Brimstone Nightmares (Queen of the Damned Book 4) Read online

  Brimstone Nightmares

  Kel Carpenter

  Published by Kel Carpenter

  Copyright © 2019, Kel Carpenter

  Edited by Analisa Denny

  Cover Art by Fiona Jayde

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Created with Vellum

  To the people who stand with you through the hard times…

  because the best is yet to come.

  Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.

  Proverbs 16:18

  Contents

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  *Allistair*

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  *Rysten*

  Chapter 13

  Part II

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  *Julian*

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  *Allistair*

  **Moira**

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  *Laran*

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  **Julian**

  **Moira**

  Chapter 28

  ** Moira**

  Epilogue

  Also by Kel Carpenter

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Who would have thought that Hell’s gate was inside a donut shop?

  Okay, not a donut shop, per se. The infamous French café was much classier than that. Still, the powdered sugar things on my plate were really deep-fried donuts if we were all being honest. While it wasn’t Martha’s, I wasn’t turning down donuts and black coffee for my last meal on Earth.

  “So, how’s this going to work?” I bit into a sugary sweet piece of dough. “We just walk through the portal and bam—we’re in?” Bandit reached over my shoulder and swiped a beignet off my plate, stuffing it in his mouth before I could try to steal it back. I gave him a sideways look that he pretended not to notice as he dove off of me, onto the table, and flung himself at Laran. I shook my head as Laran nuzzled him behind the ears. Sucker.

  “Pretty much.” Rysten nodded, picking at his own breakfast. “There’s typically a queue to get through the portal, but you being who you are and us being the Horsemen, they’re going to make an exception.” I nodded along, trying to take it all in.

  “Not to mention my badass wings,” Moira piped up. She stroked the tip of her marbled blue wing and tucked them in tight. While she wasn’t completely back to her usual self after being trapped in the underground of Le Ban Dia, she was better. It would take time for her to work through what happened. I would respect her choice if she chose to never say what went down in that dark place—as long as she got better.

  “They can’t see your wings,” I reminded her, taking a sip of coffee. Hot and bitter. Just the way I liked it.

  “Such a pity.” Her dismissive tone had Rysten rolling his eyes and she left it at that. We lapsed into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, finishing off our breakfast while I decided how to phrase my next question.

  “So, when we get to Hell…” I paused, nibbling on the edge of a beignet. The anxiety of it all had my stomach in knots. “How exactly is this going to go down?” Another sip. I cocked an eyebrow, looking around the table from Julian—who sat stoic at my left—all the way to Moira who placed herself on my right.

  “Don’t look at me.” She raised her hands. “You know as much as I do.”

  Point taken. I switched to staring at Rysten. He sighed and became very interested in his donuts, as if grappling for words. It was Laran that spoke.

  “When we left Hell, our mission was to retrieve you as fast as possible. Return, so that the Sins could judge you. It should have been less than a week.”

  I frowned. “But I had a life…” Laran nodded, understanding.

  “You did,” he agreed. “But you are Lucifer’s heir. Neither the Sins nor your father took whatever life you would build in their absence into account while planning. They didn’t take you into account. You were born to rule and it’s as simple as that for them. Just as they are the chosen stewardesses, we all assumed that you would accept your role without too much…trouble.” Bandit moved around his shoulder, perching perilously close to a tray a server was holding. One swipe of his paw as the server walked by and a beignet went missing without anyone else noticing. Bandit stuffed it in his mouth and turned around. His cheeks were comically packed when he looked at me.

  “What are you saying exactly?”

  “He’s saying,” Julian said, settling back, the dark green of his eyes weighing on me, “that we were supposed to return with you in under a week and it’s been almost two months.” I took another swig of coffee, swallowing hard.

  “Well, yeah…but I had to transition and there was the whole thing with the imp—”

  “The Sins aren’t known for their patience,” Allistair said. “One day on Earth is a week in Hell. It’s been over a year for them since Lucifer died. They probably think we either didn’t want to bring you….”

  “…or I didn’t want to go,” I finished for him. Allistair gave me a tight smile and nodded once. “Well, it could be worse. I could be dead.” Laran choked on his beignet.

  “That won’t happen,” Julian said with great assurance. I wanted to spout some nonsense about ‘pride goeth before the fall,’ but after all the near-death experiences it wasn’t nearly as funny as it once might have been.

  “Either way,” Moira interrupted, running a hand through her dark green tresses, “she’s not dead and we’re here now. What was the original plan?”

  “The Sins intend to test you. Test whether you are worthy to rule,” Allistair answered. I didn’t miss the way Julian fell pensive beside me, seeming to be out of it, but the nerve in his jaw twitched, giving me the impression it wasn’t that simple. “When we cross through the portal, we’ll land in Lust. Then you’ll meet with the current Sin of Lust and be asked to complete a challenge to prove that you are capable of ruling her province should she fall, if another has not already taken her brand to replace her. Once you pass, we will move to the next Sin, and the next, until you pass every test.”

  “Honestly, love, you’re half-succubus. You should be fine,” Rysten said with a wink. Somehow that didn’t ease the slow tightening creeping through my chest. Worry. That I wouldn’t be up to par. That I would fail. That the beautiful illusion of what they’ve to
ld me is just that. A dream that will never come to pass.

  “Should be.” I had to work to keep the bite out of my tone. “That doesn’t mean I will. What happens if I fail?” I asked them. No one answered me. They were too busy mentally communicating with each other, and unfortunately—thanks to Sin and her rune of silence—I could no longer hear it.

  “We have a backup plan,” Julian eventually said. My eyes narrowed.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means”—Rysten leaned back and dug through his pocket—“that we won’t let anything happen to you.” He pulled out something and extended his hand. When his fingers unfurled, I frowned.

  In the center of his palm sat a silver ring flecked with gold.

  “Um…” I was at a loss for words. “If that was meant to be some kind of proposal, you’re a little late.” Laran threw his head back and laughed. The sound was followed by the booming of thunder and the wind picked up outside. It would be strange to be an elemental, where something as simple as a laugh could trigger a change in the atmosphere. In New Orleans, so many of them gathered in one place and it didn’t often make for sunny skies.

  “It’s not a proposal, love. It’s our get out of jail free card.” Rysten dropped the ring into my palm and dug through his pocket, pulling out another and handing it over to Moira. She slipped it on her right-hand ring finger, and we both watched as it shrunk to fit her perfectly. “Have you ever heard of The Divine Comedy?”

  I snorted. “Is that a question?” Moira snickered into her coffee cup.

  “So, you know all about the rings of Hell?” Allistair asked. Well, now, I didn’t say that…

  I slid my eyes sideways, chewing on my lip. I paused, and my lip slipped free of my teeth at the twinkling amusement in his eyes.

  “There’s nine of them,” I replied, fairly certain of myself until the four of them all started laughing and I remembered that was the human version. “Um…seven?” Julian’s large arm fell around my shoulders as his foot hooked around my chair and jerked it closer to his.

  “First, there’s six provinces,” Julian said. “It’s only because of that damned poem that everyone refers to them as rings.” His free hand reached around and grabbed the small silver piece out of my hand, holding it up. I realized my own mistake just before he said it. “Second, the rings he referenced were these.” I could feel his sharp green eyes on my face, and the proximity between us in public should be a lot larger if they wanted me to think clearly.

  “I think she gets the point,” Allistair said. The corner of Julian’s lips turned up as he dropped the ring back in my hand but made no move to put more distance between us. “Dante was the only known human to be taken into Hell that also found his way back, but by then his mind was utterly broken. The Divine Comedy is closer to the hazy remnants after a vivid dream than it is to Hell itself. The rings are how you get from one province to another. Hell is so large, and only a very small percentage possess a form of teleportation, so the Unseelie created rings with blood magic and brimstone. For most demons their ring will take them to anywhere within the province they were born. Yours will take you to any of the six provinces that the Deadly Sins watch over.”

  “Six? That doesn’t make sense. But I thought there were sev—wait, did you just say that demons can’t normally just go wherever they want in Hell?” Moira asked, and the tone of her voice clearly suggested how put off she was with that thought.

  “No,” Rysten answered after taking a sip of his café au lait. “Most demons are born and die in the same province. Unless they have the money or power to do otherwise.”

  “Harsh,” Moira whistled.

  “There are worse things,” Rysten shrugged noncommittally.

  “Such as?” she fired back.

  “Being born on Earth,” Allistair replied. A noise of spluttered disagreement.

  “What’s so bad about Earth? I’d rather be born here than be a born a slave,” Moira said acidly.

  “Earth robs you of your magic. While Hell is overflowing with it,” Allistair said. “Only the strongest of demons or Fae can truly thrive here because the very ground itself leaches away your power.”

  “We are stronger in Hell,” Laran said and nodded in agreement. They continued discussing the advantages of being in Hell compared to the barren planet that was the only home I’d ever known. I vaguely wondered if my own abilities would be stronger in Hell and shuddered at the thought. The flames were destructive enough as it was.

  I turned the ring over between my fingers, feeling the slightest sliver of power emitting from it, not completely different than my own. Almost familiar in a way…

  “How does it work?” I asked, angling the silver in the light so that the etchings on the inside revealed themselves.

  “Think of where you want to go and twist the band once,” Allistair rattled off. A knowing smirk lit up his lips as Moira twisted her ring and nothing happened.

  “Mine’s broken,” she complained. Bandit let out a raucous laugh.

  “No, it’s not,” Rysten said.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “They don’t work on Earth.”

  “That’s a dumb design,” Moira said sharply.

  I rolled my eyes, thinking on what he’d said. Most demons were born and died in the same province, but I’d been born in Hell and came to a new world. I may as well be an entirely different kind of demon because I couldn’t fathom a world where I didn’t even have the choice of where to live.

  These were my final moments on Earth, the place I grew up, the world I was raised in, and it struck me that I had very little clue of what truly waited for me on the other side. Sure, the Horsemen could tell me about it, but in the end, I wouldn’t know until I got there. It was almost surreal to sit in this rickety wooden chair, simultaneously knowing and not knowing what was to come.

  Not two months ago these four males walked into my life, and I knew then it would never be the same. If someone had told me I’d literally be sitting in front of Hell’s Gates, drinking coffee and eating donuts with the Four Horsemen—who I’d branded as my mates—well, I’d have asked what they were smoking and where I could get some. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined this would be what became of my life, but I wouldn’t change it.

  In these four that I still knew so little about, I found happiness. That’s not to say I wasn’t happy before, living with Moira and Bandit…but it was a different kind. This ache in my chest felt so wholly different from the kind of pure emotions I felt for my familiars. Where they were a gentle breeze on a summer day, my four mates were a disaster. A beautiful, natural, reckless disaster that left me gasping for air and wondering how I could possibly survive.

  Maybe I wouldn’t. I turned the ring over, letting my thoughts wander. They’d called this tiny piece of metal a get out of jail free card, like it would somehow save me from the wrath of the Sins should I fail. As I angled it under the light, something caught my attention.

  “When did you have these made?” I asked. That strand of blue was too familiar to be anything other than my own hair. Moira’s probably had her hair as well.

  “How did you know we had them made?” Laran asked. I glanced up, only then noticing the way all five pairs of eyes were on me.

  “Well there aren’t exactly factories cranking these things out, and even if you made this when I was a baby”—I thrust my thumb in Moira’s direction—“you didn’t plan for her. So, you had to have these made after coming to Earth. Yes?”

  Laran nodded slowly, watching me curiously.

  “We had them made yesterday,” Rysten answered. “After your transition. Once we knew that neither of you had any form of teleportation.” The very mention of my transition had my blood heating a little. I plowed on, choosing to focus on the need to know instead of the need that was never sated with me.

  “Blood magic,” I mused, still trying to lock down on that niggling feeling inside. It was just a ring. Moira also had one…so why d
id I feel like there was something strange about mine? “I’m guessing you didn’t make them yourselves?” I phrased it like a question, hoping for some sort of confirmation one way or the other. Allistair watched me closely.

  “No. An old friend of mine made them,” he said slowly. “Is there something wrong?” he asked, his gaze flicking between the ring I still hadn’t put on my hand and the strange path my line of questioning had taken.

  “Just curious is all,” I answered with a smile.

  “You should try it on,” Julian said suddenly.

  I swallowed hard, not sure why I was so nervous to begin with. None of them would do anything to harm me. Well, nothing to truly harm me. A little bruising or blood otherwise…I held up the ring with one hand, positioning it just over my right ring finger. Allistair’s deep golden gaze drilled into me, watching me slowly slip it on.

  It settled at the base of my finger and shrunk to size. Holding my breath, I waited, but nothing happened. The faintest trace of magic touched me, but it was so slight compared to what was already within me that I didn’t even shudder. Both foreign and familiar, I knew the magic in this ring just as I knew who made it, but it seemed my fears—at least in this—were for nothing.

  My response to it was the reason she had spelled me in the first place, and now they thought I was acting strange for nothing. I moved my hands to my lap, forcing myself to be at ease.