Page 1 of Ember and Ash

Part One: This World

The Sacred Book of Nephilim

Long ago, angels walked in the shadows of Earth, their sworn duty to protect humanity from hellish creatures. Sworn to remain invisible to those they protect. It was a solitary and treacherous duty entrusted to these illustrious warriors. Eventually, though, temptation, driven by loneliness, was as slithery and venomous as the snake in the Garden of Eden, leading some of these devoted servants to seek the pleasures of the flesh that only a human companion could offer. But no matter the reason for such actions, a broken vow is a broken vow, and swift punishment followed. They became the Fallen, no longer welcome in the kingdom above, and now they live amongst us, divided between good and evil, some fighting for redemption while others embrace the bowels of hell. To the world, they appear simply as mothers, fathers, daughters, and sons, but make no mistake, they are nothing so simple at all.

They are both the light that burns through the darkness and the darkness itself.

They are the Nephilim.

Prologue

Pain slices through me, excruciating spasms wrenching my belly in eternal punishment. I pant through the contractions, clinging to Nathan’s hand, touching my mate—a comfort beyond what any human medicine could offer me. But even with his grip holding me and him speaking to me, another wave of belly-clenching pain overtakes me, and a tortured scream I barely recognize as my own rips from my lips.

“Breathe,” Nathan urges. “Breathe, Elaine. You can do this. Not much longer, and our miracle baby will be here.”

My baby is a miracle. We’re blessed—so very blessed—in ways humans could not begin to fathom. As a descendant of the Nephilim, conceiving a child is the rarest of gifts, usually granted only to the ruling class of our kind. Not to those of us who live amongst the humans, the Bedrock lineage, the common among the Nephilim.

But tonight, we are not among humans. We are with our kind inside a medical compound surrounded by Seers as eager for our miracle as we are. I want this baby beyond all else, beyond my own life.

So, bring on the pain—and almost as if the heavens above heed my challenge, my entire body locks up. I curl forward and scream at my doctor. “When? When?!”

To Dr. Parisa’s credit, she is cool and calm, her confidence a soothing balm through this entire process, but now excitement bubbles from her voice. “You’re there, Mama! I need you to push when I tell you. Wait. Wait. Now! Push!”

Nathan chimes in with firm instruction. “Push, Elaine! Push!”

I arch forward again, deeper, pushing as hard as I can, and it happens—it really happens. I can feel the baby slide from within me. I gasp at the sound of a baby crying, my baby, and tears of joy stream down my cheeks.

“You did it,” Nathan declares. “My warrior wife. My—”

His words are cut off by a surge of energy vibrating through my body and through the bond I share with Nathan, and he feels it, too, his eyes wide, true fear on my brave man’s face. He was a brave warrior who shocked me by responding to my pregnancy by petitioning the council for a retirement discharge—to protect his unborn child, he’d declared—for it is accepted that all warriors and their families will be forever targeted by the demons they swore to hunt. But inexplicably, my grand warrior has literal fear radiating from him in this moment.

My eyes rocket to Dr. Parisa, who’s now ghost white, her lips parted as she murmurs, “Blessed be the heavens above.”

“What does that mean?” I demand, my voice cracking like broken glass, breaking up into tiny pieces. “What is happening? I want my baby. I want my baby!”

Dr. Parisa cradles the baby, my baby, and says, “She carries the mark.” Her voice is breathless in shock and awe. “They’re coming for her.”

“No,” I quake. “No. It’s impossible. We are not the gifted. We are not Crystal Seers. I was human before Nathan. I was human! Give me my baby. Give me—”

A dark, tall form appears behind Dr. Parisa, and when his crystal blue eyes meet mine, apology bleeds from their depths. “I promise to protect her with my own life.” He accepts the baby from Dr. Parisa, and I begin to scream from the depths of my being.

Nathan sits on the bed and captures my face in his hands, his eyes meeting mine, a silent pool of calming energy bleeding into me. I pant out breaths, my pulse slowing. “You know how it is written. The moment the three of us were on this earth together, all our kind felt it. If she remains with us, the mark will be stronger. They will track her and kill her before she comes of age.”

“No,” I whisper, tears pooling in my eyes. “No.”

And it was in that moment that hate bled into my heart—hate for those who robbed me of my daughter before I ever touched her. Hate for this world I’ve become a part of that stripped away my humanity. And even hate for the mate who dares to justify handing over our miracle baby to the Crystal Seers.

Chapter one

Nearly twenty-seven years later…

Sleep comes to me in the wee hours of the night, the blessed, sweet darkness all-consuming right up until the moment my cellphone buzzes on my nightstand. I jolt to a sitting position—fear that I’ve overslept on one of the most important days of my life sends my gaze jerking to the clock. The six a.m. hour confirms that, no, I did not oversleep, but that doesn’t mean that something hasn’t gone awry with the biggest trial of my legal career. The buzzing halts abruptly, and my heart lurches as I grab my phone, but it’s not the courthouse. It’s Oliver, my former best friend, considering he’s woken me up an hour before my alarm is set to go off, after worry for today’s verdict had resulted in a fitful night of tossing and turning. Intentionally, too, apparently, considering a text flashes on my phone that reads, Wake up, Ember Thorne. It’s officially December 21st and your twenty-seventh birthday, and the day you become the Grim Reaper.

I fall back on my pillows, my phone settling on my chest. His “Grim Reaper” joke is not funny, even if it has nothing to do with the gruesome murder trial I’m currently navigating as defense counsel, though the press has called me worse. My many nicknames include Monster, Ice Queen, and my all-time most hated, Money Grubber. According to the press, I’m just looking to elevate my future paydays with this win, at the expense of the victims of a killer and their families.

They always forget the part where the defendant is innocent until proven guilty, and my client happens to be innocent.

I shake off the attacks once again and refocus on Oliver and his Grim Reaper joke, which references a disturbing incident a few months ago that has never quite let go of me, though I’ve never admitted that to Oliver. My mind travels back to the day. Oliver and I had just exited the courthouse in downtown Austin, the summer heat burning down my spine, when an elderly hunchbacked woman had stepped in front of me. I’d halted to avoid running into her, and she’d snatched my hand, squeezing with all her might, it had seemed, and started spouting off about me being the end of the world, a flesh-and-blood Grim Reaper. She’d then looked at Oliver and eerily said, December 21st. That’s the day. And then, in true horror-flick style, she’d proceeded to convulse.