Chapter One

North America, 2054

Not all humans are good.

Not all demons are evil.

Jade Deville had heard those words uttered by her mother on more than one occasion. Never publicly, of course, for that would incite much controversy. Yet she would whisper in the darkness of Jade’s bedroom when, as a young girl, Jade asked about the various species so that she might better understand the dangerous creatures that ruled the world in which she lived.

Now twenty-six years old, Jade still had a difficult time understanding her mother’s stance. History books and the sparse remainder of humans across the continents following the decade-long world war that started in 2019 proved the demonic community was as deadly as terrorist attacks, bio-weaponry and nuclear bombs—the latter of which had been destroyed by the demons before combat had even ensued, effectively wiping out a large-scale defense.

Despite her mother’s empathy that had never fully been explained, Jade could not muster an ounce of compassion for the damned. After all, werewolves had viciously mauled her parents when she was just eleven, killing them both.

As she left her cottage on the banks of the narrow river that snaked its way along the outskirts of the village of Ryleigh, in northeastern Maine, she zipped her black leather jacket against the nip of the crisp autumn evening. And the biting sentiment lingering in the back of her mind, tonight more taunting than ever.

Plump snowflakes glistened in the silvery rays of moonlight that penetrated the spindle-fingered cloud cover overhead and the dense forest of skyscraping trees. Jade wove her way along the worn path that led to the heart of the village. The ground was hard beneath her feet, frozen, with a light dusting of white that would likely turn into a foot of fresh powder by the time she returned home.

If she returned home. One could never be too sure in this day and age, and Jade in particular.

Something watched her. She sensed its presence. Felt its gaze on her. This wasn’t the first time, and she was certain what followed her was not human. There were no snapping of twigs beneath its feet. No scent wafting on a stiff breeze. And she didn’t hear the slightest hint of breathing or see a puff of frosty air—as was the case with her, a human.

She suspected what tracked her was a wraith from the Demon King’s army. They were the most difficult to spot with their black cloaks blending into the inky night as they floated weightlessly over the land, making nary a sound. Yet they left a chill along the nape, if one paid close enough attention. Jade always did.

Although she was unable to see her pursuer, she had the right to demand the creature reveal itself. By royal decree, she was allowed to confront whatever threatened her.

The Demon King Davian—who’d commanded the outbreak of war when he rose to power thirty-five years ago—had surprisingly, upon his victory, issued several edicts in favor of the defeated and in the name of peacekeeping in the new world. One of which proclaimed no demon within his coalition could stalk, hunt or harm a human, unless said human was a slayer or witch who made the initial predatory move. A rare occurrence because both were in limited quantities these days.

In fact, Ryleigh was extremely fortunate to have two of their own slayers, who served as magistrates. Most towns shared a slayer amongst a hundred or so other settlements. Not great odds against those rogue demons who defied the law, nor an assurance of safety in the grand scheme of things.

Jade’s community was well protected for a reason. Regardless of the sanctions governing immortal interactions with mortals that might suggest it wasn’t necessary to have a duo of slayers in such a remote, lightly human-populated area, the village sat in the shadow of the demon ruler’s vast legion of allies.

The kingdom sprawled along the ridge of a portion of the New Brunswick border. Many of the vampires, shapeshifters and other unholy beings made residence within and outside the castle walls. Dark and foreboding as it rose above the pines, the castle lent a menacing and perilous presence to the region.

King Davian was the most revered of warlords. Given his massive federation and that he oversaw a large geographical expanse—that being all of North and Central America—he possessed the power to reign over the three stewards he’d appointed, each acting as the king’s representative for their designated territory.

As part of his regulations that kept the otherworldly immortals from preying on humans, the king had also declared no more than two preternatural beings at a time may roam close to or enter a village, the perimeter of which—in Ryleigh’s case—the slayers patrolled.

That particular pact might not have been broken this evening, but the no stalking restriction had clearly been violated by whatever tailed Jade.

A shiver chased down her spine and it wasn’t from the frigid gust whistling in a shrill tone through the trees. It was from the wraith.

Agitating her further was that she couldn’t discern in which direction the danger came or how to counteract it. Although she possessed above-average fighting skills, thanks to her father, she’d be no match for a ghost—the very reason she didn’t call out the hunter.

Quickening her steps, she reached the village proper, dimly lit by lampposts topped with torches enclosed in glass-and-iron lanterns. There was little activity on the cracked and brittle sidewalks or the pothole-invested streets, which had accumulated so much dirt over the years from lack of use, it was difficult to believe asphalt lay beneath the uneven soil.

Jade made her way to the tavern at the end of the block. She took one more look around her, pausing just outside the lively establishment, listening intently for any sign of what followed her. Not a peep, save for the hint of noise that breached the tavern walls and the chiming of the bell in its tower in the village square, signaling she was right on time for work at seven o’clock.

She shoved open the door and crossed the scuffed hardwood floor.

“Hey, Jade,” a few of the villagers greeted her.

“’Evening, everyone,” she said as she passed by, peeling off her jacket and shaking the snowflakes from it before hanging the garment on a hook in the far corner.

The tavern was as faintly lit as the streets. Candles on the long wooden tables and sconces hanging on the stone walls provided the only illumination, with the exception of the occasional lighting of a twig or dried needles set against a flame when a patron splurged on a hand-rolled cigarette.

Electricity, among other things, was not a commodity in this part of the country. Rumor had it, the humans on the West Coast had struck a bargain with their steward years ago and he had permitted them to restore limited power lines within larger communities. Apparently, the technique employed was circa late-nineteenth century, when electricity first made its way into homes in America.

Since Jade had never lived in a world with energy, she didn’t miss it. She could prepare meals over a fire and read by candlelight.

Modern amenities, it seemed, were of little use to the demon population, and that meant no manufacturing plants or advanced technology. Although, one major concession the king had made for easterners was mass purification of water.

Desalination procedures using condensers fueled by fire that boiled the liquid and pumped steam through salvaged pipes created condensation that turned into drinkable water. This made it possible to stock icehouses with sterilized cubes, as well as blocks cut from frozen lakes, useful for packing metal replicas of refrigerators.

Another allowance was human transportation by way of the occasional steam locomotive following the restoration of a main coast-to-coast railroad, which also provided importing and trading capabilities amongst territories. The demons themselves preferred their own two feet—or four legs, in the case of the animal shifters—or the gleaming black Arabians they were prone to breed.

Starting her shift, Jade tended to the small hearth to add more warmth to the room, then joined the tavern owner and her lifelong friend, Michael Hadley, as he served beers to the regulars gathered at the bar. The wooden surface was deeply scarred, but nobody seemed to mind. One simply had to be cautious of where they set their mug, so as to not perch it precariously in a groove.

“Damn cold out there, isn’t it?” Michael asked. He was easy on the eyes, with rugged looks, a head of tousled, russet-colored hair and a tall, muscular build.

“Still mild, relatively speaking,” Jade said. “Jinx predicted a long, hard winter. After today, we won’t be seeing the ground for another six or seven months.”

“Ah, the town crier strikes again,” Michael mused.

Jinx Cromley was the local psychic who had plenty to say about everything. Jade enjoyed his ramblings for the most part, but didn’t buy into his prophesies that the human world would one day more closely resemble what it had been at the turn of the millennium. Jade couldn’t fathom an alternative existence emerging from sheer and utter devastation.

“Jinx isn’t one to dampen spirits,” Michael continued, “but his winter forecasts always leave something to be desired.”

Jade reached for Donovan Kelly’s mug to refill it. She pumped the keg and cracked the tap while telling Michael, “Actually, all that fluffy white helps to counter the bleak gray and brighten the village.”

Just as the daily grind of serving drinks and chatting with the locals helped to ease Jade’s jangled nerves over being watched. Her working environment offered a bit of protection for now. No immortal other than the king or the general of his army had the authority to pass through a human door without invitation—and rolling out a welcome mat for the damned was something she’d never heard of happening.

Though she truly couldn’t afford the luxury of false security. Something awaited her in the dark, dead of night. She felt it in her bones.

“Notice our shipment of merlot came in?” Michael asked, cutting into her grim thoughts. “Up for a sample?”

“Always.” Jade preferred wine over beer, though the former was a rare treat because of the exorbitant prices. So many of the country’s vineyards had been trampled during the war and there weren’t enough experienced vintners or workers to fully revive them, similar to the tobacco fields.

Specialized resources were scarce and money was also an issue for the majority. Some people had found ways to hide or horde it while under siege. Mostly, though, bartering was a way of life, rather than the exchange of funds for goods and services—with some obvious exceptions. Jade, for one, had nothing to trade, so she needed the modest wage Michael paid her.

He pulled the cork from a bottle and splashed a decent amount into two tumblers.

“May we not freeze our asses off,” he said by way of salute, before tilting his rim to hers. The glasses made a heavy clink that wasn’t the least bit elegant, but she liked hearing the sound. There were too few toasts these days, so even the most inconsequential one was a pleasant change of pace.

Still, she chided, “You grow so cynical this time of year. It’s not as though we’ll run out of wood for our hearths anytime soon.”

The thicket surrounded the village. Additionally, there was plenty of fallen debris to gather before the snow came down in earnest.

Jade sipped her wine, though what Michael had poured was all she’d drink this evening. She knew to keep her wits about her, certain a confrontation beyond the tavern doors was imminent.

“Not bad, eh?” Michael asked as he gave her a casual grin. He was strapping and level-headed, and Jade tried to latch onto the comfort he naturally provided.

“Not bad at all,” she concurred. “The Delfinos will be pleased.” One of their best customers, who didn’t mind the upcharge on a premium merlot.

The evening progressed in its normal manner. Some of the patrons got a bit tipsier than others, which no one was overly concerned about, since everyone would agree it took the sting out of the oppression most of the villagers felt, being under the thumbs of demons. And given there were no automobiles—or gas stations, for that matter—no one fretted over causing an accident.

Jade, however, worried anew as the village’s bell tolled at midnight and the bar closed. She, Michael and Dane—the other server Michael employed—cleaned up, exited the building and locked the door behind them.

They bid Dane goodnight. Then, as Michael did six nights a week—because the tavern wasn’t open on the holy day out of memoriam for the villagers’ slaughtered ancestors—he turned to Jade and asked, “Want me to see you to your cottage?”

Jade experienced a twinge of guilt that he was so chivalrous. They’d been lovers once, years ago. Both eighteen, without a clue in the world as to what they were doing. That was the year Michael’s parents had died in an avalanche.

In the midst of that tragedy, Michael had pulled away. So had Jade, as memories of her own harrowing loss haunted her. They’d remained close friends despite the breakup. And of late, she’d caught the lingering glances he gave her. The hint of what if? in his gentle gaze.

But eight years had passed since they’d severed romantic ties, and although he still had the ability to make her stomach flutter with a grin or a chuckle, a true reunion didn’t seem to be in the cards. Mainly because neither one of them spoke of their pasts, which was something they both knew was necessary to do in order to reconcile their inner turmoil and strengthen the emotional bond they’d once shared.

Though instead of delving into painful recollections, they chose to ignore them. Keep them relegated to the far recesses of their minds.

So, as always when his query came, Jade told him, “It’d hardly make sense—we’re on opposite sides of town. You’d have to walk all the way back here. And then some.”

“Yeah, I know.” He hedged, as though he had something more to say. His gaze held hers, the rich, chocolatey irises full of unexpressed feelings Jade couldn’t quite wade through. “I keep thinking someday you’ll say yes.”

To what? she wondered.

Yes to an escort? Or yes to so much more?

He brushed away a lock of dark hair that had blown across her face and stuck to her eyelashes. Tucking the plump curl behind her ear, he said, “I hate to think of you all alone in the cottage. You don’t have any neighbors, Jade. It concerns me.”

With a soft smile, she told him, “I’m very good at taking care of myself, Michael. Been doing it for a long, long time.”

“Of course. It’s just…” His voice trailed off. His jaw clenched briefly. Then he asked, “Don’t you get lonely?”

She stared up at him, emotion swelling in her throat. She opened her mouth to speak, but didn’t have the appropriate words. The attraction between them still existed, to a degree. Yet circumstances beyond their control had torn them apart once and Jade had not been inclined to have her heart broken again. Nor had Michael, it seemed.

But perhaps he’d changed his mind about that. About them.

Finally, she said, “I do, I’ll confess. Especially this time of year, when the snow’s falling and all I can think of is snuggling in front of a cozy fire with someone.”

His head bent to hers. “That someone should be me.”

Jade sucked in a breath. He was thinking along those lines.

Their eyes remained locked as Michael’s body gravitated closer. Surprisingly, she didn’t retreat.

His lips were just about to touch hers. A tingle of anticipation rippled through her. Her eyelids dipped.

Then a sharp snort pierced the quiet air and Michael’s head snapped up—as her eyes flew open.

Jade jumped back, startled. She whirled around, having heard the sound behind her. “A horse?”

A second later, the smack of a hand against a flank and the pounding of hooves reverberated all around them.

Sinister. Ominous.

The night was too shadowy, the trees and buildings in the village too dense and the demon’s cloak and his steed too black and shrouded for Jade to have seen anything. But she knew her stalker had come back for her, on horseback.

To take her away with him?

Her panic returned in a flash. An eerie, jagged sensation riddled her insides, chasing away what little bit of solace Michael had provided this evening.

Facing him, Jade insisted, “Go home and secure your door.”

He glared at her, incredulous. “Me? What about you? You think I’m going to let you wander the forest alone at night when there was clearly someone watching us?”

“Not us. Me. He’s been following me for some time,” she distractedly added.

Michael clasped her shoulders. “Who?” he demanded.

“I don’t know, exactly. But it’s time I find out.” Her pulse raged, yet she managed to speak calmly, for Michael’s benefit. “It’ll be a hell of a lot easier if I don’t have to worry about whatever’s out there in the dark coming after you too.” She couldn’t inadvertently put her best friend in danger.

He appeared stumped by what course of action to take.

“Do this for me, Michael,” she implored. “Trust me.”

Regardless of his obvious reluctance, he released her. “Be careful, Jade.”

“I will. Now go. Before he circles round.”

“Jade.” Michael remained rooted where he stood.

“I can handle this,” she vowed, giving him a light shove in the right direction. “Go. I know what I’m doing.”

She’d been battling demons her entire life, after all.

In more ways than one…