Legacy of Desire (Demonica Birthright #3)

Prologue

A mere century ago, if someone had told Harvester she’d enjoy babysitting, she’d have decapitated them and impaled their head on a pike.

But damn, she loved her grandchildren, and she volunteered to watch them whenever she got the chance.

Her only regret was that she wasn’t their biological grandmother.

No, their bio-granny was a twisted, evil succubus, and the very thought of Lilith brought bile to Harvester’s mouth.

That skank didn’t deserve such delightful children in her life.

Watching Aleka and little Scotland play, their red heads bopping in their mother’s flower beds under the watchful eyes of a couple of hellhounds, warmed her heart, which had been frozen for so many centuries.

She just wished Reaver could be here. But no, he’d been restricted to Heaven while the angelic leadership contemplated punishment for his minor role in the destruction of Sheoul-gra, the underworld realm that’d once held the souls of dead demons and evil humans.

Fools. Reaver, one of the most powerful angels to have ever existed, shouldn’t have to explain his actions. The ruling body needed to get over itself. It had been nearly a decade since Azagoth destroyed Sheoul-gra, and Heaven hadn’t dished out judgment or punishment yet.

Well, there had been judgment. Lots of it. The holier-than-thou crowd, which consisted of the majority of Celestials, excelled at looking down their perfect noses at others.

Angels were the worst. Which was why Harvester didn’t count herself as one of them, even though she’d recently had her wings and Grace restored.

Before that, she’d spent most of her thousands of years of life as a fallen angel, and frankly, it was hard to shed that past. She’d been powerful.

And fearful of nothing—except her father, Satan, anyway.

Now, she was a full-fledged Heavenly angel again, but her halo was tarnished and mangled—something other Celestials never let her forget.

Which gave her some insight into Revenant’s plight.

Like her, Reaver’s brother had been born an angel.

But unlike her, he was born in Sheoul, the demon name for Hell, and raised at Satan’s side.

He’d never even set foot in Heaven until a few years ago.

But thousands of years of living in the demon realm had corrupted him, and he wasn’t welcome there.

The joke was on Heaven, though, because Revenant ran Sheoul now, and he held a grudge.

Harvester couldn’t stand the guy, but she could sympathize with his position.

He was an angel…yet not an angel…and scorned by those in Heaven and Hell.

He was, in fact, trapped in Sheoul the way Reaver was trapped in Heaven.

But hopefully not for much longer. Surely, the Council of Orders would give Reaver and Revenant stern warnings and leave it at that.

“G-ma!” Scotty shouted and waved from where she sat in the crook of a tree, much higher up than most five-year-olds could achieve. The child was part monkey. “Can I have a cookie?”

“What did your mom say?”

A warm breeze ruffled Scotty’s hair, which probably hadn’t seen a comb today.

She reminded Harvester of Scotty’s favorite Disney princess, Merida, with her unruly locks and rebellious nature.

Aleka, as different from her sister as night and day, favored the free-thinking Disney princess, Belle, with her curiosity and love of books.

The old Harvester would have hated that she knew anything about Disney princesses. The new Harvester enjoyed watching the movies with her granddaughters. She always rooted for the villains. Somehow, she could identify with their plights.

Except for Cruella de Vil. What a cunt.

“Mom says we can have as many cookies as we want,” Scotty said matter-of-factly.

Suspicious, Harvester glanced over at seven-year-old Aleka, who was as bad at lying as Scotty was good at it. “Is that true?”

Shaking her head, Aleka kneeled to pick a couple of flowers that lined the boundary surrounding the island’s Harrowgate. “Mom said we can have one after lunch and one after dinner.”

Scotty stuck out her tongue at her sister before turning a sugary smile on Harvester. “Pretty please?”

Harvester couldn’t resist any of her grandchildren, but she tapped her chin and pretended to think about it. “Hmm, I don’t know…”

“Pleeeeeease?” Scotty clutched her belly with the dramatic flair of a stage actor. “You don’t want me to die of hunger, do you?”

“You won’t die of hunger. You’re immortal, sweetheart.

” The breeze picked up, stirring the gardens with a fresh wave of fragrant marine air.

Harvester had always loved the way Greece smelled like sand, sea, and herbs, layered over the peppery notes of an ancient, bloody history.

“I suppose you can have one. But you have to promise to eat all your dinner.”

“Even if it’s yucky?”

“Even if it’s yucky.”

“Okay, I promise,” Scotty swore solemnly. The girl had inherited Ares’s faithful conviction to keep his word when he gave it. She might be admirably skilled at lying, but when she made a promise, she kept it.

Standing, Aleka swept dirt off her skirt.

“I don’t want one. I told Rath I’d help him polish his horns this afternoon.

” She clapped her hands in excitement. “They grew another inch! The left one is still shorter, though, and he’s all emo and sensitive about it.

So, if you see him, don’t mention it, okay? ”

Ares and Cara had adopted the goatlike Ramreel demon as a toddler and raised him as Aleka and Scotty’s older brother. He was a randy teen now, proud of the horns that had just started to emerge at his temples.

“I won’t say a word.”

Aleka darted off toward the guard quarters, where Rath had recently moved when the first nubbins of his horns had come in.

He’d grown up in the main house with his sisters until, in accordance with Ramreel tradition, he’d “joined the herd,” leaving to reside with the other Ramreel warriors on the island to begin training as a member of the island’s elite security force.

“G-maaaaaa!” Scotty swung her little legs in frustration, her sandaled feet clicking against the tree trunk. “You said I can have a cookie.”

“I did say that, didn’t I? Hop down, and we’ll get one.”

“Can’t I eat it here?”

Harvester sighed. Of her five grandchildren, Scotty was the most precocious.

Fiercely independent, strong-willed, and mischievous, she kept everyone on their toes.

Aleka was the curious, studious one. Leilani was the outgoing, social girly-girl who loved fashion and cameras.

Logan was easygoing, steady, and reliable.

Amber was contemplative and observant, wise beyond her years and, frankly, a little unsettling.

You never knew what would come out of her mouth.

You never knew what would come out of Scotty’s mouth, either, but for entirely different reasons. Harvester loved the spontaneity of the child’s unpredictable behavior. Harvester figured that if she ever had a daughter, she’d be like Scotty.

“Fine. I’ll get you one.” She gestured at the two hellhounds lurking nearby. “You two mutts keep an eye on Scotty for a second.”

Scotty giggled. “Grams, I don’t need protection.”

No, she didn’t. This island was as safe as anywhere in all the realms. Besides belonging to the Horseman known as War, it was defended by hellhounds, Ramreels, and hundreds of earthbound angels known as Memitim. Scotty was as safe as she could be.

Harvester headed toward the house, and to her surprise, Scotty gathered her toy bow and leaped out of the tree.

“Are you coming inside?” Harvester asked.

“Nuh-uh,” Scotty said, chin up in defiance. “I’m going to the beach.”

“Not alone, you’re not,” Harvester told her with a stern wag of her finger.

“You wait here, and I’ll be right back.” She hurried inside the mansion, found the freshly baked cookies Lilliana had set out, and grabbed a couple.

She paused at the refrigerator, wondering if she should take drinks to the beach as well. Scotty loved orange soda—

A bloodcurdling scream shattered her thoughts.

Scotty.

Harvester flashed outside. Her granddaughter wasn’t there. Neither were the hellhounds.

“Scotty?”

Fear made her voice shrill as she called out again. “Scotty!”

In the distance, snarls and pained yelps mingled with the crash of ocean waves. The beach! Terror ripped through Harvester as she darted to the edge of the rugged cliffside, where Scotty’s little footprints ended.

Harvester’s heart stopped. A swarm of ghastbats blackened the view of the sandy shore below, the gaps between their leathery bodies revealing a couple of hellhounds, their snapping jaws and massive claws violently snatching the leathery demons out of the air.

Ghastbats? Here?

Didn’t matter. The mystery of how they’d accessed the island would have to wait. All that mattered right now was finding her granddaughter.

“Scotty!” she screamed again.

Frustrated by the churning horde obscuring her view, she popped her wings and lifted into the air, desperately scanning the water, the cliffs, the sand.

To her left, a hellhound roared in agony as some hideous creature lit into it in a flurry of claws and teeth. What was that thing?

Wait. No. It couldn’t be.

But it was.

A mordaemon. A monster that stole immortality with a single bite, they were one of only a handful of creatures that struck terror into the hearts of every immortal. Including Harvester. But why was it here? And how had it accessed the island?

It hurled itself away from the fallen hound, its sickly pale, spiky wings creating whirlwinds of sand. A chunk of hellhound flesh hung from its gaping maw.

Sensing weakness, a hundred ghastbats descended upon the injured, newly mortal hellhound, their claws and razor-sharp fangs tearing it apart as it shrieked in the kind of soul-deep agony few understood.

Poor bastard.