Betrayals & Broken Promises: A Hell On Earth Book (Masquerade of Myths 1) Read online

  Betrayals & Broken Promises

  The Masquerade of Myths: Book One

  A Hell on Earth Book

  Takari Hunter

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

  Copyright © 2020 by Takari Hunter

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address:

  Takari Hunter

  PO Box 8013

  Cedar Rapids, IA 52404

  First paperback edition March 2020

  Book cover design by Andreea Elena Vraciu, AV Fantasy Book Covers Art & Design

  Editing by Helen Froats with Precision Red Pen

  Formatting by Inked Imagination Author Services

  ISBN 978-1-7344203-1-9 (paperback)

  ISBN 978-1-7344203-0-2 (ebook)

  Contents

  Dedication

  Preface

  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

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Stay in the Loop!

  This book is dedicated to my son.

  I’ve been so blessed to have you as my child. You have brought joy, laughter, encouragement when I doubted myself, love, and personal growth to my life. You’re the best kid I could have ever asked for and didn’t deserve.

  You have the world at your fingertips, make the most of it and never stop reaching for your dreams.

  Never give up, never settle.

  I love you more than cheesecake, forever and always!

  Preface

  "We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell." Oscar Wilde

  I stared at the ringing phone in my hand with growing apprehension. I knew why Stefano was calling. No doubt he’d seen the same news broadcast, the same man interviewed—a man who was supposed to be dead, because Stefano paid me to kill him.

  Shit, shit, shit, shit. My brain was stuck, clouding my thoughts. What was I going to do?

  I didn’t relax when the ringing finally stopped. I knew he’d continue calling until I picked up. What I needed was a plan for damage control. Dying wasn’t on my list of things to do anytime soon—not even the temporary kind of death used to appease a human like Stefano.

  There weren’t many ways to kill a demon permanently; not one who had access to their magic, anyway. Humans were technically demons, but thanks to Michael, they didn’t remember that small tidbit of information. Which meant they had no access to their magic. Some held on to the tiniest amounts of magic trickling through the block: clairvoyants, psychics, or the like.

  I would survive whatever punishment Stefano thought up, but it would still hurt like hell.

  I could call Stefano and admit I fucked up; play stupid, tell him I must have killed the wrong dude and that I was on my way to correct my mistake. It was the least I could do, after all. I was generous like that. I’d worked for these families for decades—he thought I was the great-granddaughter of Al Capone’s favored hitman.

  I knew helping that human would eventually bite me in the ass. Harry the human. What a moron. He deserved to die this time. Who didn’t understand that in order to remain alive, you needed to stay hidden, to keep a very low profile? Instead of taking my advice and goodwill for the gift it was, he got himself interviewed on national news, for fuck's sake.

  I should have ignored my conscience and killed him. Ninety-five years—ninety-five—I’d spent building my reputation as a reliable, efficient assassin. Right now, I could demand the best prices and be picky about which jobs I accepted. I was so close to reaching my goal, and now a single idiot was destroying all my plans.

  Accept the job.

  Study the mark.

  Kill the mark.

  Get paid.

  Simple.

  The phone rang again. Making a split-second decision, I answered on the third ring.

  “Hey, Stefano. I was just about to call you back. What’s up, got a new job for me?”

  “Sam. Yeah, I gots sumthin’ for ya. Why dontcha come on in so we’s can discuss it in more detail.” Samantha was the name my mob contacts knew me by. I’d been in this business for nearly a century. I knew better than to give criminals and murderers my real name.

  “Sure, no problem. When and where, boss man?” Technically, I wasn’t a member of the mafia or Stefano’s gang. I was more of an independent contractor—one who killed for the right price.

  You couldn’t blame me for everything I’d done to obtain my freedom. Desperation could drive a demon to do things she’d never thought she was capable of.

  “The warehouse on da river. You’s remember da one? Be there in one hour.”

  “I look forward to seein’ ya.”

  He was just barely holding onto his rage, and badly disguising it over the phone. All my instincts screamed at me not to go, but I was determined to play stupid and feign surprise at the news. I’d act embarrassed and completely apologetic when he revealed my fuck-up, then offer to fix everything.

  He couldn’t fault me for one easily fixed mistake.

  I only had five short years of independence left to come up with the cash I needed to buy out my bonding promise to him. I didn’t have enough time to start over and find a new career that would pay the kind of money an assassin made.

  I had no choice but to fix this situation.

  Head hung low, my chin rested on my chest. The voices were back, whispering sweet nothings about the death and dismemberment we’d inflict on those responsible for our predicament. The door to the dilapidated room where I waited opened and Stefano walked in with a couple of his goons. His oily, pale complexion was matched only by the amount of grease he used to keep his hair slicked back. Somebody needed to tell him the fifties were over. He wore an ill-fitting, off-the-rack suit; nothing like the style his predecessors had. He was an upstart and a usurper. He’d come out of nowhere and taken over the territory he now squatted on like a toad king.

  As soon as I’d shown up, they’d started working me over. There was no conversation before they’d jumped me. I’d known the likelihood of receiving a chance to make amends was slim, but I’d hoped he would allow me to speak my side before beating the holy hell out of me.

  Whatever he planned now was going to hurt.

  I looked up at Stefano through the curtain of blue-black hair that covered my face, sticking to the drying blood on my forehead. A Joker-esque maniacal grin spread my features wide, allowing my blood-stained teeth to show. My busted bottom lip split open again, spil
ling more blood down my chin. I didn’t care.

  The pain I experienced was nothing compared to what I planned to do to these assholes once I got free. I knew I looked crazy. I wanted them to know what they’d be facing.

  ‘Soon,’ the voices whispered to me.

  “Sam, Sam, Sam. How long tha families and yours been workin’ together? Long time.” Stefano never liked to wait for his questions to be answered. “So, how come you think ya could screw me now? Haven’ I been good to ya since you’s work’d on my payroll?” Stefano loved to hear himself speak. He was a moron, but he wasn’t entirely wrong this time. I’d worked for the families in one human form or another since my criminal career started—several generations, if you asked the humans—never revealing that it’d been just one demon all this time.

  “Yeah, there’s a long history there. If you’d given me a chance to say anything when I walked through the door, we could’ve saved us all a lot of time and effort.” Taking a deep breath, I tried not to wince at the pain from what felt like a cracked rib. “I must have gotten the wrong guy. I admit my mistake, but it was just a mistake. I’m still more than willing to make it right, despite what you’ve done to me here.” I licked the blood seeping from my lip and smiled at my captors again. “So, what’s it gonna be? Let me fix the situation, or kill a long-standing, loyal, not to mention well-liked and respected employee of all the families?”

  I tilted my head to the side and studied Stefano as he considered his options. Without a sound, he nodded to one of his men—a big, meat-headed guy who didn’t seem to have any lights on at home. The dimwit promptly left the dingy room. I kept my crazy face in place and remained quiet, waiting for Stefano’s answer.

  The first one to speak loses.

  Within minutes the goon returned with a scrawny human with a black bag over his head. I could smell the fear rolling off him. It was a pungent wave of sour grapes that had been left out in the sun too long. I also had a good idea who was under that hood and wondered how they’d gotten him across the country so quickly.

  Stefano pulled off the guy’s hood. “Ya wanna make shit right, here’s your chance. Let’s see what you’s got.” The dour-looking man, who reminded me of Lurch from the Addams Family and had split my lip open earlier, lumbered over and cut the ropes from around my wrists. Feeling rushed back into my hands—it wasn’t pleasant. Rubbing through the pain in my sore and tingling digits, I approached the human that should’ve lived a long life in hiding.

  Harry cowered away from me. I could see the recognition in his muddy brown eyes, but there was fear in place of the gratitude they once held for me. He curled into himself in a dusty corner and whimpered. He knew what was about to happen, and while he feared it, he’d accepted the fact he wasn’t going to survive this time.

  Holding my hand out to Stefano, I didn’t take my eyes off Harry. He knew what I wanted and obliged by handing over one of the knives they’d stripped from me earlier. Wrapping my fingers around the familiar cold metal, I shut my eyes, praying to anything that might’ve been listening that after this concession, Stefano would forgive and let me go.

  I approached Harry slowly, giving him time to come to terms with his imminent demise. Grabbing the bleach-blond hair at the crown of his head, I jerked him to his knees until his back pressed against my chest. I ran my nose along the shell of his ear until my mouth was close, then whispered, “You should have taken the opportunity my mistake awarded you and disappeared. Your luck has just run out.”

  Inhaling, I pressed the sharp edge of the blade to his vulnerable throat. Exhaling, I pulled my knife deep through the exposed flesh. Arterial spray splashed across the nearest wall before I could drop the body. Harry hit the floor on his stomach, gurgling and convulsing, drowning in his blood. He’d be dead within seconds.

  Squatting beside his twitching body, I cleaned the blood dripping from my blade on his shirt. The three remaining humans in the room were staring at me, looks ranging from fear to awe. None of them ever saw me in action before.

  “Well, that’s that then—no hard feelings between us, Stefano. I understand and appreciate you giving me a chance to fix my fuck-up. I won’t even charge you for the extra dead body.”

  Laughing at my joke, I pivoted toward the exit when Stefano’s fist slammed into the side of my face. The force knocked me back several steps and opened a new cut across my cheek.

  “Did ya really think it’d be that easy, bitch?” One of the over-muscled meatheads slammed me back into the chair I’d just been released from. “Tie her ass back up. I’m not finished with this one yet.” The Lurch wannabe retied my arms behind the chair and then fastened my legs. Once secured, Stefano approached me and patted my cheek. “You’s and me? We’re gonna have some fun together. Until I get bored.”

  He laughed on his way out of the room. His two cronies followed silently, closing the door and locking it.

  “My life was so much easier when people who were supposed to be dead stayed fucking dead,” I mumbled. If I’d just killed Harry when I was supposed to, I wouldn’t be in this position. “No good deed goes unpunished.”

  My moment of conscience, of helping him disappear, was a sign that I still possessed some sense of right and wrong; my darkness wasn't completely in control yet. I may be a killer, but I tried not to snuff out innocent lives. Harry hadn’t been the first I’d let live, but he was definitely the first I’d ever regretted not killing.

  Anger replaced my fear. Anger at myself, at the idiot human for broadcasting to the world he was still alive, but most of all at the upstart, Stefano. He thought he could treat me this way? Me. After all the jobs I’d done for him, cleaning up his messes, he couldn’t have given me the benefit of the doubt? Bastard.

  A single bare bulb hung from wires in the ceiling; its intermittent flickering drove me crazy. The strobe-light effect was messing with my eyesight, not allowing me to adjust one way or the other. There were only faint traces of afternoon light sneaking through the cracks of the boarded-up windows—what a shithole.

  With my arms tied securely to the sturdy wood chair they’d left me in, I wasn’t able to teleport out. I couldn’t even change form to another demon race to help free myself. Since birth, the elders drilled into our heads the fear of discovery by outsiders. We were taught that if discovered, the other demon races on Hell would try to exterminate the chameleon race. Again.

  The very last thing I needed was to get loose, just to be killed by Momma or the Council of Elders for letting the cat out of the bag—that chameleons were still alive and well. Our race had been in hiding ever since we lost the war and were banished to Hell—the place humans called Earth. That left me stuck between a rock and a hard place.

  What was the good of being a chameleon demon if I couldn’t use my magic to save myself?

  “I swear, if I die here in order to hide both my demon and chameleon identities, somebody is getting haunted.” I could be a stubborn, vindictive bitch when provoked, and death seemed like a serious provocation. I growled in frustration, stuck in a vulnerable human form.

  A flash of metal caught my eye, drawing my attention. There! In the corner of my prison, two large penny nails stuck out of the exposed wood frame. Now all I needed to do was scoot my chair over there without making too much noise.

  Using all the strength my feeble human frame could muster, I scooted, wiggled, and hopped the chair to what I hoped would be my salvation. Daylight was quickly burning away, and I still had to show up at my parents' party tonight.

  If I was late—or worse, didn’t show up—I’d never hear the end of Momma’s nagging and threats. Death wasn’t an excuse; appearances were everything. Mentally rolling my eyes at my mother’s motto, I got to work positioning myself at the right angle to utilize the nails’ sharp points.

  Bending at the waist just enough to get the bindings on my arms to rub against the nail points, I began the arduous process of freeing myself. I tried to look on the bright side: only two sets of ropes stood betw
een me and liberation. I could untie my feet once my arms were free, then get the funk outta dodge.

  What felt like days for me were only hours. Exhaustion and pain ate at my vulnerable human body. I was still bleeding from my forehead—humans possessed no accelerated healing abilities—and the seeping blood was starting to cake over my left eye. The bruises would take time to fade.

  I almost gave in and chose the easy route by transforming into something stronger, like a vampire, to break the ropes instead of torturing myself. From a distance, vampires could pass as human. Unfortunately, my human and vampire forms looked nothing alike.

  Finally, I felt the last of the coarse rope fall from my bleeding, raw wrists. I immediately got to work freeing my legs. Finally released from the chair, I stood and stretched out all my stiff muscles, taking another look around the dump they’d stuck me in for the day.

  Door or window? Decisions, decisions. I chose the window first; it presented the best chance at escape without dying or revealing my demon nature. More than likely, there were goons stationed outside the door to make sure I didn’t escape before Stefano could start the party. The sounds outside had faded as the day dwindled, so it should be safe for me to teleport without being seen.

  I was already planning to change into a shadow demon on my way out the window. I should be able to make the transition as I moved from the room to the outside, and with the natural shadows created by the sinking sun, I’d blend in. So, no lookie-loos still loitering by the building would catch a glimpse of me teleporting away.