Cesar: The Demon Lover's Chronicles, #1

César

The Demon Lover’s Chronicles – Book 1

Julian M. Coleman

Copyright © 2014 by Julian M. Coleman

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

All stock photos are licensed appropriately.

Published in the United States by Julian M. Coleman L.L.C.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Except as permitted under the U. S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior consent and permission of the publisher.

Dedication

To My beloved Mina

Introduction

Demons Don’t Love. Or Do They?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1QunBcuD3cg

Contents

1.Chapter 1

1. 1939

2.Chapter 2

2. Dead Eyes

3.Chapter 3

3. An Irresistible Attraction

4.Chapter 4

4. Wicked Finesse

5.Chapter 5

5. No Real Escape

6.Chapter 6

6. Rachel

7.Chapter 7

7. Transformation

8.Chapter 8

8. A Different Matter

9.Chapter 9

9. Less Than Human, More than Unnatural

10.Chapter 10

10. Auntie

11.Chapter 11

11. The Missing Priestess

12.Chapter 12

12. Almost Normal

13.Chapter 13

13. César’s Turned

14.Chapter 14

14. The Next Day

15.Chapter 15

15. Home

16.Chapter 16

16. Rachel’s Loss

17.About the Author

Chapter 1

1939

Rachel pushed against the drowsiness, gluing her eyelids together. She fisted her eyes, hoping the foggy caress of sleep would dissipate even as her heart thumped fitfully against her ribcage. Instinctively, she recognized her slumber had been too deeply rooted to be normal. Finally waking, she remembered bits of the horrific dream as an uncut fear she hadn’t tasted in eons swept over her stupor.

Immediately, she sat upright in bed. Shaking and sweating, she tossed aside the covers and tried standing on boneless legs. Immediately, she fell backward onto the mattress. The hovering grogginess draped over her like a much too heavy coat.

I need to get up!

Suddenly, fresh images from the nightmare slithered into her consciousness. Although the fragments were opaque, they filled her with absolute terror.

That girl is going to be the death of me! she snapped.

Her head pulsated angrily as she fought the unnatural urge to sleep. Once firmly on her feet, she snatched her bathrobe from the bedpost, fled her room and swept down the hall.

Angelina’s bedroom door was closed.

Rachel’s heart pounded as she dug into her robe’s pocket and clutched the key.

She tried the knob. Locked. Of course, Angelina couldn’t go anywhere if her door was still locked.

But it’s Angelina, and she’s sneaky.

Rachel swallowed a wad of anguish as despair stiffened her body. Please, she swore. Please, this once, I hope you did what you were told.

Her hands shook as she inserted the key and twisted the knob. The icy touch of porcelain in her palm was too real to consider as part of any lingering nightmare. Which meant she was awake, after all.

Rachel knew the room would be empty even as she swung open the door. A moan escaped from her lips.

A wedge of light angled through the open window and shone on the lace bedcovering. The raised glass pane allowed a slight breeze to flutter the curtains. She stumbled across the room and leaned out of the opening.

Better to see Angelina sprawled on the ground than with that demon.

The full moon lit the night like a lantern washing the rolling lawn, the abutting dirt road, and the acres of cornstalks in a milky glow.

Her sister was nowhere to be seen.

Rachel’s beating heart threatened to rip free and crack bone. She clutched her chest and tried catching her breath.

Angelina was gone.

Their handyman, Old Moses, had nailed a trellis to the farmhouse years ago. The crisscross contraption was threaded with the stems of a robust rosebush. As she leaned out the window, Rachel noticed a sliver of fabric clinging to the trellis.

Angelina had always been a tomboy. There wasn’t a fence, tree, or anything nailed to the house she couldn’t climb.

How often, Rachel wondered, had her sister slipped down surefooted to meet with him?

Tears threatened to fall as she plucked the piece of cloth from the latticework. She examined the fabric. Clearly, Angelina wore her best dress for the demon.

The world remained quiet except for the sun-bleached rooster perched atop directional arrows creaking in the mild breeze. The noise filled the house with menacing sounds.

Rachel caught her reflection in the bureau’s mirror. Even in the semidarkness, her image revealed the horror locked in her dark eyes.

Angelina, she moaned. Do you ever listen?

Why were the sisters so unalike?

She was often quiet and cautious. While she considered Angelina too carefree and headstrong.

They were physically different, too. She had their father’s African features, ebony skin, deep-set eyes, flared nostrils, and full lips. She was wiry and quick, just like him. And just as tall.

Angelina resembled their mother, Emily. She possessed lots of enviable hair, Emily’s cinnamon complexion, and gentle countenance. Except in Angelina’s case, her innocent smile sometimes concealed a roguish lift that only Rachel recognized as mischievous.

My angel. Rachel placed a hand over her heart. Suddenly, her sorrow morphed into fiery anger. Damn her. Leave it to my sister to root out trouble and embrace it! Damn!

Then she heard the terrible sound, just as she had in the nightmare. Angelina’s horrific screams reverberating in Rachel’s mind. The echoes rose from nowhere and everywhere. Rachel even felt it stirring in the pit of her bowels, clawing along her spine, and blasting her brain with pain. She also absorbed the sensation behind her sister’s cries—BETRAYAL.

Rachel was startled into action.

GET UP!

She fled Angelina’s bedroom, banging on doors while shouting to the dozen men camped in the second-floor guest rooms.

The burly farmers trusted her as their priestess and had willingly offered their services. Rachel chastised her shortcomings. All she had to do was give them a righteous order. But indecision had trapped her. How could she ask mortal men to face down a demon? Yet, her uncertainty had jeopardized Angelina.

Get up! Come out!

Groggy men hobbled out and lingered around her in the narrow hallway.

Wake up! We’ve been tricked! I’ve been tricked! Rachel clapped her hands in front of faces and demanded, Ask yourself if this sleep feels different. Can you feel it? This isn’t natural. Shake it off. She’s with that demon, and I’ve gotta get her back. She doesn’t know what she is up against, but I do!

Allen Silverstone was the only one alert enough to run down the hall and investigate Angelina’s bedroom. Rachel hurried after him. She grabbed his arm and spun him again. What? Did you think I was lying to you? She isn’t here!

Allen jerked free. Pure rage was emblazoned on his face.

Secretly, Rachel wanted to blame him. Allen had dragged his feet and didn’t so much as propose to Angelina. Her sister would’ve been a dutiful wife. Not even a smooth-talking devil could’ve wrestled her from Allen’s side if they had been wedded.

Rachel suppressed those thoughts because she was burdened with as much blame as Allen.

Her intuition had haunted her for weeks. Her feelings had hinted that a primitive evil stalked her. But she had to get the crops to market, and, of course, her intuitions were sometimes wrong. Besides, now was not the time for flinging accusations, with Angelina’s soul screaming in her mind.

Come on, Rachel said, hurrying Allen down the stairs.

The others pursued.

The group settled into an uneasy silence once they reached the living room.

Now what? Toby, Allen’s older brother, asked.

He’s got her, but I think I know where she is, Rachel said. Thank God she’s gifted. Are you with me, Allen? She hated baiting the young man when she saw how he struggled with Angelina’s betrayal.

Toby slid between the priestess and his brother. Don’t do this.

Rachel matched Toby’s rage with unblinking certainty. I’ve saved all your lives. True, I couldn’t save some of us. I couldn’t even save my parents, but I saved us and now I’m going to save my Angel.

Allen took his place by Rachel’s side and stared down at his brother. The veins in his temples throbbed. He said, through clenched teeth, I’m with you, Rachel. She’s my angel too.

Chapter 2

Dead Eyes

Angelina, crouching in the darkness, clamped both hands over her mouth to stifle a scream. She pressed her back against a wide oak tree and slid to the earth.

At least she had some cover in the woods.

Thorns from the rosebush adorning the trellis had scraped her skin and drawn a few beads of blood. Through tiny crimson droplets, she discovered his true self.

Tears leaked from her eyes and rolled over her fingers. She had been foolish. César had never loved her. He had betrayed her, and she was nothing more than food.

Only a few hours earlier, the evening had held a romantic promise like the soft petals of a delicate rose. She had crept from her bedroom and was down the dirt road within minutes. He’d been waiting for her in his brand-new Cadillac Coupe.