
SANCTUM
An angel destined to fall.
A demon determined to rise.
A mortal fated to unite the realms.
When Lily stumbled into the Underworld as a child, she awakened a prophecy that had been waiting for her since the dawn of time.
Now, twenty years later, she unknowingly alerts the realms of her existence, and Hell isn’t the only thing coming for her.
LILY
If you’d told me yesterday that I was chosen to battle the Celestial Lands and the Underworld alongside an archangel and an archdemon who hate each other, I would have said you were crazy.
That was yesterday.
Today, I am the key to saving both worlds. A war is coming, and the fate of a god rests in my hands.
*Sanctum is an urban paranormal fantasy and epic supernatural adventure with elements of spice, why choose, and romance. It is not a romantasy.
SANCTUM PROLOGUE
Asmodeus: Twenty Years Ago
A ghostly hum drifts through the air as ash falls like snow from a blackened sky that stretches into eternity. It vanishes into the atmosphere before it hits the ground.
The Underworld is close to serene when it’s silent, like it is right now in this godforsaken place.
Crumbling columns lie to the west. What once stood larger than life as a symbol of power now lies in ruin, a shrine left in tribute to a war fought long ago. It was won and lost over something that no longer matters. Now it barely stands, a reminder that we are both strong and weak, and we will always be so as long as we wield one of those attributes to negate the other instead of overcoming it within ourselves.
I don’t hate it here, but my purpose is fragmented, and some of those pieces have yet to find their way to me.
When we aren’t whole, we instinctively seek what we are missing.
My thoughts fall to the coin in my pocket. I’ve been afraid to take it out and hold it, but it’s growing harder to keep from gripping it in my palm and saying the words that burn hotter inside of me every day.
There has to be something else. If there isn’t, then—
A charge crackles through the air. The presence of another washes over me. Nerve endings along the surface of my skin reverberate, sending an energized buzz along my tendons before whoever it is appears.
I flex and stretch my muscles against the intrusion, but it refuses to relinquish its hold.
Then she’s standing before me but facing away, wearing a set of fuzzy pajamas with lambs all over them.
“Where are all the flowers?” I straighten at the pitch in her tiny voice, cocking my head to the side with curious interest.
For a moment, I’m not sure if she’s directed her question at me. She hasn’t yet turned to look my way, which is just as well because, for a demon of my ranking, I shouldn’t be sitting here with my jaw hanging open.
How did she—
She spins, meeting my gaze before propping her knuckles on her hips and tilting her head accusingly in my direction, as if to blame me for stealing these flowers she’s looking for.
My pulse skips a beat. It’s more like a flutter, but I refuse to use that word to describe anything that has to do with me.
So instead I snarl, lifting my upper lip enough to reveal the tips of my incisors in disdain.
How dare sh—
Movement behind her draws my attention. The space she materialized from is still visible to me through the mist.
She swivels her head to look in the same direction I am, but when she turns back, she doesn’t give any indication that she sees what I see. Which is probably for the best.
Beyond the veil behind her, a woman lies still on the floor. Her vacant eyes are open and aimed right through me, like daggers sent between the realms to pierce the soul I don’t possess. A chill slithers up my back at the sight.
A man lying beside her chokes and gasps as he splutters blood and stretches his crimson-stained hand toward the woman, who can no longer reach back for him.
Shadows move around the edges of my vision, as if searching for something, but I’m unable to make them out as the space before me narrows.
Even by my standards this is a gruesome sight, and I return my attention to the little being standing in front of me.
I learned a long time ago not to assume anything based on appearance. Not since Bowie, Slade, and I came upon the aftermath of creatures who suffered a similar fate. And suffer those half-breed ogres did.
I’m not sure what their other half was, but it wasn’t strong enough to protect them after one of them tried to capture an eight-inch-tall fire nyxie for her iridescent wings. I couldn’t eat for two whole days after I watched her disembowel their whole lot. Slade still shudders when he sees one.
I want to ask the girl how she got here, but the confusion on her face matches my own.
Instead, I clear my throat and say, “Flowers?”
She glances once more at the area around us. “I was trying to get to my flowers.” She meets my gaze, dropping her voice into a whisper. “Mommy told me to hide.”
She isn’t talking about physically hiding since her body is still in the mortal realm. She retreated into her mind. But instead of finding a safe place for herself, she found me.
Her eyes flit to the space beside me. “Can I sit with you for a while?”
Existence in my world is mundane at best. There are bouts of interesting moments, but when you are immortal, time gets old fast. We are not immortal in the sense that we cannot die, so life still holds wonder, and it is worth fighting for. But if left to my own devices, I will never perish.
So I enjoy the moments that catch my attention, and this little lamb has definitely done just that.
“Sure, kid.”
She furrows her brows for a moment, narrowing her gaze on me, then shrugs and approaches the bench. Turning around, so her back is to the edge of the stone seat, she braces her hands on the high rock behind her and tries to hoist herself up.
Compared to her, I’m a giant. There is no way she’s going to get her body far enough off the ground to sit down.
She tries two more times before I reach my arm out in an offer to lift her. The obsidian in my jagged nails draws my attention, and I fist my hands, willing my claws to retract.
She doesn’t seem to notice.
She brushes my hand away. “I can do it.”
She turns, faces the bench, then takes a couple of steps back before running at it and placing both palms flat on the surface. She uses her force to lift herself until her hips are in line with the top before hiking a knee and climbing up. Then she settles beside me, sliding herself a little closer, her feet dangling off the bench.
We sit like that for a quiet minute before she reaches across my lap and rests her little palm on my massive hand, tapping her forefinger on my rough skin near my blackened nails without looking my way.
I gawk in silence at the oddity as she stares off into the space before us.
Without turning my head, I glance at her out of the corner of my eye, then back to her little finger as she tap, tap, taps it against my own.
I clear my throat to temper my tone. “You’re not afraid of me?”
When I ask the question, an odd sensation hits me—I find myself wanting to know her answer.
Since when have I cared how I appear to anyone?
She wraps her entire hand around one of my fingers. “Why would I be scared of you?”
I open my mouth to answer, then snap my jaw shut and glance down to make sure I’m still in my true form.
I’m not what anyone would call normal in the human world. They wouldn’t even be so kind as to call me a monster.
I’m what nightmares are made of.
This is the first time I can ever recall physically feeling the weight of my horns when I dip my head to look at my scorched flesh.
When I remain quiet, staring at the markings and scars covering my body, she laughs like I’m ridiculous.
The sound is jarring.
It’s not unpleasant. It’s just not a sound I’ve heard here before.
“You just look that way.” Her smile slips from her face, and she whispers, “I’m afraid of him.” She tilts her head to the area she just materialized from. “You let me hide here, where he can’t find me.” Her eyebrows pinch together as concern mars her features. “He can’t see me here, right?”
I glance over, just beyond. She can’t see out from her spot on the seat beside me, but I can.
Who I assume to be her mother is dead, but her father is still bleeding out on the floor while someone moves about the room. Judging by the amount of blood swelling from under him, he’ll be gone in a matter of minutes, but I can’t quite sense his soul.
Now that I think about it, I can’t sense her mother’s aura either. Even if she’s recently departed, her essence should still be present in the room. But both of them seem to be hidden from me.
This little one is sitting on her bed in what looks like a dazed state of shock. If anyone wanted, they could kill her too, and there would be nothing I could do about it but watch her fade away.
“Right, kid.”
A low growl forms in my throat when one of the intruders finally gets close enough for me to see them.
A demon steps in front of the bed she’s sitting on and glares at her with blood-red eyes. A deep scar runs from the outer corner of his eye, over his jawline, and down his throat, disappearing into the shirt he’s wearing.
Soul hunters.
This isn’t good.
The hunter sniffs the air around her, as if attempting to catch a specific scent while she stays still. He waves his hand in front of her face, yet she remains unfazed. When he fails to get a reaction, he gestures at something off to the side.
She doesn’t see any of this.
The room dims, not due to an absence of light but a presence of dark, and the unmistakable snarl from deep in the throat of a hellhound steals my breath.
Whatever they are searching for, it is sanctioned from the highest level.
There is no predator more deadly than a hellhound because there is no escaping one short of killing it once they’ve caught your scent. Whatever these two kept hidden, it won’t remain that way for long.
The hellhound stalks toward her, not wasting its time on the dead in the room. When it reaches her, it settles in front of her on large haunches and flattens its ears against its head before lowering its nose to her lap and nudging her little hands.
She doesn’t respond.
The beast whimpers, drawing the attention of the hunter. I’ve never heard a hellhound make a sound so docile before, and judging by the expression of the demon standing behind him, he hasn’t either.
Without moving, I steal another glance at the girl sitting beside me out of the corner of my eye. She’s oblivious to the scene unfolding in front of her physical body.
The hellhound shifts suddenly, snapping its head and staring right at me. I freeze, not daring to breathe as it sniffs the air. It shouldn’t be able to see me, but I know its senses are heightened, and it may become aware of me if I make a wrong move.
I don’t particularly fear the mangy creatures, but I also don’t want to be inconvenienced by putting one of them down and having to explain myself to a higher demon. Of which there aren’t many.
It returns its gaze to the little girl on the bed before turning away from her and prowling over to the man and woman now dead on the floor. It bares and gnashes its teeth before wrapping its jaws around the shoulder of the dead woman, sinking its incisors into her flesh and dragging her lifeless corpse out of the room. The hunter grabs the man and tows him by the arm, leaving the little girl alone.
“Did you hear me?” The contrast between hearing her voice beside me and watching her sit in a trancelike state on the bed in front of me snaps me from my daze.
I lower my tone. “I didn’t.”
She crosses her arms in a huff. “I said I’m not a kid. My name is Lily.”
My first instinct is to tell her the name I was given, but I stop myself. I have a reputation among mortals, and there’s something about her learning of me before knowing me that makes my gut twist.
So I give her a name I chose for myself instead.
“Jett.”
Her lips form the silent sound of my name, as though she’s committing it to memory, and I contain a chuckle at the sight of her sitting here in her pajamas. My allies—of which there also aren’t many—would never believe this happened.
If Bowie saw this, he would say she’s a bad omen, probably sent by witches, whom he’s had a long-standing issue with.
Slade wouldn’t allow her near him, not after the whole fire nyxie thing. That demon trusts nothing smaller than him, and he’s a pretty big guy.
Ragnar would insist we behead her first, then try to figure out where she came from.
Me? I don’t know what I expected of myself, but I’m sure this isn’t it.
Lily stretches her little arms and yawns beside me, whispering on her deep exhale, “I want to go home.”
I don’t want to send her back there, but I can’t keep her here.
This is not my place in more ways than one.
As though she willed it herself, the connection between our worlds grows opaque, and she looks up at it. She sucks in a sharp breath, and I assume she is able to see into the room now. The bodies are gone, but blood stains the floor and furniture. She hops off the bench and wanders toward her body on the bed, as if drawn in a dazed stupor.
I don’t know why I don’t stop her from leaving, but I don’t just the same. I’m a demon who has toppled armies. I’ve laid waste to lands. And yet, as I sit here, watching the veil between us fade, I’m at a loss.
Before the bridge closes me away from her, her voice raises in question. “Mommy? Da—”
As though she were never here, she’s gone.
I glance at the blackened landscape and brimstone surrounding me. Only snakeweed dares to grow so close to the inner circle. The sky stretches on forever into eternal darkness. It’s been so long since I’ve seen the stars in the mortal realm.
As far as the eye can see, this is a desolate place.
I once feared its power, the promise of an eternity—well, in Hell.
Now, it’s home. Comforting, in a way.
It has become the only thing that makes sense anymore.
Until this moment.
This little lamb has accomplished something I’m not sure any mortal before her ever has. While she was merely trying to hide inside her own mind, all three and a half feet of her just waltzed right into the Underworld and back out, without notice or repercussion.
She physically touched me. The realization only sinks in when I look at my finger.
I felt it.
I’m sure I didn’t imagine it.
Impossible.
I glance around again.
The Underworld is a living entity unto itself.
Hell knows when someone’s here who should not be.
The Legion should have been here by now, should have set their trackers loose. Hellhounds should already be hungrily snapping their jowls and clawing the ground, desperate to chase her scent and haul her back to atone for trespassing.
But I’m alone.
I never used to mind being alone.
Until now.