Dark Deceit Read online

  From Darkness

  Fallen into Darkness

  Book One

  Imani L Hawkins

  Copyright

  From Darkness: Fallen into Shadows by Imani L Hawkins

  Published by Pyramese Publishing Group

  ©2018 Imani L Hawkins

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without the written permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission, contact:

  [email protected]

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Credits: Cover Art by Pyramese Cover Designs

  Stock Photo: NeoStock

  Stock Photo: Starscoldnight-Deviant Art

  Acknowledgements

  As with all of my projects, I have an amazing team behind me that not only inspires me, but supports me in my endeavors.

  I’d like to thank my team, my mother Wendell, my husband Tyrone, and my writing sister Felisha Antonette. Your support continues to amaze me and I appreciate everything you do for me.

  Without my team, I would never have been able to see my books completed.

  Dedication

  As with every book in this series, I’d like to dedicate this book to my grandparents. Ruthie Lang and Hugh Lang. Your hard work and dedication to your family has not gone unnoticed, no matter how many missed opportunities we’ve had to tell you how much we appreciate you.

  There is not a day that goes by that I don’t see your hard work reflected in the people you’ve left behind and I will always be grateful God has blessed me with such amazing people.

  The fires of hell are no match to the loss of one’s soul. – Myleah

  Prologue

  “Tyrin!”

  He heard her panic laced cry as he leapt into action, pushing past the front door of their three-bedroom home. Thick smoke assaulted him instantly, his nose drawing in heated air which flowed like acid creating a molten path toward his lungs. Flames licked at the bare skin of his arms and back, drawing patterns of raised flesh in their wake, but he registered no pain. Instead, his mind was on his sister, the only family he had left in the world, and she was somewhere within the house, battling the flames that threatened to consume her.

  Kicking aside the burnt remnants of furniture, he pressed forward, past what once was the dining room area and toward the stairs. His steps mirrored the rapid thumping of his heart as he scrambled up the steps, desperation guiding his feet. Smoke thickened around him the higher he got, obscuring his view, but he couldn’t falter. Not with his sister’s life hanging in the balance.

  At the top of the steps, he stretched out his arms, inwardly commanding the smoke to part. It parted on both sides of the hall, swirling mists of destruction creating a path to her door.

  He could feel her pain and concern as he inched toward the door, careful to avoid the piles of cinder and burning picture framed the littered the hallway. The wood croaked beneath his feet, the damage sustained making the flooring so fragile it dipped under the heavy weight of him.

  “Aria! I’m almost there!” he called, taking a few more cautious steps. “Hang on!”

  Another step had the floor giving away beneath him and his foot slid past jagged edges of wood that cut at his ankles. He cursed as pain rushed up his leg, followed by the warmth of thick blood that leaked from the wounds. Tugging his foot out would cause further damage but with no other choice, he had to try.

  He tugged at the foot, using his other leg to anchor him, but he was stuck. Mere steps before him stood her door, the only barrier to her salvation, and it pained him to think he wouldn’t make it to her in time.

  It had been their plan when they’d approached him at the grocery store, delaying him, shoving and swatting at him like an angry mob. How they’d found him, he had no clue, but standing in that hallway a few feet away from his sister, he knew they’d stop at nothing to destroy every piece of evidence he and his sister ever existed, and he couldn’t let them win.

  With every ounce of strength he had left, he pulled at his leg, ignoring the searing torment the action wreaked on his leg. Once freed, he continued forward.

  “Aria?” He reached out for the door knob, tentatively touching the handle before snatching his hand back. The handle was scorching from the heat the fire created.

  “Tyrin?”

  Her voice was weak, barely audible over the roar of the fire that’d laid claim to their home, a home they’d built and sacrificed all for. A home it didn’t deserve.

  Taking a step back, he braced himself. “I’m going to kick in the door. Stand back.”

  “Tyrin! Don’t…”

  But it was too late. He kicked at the door, drawing on his fury to strengthen his attack. The door flew open, crashing against the wall and for a second, he saw her. Fear, anger, sadness, and resolve flitted across her features before she rushed at him, shoving him back. The sound of metal chains sliding against the floor reached his ears as he flew back, his eyes searching for source. He caught the sight of metal around her ankles as he fell, his back breaking through the weakened floor as a deafening sound followed by bright light assaulted his senses.

  His body hit the tile floor of their kitchen hard enough to knock the air from him and he scrambled to his feet, gasping. Shock clouded his mind as he glanced up to see the charred body of his sister bent over what remained of the floor in her room.

  Part one

  Tyrin

  One

  It was always cold in Burnsville, Nevada, but Letta found that evening particularly cold. She grimaced as the cold seeped through her jacket and the three layers of shirts she wore. The point of relocating to the desert state of Nevada had been to avoid the cold, yet she’d found an abundance of it, thanks to the Fallen, a race of dark angels who’d integrated themselves into the fabric of the city, taking high-ranking positions to ensure dominance over those that opposed them. Not that it would matter if anyone did. Letta knew full well the extent the Fallen would go to further their cause, as most did, and opposition wasn’t something anyone in the city wanted to risk.

  Pulling her jacket tight around her, she pressed forward, her heels clicking against the concrete sidewalk. She stumbled a few times when the sidewalk dipped but trudged on. Letta never wore heels. She’d always found it difficult to walk in them without nearly breaking her ankles but that night she’d made an exception, her task far too significant to allow the treacherous contraptions to deter her.

  The light of the street lamp cast shadows of trees and brush against the sidewalk as she turned the corner. For a moment, she thought she’d seen another shadow walking beside hers, but she dismissed the thought. It wouldn’t be the first time her anxiety had her seeing shadows, and she refused to fall victim to its cruelty that night. Instead, she focused on the hum of car engines that passed her, allowing herself to center herself in the here-and-now.

  And, here and now, she needed to be perfect. She needed to exude an air of confidence she didn’t feel with jeans so tight she struggled to walk fluidly, and her crimson curls pulled tightly into a bun that sat atop her head. Why they’d chosen her to be the seductress, she had no clue. She was awkward, a tomboy at heart who preferred cars and beer over heels and wine, but she’d play the part to perfection. The survival of humanity depended on it.

  She took a left at the next intersection, stepping onto a street light up with bright fluorescents of purples, greens, blues and pinks. The lights were so bright she could barely see the stars above, but a few feet later, she saw exactly what she was l
ooking for. Nestled between two strip clubs was her destination, The Crows Nest, a bar notorious for hosting the biggest parties, free from the Fallen and free from their influence.

  After enduring the usual ID check, pat down and interview, she was admitted into the bar with a warning not to cause trouble. Not that she had any intentions of doing so. Her only aim was to meet with a man, a human, who planned to deflect from his position within the ranks of the Fallen and assist her group with taking the city back from them, an opportunity her group refused to pass up on.

  She sauntered toward the bar and squeezed herself between two patrons. Unlike the clubs on either side, the music was an acceptable level for conversation and she appreciated the ambient atmosphere. Ordering a shot of whiskey, she glanced about the place. She could easily imagine it a bar from an old western movie with the deer head perched over the entrance and the wooden décor. In the center of the room stood a stage with a piano, perhaps an area once used by promising new musicians hoping to find their place within the music space. She wondered for a moment if it got any use but dismissed the idea. Since the Fallen had taken over the city, humans were banned from pursuing any means to exit the city, making it impossible for anyone to seek out their dreams of fame and fortune.

  Tossing the drink back, she ordered another. The bartender issued her a pointed look before pouring her a drink. He took another napkin, his eyes never leaving hers as he placed it before her, placing the drink upon it hard enough she heard the thunk of it against the wood. He, then, issued her a tight nod, his eyes flitting toward the glass in front of her before turning around and continuing on with his duties.

  She glanced down the glass, confused by the man’s actions, but when she picked it up, she saw it. Scrawled on the napkin was a note meant for her.

  The alley. Now.

  Three little words, but they were enough to tell her she’d indeed made it to the right place.

  She downed her drink, concern weighing heavily on her. From what she could remember, the mark knew nothing of her involvement. Braden, her mentor, had been certain she’d have to damn near seduce the man to gain his trust before recruiting him to their cause.

  Slipping away from the bar, she walked past the stage and, after stealing another glance at the bartender who in turn gave her a tight nod, walked out of the back door.

  Before her eyes were able to adjust to the dark surroundings, a gloved hand pressed against her lips as a solid body pushed up behind her. Her scream was muffled by the hand at her mouth as she was pulled deeper into the alley.

  With no other option, she bit at the hand, hoping her teeth would pierce the thick fabric and cause the man enough injury to loosen his grip on her. Instead, he pulled at her harder, his grip tightening as he pressed his lips against her ear.

  “It’ll do you no good to struggle, Nicolette.”

  His voice was thick, almost tangible as he spat out a name she hadn’t used in years. There was a threatening quality to his tone, blended with a bit of humor that made her want to spin around and slap him. She kicked back against his shin, her heel scraping against a hard surface. He winced, staggering back long enough to loosen his grip on her and she turned toward him.

  Brown eyes that seemed to radiate pierced her with a look of pure aggression as dark wings pushed through fabric to stretch out on both sides of him. He snatched off his damaged shirt, tossing the offending article to the ground in a lump of mangled cloth. A shadowy tattoo swirled an intricate pattern across bronzed skin and Letta knew she’d made a mistake. It was illegal to assault a Fallen, a crime punishable by any means the victim felt necessary to teach the humans a lesson. She’d seen the punishments dealt out, punishments cruel enough to make anyone wish they were dead. Hell, she might have taken a knife to her own wrist were it not for her daughter who was waiting on her safe return.

  “I’m…” She stuttered, but she couldn’t seem to force out an apology. Had the man not assaulted her, she would have never been forced to defend herself.

  Kicking off her heels, she turned away from the man, wanting to put as much distance between them as possible. She’d nearly made it far enough to exit the alleyway before she tripped over a large mass lying in the middle of the alley. Daring a glance at the object, she scrambled back once she noticed the body of the man she was meant to meet that night. She could feel a scream bubbling up within her, trying to force its way through the tightness in her throat, but it never freed itself. Instead, she was barely able to force out a whimper as a gust of cold wind hit her face and the gentle thud of feet hitting pavement reached her ears from behind her.

  “Well, won’t you look at this,” a masculine voice called to her with a fake southern drawl. Why they tried so hard to be as human as possible was beyond her, especially considering their hatred toward humanity. “A murder and an assault. Darlin’ I suspect you’re in a bit of a pickle if you ask me.”

  He laughed, his darkened tone radiating malice and disdain.

  Letta cringed from the sound of it before pushing to her feet and facing him. His tattoos swirled victoriously over his skin as he towered over her, six feet of thick muscle. Blonde hair framed an unnaturally chiseled face and she couldn’t help but think of him as carved from stone. Perfect angles, everything symmetrical. Flawless skin. Nothing was out of place, which should have made him beautiful, but the lack of imperfections only made him detestable to Letta. It was the look of a man who’d never experienced anything, a man whose entire existence was that of luxury.

  The Fallen. She’d detested their existence the moment they made themselves known, forcing their way into the city and placing themselves as the saviors of humanity. She knew different, however. She knew they thought themselves far superior to humans and wanted nothing more than to dominate and enslave. They wanted power and would do everything they could to gain that power from the broken wills of the humans they placed beneath their feet. This man, if she could call him that, was no different.

  He stalked toward her like a cougar does its prey, his gait assured as he placed himself inches from her. His hand, soft as velvet, no signs of ever experiencing a hard day’s work, reached out and rubbed her cheek.

  She slinked away from his touch, but he closed the distance immediately. “You realize you’re facing some serious charges, dontcha?”

  She inwardly cursed at the mixture of city and southern in his accent. It seemed he couldn’t make up his mind on what he wanted to be.

  “What do you want?”

  His eyes scanned her body, pausing in only two places before reaching hers. His request was clear, and she knew she’d rather die than be his willing slave. Stepping backwards, she tried a slow a retreat before her feet bumped up against the body of his victim. How she wished she’d been that victim, free from the world the Fallen had created and free from their cruelty. Her mind drummed up an image of her daughter. She’d do anything for the little girl but to what end? Even if she gave herself to the creature, she wasn’t guaranteed to survive the night, and the Fallen loved to advertise their conquests. She couldn’t imagine the hurt her daughter would endure knowing that was her mother’s last choice before…

  “You’ll have to kill me first,” she said, her tone clear.

  “That can be arranged.”

  His wings stretched menacingly on both sides of his body and his muscles tensed as he crouched low, ready to pounce. She stepped backwards over the body, ready to fight or flee, but she knew there was nothing she could do. With his speed and agility, he’d lay waste to her easily and she didn’t want to imagine what he’d do with her body.

  Ready to make a run for it, she turned, and was instantly met with the sight of dark skin, swirling tattoos, and midnight wings. Green eyes stared past her with a fury she’d never seen from any other creature before. She gasped as he leapt into the air, the flap of his wings producing a cold gust of air that chilled her to her bones. Fire glowed in his eyes and she coward at the power the man wielded.

  S
tretching a long arm to his side, he summoned a dagger of fire that stretch and morph into a fiery tendril that danced as if it were alive. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen and the most terrifying at the same time. She marveled at the tension of his muscles as they rippled and stretched, the majesty of his wings as they flapped against the sky. The light of the moon seemed to bounce off his skin, making it glow.

  Pulling his arm back, the flaming whip followed, stretching behind him in a straight line until the tip made a loud cracking sound as it reached its point. And for the first time, Letta found herself lost in the majestic qualities of a Fallen and welcomed her fate, deeming the man worthy enough to cause her fall from grace.

  Two

  A whip, two Fallens, and a dead body. It wasn’t the position Letta thought she’d find herself in, but luck hadn’t exactly been on her side.

  In fact, luck had been against her from the moment The Fallen had come out of hiding three years before. She remembered being in the hospital, her boyfriend holding her hand as she gave birth to her daughter.

  Against her own wishes, she’d decided against an epidural, her boyfriend’s need for a natural birth far outweighing the pain she’d suffered through. Still, she loved the man and the family they were creating. He’d been the bright spot in her life, a piece of heaven she’d been told throughout her life she never deserved.

  Her parents sat outside the room, perhaps wondering how they’d failed their only daughter who was having a child out of wedlock. As if the torment they’d caused her had nothing to do with her decision. They’d made her life a living hell, judging her for her weight, her failure to conform to society’s norms and her fight against normalcy. She didn’t want the large house with a white picket fence and children who were nothing more than drones of the generation before them. She wanted the unique, the beauty of being free to make one’s own path in a world where everything different was rejected.