The Darkly Luminous Fight for Persephone Parker Read Online Free PDF

memory.
    The terrible vision began beautiful but ended in horror,she recalled. She was young and powerful, standing in an endless field of perfumed flowers. The sky was what she imagined of heaven. Eternal and wondrous, a beautiful blackhaired man held her tightly in his arms, and his great wings encircled their clinch, grazing her satin skin, which ached for his touch. Phoenix was more than man or angel; he was a God, a being of sense and light, reason and truth. He was the perfect complement to her life force of beauty, kindness, sensibility and love. Their mutual fellowship of light was blinding. Never had two beings been so suited. They loved each other not because it was destined but merely because it was right and mutually joyous. Their respective divine forces fit together as a puzzle, interlocked and stronger for it.
    But jealousy set the God aflame—literally. Darkness set Phoenix on fire, and her lover died before her heavenly eyes. Screams shook the earth. Tears enough to drown the world flooded the ground. His great form crumbled to dust, and the vendetta was born.
    She turned back to the cave from whence came murder. Red eyes burned from the shadows. Vengeance flared in her heretofore peaceful breast, fueling a hallowed blue fire forged from the remnants of her one true love—and somehow the girl that was now Miss Parker knew that what she viewed here was a score she would unfortunately have to settle herself.
    The scene shifted from nightmare to memory. Here she recognized herself and remembered that friends called her Percy. A distinguished professor held her in his arms. Her body was corseted, swathed in satin, wreathed in heather. He wore a fine frock coat and waltzed with her by moonlight. His black hair lustrous in shafts of silver light, his dark eyes bright and compelling, this was her one true love. Acutely aware of the press of his hand and the curve of his lips, here was her destiny, the man who understood her, who unlocked her eerie visions and made everything strange about her beautiful.
    The handsome, stoic face of Professor Alexi Rychman suddenly shifted, and in its place flashed angry red eyes—fiery, terrible eyes—and she heard the all-too-familiar hissing of snakes. She bolted upright, launching herself toward consciousness before those eyes could seek her out.
    Percy awoke in a large room she did not know. Upright in a strange bed, thin nightgown askew upon her shoulders, a black cloak that had been wrapped around her body was cast back against the sheets. Tiny flecks of ash remained lodged in the cuffs of her meagre sleeves. She squinted, her pale, sensitive eyes straining against bright light. French doors covered in lace curtains led onto a terrace. Beyond, a few trees and chimneys were visible in the dense morning fog. The room was full of rich furnishings, fresh flowers and finery. Percy had never set foot in a room so regal. All that she recognized in the moment was her own colourless flesh. That, she was sure, was uniquely of her own time and peculiar existence in the year she knew to be 1888.
    A tall clock near the bed chimed eight in echoing tones. Works of gilt-framed art on the walls seemed illuminated by their own paint, the distinct style of Miss Josephine Belledoux, a friend of her dear prof—Her heart seized. Where was he?
    “Alexi!” Percy gasped, batting locks of ivory white hair out of her eyes.
    “Percy,” came a rich voice from behind her.
    With a rustle, the thick velvet duvet was tossed aside. Percy turned to behold a formidable man who was older than she, singularly breathtaking, and…sharing her bed. Her veins flooded with incapacitating heat.
    Alexi groggily rose to a seated position at her side. His striking figure, ever clad in various fabrics of black and the occasional grey, was in a state of uncommon disarray. A delectable sound escaped him as he reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the ring that had so recently betrothed her to him.