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  Paid in Full

  Copyright © 2017 by Rachel Rawlings

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Dedication

  For my husband and our minions, thank you for always supporting my dream and never giving up on me even if I want to give up on myself. I couldn't do it without you.

  Stephanie and Gladys – two of the best friends Jax could ever ask for and the best betas an author could ever ask for!

  A lot of bad things happened in Baltimore in 1994: 7,297 aggravated assaults, the gruesome murder of a Romani woman, my birth.

  Only one of these would mean the end of humanity.

  Chapter One

  An orange glow illuminated the skyline, penetrating the darkness of my bedroom and making it impossible to sleep. The blaze, large enough to rival the Great Fire of 1904, still raged outside the safe zone. Another building collapsed, the bricks and mortar unable to withstand the intensity of the flames. Dust and debris fell from the sky like snow, blanketing the city in ash, while dense smoke held the night sky in a stranglehold, blocking every star from view.

  More than just neutral territory, my neighborhood was apparently fireproof. The grounds surrounding my apartment complex were untouched. Grass still grew from the pocket park outside my building all the way to Mount Royal Tavern. But that didn’t stop the fire’s oppressive heat from pressing in on us. The air conditioner whirred, cycling for the third time since I’d realized sleep eluded me and decided to get up. It wasn’t unheard of to have the air on in Maryland in October, except it wasn’t an Indian summer.

  It was the beginning of the end.

  Dane didn’t have any trouble sleeping. From behind me, I heard the distinct sound of his snore pattern. It was one of many things that had begun to grate on my nerves since we’d moved in together. I was beginning to think my years of solitude had less to do with my ability to see the demons lurking around every corner and more to do with the fact that I wasn’t any good at relationships. Not that I’d had stellar examples growing up. Case in point, my mother…or the woman I’d been led to believe was my mother.

  My aunt had masqueraded as my mother, raising me as her own, all the while setting me up to sell my soul to the Devil. She’d done a hell of a job too. Thanks in part to her lies and in part to my stupidity, my soul had been signed, sealed and delivered to Mr. L. Apollyon, a.k.a. Lucifer, before my eighteenth birthday.

  One door closes, another opens.

  My apartment, with a view overlooking a city on fire, was courtesy of an angel. Yes, much to my surprise and despite my lack of soul, I’d been given a chance at redemption. There was just one catch; I had to become a demon hunter. The offer wasn’t that bad; I’d been fulfilling most of the job requirements on my own as it was. The main difference was closing the portals to Hell.

  Dane had come into my life sometime between my discovering I was the last Elioud – an angel-human hybrid, destined to unlock the Fallen and doom mankind – and signing up to become a demon hunter. To say the last few months had been eventful would be the understatement of the year. As a Sin Eater, my live-in boyfriend came with some baggage of his own – like a few centuries worth of other people’s sins. He’d spent his life accepting the worst of what humanity had to offer. My shortcomings paled in comparison. Dane was the first person to accept me for me.

  Except for Thomas.

  Thomas knew who I was and loved me in spite of it. Of course, Thomas was an angel. The same angel who’d enlisted me as a holy warrior and left me with a three-bedroom apartment nestled squarely in the last six city blocks off-limits to demons. I tried not to think about Thomas. Tried and failed. He’d been on my mind almost non-stop since we’d left him in Purgatory. He’d sacrificed himself to save Dane. For me. It was a debt I’d never be able to repay.

  The sound of rustling sheets drew my thoughts away from my fallen angel. I let out a sigh, thankful for the reprieve. No good could come from thinking about Thomas. I couldn’t save him, couldn’t undo the choice either of us had made. But I could do the one thing he’d asked of me – kill the demons, close the portals.

  The sun hadn’t crested the horizon. With another long day looming before me, I left Dane in bed and went to start a pot of coffee. At least one of us could catch up on some much- needed sleep. We’d been chasing demons, going from one suspected portal location to another only to come up empty. I’d been running on a diet fueled by caffeine, sugar, and the occasional protein bar. Grabbing a mug from the cabinet, I interrupted the brew cycle and poured a cup of coffee. With my mug in one hand and two powdered donuts in the other, I settled in front of my laptop at the kitchen table.

  Tobias, our principle contact in Heaven, had sent an email detailing my assignment for the day. I wasn’t sure how the whole internet thing worked up there, but rather than the scrolls we’d gotten previously, Dane and I had finally started receiving texts and emails. I read and re-read the contact information Tobias had sent, trying to recall where I’d heard the name Melina King before. Too exhausted to retrieve any accurate information from my memory banks, I gave up and Googled the name, hoping I’d come up with something. I didn’t just get a hit; I got a home run.

  Melina King, also known as Lala Rose, made her living telling fortunes in the city. Divination wasn’t the only notable thing about Lala. She was also heir to the Romani throne. The lack of court or castle didn’t lessen the importance of the King family. Like her father before her, Lala was a force to be reckoned with, a fair leader, beloved by her tribe. Fascinating as the details of her life were, it was the details of her death that interested me. Most notably the date and time.

  On September 23, 1994, at 12:01 pm, the figurehead of the most powerful Romani tribe in the Mid-Atlantic had been beheaded in her parlor at the precise moment of my birth. There’s no such thing as coincidence, and Tobias’s instructions to meet with the relatives of this woman confirmed it. Her gruesome death connected my life with hers.

  I needed to find out how. And why.

  Dane stumbled into the kitchen, fumbling around for coffee, interrupting my search for more information on the Romani woman and the tie that bound us together. No matter – even half asleep and uncaffeinated, Dane was faster at searching the internet for information. His brief stint as a private investigator and centuries spent as a Sin Eater might have had something to do with it. Both jobs involved a lot of research, so he was a whiz on the computer.

  “Good morning to you too.” His ass had barely hit the chair next to mine before I spun the laptop around to face him. Setting his coffee down on the table, he rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on the screen. “Beheadings. Lovely way to start the day. Not exactly what I had in mind, but…”

  The glint in his eye and the small dimple when he smiled reminded me how I’d ended up with a live-in boyfriend at a time in my life when I’d least expected it. The first time I’d seen him at the gym, I’d known he was trouble, and the mischievous look in his eye as he sipped his coffee confirmed it. My earlier doubts about the choice between Dane and Thomas were momentarily forgotten.

  “I’ll make it up to you later. Right now, I need you to put your magic fingers to work on the keyboard and find me something on Lala King and the person who killed her.” I got up to refill my cup.

  “I can think of a better use for my magic fingers.” Chuckling at his lame innuendo, Dane got down to business.

  A few minutes passed, the soft click of the
keyboard the only sound in the apartment, before Dane’s head popped up from behind the screen.

  “Found it.” Rather than spin the laptop around, he grabbed the leg of my chair and dragged me over to his side of the small kitchen table.

  A virtual timeline of Lala’s life filled the screen. Dates and times, people and places – anything of relevance to one Melina King or her family was a click away. What do you have to do with me? I wondered, clicking on a link to another article about her tragic death. According to the reporter, her killer hadn’t just been insane; he’d been her customer. Perhaps he hadn’t liked the fortune she’d told? Something she’d seen in the cards?

  “Isn’t that your birthday?” Dane gave a low whistle. Reading the article over my shoulder, he’d noticed the significance of the date as well.

  I’d begrudgingly celebrated the day each year with cake and even blown out a few candles. Had I known this woman’s life had been snuffed out at the exact moment I’d taken my first breath, would I have done anything differently? The answer came with the clawing need to pay my respects before going to speak with her family. I was about to ask Dane if he’d mind swinging by Western Cemetery when something other than the location of her internment caught my attention.

  Lala’s killer had claimed she was a demon.

  Chapter Two

  Not wasting any time, Dane and I made quick work of getting ready. Under comfortable jeans and a tee, the five-and-a-half-pound Ghost body armor was undetectable. Rated at Stab and Spike Level 2, the vest could stop a shiv or ice pick from piercing my heart. A spear, on the other hand, not so much. We’d yet to find anything a spear couldn’t pierce, but in the hopes it could slow the impalement and prevent a death blow, Dane and Tobias had begun to insist that I wear the vest whenever I left the house. After Dane had tried to take a spear for me a couple of months before, I’d argued that he should be wearing one as well. Given his current state of dress, it was an argument I was still losing.

  We pulled up to the house of one Maloney King, stopping just short of the newspaper box beside the curb. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I hesitated before getting out. It was still ungodly early for a social call, something I’d overlooked in my haste to leave the apartment. The topic of our conversation made a warm welcome unlikely. The unreasonable hour ensured it wouldn’t be.

  “Maybe we should wait. Grab some coffee and come back.”

  “Too late. I already took the key out of the ignition.” Dane shifted his weight to one hip so that he could slide the key into his front pocket. “There’s a reason Tobias sent us; might as well find out what it is.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting we ignore our directives and bail on the meeting. I was just trying to point out that it’s barely half past seven. Maybe we were a little hasty leaving the apartment so early? People aren’t typically forthcoming this early in the morning.” My hand hovered on the handle, but I didn’t open the door to get out.

  “Have a lot of experience questioning people at this time of day, do you?” Dane’s seatbelt released with a click and he strained to reach his messenger bag on the back seat. Pulling in onto his lap, he gave the contents another once-over, clearly ready to get the meet and greet over with.

  “I speak from personal experience. I’m not that chipper at seven-thirty either.”

  “I speak from personal experience when I agree with that statement. Ouch!” Dane laughed as he rubbed the spot on his shoulder where I’d punched him.

  I tried to hold back a smile, feigning offense at his comment, but failed. It had been too long since either of us had laughed, the light teasing a much-needed relief. Lack of success in finding and closing the remaining portals had both of us on edge. Dane preferred to spend any time outside the apartment tracking and killing demons.

  If we couldn’t shut them down, we could at least put a dent in the number of hellspawn pouring through every day. There was no way to know how many demons were crossing over while we sat outside Maloney’s house.

  “Ready?” Dane was already out of the car, hitching his messenger bag into place.

  The last home standing in an otherwise vacant lot, the rowhome would have had at least two counterparts on either side in its heyday. Rising from the weed-riddled concrete surrounding it on all sides, the century-old three-story brick building loomed over us. Its exterior had seen better days. The once ornate cornice was weather-worn, the detail in the woodwork all but gone. At some point in the building’s existence, someone had taken the time to roll the façade in a soft seafoam green and trim the windows and door in a coordinating yellow, long since faded and chipped away. It was obvious it had been a long time since anyone had put any effort into the maintenance of the building.

  Any love for this place had left when Lala did.

  “I seem to remember someone rushing me out of the apartment the minute she read the word ‘demon’ in that article.” Poking his head back into the car, Dane pulled my thoughts back from the house’s state of disrepair and whether or not it was a metaphor for the state of the people living inside, to the reason we’d come in the first place.

  My life and Lala Rose’s were intertwined, and I had a feeling it went well beyond that fateful Friday in September of 1994.

  Dane followed me up a walkway narrowed by overgrown grass and weeds to the front porch. After climbing the four steps, I pushed the doorbell, half expecting it to be broken. My hand was poised to knock when the muffled chimes of Westminster Quarters reached my ears. No other sounds followed the bells. I waited a few seconds before knocking. Maloney opened the door before my knuckles rapped a second time.

  “The Sin Eater stays outside.” The Romani prince’s greeting left much to be desired despite the early hour.

  “Mr. King, my name’s Jax. This is Dane. Tobias sent us, the both of us.” Wagging a finger between us to emphasize my point, I completed the unnecessary introductions. Given that Maloney had referred to Dane as the Sin Eater, he knew more about us than we did about him.

  “I know exactly who you are, Jacqueline Lillith Rhoades. The Sin Eater will wait outside or this meeting is over before it begins.” Maloney leaned against the door frame, managing to block the entrance despite his wiry build.

  With only a backward glance at Dane, I took a step closer to the doorway and the heir to the Romani throne. Melina King’s grandson turned to the side, making just enough room for me to wiggle between him and the doorframe. Maloney closed the door, the lock’s tumbler clicking into place before I’d turned around.

  “This way.” He brushed past me, walking down the hallway and signaling to a room on the right.

  With a sense of foreboding and my head full of images from the multitude of horror films I’d watched over the years, I followed Maloney down the dark, wood-paneled corridor. Joists creaked beneath the threadbare carpet, adding to the slasher movie vibe and heightening my sense of unease. I pushed my unreasonable fears aside.

  Maloney turned left into a parlor that, unlike the rest of the house, had withstood the test of time and remained in excellent condition. An area rug with intricate Oriental patterns in burgundies and golds covered the hardwood floor. Heavy red velvet drapes designed to block out the sun hung from ornate brass rods over the windows. An old Victorian parlor set filled the center of the room, the settee and coordinating chairs looking slightly Gothic with their matching dark red fabrics and heavily carved wood frames. A fainting couch completed the set and filled the farthest corner of the room.

  Maloney stepped further into the room, toward the fireplace. My survival instincts kicked into high gear when he reached for the poker. Without thinking, I stepped out of swinging distance, my legs bumping into a small table I hadn’t noticed upon entering the room. The table rocked on its legs, and Maloney turned, giving me a lopsided grin before stoking the fire. Apparently he had a flare for the dramatic and enjoyed playing the part of the dark and mysterious Romani prince. Reminding myself that Tobias wouldn’t have sent me here without good reason, I steel
ed my spine and took the seat closest to me.

  “My mother sat in that chair for hours every day. She looked deep into the unknown, seeking the future. And do you know what she saw?” Maloney hunched over the fireplace, gripping the mantel with his left hand.

  Uncomfortable sitting at Lala’s table, I quietly moved to the settee. This was her room, where she’d met clients and told them their destiny, each appointment leading up to the one that would eventually kill her. Had she ever tried to follow the thread of her own life, see what the Fates had planned for her? Had she known that someone was coming to kill her? Was she really a demon? That wasn’t a question I could ask her son – not yet, anyway. I waited for him to end the pregnant pause and answer the question he’d set before me.

  “You.” Maloney turned and stalked toward me. His body was relaxed, but his eyes held an edge of menace.

  “Me?” Resting against the arm of the settee, I tried to appear casual, despite being anything but. “I admit to doing some research before coming out here this morning. There are definitely some odd coincidences, I’ll give you that. But I’m not sure how Lala could have seen me without ever seeing my palm.” I glanced around the room, at the vintage posters of palmistry that lined the walls.

  “She wasn’t some cheap carnie telling fortunes for a few coins. She had the gift. The true gift of sight, not that it did her any good in the end. Demons will come no matter what. It makes no difference if you see them coming first. You can’t outrun them.” The Romani’s expression darkened as he spoke of his mother.

  “Demons?” Skipping past the fact that Lala had seen me in her readings for a moment, I gingerly tried to broach the subject he’d just brought up. Demons. Not easy to do when I was about to ask if his mother was one. “In the article, the one about your mother’s…” My mouth stopped moving as I noticed the dark brown stains on the carpet beneath his feet.