A Glimpse of Darkness Read online

  A Glimpse of Darkness is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Del Rey eBook Original

  Compilation copyright © 2010 by Random House, Inc.

  Chapter 1 and Chapter 6 copyright © 2010 by Lara Adrian L.L.C.

  Chapter 2 copyright © 2010 by Harry Connolly

  Chapter 3 copyright © 2010 by Lucy Snyder

  Chapter 4 copyright © 2010 by Kelly Meding

  Chapter 5 copyright © 2010 by Stacy Fackler

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Del Rey, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  Del Rey is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.

  Chapters 1 through 6 of this book were originally published online at www.suduvu.com.

  Grateful acknowledgment is made to Del Rey and Dell, imprints of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc. for permission to reprint the following:

  Excerpt from SPELLBENT by Lucy A. Snyder (Del Rey, 2009), copyright © 2009 by Lucy A. Snyder. Used by permission.

  Excerpt from CHILD OF FIRE by Harry Connolly (Del Rey, 2009), copyright © 2009 by Harry Connolly. Used by permission.

  Excerpt from UNHOLY GHOSTS by Stacia Kane (Del Rey, 2009), copyright © 2009 by Stacey Fackler. Used by permission.

  Excerpt from KISS OF MIDNIGHT by Lara Adrian (Dell, 2007), copyright © 2007 by Lara Adrian, L.L.C. Used by permission.

  Excerpt from THREE DAYS TO DEAD by Kelly Meding (Dell, 2009), copyright © 2009 by Kelly Meding. Used by permission.

  eISBN: 978-0-345-52782-0

  www.delreybooks.com

  www.suvudu.com

  v3.1

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Preface

  Chapter 1 by Lara Adrian

  Chapter 2 by Harry Connolly

  Chapter 3 by Lucy A. Snyder

  Chapter 4 by Kelly Meding

  Chapter 5 by Stacia Kane

  Chapter 6 by Lara Adrian

  Excerpt Chapters

  Excerpt from Kiss of Midnight by Lara Adrian

  Title Page

  About the Author - Lara Adrian

  Excerpt from Child of Fire by Harry Connolly

  Title Page

  About the Author - Harry Connolly

  Excerpt from Spellbent by Lucy A. Snyder

  Title Page

  About the Author - Lucy A. Snyder

  Excerpt from Three Days to Dead by Kelly Meding

  Title Page

  About the Author - Kelly Meding

  Excerpt from Unholy Ghosts by Stacia Kane

  Title Page

  About the Author - Stacia Kane

  Fan Voting Results

  Dear Reader,

  It started as a lunch table joke: adult choose-your-own-adventure novels.

  “We could have paranormal authors write them!”

  “They could be action-packed and full of cool monsters!”

  “Why not have fans vote on the outcome?”

  Wait a minute, these are pretty good ideas.…

  So we set about compiling a list of some of our favorite paranormal romance and urban fantasy authors who we wanted to work with on this project. Specifically, we were looking for authors who wrote fun and exciting stories with fully imagined worlds, fascinating characters, and fantastic action.

  We were looking for authors whose books we ourselves enjoyed.

  It didn’t take us long to come up with this all-star roster: Lara Adrian, Harry Connolly, Kelly Meding, Lucy A. Snyder, and Stacia Kane.

  Now, we fully expected these authors to look at our little experiment and immediately decline. It is one thing to ask an author to write a short story, but it is another thing entirely to ask them to collaborate with other authors with whom they have never worked before—in a world they weren’t familiar with. Not to mention that they would have almost no control over where the story would go once we factored in the fan voting. And if all that wasn’t enough to deter them, perhaps the fact that they would have only a couple of days to write their chapter would scare them off.

  Amazingly—and luckily for us—all five authors loved the idea and jumped on board as quickly as possible. After a few planning emails and documents were sent around, the group was ready to begin. What followed was some of the most exciting, intriguing, original, and action-packed writing that we have ever seen—and some of the most fun we’ve had as editors. Guided by the fans’ voting, our authors rose to the occasion and created a fantastic piece of short fiction in a manner that has never before been attempted. We couldn’t be happier with the way these pieces came together and are extraordinarily proud of the eNovella that you are about to read.

  We hope you enjoy the fruit of our “little experiment,” and hope this “glimpse” from each of these wonderful authors leads you to discover some new favorites. Toward that end, we urge you to check out all the excerpts of original fiction from our authors at the end of this eNovella.

  Happy Reading,

  David Pomerico and Mike Braff

  Editors of A Glimpse of Darkness

  Chapter 1

  by Lara Adrian

  By the time Munira bint Azhar stepped out of her street-level apartment that Monday morning, she had two good reasons to turn around and crawl right back into bed. The migraine jackhammering behind her eyelids had her feeling like one of the undead, but it was the near collision with a rickshaw full of tourists on their way to one of Port Nightfall’s many casinos that had really put the icing on her can-this-day-be-over-already morning.

  It had also cost her a perfectly good cup of coffee, not to mention her favorite mug. She glared down at the shattered green zombie face and the cheap ceramic shards that used to proclaim GREAT MINDS TASTE ALIKE.

  “Bloody tourists,” she grumbled as she swept the broken pieces into the gutter grate at the curb. “Can’t live with ’em, can’t pack ’em up and send ’em Below.”

  Since trouble tended to run in threes in her experience, she could hardly wait to find out what else might be waiting for her. Unfortunately, what waited for her at her office a few blocks away was a stack of bills that weren’t going to get paid if she gave in to the prickling at her nape warning her to give the rest of this day a pass. It had been a long stretch since her last contracted job—long enough that she’d nearly begun to regret turning down the most recent one that had come her way.

  Making a living as a Retriever was very specialized work, occasionally well paying, almost always dangerous. Munira had been doing it for a long time, since she was a little girl, in fact, growing up in Port Nightfall’s neighboring Baja desert lands among her father’s people. Azhar was djinn, part of an ancient ifrit tribe of beings with the power to manipulate fire. He’d taken great care in teaching his half-blood daughter how to use her own unique abilities to her best, most lucrative advantage. It had started off as a game, a challenge to see how quickly and efficiently Munira could fetch the objects Azhar had planted around their camp. She couldn’t recall when those games had turned to thievery and she the obliging accomplice, helping her father feed an insatiable habit for cards and dice.

  Ancient history, she thought, heading across the street toward the local maqhan and the aroma of fresh-brewed espresso. She’d left home at the age of fifteen to make her own way and hadn�
�t looked back in all the years since.

  As she entered the coffee shop, the tattooed barista lifted her dreadlock-fringed head and gave her a welcoming nod. Munira strode to the counter, perched on the edge of a batik-upholstered stool, and ordered a double shot. “On second thought, make it a triple, Lolita.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  Munira merely grunted in response. On the other side of the long lounging area, a couple of white-haired little old ladies in straw sombreros sipped Turkish coffees and listened, rapt and wide-eyed, as one of the city’s fortune-tellers dealt from a tarot deck and whispered lies about adventures soon to come in their lives. The fortune-teller was a fake, but most of the people coming to Port Nightfall and the other resort areas in the Emirate of Baja California didn’t know that.

  Nor did they have any inkling of the true magic of this place. Strange and sometimes fearsome creatures roamed the land, both within the glittering city these tourists trod through so casually, and in the darker realm that lurked Below, in El Sótano: the undead domain of the necromancer Soledad. To preserve a precarious peace, Magickind kept their secrets hidden from human eyes and ears. They lived and worked among the city’s general population as though they were no different from the mundane who surrounded them.

  Lolita came back with the triple and placed the lidded cup on the counter. She leaned in toward Munira, her voice barely a whisper. “Did you hear about Tariq el Sabueso?”

  Munira shook her head, although she knew enough about the bottom-feeding werehound shapeshifter to guess it likely wasn’t good.

  Lolita’s blue eyes were grim beneath her arched, dark brows. The dreds that covered her head writhed nearly imperceptibly, but enough that Munira noticed the heightened worry churning behind the pretty Gorgon’s level stare. “He’s dead, Nira. Last night his shredded carcass was found near El Sótano’s south portal.”

  Munira blew out a long sigh. “What was he doing down there? Any idiot knows the only way you come back from Below is in pieces.”

  Then again, the werehound wasn’t exactly famous for his good sense. He was reckless and opportunistic, not to mention indiscriminate, scraping up the crap jobs that Munira and her business partner, Arielle, wouldn’t touch, no matter how high their bills had stacked up. Whatever Tariq had been after in Soledad’s domain sure as hell hadn’t been worth it.

  “I gotta go,” she said, paying Lolita as she hopped off the stool. “Thanks for the caffeine.”

  “Anytime,” the Gorgon replied. “You be careful, Nira. You hear?”

  Munira waved and headed out to the sunlit, palm-tree-lined street. The walk to her office took only a couple of minutes, past the rows of boutiques and restaurants whose architecture and offerings exemplified Port Nightfall’s mixed heritage of exotic Arabian influences and the colorful, earthy exuberance of neighboring Mexico.

  Gleaming white domes of marble and slender minarets stood in serene elegance beside awe-inspiring red adobe cathedrals rich with elaborate, jewel-toned stained-glass windows and life-like, sculptured reliefs. As Munira cut through the drifting smoke of a nearby incense shop, a street vendor selling spicy kebabs and fajitas smiled at her from between the hanging clusters of bright red chili peppers that festooned his cart like bunches of grapes.

  Up ahead, at the end of the main drag, a towering high-rise of sparkling glass and steel loomed, not so much a part of the city as dominating it. She wasn’t Catholic, not even human actually, but Munira barely resisted the urge to cross herself as she walked into its long shadow on her way to her low-rent office door just off the street.

  Expecting her partner to be in already, Munira was surprised to find the door still locked, the blinds shuttered over the small window from the night before. Juggling her precious triple espresso, she fumbled her keys out of her pant pocket with one hand, then opened the door.

  “Arielle?”

  No answer. Typical of the free-spirited sylph to come in late on a Monday. Of course, it didn’t help her punctuality any that she was currently infatuated with her new man. Arielle was a decent business partner and a hell of a Retriever in her own right, but the girl was seriously impaired when it came to telling time.

  Munira lifted the cup of espresso to her lips as she walked through the small reception area to her workstation down the hall.

  As soon as she crossed the threshold into her cubbyhole of an office, the fine hairs at her nape and along her arms rose in warning. The normally caramel color of her skin took on a bluish tint, betraying her djinn blood. Her instincts intensified with sudden alarm.

  That’s when she spotted the ball of energy hanging in the upper corner of the room.

  “Holy—”

  “Munira bint Azhar.” The malevolent swirling sphere of light began to waver and gather more solid form. It took on the basic shape of a man, though Munira knew all too well that Temesis the wizard was no man at all. The most powerful resident of Port Nightfall, Temesis lived in the penthouse of the city’s tallest tower, the very one that eclipsed most of the street and Munira’s office as well. “You’ve been refusing my calls, Munira. How very rude of you.”

  She snorted, perhaps not the wisest response, but if he’d taken the time to teleport his likeness into her office, politeness probably wouldn’t save her now. “I’ve told you before, Temesis. I don’t want your business.”

  “I think you’re wrong,” his vaporous image replied. “In fact, I’m quite certain you’ll want my business more than anything. That’s why I’ve come to pay you this in-person visit.”

  She set her coffee down on the edge of her desk, wary now. “You don’t need me. There are others in this city who would be more than happy to run whatever errand you have in mind. I told you that the last time we spoke.”

  “Yes, you did.” His translucent face tightened with a thin smile. “I’ve wasted enough time on imbeciles who weren’t worthy of the task. I need someone with the skill and intelligence you possess.” His lips curved into a contented, confident sneer. “I want you, Munira. I will have you.”

  She didn’t like the sound of that at all. And his mention of unworthy imbeciles sent her thoughts hurtling back to poor, shredded Tariq el Sabueso. “Oh, my God. You sent the werehound to El Sótano? You should have known he wouldn’t make it back.”

  Temesis shrugged. “You will, however.”

  “What?” Now she was pissed. “You think you can come in here and coerce me into offering myself up to Soledad for her amusement? Forget it. Whatever it is you need from El Sótano, you’re going to have to go down and get it yourself.”

  Temesis’s shrewd eyes darkened like a coming storm, a reminder of the wizard’s legendary temper and his deadly power. “You know that’s not possible. Soledad and I have an understanding; we have our boundaries. I keep to my realm up here, and she to hers Below.”

  “Yet you expect me to waltz down there instead? How stupid do you think I am?”

  “It’s not stupidity I’m counting on with you, Munira.”

  “Then what makes you think I’d ever willingly agree to something like this?”

  “Loyalty,” he said simply. “The bond of family. Namely, yours.”

  Something cold grabbed hold of her stomach. “My family?”

  Within the ball of energy hovering in the corner, Temesis’s image morphed into the face of someone else. Someone she hadn’t seen for many long years.

  Her father.

  Azhar was in Temesis’s penthouse, submerged in a large cylinder filled with water—the only element that could douse his ifrit djinn magic. He was powerless, a prisoner to Temesis’s whim. Her blood ran cold.

  “You see, Munira,” said the wizard’s detached voice from somewhere all around her, “you have a very good reason to help me get what I want. You have twenty-four hours to go Below and bring me the Light of Ta’lab from where it resides at Soledad’s palace.”

  She stared at her father’s face through the magic and the liquid prison that held him. Temesis was
asking the impossible. Venturing Below was treacherous on its own, but to demand she steal from Soledad’s well-guarded domain? “I can’t … no one would be able to steal the Light and make out of El Sótano alive.”

  Temesis’s voice held the hint of a malicious smile. “I know you can do it. The life of your father depends on it.”

  Chapter 2

  by Harry Connolly

  The ball of energy—and the image inside it—shrank, vanishing like water down a drain. When Munira was sure it was truly gone, her ramrod-straight posture turned wobbly. She grabbed the edge of her desk to hold herself steady.

  She stared, not really seeing the bills and old messages scattered on her desktop. Her rage was building, and the wooden desk became very cold to her touch.

  No, she thought. Keep your cool. You don’t have the time or the energy to waste. She stepped away from the desk and took note of the scorch marks her hands had left. Again. Perfect. Arielle would be so pleased.

  The worst part of all this was the expression on her father’s face. Her kind, mischievous, feckless father, who had a smile for everyone—including the ones he robbed—had despaired. His shame she was used to; he’d been ashamed of his own weakness many times. But she’d never thought of him as someone who’d give up.

  Munira pushed that thought out of her mind. She only had twenty-four hours. She didn’t have time to waste.

  What she did have was options. She could drop a letter of resignation on Arielle’s desk. Lolita would hire her at the maqhan. Maybe. It would mean abandoning the only thing she was truly good at, but no one would ever blackmail her into a job again. All she’d have to do is punch a clock, pay taxes, wipe up after humans, and generally wade deeper into the muck of the mundane world. Ugh.