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  LIGHT OF DAWN

  THE CRUCIBLE SERIES BOOK 2

  • • •

  by

  ANGELA COLSIN

  • • •

  Copyright © 2014 by Angela Colsin. All rights reserved by the author.

  Published by Angela Colsin www.acolsin.wordpress.com

  Smashwords Edition

  Cover image created by Angela Colsin. Photo Credit: www.romancenovelcovers.com

  This story is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and events are either the product of the author's imagination, or merely used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual locations, events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This book is not for reproduction by any party outside of the copyright holder. Transmission of this publication by any means other than the intended e-book distribution is prohibited without prior written permission from the author.

  For any questions, concerns, and/or comments, please send an email to the author at [email protected] or visit her blog at www.acolsin.wordpress.com.

  • • •

  ALSO BY ANGELA COLSIN

  Blue Moon

  Strange Brew

  Fallen Hearts

  The Final Calling

  To Mishka;

  It's our endless chattering and shenanigans

  that have led my mind to such crazy places.

  So this one's for you!

  Table of Contents

  Preface

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Author's Note

  Preview: The Final Calling

  Preface

  Draconians: An immortal race descending from humans imbued with the blood of the Great Dragons. Their society is divided into five Houses, one belonging to each of the dragons that sired them. Though most prefer to live in their home realm of Ithelyon, many draconians frequently move about in search of treasure, usually performing work as mercenaries to amass wealth that would satisfy their acquisitive dispositions.

  Draconians have an altered state of being, referred to as Wrath, which offers them heightened strength, agility, and resilience. Threats and extreme emotions can trigger this state, making the draconian more irrational, impulsive, and violent.

  The Order overseeing their affairs in the mortal world is Dragon's Brood.

  Fae: When nature remains undisturbed by the toil of mortals for many years, a sprite plants itself in the earth, spawning a being capable of fostering nature and protecting it. They are the fae, a highly inquisitive race of immortal females.

  Typically, fae take on the attributes of whatever landscape engendered them, creating various types, though they're commonly known for deriving strength from the earth and communing with nature.

  Uniquely, though the fae view one another as sisters and would fight to protect each other to the death, they adhere to no established Order operating under The Crucible.

  Prologue

  New York City, 1938

  “You see, Demon? As promised, he is delivered.”

  “And you drug your feet, like always.”

  “Another remark like that and I'll forget to pretend we're supposedly friends.”

  The voices weren't familiar, at least, not in those first few moments of awareness that Ulric Dra'Kai was trying to open his eyes. He felt weighty and confused, his perception dazed.

  Sadly, such a state had become routine for the draconian.

  Ulric didn't know how long things had been this way, but the fact that he'd lost track of time proved his servitude was lasting much longer than it should. Captured by a faction of vampires called the Kalar, Ulric suspected his family would intervene soon enough and he'd be freed in due time.

  It began when he and his only sister, Victoria, were sent to a realm of darkness to assassinate a Dok'aal warlord. The job was a success, but their route to the portal that would return them home was sabotaged by ghouls. During the fight, Ulric and Victoria were separated, and he was subsequently overcome.

  The only comfort he'd ever received once imprisoned came when overhearing some of the vampires mentioning a draconian bitch who'd escaped. Victoria was alive and free, and Ulric rested easy with the knowledge despite his predicament.

  But the days drew on, turning into weeks, then months, and liberation never came. Perhaps his family considered it unlikely that vampires had him when draconian blood was poisonous for them to drink. So Ulric couldn't be used as a blood slave, and vampires normally terminated any captive who didn't offer that benefit.

  But instead of killing Ulric, they got creative, deciding to use him to satisfy other desires—and even sold him to select parties bearing an interest.

  An enchanted collar that contained his physical strength was secured around his neck, but that wasn't quite enough to temper a draconian's determination. So the vampires also administered a magical potion that stole his free will—not to mention most of his consciousness.

  Ulric was only ever fully aware once the potion wore off, and by then, his captors would bring another dose while relating the things he'd done under its effects to scorn him.

  It was humiliating, and infuriating—but he was powerless to take his life back. Ulric had grown to loathe those moments when he was lucid, actually preferring the blissful ignorance of sleep the potion provided over the knowledge that he'd maimed an innocent for the vampires' entertainment, or had sex with some of their magistrates at their suggestion.

  He vowed that one day, when he was free of their torments, he'd have his revenge.

  Now, the potion was wearing off again, his mind clearing. Ulric steeled himself against the ridicule he knew was coming, wondering how much longer he could withstand this treatment without breaking.

  But the man and woman speaking seemed more interested in conversing with each other instead of addressing him.

  “Forget to pretend? If I weren't me,” came the male's voice, “I might be hurt by that.”

  The woman scoffed, and Ulric felt a twinge of hope sparking. Could I finally be free of this torment?

  Wanting to see who was there, he managed to open his eyes, though his vision was still too unfocused to make out the identities of the two people standing on either side of what felt like a softer bed than he'd become accustomed to waking upon. Still, his hands were unbound, suggesting they were friendly.

  “Yules? You in there?”

  Ulric didn't have control of his voice yet, unable to respond. But somewhere in his groggy mind, he registered that the man had called him Yules, a nickname used only by his closest friends and family.

  His hope redoubled.

  “I believe they've been administering some type of potion to him,” the woman suggested logically, her voice devoid of emotion and vaguely familiar. “Vampires wouldn't be able to control a draconia
n any other way, at least, not for so long.”

  So long? How long?

  “If so, the potion could be wearing off, causing some side effects,” she continued. “Ulric may even be addicted to the substance.”

  Ulric found the strength to let a menacing growl, knowing it could easily be true. But if he was addicted to whatever those vampires were giving him, he'd fight it tooth and nail. Draconians were stubborn, and knowing he was free lent an invigorating sense of strength he hadn't experienced since he'd been taken captive.

  For the first time in what seemed like ages, Ulric felt as if he could overcome anything.

  “Yules,” the man repeated, “it's Isaac. Say something, damn it.”

  All Ulric could muster was a low groan, but it was enough for Isaac, who remarked, “He's conscious,” then addressed the woman, “Can't you do anything for him? A rejuvenation spell or something?”

  “No. We don't know what he's been given, so the magic could mingle badly. In any case, I've removed his collar, which should suffice. Anything more, and I'll take up his habits in demanding payment.”

  Isaac grumbled—he'd always been impatient—but Ulric ignored the sound. He'd just realized from the female's words that there was no longer a collar around his neck.

  His vision was also beginning to focus, allowing him to make out Isaac's eyes, glowing amber in the dimly lit room. Wherever they were, it was nicely furnished with a four-post bed, and the walls were painted a deep blue—or was it wallpaper? It was still too out of focus to tell.

  Ulric's gaze slowly turned to the woman standing at the bedside opposite of Isaac. She still seemed familiar, with her long, black hair and clothing typical of any high classed mage—that was, extravagant and revealing—not to mention the ornate staff she held at a short distance from her body.

  But the most notable feature were her eyes—two icy, silver orbs that were cold and indifferent.

  “Chandra?” Ulric rasped.

  Her face remained stoic, save a single arched eyebrow. “Surprising, I wasn't sure you'd remember me. Then again, Isaac is your friend, though your patience with him baffles me.”

  Ulric hadn't seen the sorceress in over a century, but he clearly remembered her—she was the reason he knew Isaac to begin with.

  “I remember,” he started. “What's going on?”

  “I'm purchasing you to hand over to Isaac. He's been adamant about finding and releasing you, and allow me to say that I'm glad you're finally free so he'll get out of my hair.”

  Isaac scoffed. “You know it's not the last you'll see of me after the prophecy.”

  With a groan—a sound Isaac elicited from the ordinarily impassive sorceress with ease—Chandra muttered, “Don't remind me of that damned prophecy, Demon. You'll have her soon enough.”

  “What the hell do you mean soon enough?” Isaac grumbled. “That prophecy was made almost two fucking centuries ago.”

  “And you're just as eloquent now as you were back then,” she muttered in retort. “No wonder I've been so hesitant to take an apprentice and provide you with a mate. I'm simply not cruel enough to sentence anyone to an eternity of your brand of charm.”

  Ulric just managed to roll his eyes over the exchange, wishing they would both shut up for five minutes so he could think.

  “Where are we?” he asked before their bickering continued.

  “A hotel in New York City,” Isaac replied.

  Back in the mortal realm—a relief. As far as he knew, the Kalar wouldn't trust just anyone to take him there, and they likely didn't expect a mage like Chandra to free him once she'd paid for his services.

  “I would've found you sooner,” Chandra chimed in, “but the collar you wore thwarted magical attempts at tracking. Nevertheless, I managed to ascertain your location, and now, I'll be moving on. Smuggling you from the Kalar has sentenced me to at least a year of house arrest at the Guild Hall to prevent their suspicion considering it's not the first coup I've pulled against them.”

  “I'll make it worth your while,” Ulric promised. “But one thing.”

  Chandra sighed impatiently. “Out with it, Draconian, I don't have all night.”

  “Don't tell anyone where you found me or how.”

  Flatly, the sorceress retorted, “I don't know anyone who'd be interested. But you are right about making this worth my while, Ulric. I'll be calling on you for a favor in the future.”

  With her promise given, Chandra was disappearing in an verve of shimmering lights, fading away like she'd never been there.

  Once the two men were alone, Ulric looked to see an annoyed expression on Isaac's face, but he knew the demon was just irritated with Chandra. Two hundred years prior, an oracle foresaw that her first apprentice would be Isaac's mate, but the sorceress had never been eager to acquire one, often claiming she just wasn't the mothering type.

  Pushing the thoughts away, he took notice of what Isaac was wearing. “Suit? Fedora?”

  “I was out on the town when Chandra contacted me.”

  Ulric figured that was the case, though he didn't expect Isaac to come himself. In addition to having a mute on his abilities, the demon was also bound to the mortal realm of Earth. So he would've needed Chandra's help with this even though he probably hadn't been thrilled about asking her to begin with.

  It reminded Ulric of a question, one he was pained to ask. “What year is it anyway?”

  Isaac quirked a brow as if he hadn't expected the inquiry. “May of 1938, Earth time.”

  Ulric's eyes closed as anger surfaced. When he was captured, it'd been mid 1936, making it two years that had passed since his imprisonment.

  “Yules,” Isaac asked, his tone still casual despite the situation, “did they do what I think they did?”

  “Don't ask, Isaac.”

  “You sure? I hear talking about bad things makes them—”

  “Just shut the hell up!” he snapped, his voice booming more loudly than he'd thought possible considering how weak he still felt.

  In response, Isaac scoffed. “Fine.”

  Ulric was glad for the agreement, knowing he could tell Isaac without worry of judgment, but that wasn't the point. He didn't want to tell anyone, and wasn't certain he ever would.

  As he considered it, Isaac asked, “Just tell me if we get to kill vampires now or not.”

  That was an easy question to answer.

  “Yes. An entire faction.” Ulric could feel more of his strength returning as he spoke, and more of his anger. It showed in his eyes when he looked back at his longtime friend, adding, “Every single goddamned one of them.”

  Isaac looked deviously pleased with the verdict. Still, he pointed out, “As much fun as that would be, you know we can't without alerting your House first, and if you don't want to tell me why, I doubt you'll want to tell them.”

  Ulric gritted his teeth, knowing Isaac was right, feeling his canines growing sharp in his rage. An entire faction was too much for him to take out alone, and after the humiliations he'd endured, informing his House of what happened was the last thing he wanted.

  Ulric felt like bellowing, but the most he could do was let a loud, grievous snarl in his current condition.

  “They definitely did what I'm thinking,” Isaac mentioned plainly, leaning his back against an ornate dresser while shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

  “You mean whoring me to whoever was willing to buy me?” Ulric snarled. “Poisoning my mind with a potion and weakening my body with a goddamned collar? Then yes, and I mean to have revenge.”

  His words were harsh, bitten out coldly, and for once, Isaac looked mildly surprised over his murderous demeanor. After all, Ulric was normally laid back, possessing a quick wit and a type of smooth charm that offset Isaac's typically crude remarks with ease.

  Currently, that Ulric was nowhere to be found.

  “You don't have to snap,” Isaac muttered. “I'm no vampire lover.”

  “Good, because I'm going to kill any I ever run int
o again. You will also swear to me you won't tell a single soul what's happened. Not any of my brothers, or my sister, ever. I want it on your blood.”

  “Fine,” Isaac muttered, tugging a pocket knife from his pants.

  Unfolding the blade with a quick swipe of his wrist, he sliced open the palm of his left hand, then held it up for Ulric to see the dark blood dripping down while insipidly reciting the words, “I swear by my blood that I'll never tell anyone about your humiliation at the hands of vampires.”

  Demons were bound to blood oaths in that manner, and Isaac would never be able to break it without Ulric's consent.

  As he folded the knife back up, he mentioned, “You should know that House Dra'Kai has been up in arms since you disappeared. They may decide to retaliate against the Kalar without even knowing what was done to you precisely.”

  “No, I'm not even telling them who held me captive,” Ulric responded, feeling extremely tired in that moment. “They'd figure it out if I did.”

  Could House Dra'Kai overcome the Kalar? Certainly, but Ulric didn't want the questions that would be involved. In fact, now that his freedom had been granted, he wanted to move on, and gain his vengeance personally when it was possible.

  If it took one century or ten, he'd make sure they all paid.

  “What about your mate?”

  Isaac's sudden question pulled Ulric from his considerations. Every draconian had an eternal mate, and the notion of finding them was just as anticipated as finding and hoarding treasures. Some Houses even remained celibate for centuries in wait of having them in their lives.

  Ulric had yet to find his, but the idea of her had been in his garbled thoughts during his captivity, giving him a sense of hope that he'd escape, find her, and have peace.

  But with the fog lifting from his mind, he really wondered what she'd think of what happened. Though he wasn't in control of himself, the events were still shameful, not to mention the sense of violation involved with it all. The idea of even touching anyone but her repulsed him now.