Chapter One

Chapter One

Kellan

Earth wasn't what it used to be.

The thick layer of pollution in the air clung to my skin as I stepped out of the portal and into the deep, swampy forest of southern Louisiana. Moss hung to the tree trunks of the surrounding cypress trees, giving the lush vegetation an overgrown look.

The other realms took care of their home better than the people of Earth.

Humans could be the worst. I should know because I used to be one.

This was my home regardless of what the other realms had to offer. My father lived here his entire life. He loved the solitude of living in a small town, knowing his neighbors—scratch that, not having to see his neighbors.

That was decades before.

Before my life changed, and I was doomed to live forever.

It was a long story and after dragging a grown man to prison in the southern realm, I didn't feel like reliving it at the moment.

My combat boots squished into the soggy ground, leaves and debris clinging onto the soles as I marched toward my cabin. My clothes were ripped in places from the fight he gave me. He"d been a tough one but the pay was worth the drama.

Out of all of the places I'd lived this was my favorite. My father and I had one thing in common; the need to be alone. It hadn't always been that way but after decades of solitude I realized I enjoyed it more than I did people.

I snaked my fingers into the roots of my dirty-blonde hair—extra on the dirty—and found myself yearning for a hot shower. A cold beer. I could almost taste it. I'd spent the majority of my adult life as a bounty hunter, jumping from one realm to the other while trying to track down assholes that think jumping realms would save them.

Not with me around.

George, my basset hound, greeted me at the edge of the woods, which told me one of two things, he was happy to see me, or someone had been to the house.

By the small growl, I concluded that it was the latter.

George followed behind me, the growing humid wind slid against my sweaty skin, bringing a scent along with it. Cologne. Expensive cologne.

The longer I was alive, the stronger my scenes grew.

Being immortal came with many perks, but none of them outweighed the fact that I would have to live forever. It was a tiny thought in the back of my mind at any given moment.

I would never die. I would always be alive. I would always look thirty-five. It"d been surreal at first. Despite the circumstances of why I drank the elixir, it sounded exciting. Until it wasn"t.

The wind chimes on my porch rang from a soft, faerie-like sound to a deeper baritone when they brushed against the small pillar holding my worn tin roof.

A man stood on my porch in a pair of dark slacks and a button-down shirt. He looked nervous but more so out of place against the old wooden furniture my father made by hand.

"Can I help you?" I asked from the yard.

The gentleman noticed me for the first time as I spoke and hurried down the steps. He was in his fifties easily, his hands shoved down into his pockets and a smile that screamed elegance.

"Kellan Stone?" he asked.

His accent was straight from the bayou. Moreso from a plantation than a coon-ass but southern nonetheless.

"That's me. Why are you at my house?"

He stopped when he realized I wasn't happy to see him. Sue me for not liking uninvited visitors. "My name is Luther. I was sent here by Richard Bogart."

I blinked, waiting on something to make sense.

"I'm sorry," he said. Taking out a small cloth, he wiped a bead of sweat from his skin. "He heard that you are a bounty hunter and requests your help."

Sliding my tongue across my teeth, I felt my irritation rising. I needed a hot shower, not to be ushered to some rich asshole"s house.

The Mercedes parked in my driveway screamed privilege. It screamed "You don"t belong wherever he is trying to take you, Kellan."

"Why didn't he come to ask me himself?"

Luther looked confused for a moment. "He's the mayor. It wouldn't look good for him to come searching for a bounty hunter. The circumstances are gray. His daughter is missing—"

Shoving past Luther, I walked toward my porch, the cabin calling me home. "Call the police."

"This is more than they can handle. Trust me."

I grabbed the handle of the screen door, pulling it open with a low whine of the hinges while the scent of home baptizing me in relief—

"We think she's been taken to another realm."

I halted. Turning my head over my shoulder, I made eye contact with him. Humans didn't know about other realms. Not most of them anyway. It wasn"t a good thing. Humans did not need to learn how to venture over.

"What did you say?"

He swayed nervously. "We think someone took her to another realm, Kellan. Please, you are the only one that can help us. Mr. Bogart will make it worth your while."

George stared up at me, waiting on me to open the door, but instead, I let it shut. Luther watched as I poured George some food and made sure the bucket I used as his water bowl was full.

"He has one hour. I'm tired as hell. I stink, and I need something to eat."

Luther nodded swiftly. "I will let him know we're on our way."

He walked toward his Mercedes, but I took a right toward my pickup parked beside my cabin. He tossed me a crazy look. "I've been around awhile," I said. "I'll drive myself in case I need to leave."

He respected my wishes, not that he had any other choice, and slid into his car. I followed him to a prominent part of St. Tammany's Parrish. The Fontainebleau St. Park attracted a lot of tourists, but the town was small with a little over thirteen thousand.

Luther pulled into a long driveway with a giant plantation-style home at the end. The pillars were white, and the front porch looked magazine-worthy, not to mention the money they spent on those gaudy hedges.

Luther parked and waited for me on the front porch.

Old money dripped off of this place.

Luther opened the front door without knocking, which told me he was comfortable there. The hardwood smelled like fresh pine and the grand staircase looked freshly painted with a glossy coat over it.

"This way, Mr. Stone. Mr. and Mrs. Bogart are waiting in his office."

The further we walked down the long hallway, the more out of place I felt. Not that I gave a damn. They needed my help; it wasn't the other way around.

Luther pushed open a set of double doors.

The office was large having floor-to-ceiling windows and a mahogany desk with a man sitting behind it. He stood when I walked in, his ebony hair slicked back with too much product. Gray streaks ran above each ear, showing his age.

Mr. Bogart hurried around the room toward me, offering me a handshake, while his wife cried in the corner. All I could see was the top of her head. She was blonde—naturally—and looked petite.

It frightened me that their daughter may be the same. It increased her chances of being taken for whatever reason. Smaller meant easier to manipulate and easier to overpower.

"Kellan," Mr. Bogart said. "I'm so glad we found you. Luther has been attempting to find you for weeks."

I looked over at Luther who hadn't met my gaze since we made it to our destination.

"What do you need from me, and why in the hell do you know about other realms?"

Mr. Bogart walked over to his desk and sat down. His forehead crinkled for several minutes before he said, "I'm the mayor of this town. I know more than the others. It's been in my family for years."

"The knowledge of the other realms?"

He looked up with blue eyes coated in tears. "Yes. I've known about you since I was a small boy. My grandfather and I were hunting in the woods when I saw you from a distance. You manifested a portal, stepped into it, and disappeared. My grandfather stopped me and told me to stay away from you. You've looked the same for as long as he could remember."

I shifted, my muddy boots sticking against the floor. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm thirty-six."

He pursed his lips and gave me a swift nod.

There wasn't acceptance on his face but understanding. I'd be stupid to agree to the fact I was immortal.

"Either way, I need your help. Please. Our daughter, Josephine, is missing."

Rifling through his desk, he pulled out a small picture and handed it to me. Something pinched my chest at those too-blue eyes. She stood in front of a college dorm room, holding up a sorority sign with another girl.

Her hair was a stark contrast to her mother"s.

It was so black, so dark that it shimmered a purplish hue in the sunlight. It looked smooth, and for the briefest of moments, I wondered what it would feel like between my fingertips.

"She's an adult?" I asked.

"She just graduated and was going to spend the summer with us."

"What happened?" I asked in a soft tone, running my finger over her face. "When did you realize she was missing, and why do you think someone from another realm took her?"

Mr. Bogart looked over at his wife, who had braved a glance at me. Maybe it was my size or the roughness of my appearance, but she flinched. "Yesterday morning," she whispered, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "I went upstairs to look for her, and she wasn't there. All of her belongings are still there, and she wouldn"t have just left. This envelope was on her pillow."

She pulled it out from underneath her thigh, where she had it wedged, and walked it over to me.

The envelope was small, black, and on the front, had elegant cursive writing. It was written by a quill, which screamed it was from another realm. That was a rarity forgotten on Earth. I flipped it over between my fingers, and my entire body ran cold.

That emblem.

I'd never forget it.

It was the emblem of the witch that put me in this prison. The witch that stole everything away from me. Heat scorched me from the inside out. The beast I'd grown inwardly was ready to tear her piece by piece.

"Kellan!" Mr. Bogart said, bringing me back to the present. "Do you recognize this?"

"No," I lied, opening the envelope. I didn't need to give him a history lesson. He didn't need to know anything about me.

The words were in the same handwriting.

Gold against a black backdrop.

You have something of mine.

Bring it to me, or I will slit her throat.

She would do it. I knew she would do it. I'd witnessed—

When I glanced up, they were all staring with hopeful eyes. "You're not telling me something," I said. "What did you take? Have you been in another realm?"

Mr. Bogart swiped his palm back over his head. "I have no idea how to get to another realm, Mr. Stone. I don't know what this person is speaking about. I have a feeling it"s from another realm. Don"t you?"

I shrugged, knowing exactly where this witch was located, but I wouldn"t tell him that.

"I need your help, please."

The desperate tone of his voice slid under my skin.

It mimicked a tone that no longer existed in me but I'd once held inside.

"I need to see her room."

Mr. Bogart stood quickly, along with Luther, who opened the door for him. He ushered me up the stairs, down a long hallway, and into the second door on the right.

A flowery scent slammed right into my chest.

Her four-post bed had wooden posts with a white bedspread. It hadn't been made. I imagined her sleeping when the witch entered through her double-panned window.

The way she watched her breathing, wishing to take her breath from her lungs. How did she take her? Forcefully? Or with magic?

Slippers were beside her bed.

She was barefoot.

In pajamas, most likely. Unless she slept in less.

Tossed through one realm to the next.

Her purse and cell phone sat on a corner desk on the opposite side of the room. Walking in, I ran my fingers along the bedspread, trying to memorize her scent.

I didn't need too much help.

It sang to me. For the first time in ages, a woman"s scent sang to me.

Picking up a T-shirt from the back of her chair, I clutched it in my fist. Part of me wanted to leave her there. To let someone else—though I didn't know who—handle it.

Then there was a deep ache in my stomach. One that reminded me of what I once lost to this evil queen.

"Mr. Stone," he whispered behind me. I glanced over my shoulder, looking down at the father behind me. "Can you find my daughter?"

Another stab in the heart.

The word slipped from my tongue before I could stop it. "Yes. I will check back in a few days."

I left her room behind, her T-shirt hanging in my grasp, stalking down the stairs past Luther at the foot of the stairs and the sound of her mother crying in the distance.

Everything I'd worked so hard to bury was resurfacing.

I had to find Josephine.

I had to take revenge on the woman that sucked my life dry and left me to live forever without it.