Black Fallen by Elle Jasper

and walk to meet Jake. I already know what he wants.
    Jake looks uncomfortable. With his arms folded over his chest, he bends his head close
     to mine. Green eyes—eyes I now know have seen more than their fair share of pain and
     heartache—study me. Hard.
    “What did you see?” he asks. Jake leans close and he all but crowds me, he’s so big.
    Without hesitation, I meet his gaze. “The night you were taken,” I answer. “You were
     jumped by several vampires. You didn’t know what they were at first because they attacked
     you from above.” His face flashes with pain as memories race through his head. “They
     killed your family,” I say quietly, and rest my hand against his forearm. “They turned
     you that night. I’m sorry, Jake. I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. I
     can’t imagine losing three at once.”
    A waver of vulnerability flares in his fathomless eyes. A glimpse of his past rests
     there, and I can see it. I can feel his pain all over again, feel the love he still
     has for his wife and children. So many years ago, yet in those flash of seconds, he
     relives it as though it has just happened. His eyes soften as they stare at me.
Not a day goes by that I don’t think of them. Time has eased the pain, though.
    I narrow my eyes.
Liar.
    A smile touches Jake’s mouth.
Somewhat.
    “They’re here,” Gabriel says, interrupting.
    Jake gives Gabriel a nod.
    “Who is here?” I ask, looking between the two.
    Jake meets my questioning gaze. “Two of the fiercest, most lethal swordsmen,” he says
     with a grin, “of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.” He slaps my back, and I buck
     forward. “Your new mentors.”
    A grumbling voice catches my attention from outside, and I tune my acute hearing to
     pick it up. The accent is . . . odd. English with a little French, and old. Ancient.
    “Andorra! Where the bloody hell are you, man? Damn me, this manor reeks of something
     chilling and evil. Don’t you think so, Conwyk? Conwyk, where are you? Damn.”
    I glance at Jake, whose slow smile leaves me wondering if I’m in a lot more trouble
     than I initially think.
    Oh, you most certainly are.
    I resist the urge to smack Jake on the back of the head, and I anxiously await the
     booming, strange voice to enter the dojo.

Part Four
    OTHERBEINGS
    There was something awesome in the thought of the solitary mortal standing by the open window and summoning
     in from the gloom outside the spirits of the nether world.
    —Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, “Selecting a Ghost”

It gives me some relief to know the extent—orat least most of the extent—of Riley’s powers will more likely than not keep her
     safe. I knew I’d made the right choice by inviting her to join the team. She’s invaluable.
     The Fallen will not be easy foes to manipulate, so hopefully she’ll have the power
     of suggestion as a complete surprise to the bastards. Otherwise, we’ll all be holdin’
     our crotches.
    —Jake Andorra
    T he very second I think to myself that the dojo can’t become any more crowded with
     enormous, ancient, testosterone-filled otherbeings, I’m proven wrong. A man ducks
     into the dojo.
    Swaggering. As if he owns the place.
    His massive body alone nearly fills up the entrance.
    “Andorra!” the man yells.
    Jake laughs and walks toward him. “De Barre, you fool, I’m right here.” He walks over
     and grabs the big man by the shoulders and shakes. “Glad to see you, man.”
    “Aye, aye, the same here,” De Barre answers, grasping Jake’s shoulders in return.
    What kind of name is that—De Barre? I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.
    “Where’s Conwyk?” Jake asks.
    “No doubt took a bloody wrong turn,” De Barre answers. He looks around. “This place.
     It gives me nightmares just standing here. There’s something unsettling about it.”
    We have one thing in common so far.
    Jake laughs. “The Crescent has its own particular . . . charm. And that’s funny, coming