Damnation’s Door
Cursed, #3
by Amy Braun
Publication date: June 7th 2016
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy
Demons are free.
Angels are fallen.
Hope is dying…
From The Book Junkie Reads . . . Damnation's Door (Cursed, #3) . . .
I've had the pleasure of reading all three book back-to-back and got the full story as it unfolded from the beginning up to this point that Constance and Andromeda feel the need to stop the vast plan the most dark one has, Lucifer.
Adult Urban Fantasy tied in with Paranormal Adventure and action. The three books flow together pick up where the one before left off. There was no mistaking the connection between the three books and the fantasy that binds them together. The build in each book to this one made you feel like you were working towards a goal and then you get there. The worlds was very well detailed and highly developed. The world turning to hell was depicted as if watching unfold on a screen. The action scenes are worthy of a praise.
Constance has her hands full. There are the good guys mad at her. The bad guys wanting her for retribution. There are more than one bad guy. She has her plate heaped high and there was not certainly that she could make it to the end. At least not all in one piece. She has to find a way to make it all work. She and her fellow demon slayers have there hands quite literally full. Emotions spike. Action take on a new high. And Earth has to make it to the other side with the balance put back to rights.
A trilogy you will continue to talk about. Amy Braun's Cursed series delivers on the promises made within.
**This ARC was provided
via Xpresso Book Tours in
exchange for an honest review.**
BLURB
Demons are free. Angels are
fallen. Hope is dying…
Constance Ramirez and her adopted
sister, Andromeda, have stopped Lucifer’s plan– They have closed the Heaven
Gate and kept the demons out. But their choice came with brutal consequences,
and now every angel on earth is trapped in their mortal body.
All that remains is closing the
Hell Gate and establishing a balance once and for all. That means returning to
the city of Constance’s nightmares, which has become a haven for murderers and
monsters. But even more dangerous than their hunt is that Andromeda’s powers
and instincts are turning darker, and this time Constance doesn’t know how to
protect her.
Constance is ready to fight for
her life, but her enemies have plans she can’t begin to imagine, and they’re prepared
to make her suffer…
Trust is lost and hearts are
broken in the epic conclusion in Amy Braun’s Cursed trilogy…
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CHAPTER 1:
It was
supposed to be simple.
I
actually thought we would be able to step outside our shelter, get the
supplies, and be back before anyone realized we’d been there.
This is
what happens when my sister’s optimism rubs off on me.
But it
wasn’t Dro’s fault that we walked into a damn trap. Hell just hated us.
That was
fine. I hated Hell right back.
The cheap
metal door was still clanging against the plaster wall of the store I’d just
busted into. Max had looked into it when I asked, and told me there would be
demons, but he couldn’t tell what kind because his precog was still blurred. I
was expecting a couple Reds or ghouls, maybe a Shredder.
I was not
expecting Possessors.
The
possessed humans weren’t surprised to see us. Even in their human forms, the
Possessors should have been able to sense my sister, because she was the most
powerful half-demon known to exist. Since she was still on Hell’s Most Wanted
List, we had a serious problem on our hands.
The
Possessors looked like regular humans, except their irises were solid black. I
held back my shiver, knowing just how much pain their souls must be in. Being
possessed was one of the worst things a human could experience. I had barely
survived it.
These
Possessors had taken over a group of tall, bulky men in black clothes. Their
hair ranged from shoulder-length to bald, and their arms were covered in
tattoos. Each had the tattoo of a rose thorn that appeared to be weaving in and
out of their skin, blood dripping from the points. I had the same one inked
behind my ear.
This just
keeps getting better and better.
Finally,
we snapped out of our shock. I went for the hatchet on my hip and grabbed a
knife from my inside jacket. Beside me, Warrick took out a handgun. Next to
him, Sephiel drew two short swords. Max wisely stepped back, knowing he
couldn’t fight half as well as the rest of us. Dro’s shoulders were tense and
ready, but I moved in front of her not just to protect her, but to keep her
from doing anything that would get all of us killed.
I started
reconsidering this when all of the Possessors drew enormous handguns.
But they
didn’t shoot. Why weren’t they shooting?
Because
someone else was in the room with us. Someone bigger than the Possessors, who
stalked out from the shadows into the dim light. My hand tightened on the grip
of my weapons, and I expected Warrick to pull the trigger.
Drake
Talbot smiled when he saw our anger. He was a huge bear of a man, about six
foot three and probably two hundred and fifty pounds of muscle. He had on his
black duster and dark pants, his hands on his hips to display the guns and the
thick, blunt hilts of his knives easily visible next to his clothes. The top of
his head and his chin were covered in dark stubble. Two abysmal black eyes
stared at me, filled with sadism and malice.
“Well,
look who showed their faces after all,” Drake sneered, standing confidently
behind his bodyguards. “We didn’t think you’d make it to Party Town.”
Party
Town. I
supposed Drake would see it that way. I didn’t think a city full of murderers,
rapists, and generally wicked people was a place to party, but Drake was the
definition of a masochist. He would see a city of death as home, sweet home.
Warrick
didn’t have a kill shot, and that was the only reason I could imagine for Drake
to still be standing. All it would take was one missed shot to set off a chain
reaction of bullets and blood.
I wanted
to see Drake bleeding under my boot just as much as he did, but I wasn’t
throwing my knife, either. Something wasn’t right.
“What are
you doing here, Drake?” I growled.
He
laughed. It was an awful, rasping noise. His black eyes met mine, the same way
they had when he stabbed me twice and left me to die. I blocked out the memory,
keeping away the phantom pain of a knife sliding into my stomach and ribs.
“Had to
pick something up for the boss,” he said mockingly. “You can imagine how fussy
he is.”
My blood
went cold, and I barely heard Dro’s sharp intake of breath. I could picture
Sephiel’s face tightening with anger. Drake looked at all of us, relishing the
hatred, pain, and fear we radiated. I controlled it as best as I could, knowing
answers were more important than revenge right now.
“What the
fuck did you do?” I asked again.
His grin
widened, and this time he only looked at me. “It isn’t what I did. It’s what
I’m going to do.” He dipped his chin, fixing me with his black
gaze. “He’s got plans for you, chica. Serious plans. So much detail
has gone into them that even your ex isn’t allowed to intervene. Matt’s pretty
pissed about that too.”
Not as
pissed as he would be if he heard you calling him ‘Matt.’
“See, I
found something really, really special.” Drake continued. “It’s the last thing
we need. But don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll get introduced to it very, very
soon.”
My
stomach turned. I expected him to say something about wanting Dro. My sister
was the real supernatural force in our group. I was human, born and raised. I’d
never been anything but. I didn’t want to be.
Whatever
was being planned for me by Drake, my former lover, and the creature I feared
above anything else could only involve pain. A substantial amount of it.
I’d been
on the receiving end of their tortures before. I had no intention of going
through them again.
Though if
they wanted me for something, they wouldn’t risk shooting me. They would take
me alive.
No,
they’re not. They’re going to try. And they’re going to fail.
I took a
risk myself, and threw my silver knife at Drake.
I didn’t
miss–I hardly ever miss–but I didn’t hit my mark.
The thin
silver blade slammed into the neck of the Possessor standing beside Drake. The
huge bounty hunter had stepped to the side so the blade wouldn’t get anywhere
near him. He stepped so far I was a little embarrassed at how off my aim had
been. Deep down, I knew better. Drake was fast for someone his size, but it
looked like he’d gotten quite a bit from his deal with the Devil.
The man
lurched, blood gushing from the wound in his neck. He opened his mouth as
though to scream, but a spiral of thick black smoke shot out of his mouth. The
Possessor’s true form screeched and twisted away in the back room. Then room
exploded into action.
At first
I thought the Possessors were going to shoot us. At their cores, they were
still gangsters. Yet as soon as I surged forward, I saw them hesitate.
They were
here to stall us, not kill us. At least not me, and probably not Dro.
Everyone
else though… they were fair game.
Two shots
cracked in rapid succession. None of the bullets hit me, though two of the
possessed Blood Thorns dropped from the bullets that crashed into their skulls,
scaring the Possessors out of their vessel’s dying mouths. Warrick had
exceptional aim, and shooting demons with blessed silver bullets was good way
to keep them from returning to rip us apart.
I went
for Drake, who was backing away to escape through the storeroom exit. Fucking
coward.
Two
Possessors blocked my path. They tucked their guns away and threw out their
fists. I skidded to a stop and stepped back, one of their clenched hands
brushing along my temple.
Admittedly,
I didn’t think this whole plan through. Seeing the man who murdered my mentor,
kidnapped my sister, tortured and tried to kill me sparked my already short
temper. So it wasn’t long before they got their shots in.
The man
on my left jabbed his fist into my ribs. I winced, giving the man on the right
the chance to loop his arm around my throat. I was pinned to his back, my neck
straining painfully as he wrenched it up. I used one hand to claw at the meaty
arm on my throat, leaving my front completely exposed to the second man. He
grinned, thinking he was going to get some revenge on me for the sake of his
employers.
Stupid
bastard forgot I was still armed.
He pulled
back his fist to hit me, and even as his fist was flying for my face, I was
moving. I kicked him in the knee with one foot, making him stumble. His fist
brushed over my shoulder and into the chest of the man choking me. I kicked his
stomach with my other foot, making him double over. Then I sliced the blade of
my hatchet into his exposed neck.
Blood
squirted out of his severed carotid artery, painting the dirty floor before he
collapsed onto it.
The man
behind me growled and slammed his fist into my kidneys. I winced at the
crushing pain. He was so much stronger now that he was possessed. His grip
tightened on my neck, causing black spots to dance in front of my eyes. The
Possessor’s free hand shot out to catch my wrist and keep the hatchet away from
him. He squeezed until I thought he was going to break my hand.
Then he
stiffened and released his hold. A warm liquid peppered my neck, filling the
air with the coppery smell of blood. I pitched forward, touching my throat and
coughing to get back the oxygen I’d missed. Assured that my neck wasn’t broken,
I turned around to see what had saved me.
My little
sister stood over the Possessor, the knife in her hand dripping fresh blood
onto the floor. The man crab walked away, blood oozing from his fingers as he
tried to put pressure on the wound in his throat. He looked terrified of my
sister.
At first
glance, Dro wasn’t the kind of girl anyone would be afraid of. She was sixteen,
and utterly beautiful with the face of a saint. Her skin was flawless and paper
pale. Long white hair rested in a braid along her back, ending at the base of
her spine. But over the last few weeks, there was a darkness lurking behind her
ice blue eyes. A danger that needed to be avoided at all costs.
A
malevolence that reminded me of her father.
“What did
Drake steal?” she demanded in a cold voice that didn’t belong to her.
“We– we
never knew,” the Possessor pleaded. Usually these were the kinds of demons that
toyed with their prey. The demon that possessed me had felt Dro’s power, which
meant this one must have been sensing it too. I started to understand why he
was so afraid.
“We were
just told to wait here. They knew you’d be looking for him, and we were
supposed to keep you from killing him.”
I glanced
at the back door. It was open, and Max was beside it, keeping Warrick from
going through. He was likely trying to explain that the revenge-crazed demon
slayer wasn’t going to be able to find his nemesis tonight. Warrick was
standing profile to me, though I could only imagine the anger burning in his
neon green eyes.
“You’re
lying.”
Dro’s
hollow tone made me look at her again. My eyes flicked down when I saw the
light coming from her left hand. Blazing white flames were curling around her
wrist, clawing their way up her arm. The Possessor’s eyes widened as he stared
at the hellfire she was controlling. He’d probably seen what it could do, and I
didn’t blame him for being scared.
“I’m
not!” the Possessor cried, snapping me out of my thoughts. His voice was
becoming hoarse from the blood loss. “I’m not, I swear!”
I’d been
in this situation before. You accused someone of lying, they said they weren’t,
and then you started beating the truth out of them. Eventually, you got the
answer you wanted. I could tell when someone was putting on a façade, and when
they were being honest.
This
demon didn’t know shit.
“Dro,” I
croaked. I muted my cough. She still didn’t hear me. The fires continued to
rise up her arms.
“Dro,
that’s enough,” I warned her.
She
didn’t listen to me, clenching her fist and increasing the light from the
flames until I could no longer see the outline of her hand.
“Andromeda,”
I half shouted.
My
adopted sister turned her head slightly at the sound of my voice. Her eyes
locked on mine, and I was amazed at all the anger she was holding back. It
softened when she saw me, but not nearly as much as I wanted it to.
“He
doesn’t know anything,” I told her. “We’re done here.”
Dro
twisted her head back to the dying Possessor, white hair swishing against her
back. The hellfire dulled and evaporated from her fist. She looked at the
bloody knife in her hand, then went still.
This was
the first time Dro had ever killed a human on purpose with her bare hands.
I walked
to my sister. I gently placed my hand on her shoulder. She jumped under my
touch, glancing back at me. I saw the terrified, ashamed little girl who would
never forgive herself for this. I wasn’t happy with that, but it was better
than seeing the look of a cold-blooded murderer.
These
days, I took what I could get with Dro.
“Go
outside with the guys. Make sure Drake’s not waiting to trap us, and that
Warrick doesn’t chase after him.”
Dro’s
light eyes held my dark ones. “I don’t need to go outside. I can do that from
in here.”
I
clutched her shoulder just a little harder. “No. You don’t need your powers for
this.”
“But–”
“No.”
One look
at her narrowed eyes and harsh frown told me that we were going to fight about
this later. Probably the moment I saw her again outside.
Regardless,
Dro put her knife on her belt, glanced at the dying Possessor one last time,
and stormed to the front door. Her guardian and ex-angel Sephiel gave me a
small nod. He would protect her from anything while I wasn’t there. As he
followed my aggravated sister, I watched Max hesitantly show Warrick the front
door. He was smart not to touch him. Warrick looked ready to punch the lights
out of the first person that crossed him.
Once they
were gone, I picked up my silver throwing knife and sheathed it in my jacket.
The other Possessors had vacated their human vessels, leaving behind their dead
bodies. Usually Possessors put up more of fight than this. I couldn’t help but
remember that they were fodder for something much more sinister. I stood by the
dying Possessor, who was now flat on his back and choking on his own blood.
Possessors hated to leave their vessels, but I wasn’t going to exorcise him. I
didn’t have the time, and even if I did, he was a dead man. The wound in his
throat was too grievous. The Possessor was the only thing keeping him “alive.”
I knelt
beside his head, dangling the hatchet in front of my knee. When my eyes locked
onto his, they weren’t filled with the pain I’d expected them to be. If
anything, he seemed proud. Whatever his goal had been, he appeared to have
accomplished it.
“Tell me
something useful, and I’ll end it,” I told him.
The
Possessor made a noise between a rasp and a gurgle. It took me a moment to
realize he was laughing.
“Not…
long… now,” he choked out. “She’ll be… his… soon…”
He
grinned, blood staining his teeth. I decided against the mercy killing. I
slowly pushed myself up, ignoring the aches and pains in my body. I walked
around the shop, looking through the cabinets and drawers to salvage anything I
could. I found some packets of dried and canned food, as well as some bottles
of lukewarm water. I never once looked back at the dying Possessor, knowing it
couldn’t take me over since I had an anti-possession sigil tattooed over my
heart.
Yet I
couldn’t shake the foreboding words the Possessor had given me. As I walked out
of the store and back into the dark, bloody streets, I recalled what Drake
said.
See, I
found something really, really special. It’s the last thing we need. But don’t
worry, sweetheart. You’ll get introduced to it very, very soon.
There was
only one reason Drake, Mateo, and Lucifer himself would target me.
They
wanted to capture my sister.
Author Info
Amy is a Canadian urban fantasy
and horror author. Her work revolves around monsters, magic, mythology, and
mayhem. She started writing in her early teens, and never stopped. She loves
building unique worlds filled with fun characters and intense action. She is
the recipient of April Moon Books Editor Award for "author voice, world-building
and general bad-assery," and the One Book Two Standout Award in 2015 for
her Cursed trilogy. She has been featured on various author blogs and
publishing websites, and is an active member of the Writing GIAM and Weekend
Writing Warrior communities. When she isn't writing, she's reading, watching
movies, taking photos, gaming, and struggling with chocoholism and ice cream
addiction.
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