The Umbra King (Vincula Realm Book 1)

Sam appeared in his arrival bunker at the palace in Erdikoa and quickly shifted into his discreet, wingless form. As an Angel, he could shift between several forms at will. He liked his true form best, but his many wings would reveal his identity to the citizens of Erdikoa, something he couldn’t allow.

Grabbing his street clothes from his closet, he padded to the bathroom, changed, tied his long hair into a low bun, and examined himself in the mirror. The citizens in the city would stare at him, knowing he was different, but they wouldn’t be able to put their finger on why.

There was more to Aurora Raven, and he was determined to prove she was not the black soul everyone believed her to be. Sam could tell Caius wanted her, but the king was holding himself back.

Caius was his best friend, and what happened to him all those years ago was unfair. Adila refused to hear him out and sentenced him immediately. Sam always liked Adila, but something about her treatment of Caius at his trial rubbed him the wrong way.

Sam left his bunker and found Lauren in the hall. She was one of the few Angels stationed in the realms, and she was stunning. The two of them weren’t dating, but they often kept each other company.

His hand twitched, wanting to run it across the smooth light brown skin of her exposed shoulders. Her dark hair had streaks of white framing her face, and the soft curves she sported made him want to yank her back into his bunker.

She was one of the best fighters he knew and was fiercely protective of those she deemed worthy. She had his respect and his bed. “Are you on your way back?” he asked.

She lifted on her toes and patted his cheek. “Why? Miss me?”

He nipped at her hand. “Always.” She helped monitor the inmates in Vincula, but instead of being in her winged form, she preferred to stay shifted to blend in. “What errand does Caius have you on now?”

“Researching Aurora Raven,” he replied. “Have you met her yet?”

“Ahh,” Lauren said knowingly. “Briefly. He has never been interested in an inmate’s life before Vincula. Why now?”

Sam nodded. “She is The Butcher. Caius despises what she represents, but he’s drawn to her. I believe his desire will border on obsession before long.”

Lauren sighed. “I can tell she is not what she seems. Let me know what you discover.”

She turned and opened the door to her own bunker and blew a kiss over her shoulder. Sam scrubbed a hand down his face and headed to the only place he knew where to start: Aurora’s place of employment.

“I have tracked down four more people who say she saved them,” Dume told Keith and Kordie. They sat at the back of Whiplash in a dark booth, drinking.

“I knew it,” Kordie whispered. Her voice wobbled. “I knew she wouldn’t kill innocent people.”

“That’s why the Scales of Justice didn’t send her to hell,” Keith said excitedly. “She is like a supermystic, only more gruesome.”

Dume saw Keith shiver. The way Rory displayed her victims was disturbing, and that was something they would unpack later. But with every real victim he spoke with, a little more weight lifted from his shoulders.

Rory was his oldest friend, and he refused to believe she would murder someone without cause. “Her last victim was an undocumented Merrow, and they found an entire room full of empty jars in his apartment.”

Keith whistled. “Damn. If they were empty, I bet Rory set the souls free.” Dume thought the same thing. “There’s no telling how many people he would have killed.”

“Or how many he already did,” Kordie added.

“What do you know about Aurora Raven?” a deep voice rumbled across the room.

All three turned their heads to see a large man with a blonde bun, glaring at the bartender. Dume rose from his seat and approached the man. “Why are you asking about Rory?”

The man turned his threatening gaze to Dume. “Rory?”

“You asked about Aurora Raven.” Dume folded his enormous arms across his chest. As an Aatxe, he was big, but this guy was huge. “She goes by Rory.”

The man looked Dume up and down. “You know her.” It wasn’t a question.

“What do you want with her?” Dume asked again.

“I would like to speak with you,” the man replied instead of answering the question.

Dume’s jaw ticked, but it wasn’t in his nature to be hostile. “Come with me.”

He led him to their booth in the back and introduced him to Keith and Kordie. “We are—were her best friends.”

“Are,” Keith corrected, narrowing his eyes at Dume.

“My name is Sam,” the man said. “I need to know everything you know about her, including why she murdered thirteen people.”

“Why?” Keith asked. “She’s gone, and she isn’t coming back until we’re long dead.”

Sam motioned for Kordie to let him sit, and she scooted as far away from him as possible. “It is to help her.”

The three went still. “What do you mean ‘help her?‘“ Kordie asked. “There is no way out of a prison sentence. She’ll be in Vincula for five-hundred years.”

“I am aware of how long her sentence is,” Sam said flatly. “What do you know?”

They all looked at each other, silently agreeing to let this man in. “I have been investigating the murders,” Dume began. “So far, five people have said Rory saved their lives from her so-called victims. The first one found us here, defending Rory tooth and nail. I tracked down the other four. Her last victim was an undocumented Merrow, and there were dozens of empty jars in his apartment. We think Rory set the stolen souls free.”

Sam’s face had the emotional range of a dial tone. “Is that so?” Dume gave a curt nod. “And what of the others?”

Dume frowned. “I can’t announce to the realm I am investigating a closed case. I must be discreet, and that’s not easy.”

“Her soul is grey,” Keith added. He jerked his thumb at Dume. “He said when the Scales of Justice sentenced her, she said, ‘Your soul is a beautiful shade of grey’ or something like that. It’s in the transcript.”

“It’s odd,” Dume added. “She has never commented on a person’s soul. Not that I’ve heard of.”

Sam was quiet as he absorbed the information. “How do I contact you three? I will check in to see how your investigation is going. Is there anything you need to help?”

Three sets of wide eyes looked back at him. “Who are you?” Dume asked with a mixture of awe and bewilderment. “Why are you helping us?”

Sam pulled out a cellphone and slid it to Dume. “Put in your information. I must leave.” The gargantuan man paused. “What do you know of Rory’s mother, the Sibyl?”

Dume’s fist clenched around the phone, but instead of arguing, he programmed his, Keith’s, and Kordie’s numbers into the phone and handed it back. “Lenora? What do you mean ‘what do we know?‘”

Sam pocketed the device. “Rory was her caregiver, was she not? Who cares for her now?”

Dume’s eyes slid to Kordie and back to Sam. “We do.”

The man nodded and stood. “I’ll be in touch.”

The three watched him walk away. Keith turned to Dume and muttered, “What the fuck just happened?”