Molly Brooks.

  Vigilante.

  Godslayer.

  Oathbreaker.

  Daughter of the Lord of the Dead.

  The Angel.

  What a joke.

  I now lead a team of supernaturals who chose me when I'd split from my old team. The people of my city consider me a legend, a god. A hero.

  You want to know what I am?

  I'm someone who's afraid to go to sleep at night. I'm someone who scrubs my hands so often I make them bleed. I'm someone who re-lives every single one of my deaths, over and over and over again.

  I'm a powerful being who can't use my powers without ending up in agony.

  I'm afraid of myself. The darkness inside me grows, and I am losing hope that I'm strong enough to contain it. If I lose control, if I unleash whatever this is that is inside me, everyone I've ever loved will suffer for it.

  One, in particular, more than others.

  And the easy solution would be to get rid of the problem: me. Except that unfortunately, I can't die.

  As in, plenty have tried to make that happen. But I just keep fucking coming back.

  Lucky me.

  I drove the route I'd driven dozens of times from my house to the loft where Nain and his team lived. Every block that closed the distance between me and the people who lived there made my stomach clench a little more.

  My hands gripped the steering wheel, hard enough to snap it if I'd unleash my powers just a little. As it was, the stress was stirring my powers, heightening them, and it was starting to hurt. Eunomia reached over and put her cool hand over mine on the steering wheel.

  “Relax, my friend,” she said softly.

  “Better to be on edge than relaxed, considering. Don't you think?” I asked her. I glanced over at her, then into the rear-view mirror. The rest of my friends, my team, sat in the back seat. Levitt, Hephaestus, and Shanti. The imps had gone ahead; they'd meet us there. My team knew about the problems I was having. They knew that the moment I relaxed, the darkness inside me threatened to take over. They knew how close I was to giving in to it, to becoming the thing I feared most. They fought beside me. They watched out for me. And maybe most importantly, they watched me, always prepared for that moment when whatever was inside me took over for good. And they knew that when that moment came, their job was to try to put me down.

  Yes. I trust my best friends to try to destroy me. Doesn't everyone?

  We'd gotten to know each other better than I could have imagined over the past few weeks. We lived together, worked together, fought together. My house, which had seemed so big during all the years I'd lived there alone, felt cozy now. Granted, it was a crazy combination of gods, demons, vampires, and imps, but it was mine.

  They knew my weaknesses. My problems. The promises I made to myself. We were more than a team. We were a family and I trusted them with my life, as they trusted me with theirs. Considering how many powerful beings I had gunning for me, I thought their trust was misplaced. They ignored me when I said stuff like that.

  They knew, better than anyone, that I was not as tough as most of the world believed. They knew I still tried to scrub unseen blood and gore off of my body. They knew I had nightmares, when I managed to let myself sleep. They knew that in my weakest moments, I cursed my life for the things I couldn't have.

  “This is exactly why you should have talked to the fuckin' shifter on the phone all those times he called. Now you’re goin' in with all this pent-up shit. Not healthy, queenie,” Hephaestus said from the back seat.

  “Well, that's why you guys are here, right?” I said, glancing at him in the rear-view mirror. “Keep an eye on me. Make an excuse to leave if it seems like I'm going to lose it. But I can't keep putting Nain off about this meeting, considering we're all trying to hunt Strife down and she's here because of me.”

  Strife.

  I'd trapped her in my realm back when I'd initially destroyed the gateway between here and the Nether, cutting off this world from the world of the immortals. She was not my biggest fan. I'd killed one of her closest friends, Enyo, the goddess of war. And I'd trapped her other pal, Ares, the god of war, in a talisman that added to my power. She'd been doing her best to cause chaos, even going as far as using Brennan's infant son (another thing I tried not to think about too often) to harm those I cared about.

  And we'd all been hunting her, but she was wily. We hadn't even gotten close.

  So I'd finally given in and agreed to meet with Nain and his team.

  I hadn't seen Brennan since the night we'd decided to stop seeing each other. So I'm a coward. But it hurt too much, and I had enough on my mind. I knew it was for the best. It didn't make it any easier.

  Sometimes, love doesn't conquer all. That's a bunch of bullshit.

  I pulled into the parking garage and we all got out of the car. My team, for better or worse, had adopted my uniform as their own: black cargo pants, black
shirts. The imps were there already, waiting for me as they'd said they would. And it wasn't just them. My parents, Hades and Tisiphone, stood by the elevator. Hades leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest. My father never looked worried about anything. Though, I guess if you were the Lord of the Dead and ruler of the afterlife, you wouldn't be worried about much, either. Tisiphone, as always, looked like she was on guard, ready to kick ass.

  “What are you two doing here?” I asked them as my team and I walked toward the elevator. “Not that I'm not happy to see you,” I added. My mother gave me a small hug, murmuring a hello, and my father studied me.

  “There's a reason you've been avoiding this. We're here in case we're needed.” I hadn't been thrilled about telling my parents about the issues I was having, but E had insisted and I had to admit it was smart. If I lost my mind, they were two of the few beings who had any decent chance of getting me under control.

  I nodded. My parents, as always, were also dressed in black. “Go team death,” I muttered under my breath as I pulled the gate up and we all got onto the elevator.

  “We need a secret handshake,” Shanti said. Then she hit the button to take us up to the loft. I took a deep breath. My stomach was turning. It wasn't seeing the team, or even Nain, necessarily. I was fine with that. I'd had lunch with Ada and Stone the previous week, seen Nain around town, and while things with my ex always had a weird undercurrent of tension, I was fine. It was Brennan. I loved him. At least, I thought I did. I was hurt over what he'd done, and the more I thought about all of it, the harder it was to just let it go. Maybe I wasn't as mature and understanding as I thought I should be. But the fact of the matter was that the more I thought about it, the less likely it could ever be that I'd be fine with Brennan, with seeing his son every day and knowing how he'd come to be.

  Great. I was more like my stepmother than I'd ever realized.

  I could admit that I missed him. I'd loved the way he’d taken care of me, the way every one of my whims had been met. I missed the way he made love to me.

  But I was starting to believe, deep down, that maybe it just wasn't enough. And that was without the darkness rising within me. Because as much as I missed the good things, the time apart had given me plenty of time to think. And I was starting to think that maybe there are just some things you can’t come back from.

  When I had my blackouts, I had visions of murdering him, brutally, in ways that made me sick. And even though I'm hurt, I know I'd never do any of those things to him. It was this… thing. Whatever it was that was inside me. It was even more bloodthirsty than I was, and it wanted to hurt everyone I cared about. Especially him, because he was mine. I'd claimed him, and I cared about him. It hated him. It regarded him with loathing and jealousy. I knew that without knowing how, and that alone scared the shit out of me.

  I'd tried to talk Nain out of this dozens of times. But my ex-husband was not the most accommodating man. And he'd finally just growled that I needed to get the fuck over it, that I was being weak.

  And he knows me well enough to know which buttons to push. The weakness button is almost guaranteed to make me move my ass.

  So there we were. I just wanted to get through the meeting without crying. Or, you know… killing anybody. Either or.

  “I'm going to say as little as possible. Maybe this will be quick and painless,” I said to them as the elevator creaked up to the main living area.

  We poured out of the elevator, and I lifted my hand to knock on the heavy mahogany door that led into the loft. When I'd lived here, I'd just walked in. But this wasn't my home anymore, and I wasn't going to let myself fall into my old habits now.

  Any of my old habits.

  I was relieved when it was Ada who answered the door. She smiled when she saw me, pulled me into a huge hug, and I hugged her back. “Good to see you again, baby girl,” she said softly, and I gave her another squeeze. She greeted the rest of my team, and they greeted her politely, Shanti and Levitt hugging her when they stepped into the loft.

  I could feel him. Our connection was still alive, and I could practically feel every breath he took. I could feel his eyes on me; need, raw anger flowing from him like lava. It was agony. I took a breath, and we followed Ada into the dining room, my team trailing behind me. Nain, Brennan, Stone, and Chief Jones were all sitting at the dining room table. Brennan's son, Sean, played quietly in a playpen nearby.

  Nain stood, eyes on me. Then he glanced at my team.

  “Didn't know you traveled with an entourage now, Molls,” he said, deep voice practically making the floor vibrate.

  “Yeah, well. You know me. There's nothing I like more than feeling important. Hence: entourage.”

  He studied me for a minute, and I kept my eyes on him. He knew at least a little bit of what was happening with me. I'd confessed it to him before I'd moved out, warned him he might have to try to put me down. Told him how to do it. And we’d worked together a few times over the past few weeks. He’d seen, close up, how hard I fought against the darkness. How close I was to losing it.

  “You look good,” he said, and I felt the usual from him: anger, desire. Mixed together. It was our signature blend. Always had been.

  I just nodded, not really in the mood for making nice. Please, let's just get this over with, I thought to myself. Then Chief Jones shook my hand, said a few words in greeting, and Stone wrapped me up in a huge bear hug.

  Brennan stayed where he was. He seemed unable to stop looking at me, and I did my best to avoid looking at him. But I failed, as usual, and when I looked at him, our eyes met.

  “Hey,” he said quietly.

  I nodded at him then looked away, unable to trust my voice. Jesus, I just wanted to make it through this so I could go home and bury my face in my pillow and scream. I sat down, and my team arrayed themselves behind me. They stood, Levitt and Shanti at attention, hands folded behind their backs. My parents and Hephaestus stood with their arms crossed, watching everything. Especially me. And Eunomia took the seat beside me. My right hand. She was able to read me better than most, and I needed her now because I couldn't trust myself.

  Gods. He was sitting right the hell there. Not even six feet away from me and everything sane in me, the part of me that had claimed him, bonded him to me, screamed in desperation, needing to be closer to him. And the thing inside rose, wanted to see him bleed. And I sat there, and tried to ignore the fact that my heart broke a little more every single time I saw him, remembering that no matter how much he'd claimed to love me, it hadn't been that hard for him to warm someone else's bed.

  I tamped it down. I'd made my decision for a reason, and I'd stick to it no matter how good he smelled or how much I'd missed his touch. And there was something I had to do, something I'd known for a while I'd have to do, and I kept putting it off. Today was the day. I just had to get through this first.

  “Okay,” I said. “I'm here. Let's get this over with.”

  Nain nodded, took his seat after I was settled in mine. “Strife. You know more than any of us do about her. What can you tell us?”

  I took a breath, forced myself to focus. “She's a spirit daemon. Not quite as powerful as immortals like my parents.”

  “Or like you,” Nain put in, and I hesitated, nodded.

  “But powerful enough in her own way. She works with witches, especially, tells them how to do spells they'd never be able to do on their own. She incites chaos, and the more she causes, the stronger she becomes. It feeds her, kind of the same way anger and pain strengthens us,” I said this last part more to Nain, and he nodded. “She's pissed. She was friends with a couple of immortals I ended. She wants revenge on me and she knows enough to know that taking her shit out on this city is a decent way to get back at me.”

  “So is that all there is to her game? Just cause chaos?” Jones asked.

  I shrugged. “My guess is she's biding her time. Building her strength. Probably rebuilding her team, since I destroyed her old one.”

 
“And there's another one, right?” Jones asked, shaking his head.

  “Yeah. The spirit of terror. They're likely working together. What's better than fear and chaos, right?”

  “Shit,” Jones said, sitting back. He'd heard some of this before, but he still wasn't any happier about it. I knew he blamed me for the troubles his city had to deal with. He wasn't exactly wrong.

  Eunomia leaned toward me and I tilted my head toward her. “Do you need a break?” she asked softly.

  “I’m fine,” I said. The truth. The longer I sat there, the easier it became to quiet the thing inside me, even with Brennan sitting right there. Good. It would make it that much easier to do what I knew I had to do before I left.

  “So what's the plan, Molls?” Nain asked. I looked back up at him.

  “We're doing the same thing you guys are doing. Trying to find even the smallest lead to her. So far, we've come up with jack. It's like she doesn't exist, except for the fact that we're still seeing her mark show up in places. Graffiti in alleyways, carved into trees. At least not in any bodies lately. Unless you guys have found something like that,” I finished.

  Nain shook his head. “No, we've seen the same thing you have. She seems to have let up on the killing. That makes me feel like some bad shit is on the horizon.”

  I nodded. “Me too. I wish I knew more. I’ve asked my parents,” I said, gesturing back toward Hades and Tisiphone, “and they have said pretty much what we already know: she's likely lying in wait. She's good at hiding, sticking to the shadows, working her angle without anyone knowing she's doing it.”

  “What about getting rid of her?” Nain asked. “Can she be killed? Or is this another one of those things only you can do?”

  I turned to my father. “Do you want to explain this one?”

  Hades nodded. “The spirit daemons can’t actually be killed. Think of it this way: they’re the physical entity, an avatar, if you will, of the emotions of humanity. They exist because mortals feel these things. So unless mortals stop causing chaos, or stop feeling angry, or honest, or whatever it is, that’s the only way a spirit daemon can truly cease to be.”