The Firebrand

EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® www.evernightpublishing.com Copyright© 2023 T.M. Smith ISBN: 978-0-3695-0746-4 Cover Artist: Jay Aheer Editor: Jessica Ruth ALL RIGHTS RESERVED WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. DEDICATION For my mother and father They would have loved telling friends and strangers I was a writer. Of course, I would have redacted the sex scenes from their book copies. For Mike, Kelly, and the grandkids Thanks for the support. Again, redacted sex scenes. For Kendra and Sallie, the best critique group ever Thanks for making the sex scenes better. “Scootchier,” you know. For Evernight Publishing Thanks for making the process painless. THE FIREBRAND The Blood Coven Series, 1 T.M. Smith Copyright © 2023 Prologue The past will spill into the present as surely as blood soaks into a field of battle. —Ohngel Wales, AD 452, the Day of the Karmic Schism In the hushed, womb-like chamber of the cavern, the Cambion from Wales uttered the final words of the Blood Coven’s ritual to separate the world into three realms. With the enormity of the moment heavy in the air, he pushed up the sleeve of his hooded cloak and sliced a dagger across his palm. Six witches and six warlocks encircled the powerful spellcaster, waiting for his blood to unite with theirs. Illuminated by flickering torches which clung to the sides of the spectral cave, they projected dancing shadows on rock walls where moisture trickled down like tears over layers of calcite. Drip, drip, drip. When the fire accepted the Cambion’s blood, it shattered, sending crimson ribbons of flame twisting toward the limestone ceiling. He stepped closer to the blazing heat, an arm raised to shield his face. From beneath his robe, he retrieved a scroll and tossed it into the inferno. The Karmic Schism was complete. The realms of Scath, Darque, and Earth came to pass, cut off from one another yet part of a whole. Though Aeternals would record the Blood Coven’s deed in their history books, humans would not recall the species who had walked beside them for millennia, sometimes in harmony, often in merciless savagery. Any splinters of memory would be cast in myth or legend. Obscured from view, Ohngel perched high on Chapter One Seattle, WA, Present Day Braelyn James pretended to eye a yellow-flowered sundress in the window of a First Avenue storefront. But really, she was scoping out her surroundings in the reflection. A steady stream of cars rolled by, tires whirring on the pavement. Businesswomen in suits hurried to work. Tourists in shorts checked Google Maps for Pike Place Market. Friends chatted with their heads angled toward each other. The homeless clutched their signs for passersby. Everyone behaved as expected. Nonetheless, she fought the urge to scratch at an imagined six-legged beastie skittering up her spine. If a shadow crept along her bedroom wall at night, no worry. If lights flickered during a thunderstorm, no problem. If the stairs creaked in her dark house at midnight, no stress. But she believed in gut feelings. With her gaze still on the window, Braelyn listened. Surrounding voices merged into a streetside chorus. Shoes tap-tap-tapped a busy rhythm on the sidewalk. Nothing was unusual. No one was following her. Once she chalked the creepy vibes up to a simple case of an overactive imagination, she walked into her favorite crowded coffee shop. When she reached the front of the line, she smiled and nodded at the barista, not bothering to glance at the menu board to order. “I’ll have a twenty-ounce Frozen Monkey Mocha. Oh, two shots of espresso. No, can you make that three?” As the barista slid the drink toward her, Braelyn’s cellphone rang. She answered while picking the coffee up and taking a long pull on the mocha. She half listened, prepared for a lengthy