Surrender to Darkness Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  GLOSSARY

  Teaser chapter

  Praise for Drawn into Darkness

  “Lachlan MacGregor looks like a rather hunky priest, but the four-hundred-year-old undead hero of McCleave’s entertaining paranormal romance debut is actually serving penance by gathering souls destined for heaven, saving them from demons…. Swords flash, spells are cast … but Rachel is game for anything as long as she can save her daughter and find true love. Readers will hope for sequels in which Emily grows up to be as feisty as Rachel and as powerful as Lachlan.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “This is a fabulously entertaining tale of demons, angels, and beings in between. The world building is unique and detailed, drawing the reader into an age-old battle between good and evil. The next installment will be eagerly anticipated.”

  —Romantic Times

  “Fast-paced, dangerously sexy, and full of fun! Annette McCleave has created a world where good and evil fight for the possession of human souls, and love is found despite seemingly unbeatable odds. Drawn into Darkness will keep you turning pages and anxious for more!”

  —USA Today bestselling author Kathryn Smith

  “Deliciously dark and spellbinding! Annette McCleave weaves magic so powerful, you’ll believe in immortals. Drawn into Darkness is sexy, fast-paced, and intense. Readers, be warned—the Soul Gatherers sizzle on the page.”

  —Allie Mackay

  “A phenomenal debut! A refreshingly unique and vividly realized world with dark dangers and richly drawn characters. I loved every word. McCleave more than delivers!”

  —National bestselling author Sylvia Day

  ALSO BY ANNETTE McCLEAVE

  Bound by Darkness

  Drawn into Darkness

  SIGNET ECLIPSE

  Published by New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:

  80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published by Signet Eclipse, an imprint of New American Library,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  First Printing, January 2011

  Copyright © Annette McCleave, 2011

  All rights reserved

  eISBN : 978-1-101-47685-7

  SIGNET ECLIPSE and logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

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

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  To Lise, Andree, and Mark, who have supported me in innumerable ways.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  It takes a village to produce a book, and I’d like to applaud all the wonderful people at NAL who’ve helped make my dreams reality—editors, copy editors, cover designers, marketing gurus, sales people, production staff, and beyond. Thank you.

  To the friends who have offered me words of wisdom, sumptuous picnic lunches, and encouraging smiles during a difficult year—all I can say is you are the best. Really.

  1

  “We’re finally making some headway against the effects of the dark relics. São Paolo just reported their first rise in church attendance in seventeen months, and the survivors of that bus crash in Lima are singing their ‘We were saved by an angel’ story to the press.” Webster removed two red pushpins from his huge map of the world and replaced them with blue ones. “If you hadn’t screwed up in Rome, Murdoch, this would have been a positive week.”

  Jamie Murdoch leaned against the big campaign desk and imagined a target painted on the other Soul Gatherer’s back. “I did not screw up. I told you, we were attacked by a pack of flesh-eating gradior demons.”

  “Did the cardinale of the Protectorate end up in the hospital with multiple lacerations and a severe concussion?”

  “You know he did.”

  Webster turned to face him. “Then you screwed up.”

  Murdoch’s hand involuntarily fisted.

  “There are still far too many red pins on the map,” Stefan Wahlberg said. The plump mage pushed away from the bookcase to study the map in more detail. “Especially in Europe. Even with each city now protected by a principality angel, the number of demon nests continues to grow. We really need to find a better way to beat back the hordes.”

  “Yes.” Lena sat forward on the couch. “We also need to find some way to save the humans who’ve suffered a havoc bite. Reports keep streaming in. The bastards drain them of energy, then leave them to die.”

  “There is a way,” Stefan said. “But it’s a very difficult potion to brew, and it requires an ingredient so rare as to render it impractical. Our best option remains destroying the demon nests.”

  “I agree.” Webster’s gaze returned to the map. “Problem is we’re outnumbered. The teams we’ve placed around the world are struggling.”

  “We’re ramping up the training,” Murdoch reminded them, ignoring the restless urge that filled his chest every time the talk turned to battle. “MacGregor’s putting thirty-two students through their paces this term, and with minor tweaks to the program, he’s confident he can double that number on the next round.”

  “We’ll still be behind the eight ball. We need something game changing,
like a weapon.”

  “A weapon?” asked Lena. She tugged the elastic band out of her hair, gathered up the strands that had come loose, and refastened her ponytail. “What kind of weapon?”

  “Anything that evens the odds,” Webster responded.

  “I’ve read all the grimoires we’ve acquired, cover to cover,” Stefan said. “No such weapon exists.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” said Lena.

  Murdoch glanced at her. Miracles and churchgoing habits didn’t excite him. But weapons did. “Do you know something?”

  “Back when I had my amulet, I stumbled across an artifact radiating some serious dark magic. Part of a private collection in Japan.”

  “What makes you think it was a weapon?” Murdoch asked.

  “The owner told me it could single-handedly swamp the forces of evil.”

  Webster favored his lovely girlfriend with a raised brow. “And you didn’t think that was worth mentioning until now?”

  She shrugged. “A few months after I sensed it, it stopped giving off vibes. The owner has since died, so I’m not even sure it can be tracked down.”

  “The owner used those exact words?” Stefan asked, frowning. “Swamp the forces of evil?”

  “I think so,” Lena said. “Why?”

  “A century or so ago, there were rumors of a sixth Ignoble. I’ve seen similar phrasing in the parchments that mention it.”

  “There’s a sixth dark relic?”

  Stefan waved his hand dismissively. “The Romany Council investigated the rumors. No truth to any of them.”

  “I still think it’s worth looking into,” Webster said. He turned to Lena. “The owner have any family you could contact?”

  “A daughter, Kiyoko. But I must warn you, I’ve known her for years and never once heard her mention the relic.”

  “Let’s send someone over there to check it out. Someone stubborn, someone who won’t give up easily.” Webster smiled broadly. “That would be you, Murdoch.”

  “Me?” Murdoch blinked. “I’m headed to Johannesburg, remember? Now that we’re going on the offensive, fighting the demons in the trenches, we all agreed there was no better place for me to be than in the thick of battle.”

  “That was before you put the cardinale in intensive care.”

  “Come on. The team needs a seasoned commander. Who else is qualified?”

  “Atheborne.”

  “No bloody way.” Murdoch surged away from the desk, his face hot. Atheborne was a highly skilled warrior, and he’d slain dozens of demons since his fateful landing at Omaha Beach, but he didn’t have Murdoch’s experience. “I’m the senior Gatherer. It’s my assignment.”

  “Not anymore it’s not.” The others in the room shuffled uncomfortably. “You guys can go,” Webster told them. “Murdoch and I can finish this conversation on our own.”

  After the library door closed, Murdoch said quietly, “You prick. You’re doing this out of spite.”

  “No, I’m not. If this assignment was limited to kicking some demon ass, maybe I’d decide differently. But it also involves guarding a Protector. Another man just like the cardinale. For six long months. And if that Protector goes down, we lose the relic he’s entrusted with. There’s no way I’m sending a guy who explodes like a bomb at the first sign of danger on a mission this critical. I can’t risk it.”

  Although it was tempting to stomp across the room and take his frustration out on Webster’s nose, Murdoch subsided. He was in Webster’s house. That called for a little decorum. “I did not explode at the first sign of danger. My berserker took control after we were swamped by gradiors determined to tear us to shreds. And for the record, I succeeded in my mission. I saved the cardinale ’s life.”

  Webster’s silver eyes held his for a long moment. “Every wound on his body—all seventeen of them—came from your sword, not a gradior’s claws. So, yes, you saved his life, but you nearly killed him in the process.”

  “He’s alive,” Murdoch said.

  “He’ll be in therapy for months.”

  True, and the knowledge shamed him. But the past was in the past. If there was one lesson he’d learned over the years, it was that rehashing his failures ad nauseam wouldn’t change the facts. “I’m not pleased with the outcome, but neither do I regret my actions. Any other Gatherer faced with six opponents would have failed.”

  “Maybe,” Webster allowed, closing the wooden panels that hid the map of the world from prying eyes. “But it could easily have gone the other way and you know it. We could be standing at the man’s graveside comforting his widow, instead of forking over the dough for his hospital bills. I spent months convincing the Protectorate to trust us enough to guard the Ignobles, and your stunt in Rome nearly cost us everything. I can’t let you lead a mission this important, Murdoch. Not when I know your little problem could take the mission south at the drop of a hat.”

  “MacGregor trusts me,” Murdoch reminded the other Gatherer.

  “It doesn’t really matter what MacGregor thinks,” Webster said softly. “He’s not in charge anymore. I am.”

  The muscles in Murdoch’s stomach knotted. MacGregor’s decision to name Webster as leader still tasted like failure, even after six months.

  “I’m not calling your leadership into question,” he said. In truth, Webster had done an outstanding job thus far. He had depths Murdoch hadn’t suspected, repeatedly displaying not only intelligence but courage and an innate gift for strategy. “I’m giving you my word as a Highlander that I’ll lead the South African team to success.”

  Webster stared out the big picture window. Water dripped from the chairs and umbrellas onto the ruddy-colored cedar deck. The first rainy day in San Jose in over a month.

  “I’m sorry, Murdoch,” he said. “I can’t do it.”

  An invisible hand clenched Murdoch’s throat. His damned berserker was screwing up his life. Again.

  “Fine,” he spit out. In a purposeful display of impressive musculature, he folded his arms over his chest. The soft material of the T-shirt pulled snug over his shoulders and pecs. Beat that, little wharf rat. “I’ll go to Japan. In the midst of global riots and unprecedented numbers of demon attacks, I’ll wander off for an unspecified amount of time to check out the slim possibility of an undocumented demon-slaying weapon.”

  “Excellent.”

  Murdoch barely resisted a snort. The man was impervious to sarcasm. “But listen up. If I find this bloody thing, you’re damned well going to eat crow and give me an assignment worthy of my skills.”

  The other man smiled. “Sure. Do a good job, don’t slice up any innocent people, and you’ve got a deal.”

  “Fuck you, Webster.”

  Genuinely curious, Kiyoko studied the man filling the video screen. Judging by his proximity to the camera lens, he stood well over six feet tall, a notable height in Sapporo. He also had long brown hair swept back off his strong face like a warrior of old. “You’re certain he said Lena Sharpe sent him?”

  “Yes.”

  She sat back in her father’s executive chair, rubbing her hands over the leather armrests. Even after all this time, the light cinnamon scent of his cologne still clung to everything. “Then he’s a fool. Lena and I had a falling-out several months ago. I no longer count her among my trusted colleagues.”

  The assistant bowed. “Shall I tell him you are unavailable?”

  Kiyoko’s gaze flickered back to the video screen and the indomitable features of the man overwhelming the front desk of the Ashida Corporation. “Do you think that will discourage him?”

  The woman shook her head. “He is very determined.”

  “Then simply have him wait. His physical stature suggests he is predisposed toward action, and such men are born with little patience. In a few hours, he will grow weary and leave of his own accord.”

  The assistant bowed again and left the room.

  “The real question is not whether he will leave, but why he was sent here,” Ryuji Watanabe
said, rising from his chair near the huge picture window. His gray wool suit remained unwrinkled despite a long day at the office. “Did you not tell me this Sharpe woman was a thief?”

  “Yes.” Kiyoko almost added, But she steals only from known criminals. Except Lena had proven to be far less honorable than Kiyoko had originally believed, involving her in a nasty deal with the devil. The knowledge still stung.

  “And this Murdoch-san does not look like a businessman.” Ryuji joined her at the desk. “More like an enforcer.”

  Or a samurai.

  His movements were smooth and effortless. He appeared relaxed, yet his feet were apart, his knees slightly flexed. He did not fidget, he did not wear his thoughts on his face, and his gaze absorbed everything that occurred around him. Kiyoko had no trouble imagining the man with a weapon in his hand, neatly dispatching foe after foe.

  “What do you suggest?” she asked Ryuji. Watanabe had been company president for less than three months, but there was nothing tentative about her father’s successor. It was hard to watch someone erase her father’s stamp with fresh ideas, but Watanabe’s natural authority and consistently profitable motives made the changes bearable.

  “Allow me to dismiss him. I’ve dealt with Americans before. I can be, as they put it, quite blunt.”

  Ryuji had earned his business degree from Harvard. She did not doubt his knowledge of Americans. Still, she was reluctant to press this Murdoch-san into leaving, though she couldn’t quite say why. “When pushed, many Americans push back.”

  “Dealing with them takes a deft touch,” Ryuji agreed.

  Which her president possessed. Kiyoko sighed. In truth, Murdoch’s presence made her slightly uncomfortable. “If you can convince him to leave, I would be most grateful, Watanabe-san.”

  Ryuji nodded and left the room.

  Moments later, he appeared in the camera lens, striding across the white marble lobby to Murdoch’s side. The disparity in their physical stature was striking—Murdoch stood a solid foot taller than Ryuji and outweighed him by several kilos.