Shadow Prophet (Midnight Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  About the Author

  Books by Andrea Pearson

  Shadow Prophet

  Midnight Chronicles Book One

  Andrea Pearson

  Copyright © 2019 Andrea Pearson

  Book design and layout copyright © 2019 Andrea Pearson

  Cover copyright © 2019 Covers by Christian

  Series by Andrea Pearson:

  Kilenya Chronicles

  Mosaic Chronicles

  Koven Chronicles

  Silver Assassin

  Midnight Chronicles

  Ranch City Academy Series

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction, and the views expressed herein are the sole responsibility of the author. Likewise, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are represented fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  If clicking the button above doesn’t work, go here: http://andreapearsonbooks.com/myfreebooks.html

  Dedication

  To Nolan James

  And Heather Hejduk

  Because you both deserve a thousand book dedications.

  Also to Sabrina and Sophie for helping keep my life in order.

  1

  I refused to look in her eyes as I pulled the knife from her now-still heart and wiped the blade, her blood staining the fresh white cloth I’d brought for this purpose.

  She hadn’t struggled.

  None of them had yet, though I wasn’t sure why.

  My heart thudded dully against my ribs, making me choke on unwanted emotions. I wouldn’t allow myself to think, to feel. Not yet.

  Before her magical powers could flow away, I removed a vial from my backpack, holding it against her temple while chanting words I’d memorized months earlier.

  A silver-blue, steam-like gas flowed through her skin like smoke from dry ice. With gentle waves of my other hand, I encouraged it to enter the vial, then put the cap on and carefully tucked it back into its protected pouch for later retrieval.

  Five down.

  Two to go.

  The last two would be the hardest.

  I still couldn’t believe I’d ever done the first.

  Finally, with jaw clenched, I looked at her face, so stricken now in death. It had been happy, excited even when she’d granted me access to her apartment. I reached over and closed her eyelids, hating that I was the last thing she’d seen.

  I’m so sorry. I cleared my throat and shook my head. Plead my case when you get there. I hope you’ll understand.

  I took a shuddering breath before lurching to my feet and stumbling away from the body.

  No one would miss her, not for a very long time, regardless of how powerful she was or how well-known or loved.

  He had seen to all those details a long time ago.

  I made sure my things were packed before pulling my phone from my pocket and sending a quick text to the number I’d saved in my device a few days earlier.

  It’s ready.

  And then I waited.

  I leaned against her wall, still struggling to tuck the emotions away. It had gotten harder with each one. I’d become a monster—the thing normal people faced only in nightmares.

  The wait wasn’t long. The door opened and closed, and one of my wrist tattoos burned, alerting me to the creature’s presence. The Croent didn’t need to be visible for me to know a demon was there.

  I heard a quiet shuffling as the beast stepped across the room to the woman. Something pierced the skin of her neck, making it dimple, and deep-red blood flowed into a long, knobby finger that slowly became visible. I looked away in disgust, not wanting to watch, then chided myself. Who was I to be disgusted by these creatures?

  Soon, blood filled the Croent, the hand became attractive and slender, and the vampire demon gradually took on the woman’s appearance. There were now two versions of Rachel—the dead one on the floor, and a naked one who licked her fingers in appreciation. I turned my gaze away again, this time out of respect for Rachel. I’d murdered her, after all. The least I could do was give her privacy.

  The Croent version of Rachel got to her feet and headed down the hallway, presumably to find clothes.

  Rachel had been a magical human of high rank in the States, like my other targets. She hadn’t had nearly enough protections set up—none of them had, so far. Either way, the Croent would now be able to mimic her Arete powers.

  This was a very strong Croent, since most weren’t able to assume identities and powers.

  Again, he had arranged everything. The Shadow Prophet wanted to protect me from the law. Killing people was illegal, and he couldn’t afford to have his favorite assassin thrown in jail.

  A few minutes later, Rachel returned, now dressed in jeans and a tee. She smirked at me. “I look forward to interacting with you, Abel. When do I get my first payment?”

  “Now.” I bent and retrieved the thick envelope of one-hundred-dollar bills from my backpack, handing it over. Fair payment for one month, especially considering she’d also be getting paid for doing the woman’s work.

  Rachel glanced in the envelope, then smiled. “Everything is in order. I’ll see you in a month.”

  With a curt nod, I turned and left the apartment, closing the door softly behind me.

  I never knew what they did with the bodies. Apart from making sure the Croents were paid monthly, the only important thing for me now was to get the vial to the Shadow Prophet. I’d need to do it sooner rather than later, but I regularly procrastinated that part of the job.

  Finally away from the murder scene, my heart clenched, and nausea caused bile to rise in the back of my throat. The tears that pricked my eyes weren’t a surprise, but I blinked them away, still refusing to focus on what I’d done.

  That would come later, in the privacy of my apartment.

  Instead, I checked the time on my phone as I walked down the long hallway toward the elevator. I was surprised to see a call from an unknown number coming in. As a rule of thumb, I never answered the phone when I was on a job, but since I’d just finished, I decided to pick up. It would distract me from the events of the last hour.

  “Abel?”

  “Yes?”

  “My name is Jess. I’m calling on behalf of a client. He’d like to meet with you about a potential job.”

 
“Okay.”

  I knew better than to ask who her client was. I would learn that when I sat across from him in a public location.

  “What sort of job?”

  “I’m not entirely sure on the details. He said I wasn’t allowed to know. But he says you’ll be paid well.”

  “All right. What day and time will I meet him?”

  “He’s available now, if you are.”

  “Hold on.” I pulled my phone from my ear and opened my calendar app. It wasn’t unusual for potential clients to want to meet right away. A lot of them planned ahead for the jobs they hired me to do, but often enough, I got hired by people who had taken years to get the guts to contact me. Obviously, I had no desire to lose potential paying jobs, so if my schedule permitted, I’d meet them as soon as we were both available.

  “I’m free. Where am I heading?”

  Jess rambled off the address for a bistro in the Lincoln Park area. I nodded. I’d met there a few times for potential jobs.

  We ended the call, and I hopped in my car and drove toward the bistro. It was half an hour away and in a less-upscale area of Chicago than where Rachel lived.

  The only available parking spot was a couple blocks away from the bistro. I pulled into it and walked. It was hot and humid outside—typical for summer in Chicago—and I looked forward to being in a well-air-conditioned place again. The smell of hot dogs from street vendors made my stomach growl, making me forget the humidity, and I grimaced, trying to ignore the pangs. I hoped I’d get the chance to eat while meeting with this potential client.

  A bell on the door jingled when I stepped through, and I paused, scanning the tables, appreciating the cool wind that rushed past me through the open door before it shut with a clang behind me. My would-be client was immediately recognizable. He was in his forties and wore faded jeans and a tan leather jacket. Judging by how he held himself, he was well educated and intelligent.

  The purposeful calmness he radiated was what betrayed him. He held his hands abnormally still in an attempt not to appear nervous, glancing around occasionally while pretending to read something on his phone. He kept his shoulders straight and erect, and his legs were tense under the table.

  To the casual observer, he would look confident. But I’d been doing this long enough to recognize when people were trying too hard to blend in. He was nervous.

  It wasn’t uncommon for clients to get that way around me. My height and muscles might have had something to do with it. Or maybe it was my line of work.

  I took a seat opposite him and clasped my hands on the table. He glanced at me when the waitress approached to take my order—a sub and a lemonade. I needed to spike my blood sugars, or I’d crash soon.

  “What can I do for you?” I asked once she’d left.

  The man didn’t respond at first. He gazed at me for several moments, his expression serious. Finally, he said, “I have a job for you.”

  2

  I withheld my sarcastic response. Of course he had a job for me. That’s what we were there for, right? Instead, I said, “Go on.”

  “Perhaps introductions are in order.”

  “I’m fine with that. My name is Abel. What’s yours?”

  He didn’t seem put off by my abruptness. “Alexander. I’d like you to protect someone who is very important to me.”

  That was all he wanted by way of intros before moving on to the job? Suited me just fine. And protection? Definitely better than what I was usually asked to do. “I can probably handle that. What are the circumstances?”

  “She’s an Arete out in Utah, and she’s gotten caught up in some stuff that is, quite frankly, very overwhelming.”

  “What do you mean, overwhelming?”

  “I don’t know how you feel about life callings, but hers is to hunt and destroy immortal creatures that shift from dogs into humans. She’ll have help from a magical amulet, but there are a lot of these hounds, and they’re intent on destroying her and innocent people.”

  “You don’t think she can do it?”

  Alexander bristled. “Of course she can. But I know too much about the creatures she’s hunting not to give her every possible help. They don’t travel normally—they’re able to cross any distance by moving from one corner to another, using magic. Any square room is potentially dangerous for her.” His glare disappeared, and he stroked his chin, watching me. “Your reputation precedes you.”

  “It usually does.”

  He nodded. “Protecting her means keeping her away from other unsavory creatures.”

  “Will she be drawing attention from said unsavory creatures?”

  “Most definitely.”

  I leaned back when the waitress brought our food. Once she’d left, I said, “Tell me about her.”

  “Her full name is Dorothy Elizabeth Ashton, but she goes by Lizzie.”

  My hand stilled over my sub at the sound of that name. “You said she’s magical?”

  Alexander nodded. “Yes. It’s why she was chosen to destroy these hounds.”

  “What kind of magic does she have?”

  “Fire. She’s a natural redhead.”

  My mouth went dry, my palms sweaty. I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms, ignoring the heavy pounding of my heart. There was a chance I didn’t know who this woman was, but I don’t believe in coincidences. “She doesn’t happen to be a Fire Impeder, does she?” My voice was calm—no way would Alexander catch the underlying emotions.

  He didn’t act surprised by my question. “Yes, she is.”

  “I know who she is.”

  “I know you do. It’s one of the reasons I wanted you to take the job. I thought you would have more of a reason to protect her.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What makes you think that?”

  “Because she saved your life.”

  He said it without emotion, and my response should not have been anger. But it was. That part of my life was none of his business—I’d done everything I could to make sure my past was kept quiet.

  I held my breath for several seconds, controlling my impulse to raise my voice.

  “How do you know this?”

  Alexander shrugged again. “I did my research. I know your history. I know where you came from and where you’ve been.”

  I shook my head. He couldn’t possibly know. No one did.

  My stomach was still twisting at this turn of events—getting hired to protect this woman. I’d known about her pretty much since I was a teenager. When I’d finally seen her eight years ago, my expectations had totally been met. She was an angel without wings—beautiful, sweet, and a smile that caused my heart to hurt every time I saw it. Her future had been glorious, and mine was nonexistent.

  Man, my crush had been bad.

  It had taken me years to get over her, or over what I’d thought she was. I’d been starved and enslaved, abused and beaten when she and her best friend discovered and rescued me.

  I still had no idea if I’d invented everything I’d known about Lizzie before meeting her.

  If what Alexander said was true, though—that she’d been called to destroy magical beings—there was a chance the prophecy I’d heard had been correct.

  “Jess mentioned you would be paying me,” I said. “How much?”

  “A thousand dollars per hound she destroys.”

  “That’s a lot. Why are you hiring me?”

  Alexander didn’t respond for a moment. “I already mentioned that your reputation precedes you. I also feel you’re the best person for the job, given the fact that you already have a relationship with her.”

  I snorted. “I haven’t seen her in eight years, Alexander. You call that a relationship?”

  He waved me off, not responding to my question. “Even more important than helping her fight these hounds is keeping demons away from her. She has no idea what she’s in for, and your job is to ensure it stays that way. Protect her. Keep her safe from all the evils most people don’t know exist.”

  “Wi
ll she know you’ve hired me?”

  “Only if you tell her. I’ll leave that up to you.”

  That was fair. I liked setting my own parameters. “So, keep her safe from hounds and demons.”

  Alexander nodded. “As an FYI, the hounds are a secondary objective. She’ll mostly be able to hold her own against them, especially once she gets that amulet. But protecting her from demons is more abstract and harder to keep track of—especially when not all of them will need to be disposed of. That is why I’m offering so much for each hound she kills.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Guilt started eating at my stomach, distracting me from the conversation, but I did my best to ignore it. I knew better than to allow emotions to rule my decisions, and I desperately needed the money Alexander offered. My other job, the one involving Rachel, wasn’t technically a paying one. I’d refused to accept money, even though the Shadow Prophet had offered.

  I might’ve lost most of my soul when I broke spiritual and temporal laws by murdering innocent people, but I wasn’t going to get rich off it. I’d hold on to that last bit of my soul, thank you very much.

  “I’ll do it,” I said.

  Alexander and I got to our feet. I hadn’t touched my food. I bagged up my sub and picked up my lemonade. “I assume you’ll get in contact with me in the future?”

  Alexander nodded. “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  “You’ll need to head to Utah as soon as you can—things will be getting crazy there soon.”

  He offered me a file that contained information on Lizzie. I didn’t accept it. “I’ve kept up on her whereabouts.”

  More than Alexander would probably be comfortable with, considering he was hiring me to protect her.

  3

  Alexander and I parted ways, and I headed to my apartment, which wasn’t far from the bistro. I couldn’t afford more than a grungy, rundown little place, but I actually preferred those sorts of locations. I knew how to handle street thugs and common criminals. What I couldn’t handle—other than under professional circumstances—were wealthy people. Maybe it was just me, but the ones who hired assassins and hit men frequently looked down on my sort.