Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

ASH

A sh Shadowbane moved silently through the dark streets and back alleys of New Orleans. He never felt quite connected to its usual nocturnal rhythm—music and laughter spilling out from bars, the scent of beignets wafting on the breeze. But beneath that, there was something darker, something most of the city's inhabitants couldn't detect. But Ash could. He’d been born into this world of shadows, a half-demon, half-human hybrid, doomed to walk between two realms, belonging fully to neither.

He pulled his coat tighter around his lean, powerful frame, though the night wasn’t cold. It was an instinct, a way to shield himself from the world that had never fully accepted him. His sharp, dark eyes scanned the streets, looking for any sign of the new demon faction he’d heard whispers about. They were organizing—he could feel it—and that usually spelled trouble for both humans and the supernatural community alike.

Rumors had been circulating for weeks. A new group of demons was trafficking in souls, gathering power and influence in the city’s underworld. If there was a war brewing, Ash needed to know about it. New Orleans was his home, even if he didn’t fit in anywhere else. He might have demon blood running through his veins, but he'd rather burn in hell than see innocent people caught in the crossfire.

His thoughts drifted as he moved deeper into the heart of the city. He wasn’t the only half-breed trying to carve out a place for himself here. Gage Tremblay—a Rougarou, part wolf shifter, part demon—had managed to find his niche. He ran The Obsidian Lounge, a high-end club that catered to both the supernatural and the occasional curious human. Gage had even found love with Savannah Duvall, one of the powerful fae sisters who seemed to have it all figured out.

Ash envied Gage sometimes. Despite his mixed blood, the Rougarou had found a way to live openly among the Crescent City’s supernatural community, to be accepted, to belong. And with Savannah at his side, he had something Ash had long stopped hoping for—a chance at happiness. Ash couldn't stop thinking about Savannah's sister, Geneva, though he often told himself it was pointless. She saw him as little more than a walking danger sign, a half-demon/half human with too much baggage. But still, he found himself drawn to her, the only person who made him feel like maybe, somehow, he could be something more than the sum of his parts.

A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye pulled Ash out of his thoughts. He stopped, his entire body tensing as he felt the shift in the air. His hand slid toward the blade hidden inside his coat, the familiar weight of it grounding him.

"Come out," Ash growled, his voice low but carrying the power of a command.

For a moment, there was only silence, then a figure emerged from the shadows—a demon, its face twisted into a grotesque sneer. Its leathery wings flared out behind it, the claws at the tips scraping against the brick wall beside it. The creature was tall and muscular, its skin mottled in sickly hues of gray and red. It wasn’t one of the low-level demons Ash had faced before. This one was stronger and by the looks of it, faster and itching for a fight.

"You've been sniffing around in places you don't belong, Shadowbane," the demon hissed, its voice guttural. "Time for you to die."

Before Ash could respond, the demon lunged at him with terrifying speed, its razor-sharp claws slicing through the air, aiming directly for his throat. Ash barely had time to react. Instinctively, he ducked, spinning out of the way as the demon’s claws whistled past his head, close enough to ruffle his hair. In a fluid motion, he countered with a slash of his blade, a gleaming, wickedly curved weapon imbued with fae magic. It sliced across the demon’s side, the dark flesh parting under the strike, and a spray of thick, black blood followed.

The creature let out a guttural hiss, but to Ash’s frustration, it barely flinched. The demon's glowing red eyes locked onto him with a cold, calculating malice. Its lips curled back in a twisted grin, revealing rows of jagged teeth that glistened in the dim light of the alley.

“You’ll have to do better than that, half-breed,” it sneered, its voice like gravel scraping across metal.

Ash clenched his jaw, his grip tightening on the hilt of his blade. This wasn’t just a mindless lower-level demon. This one had power, intelligence—and it was playing with him. He could feel the energy radiating off the creature in waves, oppressive and heavy. It was stronger than he’d anticipated, much stronger. And it was about to get ugly.

Without warning, the demon struck again. This time, its claws came at him in a blur of vicious swipes. Ash dodged the first two, feeling the sharp wind of the attack grazing his skin. But the third blow came too fast. He tried to raise his arm in defense, but the demon’s claws raked across his side, cutting deep through his coat and into his flesh.

Pain flared, sharp and burning, as blood soaked through his shirt. He stumbled back, trying to regain his footing, but the demon pressed its advantage. It was relentless, hammering Ash with blow after blow, each one hitting with the force of a sledgehammer. Ash felt the impact in his bones, his body screaming with each hit. He gritted his teeth, trying to block out the pain, but it was impossible to ignore the deep gashes now oozing blood down his side.

The demon’s strength was overwhelming. Each strike sent shockwaves through Ash’s body, driving him back toward the brick wall at the end of the alley. His boots scraped against the concrete as he struggled to hold his ground, but the sheer power behind the demon’s attack was too much. His back slammed into the wall with a jarring thud, the wind knocked from his lungs.

“You’re not getting out of this alive,” the demon taunted, its voice a cruel snarl. Its eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure as it drew closer, its hulking form towering over Ash. “No one’s coming to save you, Shadowbane. You’re alone.”

The words dug deep, fanning the flames of Ash’s fury. Alone. He’d always been alone—trapped between two worlds that never fully accepted him. Neither the human community nor the demonic one welcomed his half-breed nature, and it left him drifting in a constant state of limbo. But if there was one thing he had learned, it was how to survive on his own.

The demon’s next strike came, its claws aimed at Ash’s throat again, but this time he was ready. Summoning every ounce of strength he had left, Ash ducked low, letting the demon’s momentum carry it forward. With a grunt, he drove his shoulder into the demon’s midsection, shoving it off balance.

It snarled in fury, swinging wildly at him, but Ash was quicker. He rolled to the side, his blade flashing as he slashed it across the demon’s arm, severing tendons with surgical precision. The demon roared in pain, stumbling backward, and Ash saw his opening.

Ignoring the burning agony in his side, he pushed forward, his vision blurring from blood loss but his focus razor-sharp. He couldn’t let up now. Not when the end was this close. Summoning the last reserves of his strength, he twisted his body and thrust the blade deep into the demon’s chest. The blade sank into the creature’s heart, and the magic infused into the weapon flared to life.

The demon let out a deafening shriek, its voice echoing through the narrow alley as the magic coursed through its body. Ash held on, his hand steady as the creature writhed, smoke and cinders beginning to pour from its wounds. The demon's glowing red eyes locked onto his one last time, filled with hate and disbelief, before its form began to disintegrate.

“This isn’t the end, half-breed,” the demon rasped with his last breath.

It staggered back, its body crumbling into cinders and smoke as the magic blade did its work, reducing the once-powerful creature to nothing more than dust. The air was thick with the stench of sulfur, and Ash staggered back, pulling his blade free just as the last remnants of the demon dissolved into the night air.

He stood there for a moment, panting heavily, his body swaying and aching and on the verge of collapse. Blood dripped steadily from the gashes in his side, the pain a constant throb that he couldn’t ignore as it pooled at his feet. He wiped a hand across his face, smearing a mixture of blood and sweat from his brow, and grimaced. He glanced down at his shaking hands; he was in bad shape. He needed help and fast.

His vision swam as he realized how badly he was hurt. The demon had landed more blows than he cared to admit, and the blood loss was catching up with him. He couldn’t stay here. If there were more demons nearby, they would be drawn to the fight—and to his weakened state.

Ash’s legs threatened to give out beneath him, but he forced himself to move. He stumbled toward the end of the alley, each step a struggle as pain shot through his body. There was only one place he could go. One person who might help him.

Geneva.

He didn’t know how long he walked through the city streets, but each step felt heavier than the last. His vision swam in and out of focus, and by the time he reached the city morgue, his body was on the brink of collapse. The cold air of the morgue hit him like a shock, and for a brief moment, he wondered if he would die here. But then the familiar scent of Geneva’s essence reached him, pulling him forward.

He stumbled through the door, his vision dimming, his body finally giving out. The last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him was Geneva's silhouette.

“Help... me,” he rasped, the words barely a whisper before his world went black.

A sh's eyes fluttered open, his mind hazy as he tried to orient himself. The first thing he noticed was the sharp scent of antiseptic mixed with something more subtle—faery magic. His body ached, but the worst of the pain was gone, replaced by a dull throb. He blinked, his vision focusing on the unfamiliar surroundings.

He was in the back room of the morgue, lying on a makeshift bed. His wounds had been bandaged, treated with a combination of modern first aid and what he recognized as fae healing magic. Geneva. He had made it. He wasn't dead.

As he moved, testing the limits of his injuries, his thoughts immediately turned to her. Geneva Duvall. The woman who occupied far too many of his thoughts, despite the wall she always kept between them. She was strong, impossibly beautiful, and radiated a power that both intrigued and terrified him. But she didn’t take him seriously. To her, he was just another demon—someone to be kept at arm’s length. Oh sure, he’d helped her and her sisters out, but it wasn’t like they invited him over to dinner or just to hang out.

Ash heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching, and then she was there, stepping into the room. His heart skipped a beat as his eyes locked onto her.

Geneva moved with a grace that was almost ethereal, her green eyes sharp and assessing as they met his. Her long, dark hair was tied back in a messy braid, but even in the harsh lighting of the morgue, she looked like she belonged in some otherworldly realm. Her presence filled the room, and for a moment, Ash forgot the pain coursing through his body.

“You’re awake,” she said, her voice neutral as she crossed her arms. “I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.”

Ash let out a dry chuckle, though it quickly turned into a wince. “Neither was I.”

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You’re lucky I was here. What happened to you?”

Ash hesitated, unsure of how much to tell her. He had always kept his cards close to his chest, especially when it came to his past. But something in the way Geneva looked at him—like she was waiting for him to fail, to prove her suspicions right—made him want to open up, just a little.

“I’ve been hunting down a demon faction,” he said, his voice low. “They’re running a trafficking ring—souls, mostly. But it’s getting worse. They’re growing more organized, more dangerous. I stumbled into one of their operations tonight.”

Geneva’s eyes narrowed. “And you thought it was a good idea to take them on alone?”

“I didn’t exactly plan it,” Ash admitted. “And it was only one of them. Besides, it was either fight or be killed.”

She sighed, running a hand through her hair as she paced the small room. “You should’ve come to us sooner.”

“And said what? Would you have trusted me?” Ash countered, his tone sharper than he intended.

Geneva paused, meeting his gaze. For a moment, the tension in the room hung thick, the unspoken truths between them palpable. He could see the conflict in her eyes—the distrust warring with something else, something deeper.

“I don’t know,” she finally admitted, her voice softer. “But I’m listening now.”

Ash nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t sure if he could trust her, but he didn’t have much of a choice. If this trafficking ring was as dangerous as he suspected, they were going to need each other—whether they liked it or not.