Page 1 of Dead to Rights
Chapter one
Amixtureoffreshlybakedbread, brewed coffee, and tapped ale wafted on a nonexistent breeze. Laughter and raucous conversation spilled out from the shops that lined the cobblestone streets, and sand the color of wet coffee grounds crunched beneath worn boots.
All the typical sounds and smells of a small village, but for Fenton Truitt, it was hell.
Since arriving on the ebony shores of the Underworld nearly a year ago, every day had been a struggle to cope and adapt. Especially when he had to contend with being not only dead, butundeadas well.
Neither of which he had consented to.
He had no memory of his death—either of them—but he distinctly remembered the events leading up to the first one.
It had been the early hours before dawn on a clear, warm night, and Dakota Blue had just given birth to the prettiest little filly. Mama and baby had been resting inside their stall, and as far as he’d known, all had been right in the world.
If he closed his eyes, he could almost see the blanket of stars that dotted the sky, and the moonlight that had rippled across the north pond just beyond the paddock. He could just make out the yips and howls of the coyotes in the distance, their collective voices drowned out by the alert barks from the real heroes on his ranch.
He’d never had to worry about his little barn family, knowing they were safe with their pack of guardians watching over them.
That night, he had been leaning against the open entryway of the stables, exhausted but content. He had sensed the restlessness from the horses before he’d ever heard their soft snorts or prancing hooves, but by then, it had been too late.
The vampire had him dead to rights before he even knew what hit him.
From there, the details dissolved into brief flashes. A blur of red. A heavy weight perched on his back. A sharp pinch to the side of his neck.
Then darkness. If he had woken up at any point during his transition, he didn’t remember it.
And maybe that was a blessing.
It felt like ages ago that he had landed right there on the banks of the Acheron—confused, alone, not even knowingwhathe was, let alone why it had been done to him. Back in Texas, though, only a few short hours had passed since his mysterious demise.
Ranch hands would have already arrived for morning feedings, but no one would be looking for him. Not yet. Hell, it could be another year in the Underworld before anyone even noticed his absence topside.
He could accept his death. It happened to everyone eventually. The vampire part, however, had been a tougher pill to swallow.
He didn’t have anything against bloodsuckers in general. Granted, he’d only met one in his life that he knew of, but the guy had seemed decent enough.
Being turned against his will, however, just felt…violating.
To be fair, his transition into the afterlife hadn’t been all bad. He’d kind of been adopted into the royal family, so to speak, and as such, he’d been given support and education about what it meant to be an Otherling.
Still, there were some things his weird, chaotic new family couldn’t help him with, like cravings and curbing his impulses. They could coach him, offer him advice, but none of them truly understood what it felt like when he lost control.
And some things—or more specifically,someone—made maintaining that control a damn sight harder.
Exiting the alleyway beside the bakery, Finn paused at the top of the hill that led to the river. Having a job to do, a purpose, gave him something to focus on and helped ground him. One of those duties involved meeting new souls at the rickety pier.
Some drifted in quietly, resigned to their fate. Others came with a fire in their veins, still fighting an unwinnable battle, unable to let go of the world above. Most just seemed confused, maybe even a little startled.
In some ways, he felt a kinship with these strangers. After all, for the time being, he was both host and fellow traveler.
Though the weather never really changed—no seasons, no rain, no wind—today, a silver haze shrouded the river. The mist ghosted over the inky surface, its edges refracting the luminous orbs that glided along the current.
From his vantage point, he didn’t see any new souls awaiting the ferryman at the dock, but the shoreline wasn’t completely vacant either. Seated cross-legged in the onyx sand, a familiar silhouette gazed out across the water.
Noah Marsh.
It surprised him that so many people had a hard time distinguishing Noah from his twin brother, Keegan. To Finn, the two couldn’t have been more different.
Noah wore his hair a little longer, giving it more curl, and the strands shone with a paler, softer color of gold. His hazel eyes leaned a shade darker, and his lips appeared a smidge fuller, especially in the flicker of candlelight.
