Hollyhocks (The Monster Stalker #3)

1. Prologue

Before Creed (In Honeysuckles, Book One) was able to break everyone free

I’m dying.

I never thought those words would play through my mind so soon. I’m so young. I have so much life left to live, but I won’t get to see it. The only thing I have right now is my imagination. I’m dreaming of the future I’ll never have as I’m strapped to a cold table, my skin burning as if kerosene is being pumped through my veins.

“I had high hopes for you.”

One of the doctors who kidnapped me from outside of the dance studio I own sits down on the edge of the table. From here, I can see his glasses need cleaning. Smudges are all over the frames from his greasy fingers.

I told myself I would never give these doctors the satisfaction of seeing me cry or beg. They want my tears to add to their little data collection, and I refuse to let them have it.

“You are magnificent. Such a beautiful creature you’ve turned into.” His fingers trace the horns protruding from my forehead. “These were created by the succubus DNA. Extraordinary.”

A new feature I didn’t have when I was human.

When I was human.

I never thought I’d hear those words from myself either.

“God, look at you.” Glasses, as I call him, grips the horns with both hands, stroking them with fascination.

I can’t reply. The group of doctors has covered my mouth with a disgusting leather strap, and by the taste of it, I’m not the only one they have used it on. They learned that because of the DNA splicing the doctors have done on me, my voice puts them in a trance and weakens them to my will.

I wish I had known that trick sooner.

Maybe then I wouldn’t be on my deathbed. Maybe then, I’d be able to fight for myself.

I can smell his desire as he traces the ridges of my horns. The putrid scent lands on my over-sensitized tongue, and I can taste the bitterness of his greed.

“You’re so stunning. It’s a shame, really.” He takes off the round frames he wears perched at the end of his nose, wipes the lenses with his shirt, then puts them back on. He smiles when he can see me again, showing me his cigarette-stained teeth.

I mumble behind the leather strap, “Fuck you” but it’s barely audible.

“What a naughty mouth.” With a sigh, he backhands me across the cheek. The slap echoes in the small enclosure of the room. “You need to remember who has the power here and it certainly is not you.”

I don’t whimper. I don’t scream in pain as my cheek burns from the harsh force. Blood fills my mouth. Iron floods my taste buds. Anger slips down my throat as the hatred for my enemy fills me.

My eyes swim with tears but I refuse to let one drop fall unless it’s over his dead body. By then, they would be tears of happiness.

He looms over me, his nose nearly touching mine, and his hand wraps around my throat. “It’s a good thing I can’t remove the strap from your mouth or it’s a hole I’d be desperate to fill.”

His finger slides down my chest and the touch hurts, igniting the nerves that are already on fire to a scorching, uncomfortable blaze that brings searing pain. I bite the inside of my cheeks, refusing to make one singular noise that sounds like pain.

“You probably have another few hours before your heart gives out,” he whispers, trailing his fingers under the curve of my breasts before gliding down my stomach. “You would have been a beautiful specimen, but your body is fighting the DNA too hard. You’re rejecting all the gifts we are giving you. Why are you doing that? Why are you not accepting all the strengths, all the wonders, and all the power?”

“I don’t care about power.” The words are, once again, muffled by the strap. My wrists are bound. Each ankle is confined to the table. I have no chance to move or protect myself from this monster.

They might have turned me into a creature I don’t recognize, but the real monsters here are the men who kidnapped me outside of my own business. The only thing I remember about my previous life was how I was a pole dancing instructor during the day and a bartender at night.

I loved seeing women build confidence in themselves and their bodies. I loved when my clients would come up to me with tears in their eyes saying how I saved their marriages. It wasn’t because of pole dancing, and I’m sure that helped, but the confidence ignited a spark inside them again. A spark that had disappeared. I think a lot of people need to remember that. A spark might fizzle out, but it can always be reignited with a little effort.

The bartending was for a whole other reason. I loved being behind the bar, flirting, and eating up the desire men always gave me. Pouring drinks was an excellent way to make some extra cash. Who doesn’t love to receive attention? If someone says they don’t, I’d call them a liar. It always feels good to be appreciated in the right way and circumstances.

Don’t get me wrong, I hated being cornered to give attention to a man. I’d give my energy and desire to who I fucking wanted, when I fucking wanted, and if any man had an issue with it, I had a baseball bat and a Glock behind the bar I wasn’t afraid to use.

I miss that woman. The woman who would take no shit, stood up for herself, and wouldn’t allow herself to be in a situation like this. Now, I miss the spark I seemed to ignite in others.

I feel absolutely nothing inside. My spark is gone. My will to live has died.

The abuse, the torture, and the pain, I can’t handle any more of it. I wish my heart would stop beating. All I want is peace. I can’t do this anymore. My bones are tired. They are beyond aching.

They have been broken more times than I can count. I’ve been assaulted, used, pricked, and prodded. I’ve had my legs spread more than I have in my entire life. For pleasure, for pain, for curiosity to see what I look like between my thighs, and I’ll never be able to scrub the doctors’ heated looks from my mind.

I don’t understand why they just won’t kill me now. Instead, the fascination in the doctor’s eyes as I die will be the last thing I ever see.

Glasses shakes his finger at me with a snort-like chuckle. “You say you don’t like power—” he curls over me, hands on either side of my head as he grips the table, “—but I don’t believe you. Everyone loves power, Holly. Everyone craves to be at the top.” He wraps a strand of my hair around his finger and then brings it to his nose. The wretched man inhales until his eyes roll to the back of his head. “You smell so good. I’ve always loved your naturally sweet scent. Do you like your blue hair? Another wonderful addition that enhances your beauty. We haven’t figured out if it’s the chameleon or siren DNA, regardless, it is such a shame the world won’t be able to experience you.”

I lift from the table, fighting against the restraints, cursing him behind my silencer.

“Shh. Shh. I know. It isn’t easy.” He skims his knuckles down my cheek. “You won’t die alone. I’ll be here.” The evil doctor stands, walking over to the sterile stainless-steel counter.

Picking up my file, Glasses opens it and clicks his pen, his beady eyes skimming the information of what they have done to me.

“I think you deserve to know who you are before you die, don’t you? As you know, you are part succubus, meaning you can invade dreams and feed off sexual desire. You must feel mine for you.” Glasses bites his lips, his eyes roaming down my very naked, very vulnerable body. “The things I would do to you. Maybe I will before you die so I know what those tentacles in that tight cunt are like.”

“Fucking try it!” I don’t know why I bother saying anything when the words can’t be understood.

Licking his finger, Glasses flips the page. “It is also why you have light purple skin, but it also changes with your surroundings—thank the chameleon DNA. I would show you, but that would mean unstrapping you from the table, and we can’t have that. This table is what stops you from using your abilities.” My captor steps forward, squatting, caressing my feathers. “These gorgeous wings are from your harpy DNA. Did you know harpies are considered guardians of the underworld and some are even known to have the ability to predict the future? I’d be so curious if you had that gift, but you don’t have enough time for that.”

Glasses skims his fingers down my arm, caressing my ribcage. My stomach trembles with fear and disgust. The soft pad of his finger has bile daring to spew from my mouth as it trails down my thigh.

“Your scales come from the siren DNA. And these fins?” The man I hate more than anything in this world grabs a spray bottle and sprays water on my fins, so they don’t dehydrate. “Also the siren, which is also where your voice comes from, but you know that already, don’t you? You know, Franklin, your guard, still isn’t right in the head after you used your voice on him last week? He’s still mumbling in our hospital room about how much he needs you.”

Good.

Shows him what happens when he touches someone without permission.

“Clever girl, aren’t you? You don’t even know how to control your powers, and yet, you figured out how to use them. It’s magnificent. As if it is almost natural to you. Shame you aren’t strong enough to handle what we give you.”

The grotesque fingers drift to the inside of my leg, migrating up to my knee, then my thigh.

“Your tentacles are from the squid DNA. Remember when we forced you to orgasm, and you squirted black ink? Staining the sheets?” His desire is rancid as it fills the air, turning my stomach as if I’m scenting rotten milk. “So fucking beautiful. Perhaps, the next test subject will handle the same DNA injections, but nothing will take the place of Patient 013025.” His thumb skims the lips of my pussy. “ You .”

He dips his hands below and my tentacles stretch from my hole, snake around his arm, suction to his wrist, and squeeze.

“Ah, fuck!” His scream of agony brings me more pleasure than I have felt in a long time.

“Fuck. You.” I yell behind the strap, narrowing my eyes as I tighten the hold on him.

Sweat builds above his brows as he tries to yank himself from my grasp, but the tentacles add more pressure to his bones. I want him to feel what I have been feeling all these months, lying here, strapped and defenseless while they do whatever they fucking want to me.

I’m dying anyway. I need to make this worth it.

I give every ounce of strength I have left inside my will and snap his wrist. The sweet sound of his bone breaking is a song I could listen to on repeat. He cries in terror, but no one can hear him because this room is soundproof due to my entrancing voice.

They didn’t want to take any chances.

I inhale a deep breath, exhausted from all the energy I’ve used, and struggle to catch my breath. With every wheeze, I can hear the fluid pop and crackle in my throat.

“You fucking bitch!” he screams, lifting his hand in the air. The bone is protruding out of the skin, and I can’t hold my smile back. Even behind the leather strap, I know my joy can be seen.

It’s the singular moment of happiness I’ve had since I’ve been here.

Blood drips down his forearm and the sharp point of his bone is the most beautiful part of him I have ever seen.

He stumbles backward and smacks against a tray of surgical tools that falls to the floor with loud clinks. Glasses bends down, holding his hand to his chest, and snags a scalpel.

“I’m glad you’re dying. You’re weak, pathetic, and a useless specimen. It’s your fault for what happens to the next test subject. Remember that as you die.”

I stare at him, inhaling as deeply as possible, but breathing is becoming too hard. I gasp again.

And again.

My vision blurs. My breathing begins to slow. I sink into the table as my body becomes weightless.

I know this feeling. I think… I think it may be peace.

Once the scalpel touches my skin so he can slice me from ear to ear to end my misery, I end myself.

I focus on the ceiling. The fluorescent lights no longer bother me as my sight becomes darker. Water stains pool in the corner of the tiled ceiling. Dust sticks to the lightbulbs. Every small detail becomes stark in the midst of death.

My life doesn’t flash before my eyes as I can’t remember the majority of it, but I do think of dancing, and the happiness it brought me fills my chest for one last time as my lungs exhale their very last breath.

“That’s it. Die. Stop wasting my space so I can have room for real subjects,” he whispers into my ear.

Even though they are the last words I hear, I can’t help but smile with relief knowing my journey here is over. There’s no more pain. My skin doesn’t burn. I own myself again in death. My body is mine once more.

I’m free.

The ghost of me stands away, staring down at my limp body. It’s the first time I’ve gotten to see myself.

The horns are bigger than what I thought. They are black and the very tips curl over my skull. I have a tail that is thin with a pointed tip that is wrapped around my leg. My hair is long and blue, which I don’t mind at all. I like it.

I look down at my hands, flipping them over to analyze the purple skin. I’m a little in awe. I’m torn between liking what I see and what I could have been, and hating what they have made me become. Even my memory is altered. Who I used to be died the moment they kidnapped me.

I’ve lost myself. I don’t know who I am anymore.

“Don’t like what you see?”

I gasp and jump back, seeing a skeletal figure standing next to me. I take another step back to get as far away from him as possible. I just want to be left alone. Can’t a woman die in peace?

“I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to take you to your next destination. Your soul doesn’t belong here anymore.”

I’m skeptical but any place has to be better than here. “Who are you?”

“Trovian. Also known as one of Death’s Voids. I’m new. Recently promoted to soul reaping.” He puffs out his chest with pride, and I lift a brow.

“Excuse me? What? I don’t know what that means.”

“I’ll explain along the way. Unless you want to wait and see what they do with your body.”

“I’d rather not know.” I swallow, taking one last glance at my body as Glasses loosens the straps.

Trovian cuts off a piece of his shadow and wraps it around my shoulders to cover me. He holds out his hand, the bones long and slender while his palm is wide.

“Let’s go home.”

My eyes burn with the emotion I’ve been holding back for months. Am I finally able to mourn what has happened to me?

“Your life here is over, Holly. Take my hand and you’ll never see these people again.”

A tear finally falls, the warmth rolling down my cheek to remind me that my pain is justified. I take one last look at Glasses throwing my body over his shoulder to dump it somewhere, and as I stare longer at my physical form, I happen to like what I see.

Wherever I am going, I can learn more about myself there. I’ll accept myself in time.

I slip my hand in Trovian’s and his bones curl around my fingers. To my shock, it isn’t uncomfortable, and it doesn’t hurt.

He stares down at me with his black, empty eyes, and smiles before snapping his fingers.

Instantly, I’m in another place I don’t know. It’s darker than usual. The sky is black with hints of red. The trees are dead, but right in front of me is a place called Purgatory Pins.

“Where are we?” I ask Trovian, not understanding my surroundings at all. A jolt of fear coils inside me, slithering like a snake.

I shiver, whipping my head left and right to see what else is around me. I’m doing my best not to panic. So much has happened in the last ten minutes, I’m still processing my own death. Now, I need to process this place.

“Purgatory,” he explains casually. “It’s where paranormals go when they die. Some go straight to Hell depending on their crimes. Most of the time, they come here.”

“Paranormals,” I echo him in disbelief. “Like vampires and werewolves?”

He eyes me, giving me a crooked grin. “Exactly, but there are so many more creatures than that. Like you, for example. You’re now a paranormal creature but you know that already, don’t you?”

I nod, tightening the cloak he made me around my shoulders. “Yes, I do know that.”

“You don’t seem bothered.”

“I’m pretty good at adapting. I accepted my fate a long time ago. There’s nothing I can do about it. Especially now, since I’m dead.”

“You’re dead but your afterlife is just beginning. You’re about to have so much fun here. This place can be dangerous and maybe you’ll need to fight to survive, but I have a feeling you’ll be okay. If anything, you seemed relieved to be here.”

“After dealing with what I did, you’d welcome anything else.”

His hand drops to my shoulder, squeezing it gently as a friend would do. “You’ll be alright.”

The front door swings open and another Void stands in the doorway, hands on his hips, and flames dance on his shoulders until they fade away.

The other skeletal creature points at Trovian and growls, “You.”

“Fuck,” Trovian curses with annoyance. “I’m so sorry about this.”

“Trovian! You mother fucker. You stole her soul. That’s my territory. The area you went to is under my jurisdiction. You could have picked any other place, but nooo, you had to pick mine.” The angry Void vanishes and then appears right in front of us. “You did that on purpose.” He pokes a finger at Trovian’s chest.

“You weren’t available. I had orders from Death.”

“Death?” I ask.

“Our boss. One of the Four Horsemen,” the new Void says. “Just because you got promoted doesn’t mean you can pop into wherever you want. Unbelievable.” He turns to me, grinning before reaching his hand out to me. “I’m Lorcan. And you are?”

“Holly.” I shake his hand, trying to understand everything he just said about Death being real.

“What a pretty name. I hope Trovian escorted you here without any issue.” Lorcan narrows his eyes at Trovian.

“Everything has been smooth sailing,” I explain, a small magical hint in my voice. I cover my mouth. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to control certain abilities yet.”

“It won’t work on us anyway. Though, that voice will earn you some eeries while you’re here,” Trovian informs.

“Eeries are our money here. Coins,” Lorcan explains, holding up a coin as an example.

“Ah,” I nod my head in understanding even though I’m not sure I understand anything right now. I’m wondering if this is a fever dream. What if I’m not dead and I’m still alive in the hands of those doctors?

“You’ll be taken care of here. We will help you get on your feet. Want to explain what happened to you?” Trovian questions out of curiosity as we all begin walking to the front door.

I follow them because what else am I supposed to do? They are the only ones I know. Either risk my afterlife with them or without them and right now, I’m feeling a bit apprehensive about being on my own here.

Sighing, I reply, “Not really. Let’s say I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s all there is to it.”

“So you don’t want to tell us how you were a human turned into a paranormal creature.”

“Not really. I don’t want to get into it. It’s not like you have to tell anyone, right? You have other souls to snatch?”

“Well no, we don’t have to tell anyone, but Death would like to know.”

“I’d rather him not. He doesn’t need to know. I was the only one in that building anyway. Nothing he can do.”

“He can kill the guy who did this to you.” Lorcan opens the front door for me, bows, and extends his arm to show me inside. “Ladies first.”

I giggle for the first time in months, and it takes me by surprise. I stand still, hoping happiness is something I find again along with my self-confidence.

“Thank you, Lorcan.” I step over the threshold and stare down, noticing faces pressing against the floor. With every step, the faces scream and groan.

“Don’t mind them. They are the souls trapped in Hell trying to get free,” Trovian explains.

I stop at the bar, mouth agape as I take in Purgatory Pins, noticing all of the different paranormal creatures.

“Take a seat.” Lorcan slides a chair out for me. “I’ll get us all drinks and we will tell you everything we know.”

Without saying a word, I sit down, watching different creatures have fun while they bowl. Everyone laughs and cheers when someone gets a strike. The horror of what happened to me is still there, playing on repeat in my head, but being around others like me is healing in its own way.

This will be good for me. If I learn there is a way out of Purgatory to have a second chance in the real world, I might try to escape.

For now, my soul is in a safe space.

At last.