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Kidnapping Phoenixes and Other Ways to DIE
Kidnapping Phoenixes and Other Ways to DIE Read online
Kidnapping Phoenixes and Other Ways to DIE
Kat Lapatovich Healy
Ramy Vance
Keep Evolving Studios
Contents
I. 5 Rules for Fugitives
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
II. Carnivals and Chaos
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
III. Perks of Having Demonic Friends
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
IV. Strange Magic
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
V. Infernal Scavenger Hunt
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Chapter 107
Chapter 108
Chapter 109
Chapter 110
Chapter 111
Chapter 112
Chapter 113
Chapter 114
Chapter 115
Chapter 116
Chapter 117
Chapter 118
Chapter 119
Chapter 120
Chapter 121
Chapter 122
Chapter 123
Chapter 124
Chapter 125
Chapter 126
Chapter 127
Chapter 128
Chapter 129
Chapter 130
Chapter 131
Chapter 132
VI. Worst. Master. Ever.
Chapter 133
Chapter 134
Chapter 135
Chapter 136
Chapter 137
Chapter 138
Chapter 139
Chapter 140
Chapter 141
Chapter 142
Chapter 143
Chapter 144
Chapter 145
Chapter 146
Chapter 147
Chapter 148
Chapter 149
Chapter 150
Chapter 151
Chapter 152
Chapter 153
Chapter 154
Chapter 155
Chapter 156
Chapter 157
Chapter 158
Chapter 159
Chapter 160
VII. A Practical Guide to Preventing Planetary Destruction
Chapter 161
Chapter 162
Chapter 163
Chapter 164
Chapter 165
Chapter 166
Chapter 167
Chapter 168
Chapter 169
Chapter 170
Chapter 171
Chapter 172
Chapter 173
Chapter 174
Chapter 175
Chapter 176
Chapter 177
Chapter 178
Chapter 179
Chapter 180
Chapter 181
Chapter 182
Chapter 183
Chapter 184
VIII. It’s Only the Fate of the World
Chapter 185
Chapter 186
Chapter 187
Chapter 188
Chapter 189
Chapter 190
Chapter 191
Chapter 192
Chapter 193
Chapter 194
Chapter 195
Chapter 196
Chapter 197
Chapter 198
Chapter 199
Chapter 200
Chapter 201
Chapter 202
Chapter 203
Chapter 204
Chapter 205
Chapter 206
Chapter 207
Chapter 208
Chapter 209
Chapter 210
Chapter 211
Chapter 212
Join The Clan!
About the Author
Better Demons Series © Copyright > Ramy Vance
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Part I
5 Rules for Fugitives
Chapter 1
Frances Austin.
I know what you’re thinking. Sounds like some frump destined to die under a pile of cats with an unfinished cross-stitch in one hand and a burnt-out vibrator in the other.
&
nbsp; But not this Frances. This Frances grew up trekking across North America in the back of a Winnebago with her free-spirited mother chasing after bands of … country western music. Ugh.
This Frances knew a thing or two about free-climbing, herbal remedies that actually worked, and how to identify over sixty different species of snakes … knowledge which was coming in real useful now that I was sitting across the table from one.
And I’m not talking about the emerald tree boa dangled in loose coils over a branch in the terrarium embedded in the wall.
I’m talking about Dante Cardinelli.
Thick shoulders trapped under a tailored black suit, a scarlet tie that matched the bloodlust in his eyes, this don looked like the devil himself. A devil who smiles.
That predatory gleam reflected off the polished table between us like a crescent moon. It was set for a family dinner – the fancy kind where they dusted off the heirloom china and broke out Nonna’s silver – because it was a special night.
Tonight was the night I got inducted into the family.
You don’t have time to eat! the voice shrilled.
Instead of clutching my head like I normally would, I kept my hands on my lap. A family like this was always filling its ranks with psychos, those machete-wielding die-for-the-cause nutjobs, just not the I-hear-voices kinda psychos. We’re a very exclusive group.
I don’t wanna wait anymore, the voice pouted. I found you. You’re mine. Let’s go already.
I forced myself to return the don’s smile, praying to the GoneGods that it didn’t look too maniacal as I wadded my napkin into a wrinkled mess under the table.
Shut. Up.
“Relax, Frances,” a voice to my right soothed. A bottle appeared in my periphery and filled my wine glass up with something red. “It’s just dinner.”
That was Angelo Cardinelli, the don’s eldest son. Hundred-dollar haircut, chiseled jaw, impeccable posture. You know, the kinda guy who runs five miles in the morning before doing a thousand push-ups so he can eat whatever he wants without tipping the scales over seven percent body fat.
Angelo managed the clinic – made sure Dr. Talbert and I had all the latest equipment and drugs, damn the expense – and brought cannoli from his aunt’s bakery for the staff on Fridays. He was actually nice, for an illegal Other organ-trafficking procurer and smuggler.
Well, I guess I was the actual procurer. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, I was the gal who harvested the bones and tissues and organs of mythical creatures, extracting their magic to be dried out and ground down or sold hot and fresh to the highest bidder.
Angel feathers to give your mood a lift? You want one wing or two?
Powdered mermaid scales to add to your hand lotion to give your skin a lustrous shine? Lemme just get my fillet knife.
How about the gonads of an incubus to increase that libido? Sorry, stud, those gotta be eaten fresh. But I hear they pair nicely with a Cabernet Sauvignon.
Bet you’ll never think of the name Frances the same way again.
Two hands dug into my shoulders from behind. “Yeah, only the last dinner of your life.”
That was Rico Cardinelli, the second-born son. Handsome like his brother but with the eyes of his father. Absolutely void of human decency. I’d seen him around the clinic a few times, always harrying the pharmacist, until Angelo would grab him by the elbow and hustle him out the back door. You’d hear a few curses, something about wrinkling an Armani suit, life’s unfair, blah blah blah. You know, the typical laments of an entitled brat who hadn’t grown up with enough discipline. Except this spoiled rich kid had a history of violence all his own that had nothing to do with his Mac-10 packing bodyguards.
“Rico,” Angelo hissed. “Leave her alone.”
Rico gave my shoulders a squeeze. “I mean the last dinner of her old life. Because she’s one of us now. Isn’t that right, Francesca?”
“Her name’s Frances, Rico.”
Fighting to keep still, I kept my face a calm mask as Rico craned around to plant a brief kiss on my cheek.
But the smile disappeared from Don Cardinelli’s face. All he had to do was jerk his chin, and Rico released my shoulders with a snort to saunter over to the sideboard. Ice cubes dropped into a glass, the disharmonious clinking drowning out as bourbon sloshed to the rim.
Sitting, Rico dropped his napkin into his lap and pounded his palm against the table. Handprints smudged the gleaming mahogany. “Let me be the first one to welcome our newest sister to the family.” He raised his glass. “To Francesca!”
“That’s Doctor Frances Austin,” Don Cardinelli corrected, but he lifted his glass anyway.
I gripped my glass so hard I could feel it cracking beneath my fingers. My eyes drowned in the dark liquid, seeing the oni’s blood pumping into a glass jar instead of the pinot noir. That face paling to ash-gray, those eyes pleading with me for mercy. I raised the glass to my trembling lips and forced down a swallow of shame.
Dinner was served – lobster ravioli in rosé sauce with shaved parmesan – and each bite was a lump of lead I had to wash down with more of the oni blood wine. Angelo kept my glass full, and I drank a little more than I should, grateful for the haze that’d blocked out the voice.
Don Cardinelli skewered a ravioli with his fork, let the sauce drip back onto the plate one milky-red drop at a time. Like blood-tinged propofol. “I was very impressed with your work this past Wednesday.”
You mean when I grabbed the tusks of an oni demon to keep him from biting Dr. Talbert’s head off? I was strong – trading my childhood days of climbing Yellowstone precipices for the rock walls at the local gym kept me that way – but it’d been only the adrenaline of sheer terror that had made me strong enough to keep the oni on the table until the sedative had kicked in. “Thank you, sir.”
“I must admit, in the beginning, I was skeptical of your skills. But after this week … I can tell you’re a woman of action. You don’t ask ‘why’, you just assess and do. Methodical.” He leaned back in his chair and sipped on his wine. “I like that. I’m glad I listened to Dr. Talbert when he insisted we poach you from that Lakeview Clinic.”
Dr. Neil Talbert. Head surgeon and my mentor. He hadn’t been able to make it to this very special dinner party – had a high-profile client to take care of at the clinic – and I can’t say I wouldn’t have stabbed my fork into his hand if he had been here.
Don Cardinelli wiped his mouth, chuckling. “Who knew a veterinarian would make for a better medicus than an actual doctor?”
Medicus. It’s just Latin for ‘doctor’, but it’s what the world calls those who specialize in treating Others.
There weren’t a lot of us myth-treating docs kicking around … just a few scattered here and there, because, let’s face it, the world wasn’t prepared for the Others, and now that they’re here, the world’s freaking out. A lot. The chaos wasn’t dissimilar to the uproar about illegal immigrants stealing all the jobs, except now, there was no one to bitch at about policy infractions. Because there was no policy.
One day, the gods had just decided to dump their denizens onto the Earth and close their borders with an offhanded “Thanks for believing in us, but it’s not enough. Good luck.” Bastards hadn’t even bothered to give us a thumb’s up in encouragement.