Redemption of Blood

  Redemption of Blood

  Frozen, Book 2

  Michel Prince

  2016

  ISBN: 978-1-62210-324-9

  Published by Liquid Silver Books. Copyright © 2016, Michel Prince.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Manufactured in the USA

  Email support@liquidsilverbooks.com with questions, or inquiries about Liquid Silver Books.

  Blurb

  Trisha O’Driscoll started tending bar to give herself a flexible schedule and quick cash. She never thought the young soldier who wandered in with a fake ID would want a woman almost twenty years older. Although she draws the line at commitment with him, Trisha can’t help falling for this mysterious stranger and his dark past.

  James Schmitt took his life to escape his pain. The offer from the angel Gabriel of working toward salvation gave him a chance to take responsibility for his actions, but his inner demons won’t stop tormenting him. Gabriel gave but one order—protect Kiriana, James’ partner, at any cost. And he’ll be damned if he lets anyone down ever again.

  Princess LaDressa, daughter of Lucifer, has come to Earth for revenge on the woman who slew her beloved Damarion. Kiriana holds his ashes, and with them, his only chance for resurrection. One way or another, LaDressa will be reunited with her love.

  Prologue

  MY dearest LaDressa,

  I have failed you. Although my love for you has not waivered I can feel the change in the air. My second has begun to poison me while the Deumos have been my only relief. I wish that I could have you save my life, but I was a fool to believe your brother’s proposal was real. The fact I’ve survived this long is in no doubt from my desire to return to you.

  I will fight as hard as I can to stay alive, but if I fall, know it was my second that was the cause. He’s weakened me beyond repair, I fear. You have been the light and love of my life. Escape your castle for yourself. You should be free to fly and discover the world.

  With the deepest love,

  Your Damarion

  Chapter 1

  Her Royal Holiness Princess LaDressa, Daughter of Lucifer the IV

  I have learned over the last few days that the blood of some demons, although it is similar to that of others, has differing qualities. Yes, it begins as a bright crimson, flowing into a rich burgundy as it pools around the body. The paler the skin the deeper the color appears. Maybe it is because of the contrast, but the last demon I killed had the skin coloring of an olive. This is an inhuman coloring according to those who knew of him. Yet for a demon it is among the acceptable shades.

  His blood was thicker than the blood of the Imigast I killed, or maybe it is I who is different. I lingered over the body as the blood flowed between my fingers with that of the others I just killed and moved on after their blood squirted and stained my golden dress.

  I had killed him. A seemingly simple task and yet as the princess locked away by her brother in a tower, I was not to have these types of skills. My Damarion had taught me, though at the time he saw no reason for me to ever use them. Then again maybe he had seen a vision of the future and knew for me to rescue him I would have to kill.

  Murder isn’t unlike any other necessary function in life. If I were to starve would I not tear at the meat like an animal to obtain my sustenance? I suppose I would. My love has been taken by an unworthy human who I shall perform the same function upon for she has starved me of my sustenance; then again, so did my brother.

  Masako, my companion on this journey, has left me to prepare for my arrival unto the Earth. Although other Deumos have proven their loyalty to my rank and station, only Masako owns my trust.

  The Hell's Mouth above me has begun to speckle from what I can only assume is reflections into the ethereal plane. The hole forming is small in diameter, no bigger than two of my fingers.

  I turn to see my dear sweet pet Praxis, a dragon with skin the embodiment of Earth’s beautiful tones of brown and green, as he laps the last of the blood from the floor. I shall miss him, but the demons I killed to obtain safe passage onto Earth will tide his belly until I return. His large snout nuzzles against my hip and I can’t help but run my finger over his buttery leather skin.

  “I shall return and our dearest Damarion will be at my side. Now I need you to hide amongst the others until I return and call for you, sweet Praxis.”

  He snorted in protest, then complied. Walking to the edge of the cliff he took flight across the molten lake until he came to rest upon the tower where I had been held captive by my brother, Lucifer the V, for so many years. With a loud roar he became a granite sentry with his claws digging into the stone at the top of the tower.

  A light breeze came through the hole above my head. I knew I only had a few minutes to transform myself to get through. The air from Earth’s plane stung as it kissed my skin. I needed a barrier and quickly.

  “Your hair is fine like silk and as soft as a downy feather of a sparrow,” Damarion had told me once as he stroked my long white hair. A sparrow. For my Damarion I shall be a white sparrow so he will know whom I am when I emerge. Even though he is not alive—at the moment—it will be my pledge to him.

  I reached for the serum left for the now digesting demon to aid in my transformation. The salty liquid made me gag as it coated my tongue and burned my throat. Closing my eyes I envisioned the bird Damarion had sketched for me and attempted to block out the pain.

  The screams escaping my lungs became chirps as my bones cracked and snapped. Soon my body shrank to that of a small fowl sitting on top of my golden dress. My arms bent in the most awkward direction and when I moved them I felt the fluttering of wings at my side. When I opened my eyes I could only make out the peripheral walls as I tried to remember what I was to do.

  Fly. That’s it. I flapped my wings and felt my feet leave the cold stone ground. With each flap of my wings I moved closer and closer to the small hole above my head until I burst forth into a field of freshly cut grain. Flitting from left to right I attempted to regain my sense of composure as the world around hummed with a strange new life. Never had I breathed air not filled with sulfuric ash. It is a strange sensation.

  I had forgotten that, unlike male demons, females revert to their original form almost instantly. The snaps began again as my arms returned to their normal position and I felt the cold autumn night bite at my exposed flesh. I slumped to the ground and although I could move my limbs, the pain was too much for me if I tried to bear my weight. Clawing at the dirt in front of me I attempted to drag myself and again failed.

  They must come to me soon or I’ll have to venture into this world alone. Nemesio lied to me when she spoke of a town with homes and people to aid me until they would be able to collect me. Naked in a field I prayed to my father to heal my body and bring my coven to me.

  My coven. The collection of beautiful Deumos that retrieve and raise the demons I will now be in charge of, once I’ve removed the stain of a Yahweh Pivane. The insolent slug who’d been in charge of protecting my Damarion. Who had let him get the sickness, then let him fall.

  As my anger rose, so did my ability to heal. I felt the strength returning to my arm and legs as I rose up on all fours. I could not yet stand, but I could crawl. Crawl like the dog Pivane will become once I have whipped and
beaten him until he can no longer—

  “Daughter!” My mother’s voice rang out across the field.

  In a full sprint she ran to me wearing a black body suit that covered her from the neck down to her high-heel boots. Her black hair was restrained in a tight bun upon her head, and at the sight of her angelic face, I collapsed to the ground.

  A soft fabric wrapped around my shoulders as she and a redheaded Deumos, whose face bared the mark of poison, pulled me to my feet.

  My hand reached for the sickly woman with the yellow-streaked face as I stumbled. She was a beauty too, even with the pus flowing through her veins.

  “Cold,” I gasped, hearing the voice of a crone and not my own. A gentle wind might as well of been a thousand daggers digging into my skin and penetrating my bones. Never before had I experienced such pain as this tortuous temperature.

  “It is cold in the evenings here. Especially compared to home.” Mother stroked my hair, which was growing with every step we took. “Hold your tongue until we’ve returned to our homes. There is no reason to speak for we are here to assist you.”

  “Is she strong enough yet?” the other Deumos asked my mother.

  “Not from this distance. We’ll need to walk her closer to town before we can transport her.”

  I looked at my mother, but held my tongue. That I knew how to do since I’d done it for most of my life.

  “The Dark One is near,” the redhead whispered. “I can hear his motorcycle.”

  “It is your fear causing the noise, not him. Many humans ride those; do not assume it is a member of The Frozen.”

  “Lack of fear caused Zuma to be killed. Is that what you wish of me?”

  “Some days.”

  “Then expect it soon if we do not return her to the homestead. I’m sure that Pivane is already throwing a fit because we took so long to find his new second. If we are to arrive empty handed—”

  “Trust me, Kanga, arriving with my daughter instead of his companion will have just as many ill effects. Especially when she takes him down.”

  “I cannot wait until he is destroyed. Please, Your Holiness, may I assist in the torture and death of him?” Kanga asked me.

  “He cannot be killed. My brother must believe he is still in charge,” I croaked.

  “If he is not killed you cannot assume the position of Yahweh.”

  “I am your Yahweh now. His death is but a trifle. He will be necessary for my brother’s communications.”

  Even though I could now stand upright, my muscles still ached and my head began to swim.

  “She needs sustenance,” my mother said as she pulled an object with a brightly colored wrapper from her pocket. It was about six inches long and the bar inside was a dark color when she pulled off the wrapping. “Eat this. You’ll need many of these a day as well as other sweet items to survive here.”

  “But what if she is like a Yahweh? They need salt, not sugar to survive on this plane.” Kanga balked as she attempted to take the object from my mother.

  “That is why I got her one with pretzels in it. Salt and sugar. She’ll be safe until we can get her home and determine her needs. Now, my daughter, eat.”

  Biting into the solid yet soft object I felt a rush come over my body. The dizziness dissipated and I could see the world clearly. There were homes and roads before me now. Walking along the pathway next to a road I could feel the rough texture of what Damarion had said was called a sidewalk. I am not able to walk with the grace I was known for, but one foot in front of the other I am capable of.

  “Let’s attempt a jump. I can smell the frost and it is not from the weather. Daughter, you must focus on Kanga. She will transport herself to our homestead. Focus on her energy and follow the path she creates in the air.”

  Kanga disappeared and I attempted to see the trail she left.

  “Is it purple?” I asked as I looked at a trail of dust that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

  “Yes, that is Kanga’s signature. Focus on the energy she left and you shall find our home. I can only carry you if you also try to transport.”

  My mother grasped my hand and I felt my body begin to tingle. No longer at the edge of the town we were almost instantaneously transported to a circle of ground with four houses sounding it. Kanga stood by a door to my left with a smile on her face.

  “She is strong,” she said.

  As we walked into the home I heard shouting from a stairwell.

  “How can we not feel him?” a male snapped.

  “Maybe he’s already fallen,” a familiar female voice said as I saw the woman from my communiqués; her black hair was slicked back and reached just to her jawline. Nemesio. She was eyeing her nails and not even focusing on her duties.

  “Maybe you are incompetent and too focused on a body that needs to be put to use.”

  “Try it and you shall fall by my hand,” my gravelly voice croaked.

  Mother began attaching diamonds to my hair since it was almost at an acceptable length. Why she insisted on those damn things I’ll never understand. My hair was drawn to them though as strands wrapped of their own accord around the gem and secured it in place.

  “Please, this is not the time.” I batted her away. “Has Masako arrived?”

  “Yes, Your Holiness.” Nemesio bent her head low.

  “Nemesio, rise and look upon me. Who is the one?” I asked as exhaustion overtook me from the effort. Although there was only one male demon in this home, I could not focus enough to even discern gender.

  “He is the one who killed Damarion…” she said, pointing to a being with long dark hair tied in place with a leather strap.

  “Know your place, whore,” he snapped as he jumped up. “I did no such thing.”

  “Know yours.” I no longer had the strength to be firm. It felt as if I was underwater and that water was filling my lungs. “It was your job to protect him. Your job to keep him strong. Your job to educate and support him and yet he fell.”

  Gasping, I reached for my mother’s hand to steady myself.

  “He fell in love with a human,” Pivane spat.

  Rage healed me and the room no longer had a fog to it. I could see clearly and instantly Pivane was against the wall as I raised my hand. I had no reason to touch his disgusting skin. I could control him from thirty feet away—the ten foot distance between us was nothing. Holding my hand up as if I were choking him, I crossed the room.

  “If I did not need you for my own purposes those would be the last words to escape your lips. I am Yahweh of this coven.”

  “You are but a woman,” he croaked.

  “You are in a house full of women. Ones I’ve heard found you lacking in your skills as a male.”

  I released him and he crumpled to the ground.

  “There have been no complaints.” He glared at me from his knees.

  “Sleeping during copulation is usually an indicator that women are bored.”

  Pivane jumped up, but with a flick of my hand he was silenced.

  “I am not who my brother thinks I am. Do not underestimate me.” Remembering the streaks on Kanga’s face I pointed to her. “She will never be touched by you again. Even if you learn how to pleasure a Deumos with a knife properly. She is infected to the point of death.”

  “Whores—”

  I waved my hand and his head flew back.

  “I am in charge of this coven now. You will live only as long as you’re deemed useful. The moment you no longer have a purpose to me, you will have no reason to take breath.” I felt my feet leave the ground as I floated toward Pivane. “You did not collect Damarion’s ashes and they are now lost. If I do not find them, yours will be buried and will never travel the wind. You will never be again.”

  Fear streaked across his face and settled in his eyes.

  “How may I serve you, Yahweh?”

  “Come now, you must contact my brother. I will supervise the message in case you ques
tion my abilities.”

  Pivane's face displayed only defeat as I stood over him. My Damarion said he was a weak second, but Damarion had underestimated Pivane.

  I shall not.

  * * * *

  PFC James Schmitt

  “You know I only say it because I care?”

  “I know, Kiriana, I’ll only have one drink,” I replied.

  Hell, it may be true. One drink. If I wanted to get drunk I’d stay home in my room. Going to the bar is my way of staying human. I knew I’d only be stationed a few years at most in this town and I had been putting up the façade I was a reservist for years now without any issue. But my partner had to worry. That was her job. Taking care of all us lost souls.

  “Go home, snuggle up with Nye, and I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow.”

  Kiriana was never one to wake up if she didn’t have to. I’m sure lunch would be late. It’s been weird, but since she implemented the hunting in shifts policy I was actually getting eight to ten hours of sleep. It was the first time I slept in years; in the beginning, I had to use belladonna to stay asleep, but now waking is the hard thing.

  “Okay, Schmitty. I can’t make you do something you’re not ready for, I’d just like it…” Her fingers curled into each other and she shook her head. “Never mind.”

  “Nye will have to eventually give us the most likely spot for the bantling to emerge. Eventually it won’t be a fluke like last week.”

  “I just feel so useless. I swear every night he’s coming home with a new bruise or cut. His new partner is making me want to murder.”

  “But you won’t. And isn’t it nice that you get a matching one,” I teased. Since KK married Nye and became an Other, everything he gets, she gets. I never understood why you’d want to share injury and illness with another, but outside of Kiriana wanting to murder Nye’s partner, she seemed at peace with it. “Hey, I gotta run or I’ll miss last call.”

  “You figured that out, did you?”

  “You little brat.”