Rebel Angels 3: Splendor and Darkness Read online

  Praise for the writing of Cyndi Friberg

  Rebel Angels 1: Born of the Shadows

  Born of the Shadows is an amazing story with some unique twists. Naomi is a wonderfully strong heroine, in a time when men usually made all the decisions... This sensuous tale gives vampire lovers something delightfully different and utterly satisfying. It's highly recommended.

  -- Renee Burnette, The Romance Studio

  Born of the Shadows definitely lives up to its Hot rating... Cyndi Friberg's Born of the Shadows captured my interest and makes me thirst for more.

  -- Sinclair Reid, Romance Reviews Today

  Rebel Angels 2: Echoes and Embers

  This is such a fabulous, fabulous story! The second installment in the Rebel Angels series, Echoes and Embers is full of intrigue, suspense, erotic moments, and sweet romance.

  -- Susan Biliter, eCataRomance Reviews

  This was an absolutely great story. The romance, the mystery surrounding Alyssa and Sariel, the characterization, and, especially, the overall tone made this book hard to put down once I started reading.

  -- Tara Black, The Romance Studio

  With scorching love scenes, a lively plot, and dangerous enemies, Echoes and Embers is a thrilling read.

  -- Sinclair Reid, Romance Reviews Today

  Born of the Shadows and Echoes and Embers are now available from Loose Id.

  REBEL ANGELS 3:

  SPLENDOR AND DARKNESS

  Cyndi Friberg

  www.loose-id.com

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  * * * * *

  This book is rated:

  For explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable (ménage, BDSM).

  DISCLAIMER: Many of the acts described in our BDSM/fetish titles can be dangerous. Loose Id publishes these stories for members of the community in which these acts are known and practiced safely. If you have an interest in the pleasures and pains you find described herein, we urge you to seek out advice and guidance from knowledgeable persons. Please do not try any new sexual practice, whether it be fire, rope, or whip play, without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.

  Rebel Angels 3: Splendor and Darkness

  Cyndi Friberg

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either 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.

  Published by

  Loose Id LLC

  1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-29

  Carson City NV 89701-1215

  www.loose-id.com

  Copyright © August 2005 by Cyndi Friberg

  Excerpt of Dream Warriors 2: Ryder copyright May 2005 by Cyndi Friberg

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

  ISBN 1-59632-125-3

  Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

  Printed in the United States of America

  Editor: Maryam Salim

  Cover Artist: Fabiano Fabris

  www.loose-id.com

  Prologue

  England, 1451

  Mist swirled across the rutted road, momentarily separating Nate from his outriders. Filtering dusk’s purple twilight, fog sped the onset of night. Tension gripped his belly. His gaze scanned the surrounding trees. Cutthroats roamed freely in these woods, and the sheer size of his party made them an easy target.

  “It is such an honor to serve you. I shall be the finest squire you’ve ever had.” Hamill rode at Nate’s side, overwhelming him with excited chatter. In the long hours since they’d left London, the boy had barely paused to breathe. “You won’t regret this, Uncle Nate -- may I still call you uncle?”

  Hamill’s father was Nate’s second cousin, so the title had never been accurate. “We’ll work out the details as we go along. Let’s get my family safely home.”

  Nate’s palfrey tossed its head and sidestepped, crowding Hamill’s mount. Controlling the horse with his knees, Nate raised his hand, signaling the lad’s silence. The hairs on the back of Nate’s neck bristled as an eerie quiet descended. Heavy with the scent of impending rain, a brisk wind rustled barren tree branches.

  “Are you all right, sir?” Hamill asked after a long pause.

  “I’d hoped to make the inn before nightfall.” He glanced over his shoulder. His wife, Catherine, rode beside his brother, William, engaged in a lively conversation. The small wagon bearing his mother and daughter had started to lag behind. The other two men-at-arms rode behind the baggage cart. They needed to close ranks, especially in this accursed fog. “Hold up!” Nate called to the outriders. A shiver sped down his spine.

  An arrow whizzed past Nate’s face, barely missing the boy. Hamill’s horse reared, and the lad yelped as he struggled to maintain his seat. The first raider emerged from the shadows, followed by a horde of black-clad companions, some mounted, more on foot. Archers remained hidden in the trees, raining arrows on the travelers.

  Nate drew his sword and balanced in the stirrups, wishing he were astride his mighty destrier. Foot soldiers surrounded him. He kicked and jabbed, maneuvering his horse in a tight circle. Screams echoed, swords clashed, but fog concealed much of the fray. Catherine fought her way toward the wagon. A brigand dragged William from his horse.

  Spurred on by desperation, Nate broke free of the foot soldiers. A massive horse crashed through the underbrush. The hooded rider jerked back on the reins, forcing the horse to rear. Hooves crashed down with violent impact, one on Nate’s thigh, the other on his horse’s neck. Pain shot through Nate as his horse’s front legs buckled. The brigand didn’t pause. Charging ahead, the larger horse trampled the palfrey, dragging Nate down as his horse collapsed.

  Agony exploded through Nate, blinded him, drove the breath from his lungs. His daughter’s shrill screams followed him into the void.

  “Release them!”

  The angry voice dragged Nate from the merciful abyss. Pain stabbed down his spine and exploded in his legs. Bile rose to the back of his throat, gagging him. With a breathless groan, he lifted his face from the muddy ground and tried to raise his eyelids. A warm, sticky substance coated his lashes. Blood?

  Mist swirled around him, embraced him, and called him back to the comforting darkness. Shifting one arm beneath himself, he shoved against the ground. His eyes refused to focus through the fog.

  “They have suffered enough. Release them.” A flash of gold accompanied the female voice.

  Nate turned his head toward the light. Searing pain rewarded his efforts. Why couldn’t he move?

  Jumbled images erupted within his mind. A sea of hooded brigands materialized out of the fog, dragging his party from their horses. Daggers flashed, swords scraped. The darkness was filled with screams of agony and pleas for mercy.

  The acrid stench of death.

  Nay! An anguished cry echoed throug
h his mind, but the sound never passed his lips. Dry and useless, his tongue refused to move. His eyes burned as he scanned the tree-lined trail. Night had not yet fallen when the raiders attacked. How long had he been unconscious? Hours? Days?

  “You have no authority over me,” another female voice replied. Nate searched for the source of the argument, ignoring the agony triggered by his slightest movement.

  Two figures stood backlit by the harvest moon. One was tall and slender. The elaborate sleeves of her flowing silver gown rippled in the breeze. Light emanated from her, shimmering in her hip-length hair. Even in profile her features were elegant, hauntingly beautiful. She stepped closer to the other figure, sparks trailing in her wake.

  Undaunted by the aggression, the second figure held her ground. Dressed in a tunic and hose, like a lad, bronze light emanated from her body, leaving no doubt about her gender. Though smaller and darker than the first, the second entity was no less remarkable.

  “Be gone!” The silvery apparition gestured sharply, knocking the other back.

  Terrified, Nate struggled against the oppressive weight pinning him to the ground. The bronze spirit hissed. Blue light ignited in her eyes, revealing angular features and full lips. She raised her hands, but the silver spirit launched another attack. Screaming, the bronze specter wrapped her arms around her belly and convulsed. A final burst from the silver-haired being forced the darker one to retreat. Her image wavered for a moment, and then she faded from view.

  Trembling with fear and trepidation, Nate couldn’t take his gaze off the vision. She floated toward a shape in the darkness, a denser shadow against the gloom. In a voice soft and musical, she spoke words he did not understand. Her slender hands hovered over a body sprawled on the leaf-strewn ground.

  A hazy image jerked into focus, more agonizing than his pain. His brother frantically battling the brigands as Nate watched ... helplessly pinned beneath his horse. A sob lodged in his dry throat; tears filled his eyes.

  Not William. Take me!

  The specter didn’t hear him, or she ignored his silent plea. She moved on, wavering light illuminating her destination. Nate trembled, tears streaming down his face as the spirit knelt beside his wife. Clutched tightly in Catherine’s arms was their three-year-old daughter, Estel. Her tiny body shuddered, struggling for breath.

  “Nay!” Grief clogged his throat. He forced the word out, and the specter looked at him. “Please. I’ll do anything! Spare them.”

  Her wide, ice-crystal gaze bore into his, her expression both compassionate and confused. “I’m here to release them from their suffering. Byleth had no right to trap them here.”

  “Death is no mercy! Heal them. Right this wrong!”

  “That’s not within my power.” Regret softened her tone. Her radiance shifted from silver to gold and back. “Their spirits would have departed long ago were it not for Byleth’s wickedness. Death is all I can offer. Would you rather they remain in agony?”

  Nate couldn’t speak the words. He lowered his face to the ground. Was his mother still in the wagon? Who had arranged this slaughter?

  Why?

  Time passed, an eternity of agonizing moments. He imagined Catherine’s gentle smile, her eyes alight with warmth and tenderness. The memory of Estel’s sweet laughter unleashed a maelstrom of regret. He would never hear her giggle again. He wouldn’t be able to watch her grow, see her experience life’s wonders and overcome its challenges.

  He wept.

  Now! Let the spirit take him now. He longed for Death’s embrace.

  Silence.

  What was taking so long?

  With great effort, he raised his face from the mud. Her otherworldly radiance subsided as the specter knelt at his side. Her long, pale hair spilled forward, brushing his cheek. Without the illumination, she looked like an ordinary woman, her features lost in shadow.

  “Am I the last?” he asked, his voice cold and composed.

  “I have tried to free you, Nathaniel.” She gathered her hair and pushed it behind her shoulders. “You are not meant to die.”

  “Nay!” He screamed his fury to the fog-shrouded night. “Don’t leave me here! You heartless bitch! Don’t leave me ...” He lowered his head, clawing at the mud.

  She stroked his cheek and whispered in her strange, musical language. He flinched from her touch, cursing his helplessness. As Nate willed himself to die, the Angel of Death began to sing.

  * * * * *

  Enos Diadem stared down at the crumpled body of Byleth. Her garments were charred and dirty. Debris littered her long, dark hair. Should he restore her strength, or siphon what little remained of her energy? He shrugged and lifted her slight form in his arms. It wasn’t his decision to make. She belonged to Makatiel.

  With a disgusted shudder, Enos sank through the forest floor and emerged in an upper corridor of the Netherworld. He scanned the chambers, searching for the master demon. His revulsion grew with each step he took. Putrid filth coated every surface. The stench of rotting flesh and decay gagged him. Shuddering, he forced himself to venture deeper.

  “It’s not natural for a demon to hate Hell.” Makatiel stepped into the corridor and grinned. It was a common criticism among the master demons. Makatiel was one of the few who found Enos’s distaste amusing.

  “I brought you a present.” Enos motioned to the fledgling in his arms.

  Makatiel ushered Enos into his chamber. “Where did you find her?”

  “In the forest above the main gate. I presumed she was trying to return to you.”

  “Her assignment was simple. There’s no reason she should have failed.”

  “Has she failed you before?” Enos laid her on the floor at Makatiel’s feet.

  “Aye, but I sense great potential in her, and she pleases me in other ways.” Lightly tapping one of his sharp fingernails against his chin, Makatiel paused to deliberate.

  Enos studied Makatiel as his friend stared at the fledgling. Honey-colored hair flowed to his broad shoulders. The elegant arrangement of his features hadn’t changed since his descent into darkness. Were it not for the demonic flash of his ebony eyes, Makatiel would be able to blend with humanity. His appealing features hid an especially vicious nature. Enos often relied on his ruthlessness.

  “I need to know what went wrong before I decide whether or not to destroy her.” Makatiel sent a jolt of energy into her body. Her skin flushed; her breathing deepened; her eyelids fluttered.

  “What happened?” His angry question jarred her more than the violent energy transfer.

  She pushed her hair out of her eyes and struggled to sit. Her gaze appeared black, but occasional flickers of blue revealed her incomplete transformation.

  “There was this ...” She panted; her full breasts quivered beneath her linen tunic. Enos licked his lips. They’d have her out of that soon enough. He remained well back from Makatiel, content to observe the interaction.

  “This what? Did the raiders not attack as I said they would?”

  Shifting to her knees, she sat back on her heels, bowing her head slightly. She should have removed her offending garments before assuming the respectful position. If Makatiel didn’t rectify the oversight, he would.

  “The raiders had just finished when I arrived.” Her voice sounded stronger. She folded her hands in her lap.

  “That’s too bad. There is nothing as exhilarating as human brutality.”

  Byleth fidgeted, twisting the hem of her tunic between her fingers. “She was there again, sir. Why does this creature plague me?”

  “Who?” Tangling his fingers in her thick hair, Makatiel pulled her face up and gazed into her eyes. “Explain.”

  “I’m not as inept as you believe. Each time I’ve failed, my mission has been sabotaged by this ... angel.”

  He laughed and released her. “Why would an angel waste her time with you? Your transformation is incomplete. You’re all but powerless.”

  She dared a glance at her master, affront erupting in flashe
s of blue. “May I speak candidly, sir?”

  Narrowing his gaze, Makatiel crossed his arms over his chest and nodded.

  “I know you don’t believe me. I’d begun to wonder myself, but tonight I saw her, spoke with her, fought against her. The other two times, I merely felt her presence, her influence hindering me. Tonight she appeared.”

  “An Angel of God attacked you, and yet you live?” He made no attempt to hide the mockery in his tone.

  “I never said she was an Angel of God. The pulses she sent into me contained Heaven’s Light, but ... I’ve never encountered anyone like her.”

  “Was this creature Fallen?”

  Byleth shook her head. “She retained angelic powers, yet she was not an angel. I sensed corruption in her spirit, yet she was not Fallen.”

  “A semi-Fallen angel?” Makatiel laughed. “There is no such thing.”

  “Actually, there is.” Enos hadn’t intended to participate in the conversation, but he could no longer abstain.

  “You know such a creature?” Makatiel asked.

  Enos leaned one shoulder against the wall. “I know of her, but you know her. Or you knew her before the Fall.”

  “You’re speaking in riddles.”

  “Not at all.” Ambling across the room, Enos approached Byleth. “Why are you still clothed? It is disrespectful to conceal your body from your superiors.”

  Makatiel grinned. All demons were lusty, but Enos specialized in the pleasures of the flesh. Byleth scrambled to her feet. Makatiel stood beside Enos as she shed her garments and proudly displayed her lush, young body. Her tongue darted out, moistening her lips. She kept her gaze averted.