Nancy Holder - Son of the Shadows

With Seeing altered by magic and pain, Jean-Marc saw flashes of black fangs, smoking horns and an enormous six-fingered scarlet hand, tipped with talons as sharp as scimitars, reaching for him. The stench assaulted him; sulfur and carrion, rotten blood, evil. The thing was Le Devourer, Lilliane’s demon patron. His hand closed around Jean-Marc’s soul, and its talons sliced through the radiant mass.

Jean-Marc rocketed past sanity from the violation. He had no thoughts, no emotions. He ceased, because being was too horrible. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know who he was. He didn’t know what he was.

But one thing remained: a woman’s name, and he shouted it with the voice of the possessed:

“Isabelle!”

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is a bestselling author of nearly eighty books and two hundred short stories. She has received four Bram Stoker awards from the Horror Writers Association and her books have been translated into two dozen languages. A former ballet dancer, she has lived all over the world, and currently resides in San Diego, California, with her daughter, Belle. She would love to hear from readers at www.nancyholder.com.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

One day last February, Belle, my eleven-year-old daughter, informed me that every time I kissed her, I had to pay her a quarter. The students at her elementary school could “send” chocolate Valentine roses for a dollar each to their friends, and she needed more cash. I knew she had a purse full of loot from her pet-sitting business, so I was very surprised to hear this.

It turned out that her very best friend, Haley, didn’t have enough money to buy roses for her friends. So Belle made a secret list of the people to whom Haley wanted to send roses, but couldn’t afford to. Belle’s plan was to buy the roses herself with her kissing money and send them in Haley’s name.

The most powerful magic of life is love. I am so proud that my very first Nocturne, Son of the Shadows, celebrates the essential truth that while love cannot conquer all, it can heal all. I believe this. Love can, and will, change the world. And love is priceless. It is the gift that Isabelle offers Jean-Marc. He has much to teach her so that she can survive in his world, but what she offers him can create a new world—their world.

I hope you enjoy this book half as much as I enjoyed paying my daughter oodles of quarters…for Haley’s roses.

With my warmest wishes,

Nancy

For Belle, the most beautiful rose in the garden

I am Jean-Marc de Devereaux, Guardian of the House of the Shadows. As the leader of my ancient family, it is my duty to protect my people. We are Gifted—magic users—and we are under siege.

Through the centuries, Gifted families, tribes and clans the world over have walked among the Ungifted, our term for normal human beings. Few of them have any idea that we use magic as naturally as they breathe. Nor that we have served as their first line of defense against the Supernaturals—vampires, werewolves and demons.

For the most part.

The House of the Shadows—La Maison des Ombres—was founded in France during the Middle Ages, one of three French noble Gifted families. The other two are the House of the Flames and the House of the Blood. The Flames are descended from the Bouvards, once proud warriors, now weakened and fearful. The Blood are the Malchances, skilled in the darkest of arts. The Bouvards fought beside Jehanne d’Arc—Joan of Arc—and she is their patroness. On May 23, 1430, a Malchance captured her and handed her over to her enemies. She was burned at the stake.

My House, the House of the Shadows, stayed out of the fighting, though we moved in the background, arranging alliances and shedding friends who were no longer useful. Yes, of course we killed our enemies, but rarely with swords. That has changed.

My House is adept at invading dreams and creating visions. We are master manipulators. Once we were the diplomats of the Gifted world. I myself was called to serve as the hated Regent of the Flames, when Isabelle, their heiress, could not be found and their current Gardienne hovered on the brink of death. Assassins targeted me. They are all dead.

Like the Flames and the Blood, we Shadows are slow-aging, quick-healing warriors. We are powerful fighters, ruthless in battle.

Which is a lucky thing. Because when I finally located Isabelle, I put her life—and my love for her—above my duty, and I started a war.

It rages to this day.

Prologue

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

Epilogue

The Castle of the House of the Blood

Haiti

Down deep in the dungeons of Castle Malchance, Jean-Marc de Devereaux’s soul thrashed inside the Chalice of the Blood. Although the golden, pulsing mass had been ripped from his living body, he could still see, hear, smell and feel everything around him. The pain was unbelievable. Half-mad with agony, he had to think through it, find a way to escape and get back to New Orleans. To Isabelle. By the Patron, what was happening to her?

Isabelle—who called herself Izzy—grew up in Brooklyn, unaware of her Gifted heritage, dreaming only of entering the Police Academy and perhaps marrying Pat, her boyfriend. Jean-Marc had been ordered by the Grand Covenate, the governing body of the Gifted, to track her down. She wanted no part of his world, and he understood why.

I brought her into this, he thought, cursing himself. But I had to. Her enemies would have killed her. Who knew she had a twin, bent on her destruction?

Jean-Marc’s captor, Isabelle’s twin Lilliane, danced in the dungeon torchlight. Wearing elaborate robes of black satin embroidered with red skulls, a black crown with silver skulls riding a black veil that covered her face, she laughed low in her throat like the madwoman she was and gazed down hungrily into the Chalice.

“Ah, mon beau, if we could have taken your magnificent body as well as your ferocious soul, I would give you such pleasure before I feed you to Le Devourer,” she murmured, as she ran her tongue around the rim of the Chalice, her eyes heavy with lust. He could feel her heat, smell her desire.

“I have never slept with a Gifted male as powerful as you. Think of the child we could make, you and I. I am half Blood and half Flames, like my accursed sister. And you are Shadows. Our child would be a baby born of all three Houses—the Flames, the Blood and the Shadows. A child of Shadows born, destined to rule over thousands of Gifted.”

She sighed with pleasure and threw back her head. “Such a dream,” she whispered. Then her smile faded, and her features hardened. “Unfortunately you will never father children. In fact, your soul won’t last another quarter hour. I have promised it to Le Devourer, and he always gets what he wants.”