SAN FRANCISCO
“Take that, you damned troll.”
Rhiannon Castle changed her grip on her game controller as she repeatedly pressed the green button that swung her tiny hobbit sword at the big troll.
Rhiannon’s familiar, a cocoa-colored cat, sat on his haunches next to her. Spirit’s eyes darted back and forth and his tail twitched as he watched the creatures on the flat screen as if he planned to pounce on the troll himself.
She shifted to get more comfortable on the carpet in front of the TV. She could almost hear Spirit laughing at her gaming abilities. His sarcasm knew no bounds. He couldn’t speak, but she could sense his emotions, which he frequently made clear to her.
The troll swung its club and slammed it into the hobbit. “Damn,” Rhiannon said, as her hobbit’s life-force dropped to fifty-one percent.
She narrowed her eyes, determined to take out the troll.
The Shadows stirred inside her.
Her scalp prickled.
They wanted to come out and play.
She sucked in her breath as she forced the Shadows back. “No.” She barely kept her focus on the game and dodged the troll. “Stay inside where you belong.”
The Shadows didn’t want to stay. They pressed her harder than normal. They struggled to break free of the chains she had wrapped around them.
Air felt trapped in her lungs and her heart pounded harder as they threatened to break free.
Go back, she shouted in her mind. Go back and stay there.
Hidden away, never to be set free, never to be known by anyone, not even her Coven sisters.
Instead of leaving her alone, the Shadows egged her on, this time pushing her to win the game.
She scowled, letting the Shadows hover close but not setting them free as she battled the troll with her little hobbit.
Swing, strike, stab.
The Shadows cheered. As if they were guiding her fingers, she made the killing blow in one fast motion.
The troll collapsed and vanished. She sat and stared at the hobbit on the screen, and the place where the troll had been standing.
A buzzing grew in her ears. The Shadows had taken control. They had helped her win the battle with the troll much faster than she would have normally.
She breathed in deeply then let the air out slowly. “Go away,” she said, this time aloud. “I don’t need you. Go away.”
The next level of the game started. This time huge spiders rushed toward her hobbit, like demons swarming the witches in her Coven.
Fear crowded her belly and she flipped the switch on the console to off.
Her breathing had gone shallow and she gulped in a lungful of air. She had been playing the game to escape her reality.
Slowly, she got to her feet and tried to calm her breathing, and her heart.
Demons now roamed San Francisco, killing humans in their path. And a flame-haired goddess was in control.
The vision came quick and strong.
Rhiannon dropped to her knees on her apartment floor and tried to breathe.
Ceithlenn. The evil goddess from Underworld.
The being’s hair literally flamed and her eyes glowed a deep red. Her fangs seemed to lengthen even as Rhiannon watched. Her claws extending, her huge leather wings expanding.
The goddess was terrifying and fascinating all at once.
The force of Ceithlenn’s hunger gripped Rhiannon, as if it were her own belly that rumbled painfully. The knowledge that Ceithlenn hadn’t fed in the three days since she’d left Underworld flowed into Rhiannon through the being’s thoughts.
Darkness was Ceithlenn’s friend as she swooped through the San Francisco skyline searching for a victim or two.
The goddess dropped silently in a crouch behind a man with a pink Mohawk. She watched him for a moment, perching on the cracked sidewalk with her clawed hands resting between her thighs. In Underworld there had been no humans to dine on, and they looked delicious.
Rhiannon’s stomach churned.
Ceithlenn extended her sharp claws as she moved her hand to the side. She slowly scraped her nails across the cement, a deep, ominous sound.
It came to Rhiannon, then. Ceithlenn was waiting for her victim to acknowledge her. She wanted to experience the delight of the man seeing death staring him in the face.
She studied her prey intently and swiped her tongue between her lips before giving a low roar like a tiger.
The moment Ceithlenn growled, the guy came to a stop. From out of his jacket sleeve he flipped open a switchblade and whirled to see what or who was behind him.
His eyes widened at the sight of the goddess. “What the hell?”
With one flap of her great wings Ceithlenn leapt onto the man, slamming him to the concrete.
His knife skittered across the sidewalk. He started to shout but she sank her fangs into his throat before a sound could leave him.
Rhiannon nearly screamed as blood spurted. Ceithlenn’s thrill roared through her as she dined on the human’s flesh.
And then power. Ceithlenn sucked up the dying man’s soul, drawing it into her until his final death rattle. The potency of absorbing the human’s soul was electrifying. The burst Ceithlenn felt in her magical strength was unreal.
As realization dawned so did her delight—she could absorb a human’s soul and magnify her own powers. That was something she had never been able to do with any other living creature or being.
Rhiannon trembled and almost threw up as the vision held her captive and Ceithlenn dined until filled.
Rhiannon felt the goddess’s satisfaction and triumph—and the thrill of her discovery.
Souls. She needed more human souls.
For a moment Ceithlenn scowled. Looked around. Sniffed the air.
Rhiannon recoiled.
Was the goddess feeling Rhiannon’s presence?
Ceithlenn scowled again then took to the air, flapping her great leather wings. Rhiannon felt Ceithlenn’s rush of ecstasy as she circled the city. Sated for now and satisfied with her discovery, the goddess headed to her lair.
Ceithlenn glanced over her shoulder, as if she were looking directly at Rhiannon, and growled.
Rhiannon felt the darkness then, the recognition of the Shadows inside her—and knew the goddess recognized it, too.
Rhiannon cried out as she jerked back to reality. Her eyelids popped open to see that she was in her own apartment.
Her sight blurred and she could hardly breathe. Bile rose in her throat as she tried to ignore the memory of Ceithlenn and the man, but she couldn’t handle it any longer.
Rhiannon scrambled from the floor of her living room and fled for the bathroom. She fell to the linoleum, hit her knees, and puked into the toilet until nothing was left. It felt as though her stomach would come up her throat.
She spit the acidic taste from her mouth. Another thought of the goddess eating the human caused her to dry heave so that her sides ached from it.
When she stood to rinse out her mouth in the sink, she caught a glimpse in the mirror of her moon-white face. The usually pale scars slashed across one cheek by the queen of the Fomorii demons stood out like red trails.
Sweat on her forehead glistened in the bathroom light. She looked away from the mirror, washed her face, swished water in her mouth, and brushed her teeth.
Her mind was a jumble as she staggered from the bathroom into her bedroom.
Had Ceithlenn seen her?
Worst yet, had the goddess seen the Shadows?
Before Rhiannon reached her bed, she dropped to the carpet, and passed out from exhaustion.
And fear.