Demons of the Sun
Authors: Cindi Madsen
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty-Six
- Chapter Thirty-Seven
- Chapter Thirty-Eight
- Chapter Thirty-Nine
- Chapter Forty
- Chapter Forty-One
- Chapter Forty-Two
- Chapter Forty-Three
- Acknowledgments
- Cindi Madsen
Demons of the Sun
Cindi Madsen
ISBN:
978-1-937254-77-3
E-ISBN: 978-1-937254-78-0
© Copyright Cindi Madsen 2012. All rights reserved
Cover Art: Taria Reed
Editor: Judy Roh
Layout/Typesetting: jimandzetta.com
Crescent Moon Press
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Box 269
Middletown, NJ 07748
Ebooks/Books are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Crescent Moon Press electronic publication/print publication: September 2012
www.crescentmoonpress.com
To my dad, for letting me watch action movies with him,
and to my mom, for giving me her love of romance.
Now I get to combine the best of both worlds.
The scent of decay hung in the air, along with a prickling, something’s-not-right sensation that set every nerve in Persephone’s body on edge.
One hand over her nose and mouth, the other gripping her sword, she cautiously made her way down the hall.
A gray, fuzzy lump sat at the end of it. Another dead rat. Beady eyes closed to slits, feet up, pink tail trailing out on the hardwood floor. His disgusting teeth stuck out past his smile, like his demise hadn’t bothered him in the least.
Grinning in the face of death. You gotta respect that.
Persephone nudged the filthy creature with the toe of her shoe. Death confirmed. She shuddered, leaned her sword against the wall, and blew out her breath, feeling the last of the tension drain from her body.
I was freaking myself out over nothing. Well, not exactly nothing, because now I have to go find a trash bag and get rid of the nasty thing.
It was nice to be loved by a cat and all, but felines had the worst taste in presents. And the stench! Did he drag this one from the sewer?
Knowing Turtle, her tortoiseshell cat, would be offended if she didn’t mention his “gift” right away, she opened her mouth to call for him. The words froze on her tongue as a waft of cool air hit her.
She stared at the open space between her protective wooden door and the frame it should have been nestled against, panic clutching at her heart.
There were ridiculous amounts of rules for a Sentry to remember. In her seventeen years, Persephone had heard or read them countless times, until she lived and breathed them. The most important one—one she never forgot—was keeping the perimeter secure at all times. Take every precaution. Double check every lock. Don’t leave any room for error.
Or you might be dead before you realize your mistake.
Persephone hadn’t made a mistake, though. Thirty minutes ago, when she’d come home, she’d engaged the deadbolt with a comforting click.
Muscles tensed, she remained perfectly still, listening, waiting. She’d always known this moment might come. She’d prepared for it. Only now her heart was pounding, her throat had gone dry, and she felt like she might be more ready to vomit than attack.
Do I go back for the sword in the hall, or do I—
The floorboard creaked behind her and to the left. She dove for the short sword hidden behind the peace lily she kept by the door. In one fluid movement, she drew the sword and swung toward the noise.
The culprit jumped back, barely dodging the tip of her blade. His eyes widened. And it was a he. Not a disgusting beast like she assumed it would be. That explained why he hadn’t tripped any of the demon alarms. She registered blond and a blur of long limbs, but didn’t pause to get more.
Sword out, she charged.
“Wait!” he yelled.
She wasn’t stupid. Waiting wasn’t an option.
He dodged left and drew a blade of his own. Metal clanged against metal as he blocked her next blow. “There’s been a mistake!”
“You’re mistake was breaking into my house!” Persephone swung again.
He slammed his wider, longer sword against hers, and the hit vibrated through her hands. She tightened her grip, desperate to keep her weapon.
He brought his blade down again, harder. Her sword fell to the ground and skittered across the floor. His gaze dropped to it, and Persephone sent her fist into his nose, followed closely by a swift kick to his gut.
He grunted, doubling over. Then he ducked his head and charged.
Lights flashed across her vision as her head hit the wall. She reached for something—anything. Her hand found the lamp on the side table.
His warm breath hit her face. “Look, if you’ll just—”
She swung the lamp at his head. A loud crash filled the air as it shattered against his skull.
He stumbled back, shaking broken bits of glass from his hair.
Persephone sprang at him. They fell onto the edge of the coffee table, and the other end flipped up, smacking into Persephone. She rolled to the ground, holding her head and blinking to clear her vision.
But there wasn’t time for that. No way was she going to let him take what he’d come for. She’d vowed to protect it with her life, and she would. Ignoring the pain shooting through her skull, she scrambled to her feet.
The intruder was getting to his.
Persephone dove on top of him, pinning him to the floor. She ran her hand underneath the couch, searching for the dagger she’d stashed there. Her fingers groped for the handle…
Got it!
She whipped out the weapon and pointed it at his throat. Her chest heaved up and down as she peered down at her attacker.
“Your necklace,” he said through ragged breaths.
The gauzy white teardrop stone had slipped from under her shirt and dangled over his nose.
“It’s Chalcedony. Meaning you belong to the Order of Zeus. I know because I have one, too.” Keeping his movements slow, he reached inside his shirt and pulled out a thick silver chain. In the center hung a flat circle of chalcedony. His was bluer than hers, but she’d studied the stone enough to recognize it.
“How much do you know about what’s going on right now?” he asked.
“Right now, all I care about is why you broke into my house,” Persephone said.
“Care to lower the weapon and let me up so we can have a civilized talk?”
Now that the adrenaline rush was fading, she could take in more details. His bright blue eyes. The swelling starting in his nose from her jab. The blond, wavy hair framing his face. The blood trickling from the cut on his forehead. And not only was he a he, he was a good-looking he.
“Are you going to let me up?” he asked. “Or do I have to show you how easily I could free myself?”
