Vengeance: The Demon Hunters — Book 5 Read online

  VENGEANCE

  The Demon Hunters — Book 5

  A.S. FENICHEL

  A.S. Fenichel

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Copyright © 2021 A.S. Fenichel

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Edited by Penny Barber

  Cover by LoveTheCover.com

  Images from Depositphotos, Heritage Type

  First Electronic Book Publication January 2022

  First Print Book Publication December 2021

  CONTENTS

  VENGEANCE

  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

  Epilogue

  Also by A.S. Fenichel

  About the Author

  VENGEANCE

  The demon master is out for revenge, and the gates of hell are flung wide. Only the purest love can force him back…

  * * *

  After a debilitating injury leaves Brice Lambert in agony, he's relegated to teaching others to hunt demons. He knows all the secrets of the demon war and plans to die for the cause. Never did he expect his dreams of a loving wife and big family to come true, but the very witch who healed his leg is capturing his heart.

  * * *

  Abigail Higginbotham's extraordinary power elicits fear and mistrust from the very people who should love her. Instead, they shuffled her around, depriving her of family and coven alike. Joining the Company of demon hunters brings her the closest thing to a family she has ever had. Forbidden to love, she risks losing everything for the man who has loved her for many lifetimes.

  * * *

  Together, they must find the key to seal the gates of Hell and lock out the demon master forever. Fail, and mankind is doomed. Succeed, and face death in the pit of Hell. A small price to pay for eternal love.

  For our sweet Simon who we miss every day. There was never a better cat in all the world.

  And

  For Dave, who loved that cat even though he doesn’t like cats.

  * * *

  Acknowledgment

  * * *

  I’m so proud of the Demon Hunters. This has been a long journey to finish the series. I’m grateful to all the wonderful readers who ask for the continuance and conclusion of this story. Without you, I would have let it be, and I’m so glad to have a wonderful ending for you and me.

  CHAPTER 1

  Brice Lambert handed Abigail Higginbotham up into a carriage bound for Edinburgh, and joy bubbled in his chest. The fact that he was to join her might have had something to do with his happiness. He would have the charming witch to himself for the long ride north, and he was nearly giddy with anticipation of knowing her better.

  He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing before climbing in and sitting across from her. It wouldn't do to show his almost schoolboy-like infatuation, though he suspected she already knew. She was a witch, after all.

  Giving the roof a knock sent the driver into action, and they rolled down Spero Hall's long drive.

  "Will you miss instructing here at the school?" Abigail studied him. Her blond curls were carefully arranged around her face with a modest bonnet covering much of her head. A warm smile pulled at her lips.

  Worry tried to force its way in and displace his moment of happiness. He looked out the window as Spero Hall's gray walls grew more distant. "I have taught and trained demon hunters for almost five years now. I imagine it will be an adjustment to return to the hunt. However, I took on the role of an instructor because my injured leg kept me from being useful in the field. Since you healed my injury, and I'm back to full strength, there is no reason to remain in the background."

  Her frown brought sorrow to her pale blue eyes. "I should have thought more carefully about healing you. You might have been safe had I left your leg as it was."

  It had never occurred to Brice that she might feel bad for healing him. "I can assure you I have no regrets."

  She frowned. "A bit of pain might be better than dying by demon hands."

  Leaning forward, Brice took her hand. He traced one large finger along the sides of her delicate ones and a vibration of power flowed from her to him. "I would change nothing, not becoming an instructor, nor being healed, and certainly not meeting you, Abigail. I'm quite certain meeting you has made all the bad of this war tolerable."

  Gently, she pulled her hand back and clasped both together in her lap as if he might try to snatch it back. In a more formal tone, she said, "I'm pleased to hear it."

  "I have offended you." It was the last thing he wanted to do, but somehow his touch had created a barrier between them.

  "No!" Then more gently, she said, "No, Brice, you have done nothing wrong." She hugged her waist pulling her hands further from him.

  Those mesmerizing eyes stared out the window at the passing countryside. The rains had made everything green and lush, and a few days of good sunshine allowed for good roads. The camaraderie they had shared for the past weeks had been lost in the past few moments, and he wanted it back.

  Perhaps being direct was not the way to attain his goals. "Abigail, you said once you would tell me how I was healed, but those days were very busy, and I never asked."

  The last time they were both in Edinburgh, they had fought the master, and Brice's mother had been killed. Many things had gone wrong, and the matter of his healing seemed unimportant.

  "It was a simple spell." She met his gaze.

  "Is that all it takes, a spell? If I knew the words, could I do it?" He knew it was likely not the case, but he wanted conversation. More than that, he wanted to know her.

  Perhaps the timing was against them. The demon master was going to attack at some point. His minions were invading more areas of England and Scotland. They may have reached the continent by now, for all they knew. Still, Brice wanted Abigail with every fiber of his being. He'd never felt drawn to another person as he did with her.

  She shrugged and grinned. "Perhaps with time. You have your magic, Brice, and it's not really as a healer."

  "I have magic?"

  "Of course." She placed her hand an inch above his where it rested on his knee and green light surrounded her palm.

  A sky-blue light emanated from the back of his hand. An energy shift flooded the carriage, and warmth settled in his belly. "What is this?"

  Drawing her hand back, she raised her palm to eye level and the blue and green light swirled together in an ellipse between them. "The green is my magic, and the blue is yours. You are inclined to put people at ease, settle disputes, and this makes you an excellent teacher."

  The colors spun faster, blurring the lines between her magic and his. "Why have I no notion of this power inside me?"

  Abigail closed her hand, and the lights dissipated to sparks before settling back inside them. "In a manner of thinking, you do. You could have left the service and gone back to the life of a gentleman. For some reason, you knew teaching was a better path, and you are good
at it because that is your magic and your nature."

  Not really understanding, he puzzled over the notion. He did often bring calm to heated disputes, but he'd always believed it was because he was slow to temper. It was easier to focus on her power than speculate about his. "Your magic is for healing? So, you touched my leg, did a spell, and I was cured after four years of pain?"

  "I looked inside you and saw the way your bone and muscle had healed badly. I asked the Goddess for strength and sent power to the area. Your body accepted my direction, and a new healing began." She watched him warily as if he might lash out.

  In the last five years, Brice had seen things far stranger than a healed leg. Demons had taken shape in the world of men, had swallowed men whole. The master had risen and birthed other demons in rock chambers and abandoned palaces. A healing seemed mild in comparison. Something she said struck him. "If I had not accepted the healing, it would not have worked?"

  She favored him with a bright smile, awakening his desire.

  "It's true," she said. "If a patient is resistant, the magic will likely fail. You allowed me to touch you and didn't judge things you don't understand. Even now, you wonder about the process, yet accept the truth of magic."

  "Do people come to you for help and then reject your magic?" How frustrating that must be for her.

  A long sigh pushed from those full lips. Lord, how he longed to kiss her. "Unfortunately, some people will always resist what they believe is foreign to them. You are different, Brice. You're mind and heart are open." She blushed and looked out the window again.

  "When I touched you, you pulled away, Abigail. Why?" It was what he wanted to know more than anything. The only woman he'd ever coveted for more than a night, and she seemed bothered by his touch.

  A dark sorrow passed through her eyes. "I am not for you, Brice."

  "Is that providence, or are you not attracted to me?" If it was the first, he would fight, but if it were the second, his hopes would be dashed. He held his breath.

  "It would be better if we would remain friends."

  "That is not an answer, Abigail. We shall always be friends. Of that, I have no doubt. What I want to know is why you don't wish there to be more between us." His lungs began to ache or maybe it was his heart.

  "I'm happy that our friendship has meaning to you." She studied the landscape rushing by but would not meet his gaze.

  The fact that she'd not said she found him unappealing gave him hope. One of the witches had said something that came back to him now. The coven leader who came to Spero had said that witches rarely marry, and they need approval from a high priest or something of the kind. She had said that Abigail was special and her links to more than one coven complicated matters. Of course, he'd told Gertrude to mind her own business as politely as he could and not brought the subject to light again.

  They rode in silence for a while. He tried to read a book he had brought that was written over a hundred years ago on the subject of Hell and its inhabitants. It seemed ill-conceived, but he hoped some nugget might ring true and help them to close gates and send the demons back to their own realm.

  While he kept his myriad questions to himself about witchcraft and covens, he enjoyed being close to her. The scent of grass and flowers mixed with something mystic that intoxicated him. Perhaps she had bewitched him, but he couldn't say he minded. He'd beg for her witchery if he were not already smitten.

  The sun was waning in the west when the carriage pulled into the yard at the first inn. They would travel as husband and wife to provide safety for Abigail and keep any notice away from them. A man and a woman who weren't married traveling together would bring speculation and gossip and they needed to be as uninteresting as possible. If they drew attention, people would talk, and that could spark demon interest, putting everyone at risk.

  Unfortunately, it also meant that Brice would be making his bed on dusty floors for the extent of their travel. Even with that discomfort on his mind, he couldn't regret the notion of Abigail sleeping nearby or the intimacy that would bring them.

  The exuberant innkeeper, a Mr. Pinter, showed them to a clean room with one window and serviceable furniture. "I shall have the trunks brought up, sir. Shall I expect you and your wife below for dinner or would you prefer to have a meal brought up?"

  "What do you think, Mrs. Lambert?" Brice liked the way that sounded and wished it were not a ruse to appease society. Still, at her wide eyes, he winked.

  Abigail took only a moment to recover. "I think a nice meal in our room would be best. I'm quite tired from travel."

  "Very good," Mr. Pinter said. "It will be about an hour."

  "That will do." Brice thanked the man and closed the door behind him. "I'm surprised you didn't wish to be among other people, Abigail. I would think you would be quite sick of my company by now."

  Her lips quirked, but she didn't favor him with a real smile. "So far your company is bearable. However, I am stiff from so much sitting. Would you mind a walk in the yard before the meal is delivered? It would give us a chance to hear any news that might be important as well."

  "Do you think we will learn something at this sleepy inn?" He offered his arm and led them out of their room.

  Shrugging, she said, "Perhaps. One never knows what clues might be left or with whom."

  It was a fine point. The demon master might have a misguided belief that noble blood would help his cause, but he'd also taken many common people to sacrifice after he'd failed to gain what he needed by killing Brice and Dorian's mother.

  Brice's gut twisted at the memory of returning to their mother's home after a summons from his brother Dorian. Their mother had been a wonderful woman. She'd deserved better than to have her blood spilled for some misguided demon ritual. Without the noble blood he'd expected from Lady Montlambert, the master's plan had failed to heal his wounds. Mother's death had been devastating for both her sons.

  They reached the ground floor and exited the inn. Abigail squeezed his arm. "You are thinking of your mother?"

  "How did you know?" Did she read his mind too?

  She smiled sadly, perhaps remembering his mother's death too. Abigail had been present when the master murdered her. "We are returning to Edinburgh. It's not such a leap to think your thoughts might stray to your mother."

  "I suppose that's true."

  "Also, you get a faraway sadness in your eyes when you think of her." Tears glistened in her eyes. "I'm sorry my vision was too late to save her. I understand she was a marvelous woman."

  The yard was narrow and long with cobbles near the building to keep the mud at a minimum. They stepped from the stones to the dirt and walked toward the barn. "I don't blame you for my mother's death. You had no part in it. I have only the master and myself to blame. I should have protected her better. She was exposed because Dorian and I chose a life of danger."

  "You are too hard on yourself, Brice. I believe your mother is very proud of the men she raised. She doesn't wish you to punish yourself for the manner of her passing."

  He stopped and faced her. "You speak of my mother as if she were alive."

  Shaking her head, she touched her soft palm to his cheek. "No. But I have often felt her presence when in your company and even once when in your brother's."

  Forcing his mouth closed, he wasn't sure what to say to this admission. He whispered, "You mean to say you feel my mother's spirit. Is this common among your kind?"

  "My gifts are of a healing nature for the most part, but I have other abilities that I usually suppress." Her cheeks flushed, and she looked to the ground.

  So many questions clogged his mind. Most were about his mother, but perhaps those were not the most important facts to learn. "Is it embarrassing to you to have more than one skill?"

  "It's not common. Being what I am already precluded me from a normal life with a family. These additional skills can hinder fitting in with my kind as well." Her tone was matter of fact, but he sensed hurt underneath.

 
Was that his magic? She'd shown him that he had some. Was knowing what hurt her part of that gift? "Is that why you are not part of a coven?"

  She stopped walking. "Why do you want to know this?"

  "I want to know you, Abigail."

  "Why? I am not going to be your mistress, Brice. I know we have an attraction, but whatever you may think of witches, I am not the kind of woman to be kept." Her chest rose and fell in sharp deep breaths.

  Brice didn't know what to say. Part of him was aroused at the idea of her being his mistress, but in truth, he wanted more.

  He wanted Abigail Higginbotham to be his, and for all the world to know it.

  Swallowing down his initial shock, he said, "I don't recall asking any such thing of you, Abigail. My desires are not so base as you might think. While I make no secret of my attraction to you, I think exceedingly highly of you and would never debase your character in such a way."

  Those shrewd eyes filled with fear and wonder as she stared at him. "I don't know what to say. Your meaning is not lost on me, Brice, but how can you think anything of the sort might be possible between us?"

  At least she hadn't said he was mad and slapped his face. Somehow that filled him with joy. Oh, the possibilities her words had opened up inside him. "I have seen more wonders than what I suggest. Perhaps you might explain to me why you're not in a coven and why Gertrude said witches don't marry. Surely, to create more witches, marriage must occur."