Untitled - Book 2 in the Cursed Nephilim Novels

Wind howled hungrily outside as the temperature dropped with every passing minute. Trees danced and bent as air rushed past them, taking with it the few traces of life they had left. Lightning lit up the sky, and within the moment itself, everything changed. He saw them. Using the shadows of night, they arrived within the darkness.

The deafening flapping of their wings reverberated inside Ryker’s mind. Cowards. Every single one of them.


With the ever present vile taste of the devil on his lips, he growled. It was an intense, hoarse sound that erupted from deep in his chest. The evil stung like poison, its putridness painful as the coldness of the Fallen travelled down his throat.

How had they let this happen? They had been so careful, staying hidden and away from crowds, yet here they were. Surrounded. He gritted his teeth.

He checked the latch on the window one more time - locked. He knew it was an useless thing to do, given glass would not keep them away, still; it gave him a sense of security. One more thing between them.

Outside, clouds parted and in the dim light of a half moon that smiled down at them all too knowingly, he watched their dark shadows scouring. They were everywhere. He spotted some in the trees, hiding in the ground, and crouching in the shadows cast by their own darkness… One more look outside the window before he closed the curtains shut. 

Red eyes watched them. A taunting threat of the inevitable. A figure stepped out of the shadows with eyes deadlier than a basilisk’s bite. Ryker’s pulse quickened and his stomach dropped to his feet. It was her. In the midst of the enemy, she stood with unforgiving eyes that promised torment and agony. 

This could not be.

Looking away, he tried to catch his breath. Her haunting expression carved into his memory forever. The room spun, and he steadied himself against the wall. He quickly scanned the room, looking at the frightened faces staring back.

They weren’t ready. Not even close.

The Fallen were the wolves, and they the cornered cattle.

As his heart beat faster, a cold sweat covered his skin. Calling to his darkness, he awoke the monster within, granting him with unstable chaos. He wiped at his forehead angrily with the sleeve of his shirt, his muscles tightening as the havoc spread through him.

This was it. 

The game of survival had begun.