God In The Darkness (The Forgotten Gods Series Book 4) Read online

  CONTENTS

  LMBPN Publishing

  Dedication

  Legal

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Notes CM Raymond

  Notes LE Barbant

  Restriction

  Also by Raymond & Barbant

  Connect with Us

  God In The Darkness

  Forgotten Gods Book Four

  By ST Branton, CM Raymond, and LE Barbant

  www.lmbpn.com

  DEDICATION

  To our wives: Hey! You look great. Now that the book is done, you want to go out sometime?

  God In The Darkness Team

  JIT Beta Readers

  James Caplan

  Kelly O’Donnell

  John Ashmore

  Paul Westman

  Micky Cocker

  Larry Omans

  If we missed anyone, please let us know!

  God In The Darkness Team (this book) is a work of fiction.

  All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright © 2018 ST Branton, CM Raymond, and LE Barbant

  Cover by http://www.bookcoverartistry.com/

  Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

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  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  First US edition, April 2018

  PROLOGUE

  New York is the city that never sleeps. A creed its mayor took to heart.

  Kenneth Inglewood put his office phone back in its cradle, leaned back, closed his eyes, and let out a deep sigh. Outside the massive picture window in the west-facing wall of his office, the sun was starting to sink low over the skyline of his city, bathing legions of buildings in warm orange light. A glance at the clock told Inglewood it was nearly four o’clock already. An hour left in the nine-to-five, and he still had a shitload of work left to do.

  The mayor rubbed both hands vigorously over his face and straightened up to get back to work. Then, his top aide poked his head in through the door. “Sir? I hate to interrupt, but you’ve got someone waiting.” He lowered his voice. “A drop-in.”

  The kid was young, a real go-getter. Inglewood thought he had a lot of potential. But today was not a good day for drop-ins, especially not so late in the afternoon. Fixing his face with a disapproving frown, the mayor shook his head.

  “We’re closed for business, Theo. Too much left to do. Not enough time in the day. Have them set up an appointment.”

  Normally, Theo was more than happy to close the door and leave his boss to handle the bottomless pit of work that came with governing a major metropolis. This time, however, he didn’t budge from the doorway.

  “I think you need to make time for this one, sir.” The aide arched his eyebrows. “It seems… important.” That said, he stepped back, allowing the office door to swing all the way open.

  Mayor Inglewood understood as soon as he laid eyes on the tall, slim figure on the threshold, clad, as always, in the long black duster. For once, no dark glasses masked the pale face, but its features held no discernable expression.

  Pressing his lips together into a thin line of discontent, Kenneth got to his feet. He waved a hand, simultaneously inviting his guest to sit and shooing away the aide. The door closed behind the visitor, and the two men stood eyeing each other over the desk for a long moment.

  Inglewood broke the silence via a long exhalation of breath. “Delano,” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of regret. “Please, have a seat.”

  Delano shook his head. “No need. This will only take a minute of your time.” He folded his arms behind his back. “All I need to know is whether or not you have considered our offer.”

  The mayor blanched visibly, all the way down to the roots of his subtly graying hair. His mouth worked as he struggled to find the right words. He had known this was coming. There was no excuse for being unprepared. Hadn’t the slimy son of a bitch warned the office he’d be back?

  Now here he stood, and Mayor Inglewood still had no response.

  “I—” He cleared his throat. “I have given your terms careful consideration, yes.” Beads of sweat formed on his scalp, threatening to run down his forehead. Inglewood shoved a hand in his pocket, fumbling for a handkerchief. “It is an… interesting offer.”

  “Well?” Without moving an inch, Delano somehow managed to convey that time was valuable, and the clock was ticking. His misty gray eyes remained completely impassive, but the power of his presence did not wane. His expectation was very clear.

  It took all of Inglewood’s courage—and he had the brass balls of a career politician—to say the next three words out loud. “I can’t accept.” A beat of silence, and then: “I’m sorry.”

  He thought about adding in all the qualifying factors that had swum around his head at night, keeping him awake. His career. The money. Eight and a half million people. But he sensed it would do no good. He’d seen guys like Delano before. Smooth operators, as cold and ruthless as a winter storm. Eight and a half million people—the very citizens of New York City—would mean nothing to him.

  Delano nodded. His gaze held the mayor’s for a moment or two longer, practically scouring the back wall of Inglewood’s skull.

  “Very well,” he calmly replied. “My employer will be quite displeased.”

  Unfolding his arms, he turned to leave, and as the door opened, Inglewood caught sight of the aide hanging around surreptitiously outside. He swore under his breath. Maybe that kid was too ambitious for his own good.

  Caught off guard, the aide gasped and stepped out of Delano’s way. “My apologies, sir.”

  Instead of answering, Delano targeted him with his cold, unflinching gaze. The younger man’s body stiffened under scrutiny. He couldn’t look away.

  Then, just as suddenly as he’d appeared, Delano was gone.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Tiny hairs stood at attention on the back of my neck as I stepped softly through the darkened warehouse. I’d love to tell you that it was the effect of the early-winter air biting at my bones, but that would be a lie.

  It was the thrill of the hunt.

  My senses were on full alert, and I heard the padding of footstep
s out in the shadows, where the cracked and broken warehouse windows let in light from the city. They definitely weren’t human. Pausing, I tried to pinpoint the location of the adversary, but they were good. Almost too good at moving in the darkness.

  “What are you afraid of?” I shouted whimsically. “Come out and play.” Each syllable echoed around the empty space. I hoped that I might raise its temperature. They were prone to a short fuse, after all. I knew this all too well from my time in Silver Banks, the podunk town in the Pacific Northwest.

  It had been weeks since I’d left the nightmare of Lupres and his wild beasts behind, but his Weres were emblazoned on my consciousness, and it was a good thing, since I was in the process of stalking one of them at the moment.

  A snarl split the silence, and I spun behind a concrete pillar.

  Be cautious, Victoria. Do not underestimate a foe, under any circumstances.

  “Come on, Marcus,” I whispered back. “You know I’ve got this.”

  Pride cometh before—

  “Kicking ass.” I smiled. “Just watch me and take notes, in case we ever find a way to get you back into a body.”

  The centurion went quiet, clearly won over by my confidence. Or, he was just preparing to enjoy the show.

  I closed my eyes tightly and exhaled, forcing all of the tension out of every square inch of my body. Stepping out from behind the pillar, I let a god-like cry of war escape from my lips as I sprinted toward the Were’s call.

  I know, I know, it was a dumbass move, but I was tired of waiting. Patience isn’t really my top virtue. Or honesty. Or kindness for that matter. What I’m saying is, screw the virtues when you’ve got a fight to win. And even without the sword of the gods, I knew I had this one in the bag. My chops in hand-to-hand combat had only improved. And I was getting tired of the foreplay. It was time for the main event.

  My eyes were trained on a beam of light, breaking in through the windows. I imagined that would be the place we would meet, but my adversary had different plans. As I passed a pile of old, broken-down pallets, my war cry was cut short by a muscular, hairy shoulder slamming into my torso like a locomotive.

  “Shit!” I cursed as we sailed through the crisp, dusty air.

  I hit the concrete first with a grunt, the heavy beast landing on top of me. The tables were turned, and the hunter had become the hunted. I had stepped into its trap. We rolled, the Were’s body and mine making a mess of human and animal limbs. Skidding to a stop, I landed a series of close-quarter blows to its thick midsection. My attack drew a growl and created a hesitation in the beast, allowing me to spin away and get to my feet.

  Before I could advance, the Were was up, and we were circling, like a couple of hormone-riddled kids at a junior high dance. The Were’s glistening teeth flashed, and saliva threaded down out of the corner of its jaws. Five razor sharp nails extended from his fingertips, hands flexing at the end of each sinewy arm. I looked into that inhuman face and squared my shoulders.

  “Let’s do this,” I said through a smile.

  The creature responded with something of a deep growling laugh, before grabbing an old crate and heaving it in my direction. It was a meteor, threatening to crush me beneath its weight.

  But I wasn’t without weapons of my own.

  The Gladius Solis roared to life in my hands, and with a downward lunge the sword pulverized the missile. Dust and woodchips rained down around me.

  As my eyes cleared, I could see my enemy lifting an old car engine over its head. Without thinking twice, I threw my sword. It flew like a perfectly balanced spear—its power knocking the engine out of the Were’s hands and knocking the beast on its ass.

  “Man I love that thing,” I shouted.

  It is the perfect weapon, my mentor replied.

  Reaching out my hand, I called the Gladius Solis back to me. But instead of its normal, quick return, the unthinkable happened.

  The Were, with speed that rivaled even the vampires, snapped a giant clawed hand forward, snatching the sword out of the air.

  I stared in disbelief—both at the speed of the creature and the fact that it now held my sword.

  It looked down at the hilt, then smiled a wolfish grin as its blade disappeared.

  I reached my hand out, and yelled. “Gladius Solis.” But nothing happened.

  The werewolf threw the blade to the ground and attacked before I could react. It raced toward me, advancing with a massive swing of its arm, projected from as far back as the New Jersey Turnpike, which gave me plenty of time to respond. With a quick step, I dodged, knocking the arm out to my right and following through with a quick jab to its fur-covered ribs.

  I spun and did a little foot-work dance as the Were winced and straightened to its full height.

  Its red fur stood up on end. I knew I’d pissed it off.

  Without pause, the Were came at me with another right-handed attack, the same as before.

  Got you, I thought, as I stepped right, just as I had before. But it was smarter than I had given it credit for. Mid-swing, the Were pulled up short, pivoted, and landed a knee to my chest, knocking every ounce of wind out of my system. My body took over, and I doubled over at the waist, hands up to my chest.

  A pair of gnarled Were-fists crashed down on the middle of my back, and I hit the floor.

  The Were straddled my midsection, a fist full of razor-like claws raised up, leveed for the kill. Instinctively, I pulled my arms up on either side of my head to ward off the worst of its attacks.

  Instead of issuing the lacerations my error had earned, the brute landed punches against my defenses. Its breathing grew labored, matching my own, and I knew it was now or never. When the next left hand came, I grabbed the fur-covered forearm. Using its momentum against it, I turned, rolling my body weight with all that I had. Upending my foe, I reversed the advantage.

  Now I was on top.

  The beast’s eyes grew wide. Instead of landing a finishing blow, I gave it an open-handed slap across its jowls. “How do you like it?” I grinned.

  Anger filled its eyes just before it shot a right hand out of nowhere and caught me on the bridge of my nose. Stars danced in front of my eyes, and I rolled off it, holding my bleeding nose.

  “Damn it, that hurt!” I screamed.

  “Oh shit,” the beast growled. “Are you okay?”

  The Were knelt over me.

  Before my eyes, the beast’s form twitched and turned. In seconds, the creature turned from a werewolf into my newest friend.

  I waved off the apology. “Don’t worry about it, Maya. You were doing what I told you to…and better than I expected. You’re not going to learn if you don’t come after me with everything you’ve got.”

  The veterinarian-turned-werewolf tried to stifle her smile as she bent in half, breathing heavily. “You took it easy on me,” she said. I shrugged, knowing I hadn’t. Not really. “You okay?” She reached a hand down to help me to my feet.

  Grabbing her hand, I let her pull me to my feet. She was right, at least in part. Tonight, I wasn’t fighting at my best, but mostly because I had underestimated how far Maya had come over the last week of serious training.

  “I’m good,” I said, standing up straight at last. “It’s my bad anyway. Should have been paying more attention. I was too busy thinking about teaching you how to fight, and not aware enough about the fighting itself. Underestimated you. Plus, that move with the sword really threw me for a second.”

  As I spoke, I reached out my hand. The blade returned to me, this time without interference.

  “Yeah,” Maya said. “I guess I was worthy or something.”

  “It’s not Thor’s hammer,” I responded. “It’s just a weapon. Anyone can use it.”

  “Yeah but the blade died when I tried.”

  “Well, maybe it’s not just a weapon. Takes a little knowhow. But still, snagging it out of the air like that—you should try out for the Yankees.”

  Maya tried to subdue her proud smile. “I got lu
cky.”

  Shaking my head, I said, “Well, I hope you get lucky early and often. You’ve come a long way in a short amount of time. I think we’ll make a fighter out of you yet.” The nectar’s natural healing properties started to kick in, and I felt the pain in my head subside. “You were pretty damn good back in Washington. We beat Lupres and all his minions together, didn’t we?”

  She tossed her head. “Yeah, but I wasn’t really myself then, with Lupres messing around in my head. He basically just told me what to do, and then the animal nature kicked in.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Don’t get me wrong; I’d rather be free than under his thumb any day of the week. In the end, I didn’t really know what I was doing.”

  I supposed that made sense. Honestly, until I’d started training her, I hadn’t thought too extensively about the way her human and Were forms interacted. It might sound crazy, but I was too preoccupied with fighting off the rest of the horde and keeping my ass alive to worry about it.

  “I figured there was probably some kind of Were instinct that you get once you turn,” I said. “It’s all gotta be worth something. If not, that sounds like a pretty raw deal.”

  “It’s not all bad. I’m like, a thousand times stronger than I used to be. I can hear, and see, and smell better. It’s just the part about actually being a Were that doesn’t quite sit well with me. Kind of strange.”

  “It kind of is, but in the long run, I think it’s a good sign. It means Lupres didn’t really get inside your head, not permanently at least, like he did with Wade and a lot of the others.” I leaned against a concrete pillar and felt my nose, checking to see if it was broken.

  Maya laughed. “Wade was a real prick before Lupres got a hold of him, but yeah…being possessed by a god certainly didn’t help things.”