Hell Bent
Devon Monk
PRAISE FOR
THE ALLIE BECKSTROM NOVELS
Magic for a Price
“Breathtaking. . . . Monk is a storyteller extraordinaire!”
—RT Book Reviews
“A must read for those of you who like urban fantasy. . . . Allie Beckstrom, it has been a blast.”
—Claire’s Book Corner
“The action comes to a blazing crescendo.”
—Gizmo’s Reviews
“Deserves to be savored . . . amazing and incredibly satisfying.”
—A Book Obsession
Magic Without Mercy
“Urban fantasy at its finest. . . . Every book is packed with action, adventure, humor, battles, romance, drama, and suspense. . . . Clear your calendar. Once you start reading, you won’t want to stop.”
—Sacramento Book Review
“Fast-paced, action-packed, and jammed full of all manner of magical mayhem.”
—Monsters and Critics
“A roller-coaster ride. I simply could not put it down!”
—A Book Obsession
Magic on the Line
“Dark and delicious. . . . Allie is one of urban fantasy’s most entertaining heroines.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“Allie Beckstrom is one of the best urban fantasy heroines out there.”
—Fresh Fiction
“An action-packed series.”
—Night Owl Reviews
Magic on the Hunt
“An absolutely awesome series.”
—Night Owl Reviews
“Another nonstop adventure.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“Amazing urban fantasy . . . this is one series that I can’t get enough of and I really love how kick butt Allie is.”
—Seeing Night Book Reviews
Magic at the Gate
“The action-packed fifth Allie Beckstrom novel amps up the magical mayhem. . . . Allie’s adventures are gripping and engrossing, with an even, clever mix of humor, love, and brutality.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Devon Monk takes her story to places I couldn’t have dreamed of. Each twist and turn was completely surprising for me. Magic at the Gate truly stands out.”
—Reading on the Dark Side
“A spellbinding story that will keep readers on the edge of their seats.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“Suspense is the name of the game. . . . I’m really enjoying this series. . . . Each book brings you a little bit further in to it and leaves you wanting more.”
—Night Owl Reviews
Magic on the Storm
“The latest Allie Beckstrom urban fantasy is a terrific entry. . . . This is a strong tale.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
“First-rate urban fantasy entertainment.”
—Lurv a la Mode
Magic in the Shadows
“Snappy dialogue, a brisk pace, and plenty of magic keep the pages turning to the end. . . . This gritty, original urban fantasy packs a punch.”
—Monsters and Critics
“This is a wonderful read full of different types of magic, fascinating characters, an intriguing plot. . . . Devon Monk is an excellent storyteller.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Monk sweeps readers up in the drama and dangers of the heroine’s life as it steadily changes and grows . . . an intriguing read with fascinating characters and new magical elements introduced to the mix.”
—Darque Reviews
“The writing moves at a fast pace with plenty of exciting action. . . . This series just gets better and better with each new book.”
—Night Owl Reviews
Magic in the Blood
“Tight, fast, and vividly drawn, Monk’s second Allison Beckstrom novel features fresh interpretations of the paranormal, strong characters dealing with their share of faults and flaws, and ghoulish plot twists. Fans of Patricia Briggs or Jim Butcher will want to check out this inventive new voice.”
—Monsters and Critics
“[A] highly creative series. . . . If you love action, magic, intrigue, good-versus-evil battles, and pure entertainment, you will not want to miss this series.”
—Manic Readers
“One heck of a ride through a magical, dangerous Portland . . . imaginative, gritty, sometimes darkly humorous. . . . An un-put-downable book, Magic in the Blood is one fantastic read.”
—Romance Reviews Today
“This series uses a system of rules for magic that is original and seems very realistic. . . . The structure of the story pulled me in right away and kept me reading. There’s action, adventure, fantasy, and even some romance.”
—CA Reviews
Magic to the Bone
“Brilliantly and tightly written . . . will surprise, amuse, amaze, and absorb readers.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
“Mystery, romance, and magic cobbled together in what amounts to a solid page-turner.”
—SFFWorld
“Loved it. Fiendishly original and a stay-up-all-night read. We’re going to be hearing a lot more of Devon Monk.”
—Patricia Briggs, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Fair Game
“Highly original and compulsively readable. Don’t pick this one up before going to bed unless you want to be up all night!”
—Jenna Black, author of Sirensong
“Gritty setting, compelling, fully realized characters, and a frightening system of magic-with-a-price that left me awed. Devon Monk’s writing is addictive, and the only cure is more, more, more.”
—Rachel Vincent, New York Times bestselling author of Blood Bound
BOOKS BY DEVON MONK
The Allie Beckstrom Series
Magic to the Bone
Magic in the Blood
Magic in the Shadows
Magic on the Storm
Magic at the Gate
Magic on the Hunt
Magic on the Line
Magic Without Mercy
Magic for a Price
The Age of Steam
Dead Iron
Tin Swift
Cold Copper
HELL BENT
A BROKEN MAGIC NOVEL
Devon Monk
ROC
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) LLC, 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014
USA | Canada | UK | Ireland | Australia | New Zealand | India | South Africa | China
penguin.com
A Penguin Random House Company
First published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) LLC
Copyright © Devon Monk, 2013
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA
ISBN 978-1-101-60884-5
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Contents
Praise
Books by DEVON MONK
Title page
Copyright page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
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
Epilogue
Excerpt from STONE COLD
For my family
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book might never have seen the light of day if readers hadn’t asked me to share Shame and Terric’s story with them. Yes, I’m looking at you, John DeBudge. Thank you all for wanting to spend a little more time with these troublemakers.
Deepest thanks also to my agent, Miriam Kriss, and my editor, Anne Sowards, who has an amazing knack for making each book better. A huge thank-you also to the wonderful artist, Mike Heath, and to the many people within Penguin who have gone above and beyond to make this baby shine.
To my first readers extraordinaire, Dean Woods and Dejsha Knight: your unflagging enthusiasm, support, and red-eye reads are things of legend. Thank you. I could not have done this without you. A big, big thanks to my family, one and all, for being there for me, offering encouragement, and sharing in the joy. To my husband, Russ, and sons, Kameron and Konner: thanks for all your love and support. You are the very best part of my life and I love you.
So here we are, dear readers. Thank you for the chance to share these people, this world, and this journey with you.
Chapter 1
I’m the kind of guy who, given the chance, can break anything: hearts, dreams, lives, and yes, magic. Death magic user here. Everything I touch dies.
It’s not as much fun as it sounds.
Ever since the magical apocalypse that those of us in the great city of Portland, Oregon, like to call “just another Thursday” slapped the crap out of our city and made balloon animals out of the rules of magic, my life has gone from handbasket to hell.
And today wasn’t looking up.
“Don’t make me throw water over your head, Shamus Flynn,” Terric Conley said from where he’d settled down on the crappy chair next to my bed.
I don’t like Terric. This is a problem because Terric and I not only have to work the same damn office job together, but are also tied by the only magic I can’t break.
Ironic, right?
About an hour ago, I’d stumbled into my room here at my mum’s inn and managed to unbutton my pants and belt and throw my jacket somewhere on the floor. From the sweaty weight on my feet, I hadn’t gotten my boots off yet.
About fifteen minutes ago Terric had shown up, cheerfully yelling over the top of my hangover and pulling back curtains to let the light in.
Daylight, for shit’s sake.
“Get out of my room,” I mumbled into the pillow on top of my face.
“It’s Wednesday.”
“Fuck-de-doo.”
“You said you’d come to work today, Shame. The meeting’s today. No option. Not this time.”
“No option?” I pushed the pillow off my face. Oh God, the light. It was blinding, even through my eyelids. “I’m the boss—remember, mate? I work when I say I work.”
“No, we are the boss. We, Shame, not you. Not you alone. Which is good because you haven’t worked for a year and a half.”
Gut punch. Not that he was wrong. I’d put in a solid year of civic-mindedness before deciding I am not a people person and am more suited for darkness, destruction, and the slow madness of trying not to give a damn.
Plus, there was the whole death-touch thing, the constant hunger to kill, to consume, that made me count the pulse beat of every living thing around me. After a year, that had gotten so bad I salivated whenever I was in a closed room with people, plants, or combustibles.
I needed life. Needed to drink it down, lap it up. Food helped, so did smoking, drinking, and other unsavory recreations. But none of it pushed the hunger away for long. I needed life, to consume it, burn it out, extinguish it.
Grim-damn-Reaper style.
So of course someone thought it would be funny to put me in charge of a city full of angry magic users. A desk job, people. Customer service. Paperwork and complaints about every magical glitch that happened in the entire damn city.
A lot of people were alive right now because I’d had the brains to stop punching the time clock. Not that I’d told Terric about it. Not that I had to. He knew me better than almost anyone. That came from half our lives spent together growing up in the Authority, which used to be the, well, authority on magic, chasing down illegal magic and deadly creatures like it was all one big game.
Until I almost killed him. And he repaid the favor.
We have what is known as a difficult relationship.
“Shame.” This time he shook the bed with his foot.
“Have I said fuck off yet?”
“I’ll drag you out of here.”
I huffed out a laugh. Terric had spent the better part of a year going out of his way to keep his hands to himself. Well, to himself and his boyfriend of the month.
“I’d like to see you tr—”
Terric was up out of that chair, his hands around my ankles so quick I didn’t even hear him move. He yanked on my boots and dragged me half down my bed before I could finish insulting him.
Eyes snapped open: Jesus, the light! Every damn window poured full-watt sunlight into the room. It was daymageddon in here.
I glared up at him.
Terric was nearly my opposite. I had dark hair, eyes that were sometimes black and sometimes dark green, rarely bothered to shave, and lately, I’d been running a good twenty pounds under my fighting weight.
Terric was taller than me, which I hated, and built like a guy who might need to jump on a jet and hit the catwalk at any moment. His hair was white-silver even though he was on one side or the other of thirty and his eyes were blue and set in a face that could knock Hollywood’s leading man off the marquee. We used to be best friends before I’d almost destroyed his ability to use magic.
After that he’d moved to Seattle and become a graphic designer and gay, although he insisted he’d actually always been into both those things, I just never noticed.
“Shame,” he said, almost gently. His hands were at his sides, fingers stretched out wide as if he’d just touched something filthy. “You can’t keep doing this. Not this way.”
“What? Get some sleep? No, apparently I can’t. Because you won’t leave me the hell alone.”
I knew what he really meant. With that one small contact, he’d realized I was starving for life. The Death magic inside me demanded to be fed life. Any life. Mine, if there was nothing else to devour. It grew stronger, more uncontrolled, the more I denied it.
I hadn’t killed anyone for more than a year, and that had been an accident—I’d passed out in an alley and woken up next to a dead bum. I hadn’t destroyed, drained, demolished a living thing since. Sure, I consumed. Some. A little. Enough. Just enough. Maybe a plant withered and died, maybe a bird fell out of the sky. But not as much life as I wanted. Not what death craved.
I’d always wanted to be a superhero, well, maybe a superneutral. But Reaperman? No.
It was a fucked-up and damn slow death, staying as far away from the living world as I could. To starve myself and offer up my life to the Death inside me. But it was my death, not someone else’s. And it was under my control.
Terric opened his mouth, then shut it
on whatever lecture he’d been about to launch into. He tipped his head and there was, briefly, sorrow and desperation in his eyes that made my heart stop beating.
I hated when he looked at me like that. I hated that I could make him look like that.
Even though I don’t like Terric, it’s not because he’s a bad man. Quite the opposite: I am.
“Why don’t you take a shower?” Terric said in that calm and easy tone he always used when he didn’t want to let on how he was really feeling. “We have time.”
“You’re not my boss.” I shoved up on my feet. “Not even my friend.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Then close the blinds.” I crossed the floor to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. “And don’t touch my stuff.”
I stripped, pissed, then got in the shower. Turned the water on as hot as my skin could stand it. I let it pound down over my back while I washed my hair. The inside of my mouth tasted like gutter runoff, so I stepped out of the shower and dripped on the floor while I grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste.
Took those with me into the shower and scrubbed until I could feel my teeth. Then I applied soap and a washrag. Got that done, got out, even though both me and my headache wanted to linger awhile.
I didn’t bother to shave.
Took all of three minutes from start to finish; then I wrapped a towel around my hips and barefooted it to the bedroom.
Terric was standing there, a mug from the restaurant downstairs in one hand. “Coffee.”
“Apology coffee?” I asked as I stepped over a week’s worth of dirty clothes on the way to my dresser.
“No, just coffee.”
I pulled on boxers, blue jeans, black T-shirt. Then I added a black sweater and dug for socks of similar color.
“Have you eaten at all this week?” Terric asked. I could practically feel his gaze scraping over my ribs, spine, and shoulder blades.
“Yes. Also? None of your business.”
There were four heavy rings on my dresser. Made of metal and Void stones, they looked like brushed steel with stones inset in their flat, square surfaces. I slipped them on each finger of my right hand, the red stone, the black stone, the amber, and the white, and shivered at the slight ease from the push of Death magic they gave me.
