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Flight from Hell




  Berkley titles by Yasmine Galenorn

  THE OTHERWORLD SERIES

  Witchling

  Changeling

  Darkling

  Dragon Wytch

  Night Huntress

  Demon Mistress

  Bone Magic

  Harvest Hunting

  Blood Wyne

  Courting Darkness

  Shaded Vision

  Shadow Rising

  Haunted Moon

  Autumn Whispers

  Crimson Veil

  THE INDIGO COURT SERIES

  Night Myst

  Night Veil

  Night Seeker

  Night Vision

  Night’s End

  ANTHOLOGIES

  Inked

  Never After

  Hexed

  SPECIALS

  Ice Shards

  Etched in Silver

  The Shadow Mist

  Berkley Prime Crime titles by Yasmine Galenorn

  Ghost of a Chance

  Legend of the Jade Dragon

  Murder Under a Mystic Moon

  A Harvest of Bones

  One Hex of a Wedding

  Yasmine Galenorn writing as India Ink

  Scent to Her Grave

  A Blush with Death

  Glossed and Found

  Flight from Hell

  An Otherworld Novella

  Yasmine Galenorn

  InterMix Books, New York

  INTERMIX BOOKS

  PUBLISHED BY THE PENGUIN GROUP

  PENGUIN GROUP (USA) LLC

  375 HUDSON STREET, NEW YORK, NEW YORK 10014, USA

  USA • Canada • UK • Ireland • Australia • New Zealand • India • South Africa • China

  penguin.com

  A Penguin Random House Company

  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.

  FLIGHT FROM HELL

  An InterMix Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  InterMix eBook edition / August 2014

  Copyright © 2014 by Yasmine Galenorn.

  Excerpt from Priestess Dreaming copyright © 2014 by Yasmine Galenorn.

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  Cover art by Tony Mauro.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) LLC,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-14323-4

  INTERMIX

  InterMix Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group

  and New American Library, divisions of Penguin Group (USA) LLC,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  INTERMIX® and the “IM” design are registered trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) LLC

  Version_1

  Revenge doesn’t stop.

  —Daniel Craig

  Love is like a war: easy to begin but very hard to stop.

  —H. L. Mencken

  Dedicated to

  Meredith Bernstein, my agent,

  Who always has my back.

  Contents

  Berkley titles by Yasmine Galenorn

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Epigraph

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  Playlist

  Author's Note

  Preview of Priestess Dreaming

  About the Author

  Several Months Earlier, in the Dragon Reaches

  When they brought Shimmer before the Wing Liege, she had no clue what was going to happen to her. Stealing could be a capital offense, punishable by death.

  She’d always been careful. She had always managed to escape before they caught up with her. But this time, there had been a simple miscalculation and bingo . . . here she was, in a cell made of the strongest metals that existed. Metal bars even a dragon couldn’t break.

  With a sigh, she stared out the tiny window in the stone wall. The water seemed so far away right now, and she hung her head, missing the salt air and the feel of the wind on her face. Why had she been so stupid? It wasn’t like she’d taken anything all that valuable. And she hadn’t stolen anything sentimental. White dragons weren’t given to sentiment, anyway. No, she had broken into the Greanfyr family dreyerie on a dare. She’d done it because . . . well, that’s who she was. A misfit, an orphan, an outcast. There was no place in society for her, and so she had created her own niche, and that included seeing how far she could bend the rules. But now, everything was shot to hell.

  To her surprise, at the trial the Wing Liege hadn’t been quite as terrifying as she thought he would be. In fact, Lord Vine had spoken gently to her. He gazed into her eyes, and for a moment, she thought she caught a glimpse of empathy. The sentence had been handed down—an odd punishment but it had been at his urging. After the council adjourned, it was over and he led her back to her cell.

  He paused as she sat down at the marble table near her bunk. “Shimmer . . . you’ll be okay, you know.”

  She glanced up at him, and for the first time, her walls came down.

  “I’m scared.” She hated admitting anything like that, but it was the truth and now there was nothing to be gained by lying. She had put up a good front—she’d learned early how to bluff her way through difficult situations—but now the chips were down and she tossed her cards on the table. “I miss the ocean. I miss the water.”

  “You’ll be near the ocean where we’re sending you. And I promise you, Alex . . . well, he’s interesting. He takes a little bit of getting used to, but I vouch for him. He’s an old friend of mine. He’ll keep an eye on you.” The Wing Liege’s manner might be formal, but his words held real warmth. “Shimmer, you had a rough start in life. There’s no denying that. That’s why the Council is giving you a second chance.”

  “Second chance? I never had a chance from the start.” She smiled.

  “Well, consider this your chance then—a chance to redeem yourself.”

  He still didn’t undertand. Born out of the caste system, she’d been persona non grata since the beginning. Her “second chance” amounted to being carted off. The sentence could have been far more severe but it still amounted to exile. “Out of sight, out of mind, right? Call the punishment what it is, Lord Vine. Banishment. The Dragon Reaches is my home . . . even if I don’t have a clan or caste to stand by me. Now, you’re taking that away from me.” She walked over to peek out the window, but all she could see thr
ough the barred opening were cloudy skies.

  The Wing Liege pushed himself to his feet with a sigh. “Shimmer, face facts, girl. If you stay here, Greanfyr will hunt you down and destroy you. You know what the Whites are like . . . they’re vicious, greedy dragons. You stole from one of the highest families in their caste. I’m sending you away for your own safety. And maybe, maybe you’ll figure out what you want to do with your life while you’re gone.”

  “What choices do I have? I have no caste, Lord Vine, due to my birth.”

  “If you make it through these five years, you’ll be granted the caste of your peers, Shimmer. That was part of my bargaining with the Elder Council. But you must go. This is the only way to keep you safe until what you did blows over.”

  He headed toward the door, pausing before he exited. “You’ll be fine. Earthside has its charms, though you’ll have a lot to learn about the customs. But there are other dragons there, including Lord Iampaatar. You’ll get along, and if you’re in trouble, you can go to him. He and his wife Camille will help—they’re philanthropists of a sort. And five years from now, if you’ve behaved yourself, you can return and we’ll restore your full powers and give you a place in society.”

  Before she could say a word, he was gone. And the future stretched in front of her like a terrifyingly blank canvas. Shimmer hugged herself, rocking gently. She’d really screwed it up this time. How was she going to wait out five years among a bunch of humans and Supes? How would she ever manage to work with a vampire? So many questions weighed on her mind.

  “Well, at least I’m still alive. Which means, unfortunately,” she whispered to herself, “I’m going to have the time to find the answers.” But it was going to be a lonely five years, she had the feeling. Very lonely.

  Chapter 1

  “I want you to find out who’s behind these deaths.” Roman didn’t look happy. “I’d send in my spies but they’re too well known among the vampire community.”

  I stared at him. He was the son of Blood Wyne, the Queen of the Crimson Veil. As Roman’s official consort, I had to obey him, unless I could figure out how to cajole or argue my way out of the situation. That didn’t mean I had to be happy about it, though.

  “I already have more on my plate than I can deal with, what with the destruction going down in Otherworld, and the worries about the demonic war over here Earthside. You know I’m swamped.”

  Tracking down rogue vampires who were killing innocent people was the last thing I wanted to do right now. Last time it had happened, I’d been on the receiving end of a hand grenade wielded by a freakshow vampire serial killer with identity issues. He’d been a priest before he’d been turned, and the combo of being a holy man and being turned into a rampaging monster had slammed his brain way out in left field.

  “I know. But I need you to do this.” He stroked my hand. “If they think I’m on their trail, they may go underground and then who knows where they’ll go or who they’ll hurt next.”

  “You aren’t going to let me off the hook, are you?” I toyed with the bottle of blood sitting on the table.

  “I wouldn’t ask this of you, Menolly, but there will be more deaths if we don’t put a stop to these rogue vamps.”

  His hair hung in a smooth ponytail to mid-back, chocolate brown, and he was muscled, but trim. Roman was also one of the oldest vampires I had met, and he was ruthless when crossed.

  Caving, I finally agreed. “Fine. I’ll have a look around the area, and see what I can find out. And I’ll ask Carter if he’s heard anything through the grapevine.” As I stood, Roman slipped his fingers around my wrist. His touch was gentle, but firm. He could bring me to my knees with one word, but he chose not to.

  “You don’t have to leave just yet, do you?” His voice was seductive and it would have been easy to let myself fall into the energy, to race through the woods with him, throw him down in the wild weather that was brewing and ride him hard and long. My mouth watered, hungering for the taste of his blood on my tongue, but I reined myself in. Nerissa, my wife, was waiting for me at home, along with my sisters. I might as well get this show on the road.

  “Rain check, please. But definitely, hold that thought for later.” I brushed his cheek with a kiss, trailing my lips across his, then slipped away before he could tell me he loved me. I was trying to break him of that habit, and so far, wasn’t having much luck. But he knew full well that my heart belonged to Nerissa. Playtime with the boys was all well and good—and we weren’t exclusive when it came to men. But one woman, and one woman only, owned the key to my heart.

  I put in a call to my sisters, Delilah and Camille, as I made my way to my Ford Mustang. The car was brand new and I still felt like I was betraying my Jag when I was driving it. But the Jag had been trashed by a would-be assassin.

  “Meet me over at Severance Park. Roman’s guards took down a couple newly minted vampires there last night. He asked me to check into it and figure out what went down, and who sired them. And once we find that out, we’re supposed to put a stop to them.”

  “Oh, jeez. That’s all? Okay, we’re on the way.” Camille hung up.

  As I pulled out of the driveway leading to Roman’s estate, I wondered just what kind of a mess we were getting into this time.

  ***

  Severance Park was, as luck would have it, smack in the middle of the Greenbelt Park District, or as we’d taken to calling it—Spooksville Central. The most haunted area in Seattle, it was filled with faded memories of unhappy events, and angry spirits who would not rest. We knew this because we had fought too many of them.

  Trouble was, a vampire on a killing spree wasn’t a ghost. Vampires were corporeal. And vampires weren’t tied to an area—get bored? Easy enough to move to another part of the city. But the fact that the bodies had both been found, and then had risen, in this district, meant that it was the best place for us to start.

  The streets in the neighborhood were dimly lit and poorly populated, the buildings weathered and run-down. Why the city didn’t start an urban renovation project here confounded me, but when I thought about it some more, the answer was easy: money. Every city had its budget problems and Seattle was no exception. It was hard enough to come up with funding for the cops and firefighters, let alone street repair and upkeep of the more popular areas. Renovating a dilapidated and mostly deserted neighborhood? Not high on the to-do list.

  As I pulled alongside the curb—parking here was easy to find—I felt an uneasy shift in the air. I glanced over at the building across from the park. Something was wrong.

  Slipping out of the car, I locked it behind me. I wasn’t worried about anybody hurting me so much—I was a vampire, after all—but my new car? Nobody was going to lay a hand on it and get away without a beating. And the first rule of car thieves: Look for vehicles that were unlocked.

  Debating on whether I should wait for Camille and Delilah, I ticked off what I knew.

  First: several bodies had been reported in the area but when the cops showed up, they had vanished. Which meant either the killer returned for them or they’d been killed by a vampire and risen between the time of the report and the time the police arrived.

  Second: The night before, Roman’s guards had discovered two newly minted vampires in Severance Park. They were freshly risen, which meant they’d been killed not long before and left to fend for themselves by their sire.

  Third: A number of vampires could—and would—listen to reason when they first rose, but not all were in their right mind. Some were so manic, so eager to feed, that nothing in the world could get through to them. Some were set to hunt by their sires. I’d been like that, until Camille tricked me into the safe room back in our home in Otherworld, and summoned help.

  Fourth: These vamps hadn’t been tractable and had to be staked. They’d attacked, and the guards defended themselves, turning them to dust. There was nothing left to examine, because
all their clothes and effects had gone up in the sudden incineration as well.

  Which left us with no clue as to why this was going on. The only thing we had were the guards’ descriptions, which we would run by Chase, the chief of the Faerie-Human Crime Scene Investigations Unit, to see if they fit the profile of any missing persons. But the odds weren’t great on discovering who the victims had been.

  I shivered. The energy of the area was volatile. And the fact that I could feel it, meant it was strong. I didn’t work with magic, I didn’t have that otherworldly ability to sense energy. When Camille got here, maybe she could make heads or tails out of what was going on. She was a witch, and she could perceive things that neither Delilah nor I could. Closing my eyes, I tried to suss out what exactly it was that I was feeling.

  The air was damp and chill, and rain was headed in off the inlet. We were due for a nasty storm and it wasn’t far away. But there was something else—a sense of unease, of disruption just beneath the surface. Demonkin? Maybe. We were embroiled in a demonic war, and sooner or later, Shadow Wing would be sending a new demon general Earthside to harass us.

  As I waited, the wind picked up and a scream echoed from the deserted brick walk-up across the street. I hesitated. The building was abandoned. There shouldn’t be anybody there, and there were ghosts in the area. Ghosts that could send sharp objects through the air to impale me. Been there, done that. Didn’t welcome a repeat.

  But what if it wasn’t a ghost? What if a woman was in there and she was in trouble? My mind made up, I raced across the street, my feet barely touching the ground.

  The building’s front door was boarded over but one of the lower windows was broken. The iron bars were bent, telling me that somebody—or some thing—had made it into the building. I climbed through the broken glass, smashing a couple of jagged edges to get them out of the way. The remnants of the pane shattered and I pulled my jacket sleeve over my hand to brush away the glass. It wouldn’t really hurt me but might as well not take any chances.