Devils With Halos (Malignant Book 1) Read online

  Devils With Halos

  MALIGNANT: BOOK ONE

  INTERNATIONAL BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  NATALIE BENNETT

  Copyright

  DEVILS WITH HALOS by Natalie Bennett

  © 2018 by Natalie Bennett. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where the publisher or author specifically grant permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Raven Designs

  Editing by: Pinpoint Editing

  MALIGNANT SERIES

  1. Devils with Halos

  Ryker & Faith

  2. Angels with Horns

  Bishop & Camilla-TBR

  3. Saints that Sin

  Pope & Harper

  4. To Be Announced

  Conclusion

  Blurb

  Ma-lig-nant

  Adjective.

  1. Malevolent

  2. Very virulent or infectious.

  Charm is deceptive.

  We were taken in the middle of the night.

  Beauty is deceitful.

  They called it an institution for the diseased.

  Freedom is an illusion.

  Our choices were no longer our own.

  Our bodies became their exclusive property.

  Our lives no longer mattered.

  Survival is subjective.

  We’d all done terrible things.

  We all had demons.

  We all had secrets.

  And the truth would destroy everything.

  DEDICATION

  To the devil perched on my right shoulder, who bound and gagged the angel on my left.

  .

  Table of Contents

  Devils With Halos

  Copyright

  Blurb

  DEDICATION

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Playlist

  PART ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  MALIGNANT SERIES

  DEPRAVITY

  Copyright

  Blurb

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Prelude

  BADLANDS SERIES

  Acknowledgments

  About Natalie

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Devils With Halos is the introduction to my new Malignant series.

  This is not a romance series in any sense of the word. If you need heroes/anti-heroes to be redeemable, I do not recommend these books. Malignant will contain many depraved themes that may make some readers uncomfortable. I consider this series to be a ‘slow burn’ of sorts, with the books increasingly getting more twisted.

  Each book is inter-connected and picks up from the last.

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  Upcoming Releases

  DEPRAVITY

  Crucible

  Degenerates

  Other books by Natalie Bennett

  UltraViolence Duet

  UltraViolence

  Blue Velvet

  Obscene Trilogy

  Love Obscene

  Love Corrupted

  Badlands Series

  Savages

  Deviants

  Outcasts

  Heathens

  Degenerates

  Standalones

  Mercy: A Dark Erotica

  Rose De Muerte

  Pernicious Red

  Depravity

  Old Money Roulette Trilogy

  Queen Of Diamonds

  King Of Hearts

  Ace Of Spades

  Playlist

  (Spotify)

  Flora Cash—You’re Somebody Else

  Meg Myers—Numb

  The Weeknd—Hurt You

  Amy Lee—Lockdown

  Bad Omens—The Worst In Me

  Bad Omens—Enough, Enough Now

  FLAVIA—Hateful

  Halestorm—Heart Of Novocaine

  In This Moment—Whore

  Natalia Kills—Devils Don’t Fly

  Pvris—Heaven

  Pvris—No Mercy

  Myah—Circus Freak

  Myah—Stop

  Rainbow Kittens—Devil Like Me

  Bring Me The Horizon—Mantra

  Vi—Demons

  Cash Cash—Finest Hour

  LP—Recovery

  Bishop Briggs—Hollow

  Bishop Briggs—Hallowed Ground

  Bishop Briggs—The Fire

  Breaking Benjamin—Blood

  Aspen—Heaven

  Rihanna—Rehab

  Juice Wrld—Lucid Dreams

  Halsey—Walls Could Talk

  Foxes—Devil Side

  Laurel—Holy Water

  Luxtides—Fragile

  Marilyn Manson—Tainted Love

  Sabby Sousa—Heartbreak Hotel

  Banks—Mind Games

  Skylar Grey, Eminem—Twisted

  Breaking Benjamin—Dance With The Devil

  Charm is deceptive.

  Beauty is deceitful.

  Freedom is an illusion.

  Survival is subjective.

  Welcome to Malignant.

  PART ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  FAITH

  He was struggling to let me go.

  You would think I was going away for years or months instead of a mere two weeks.

  His brown eyes were surrounded by thin lines of concern, the corners of his mouth slightly turned down.

  “I’m going to be fine,” I repeated for what felt like the thousandth time, taking another tiny step back.

  “You call me as soon as you get there. I don’t care what time it is. I want to know you made it safely.”

  “Got it.”

  “And absolutely no—”

  “Dad, that’s the last thing you need to worry about. Or boys.” Especially boys, I thought to myself.

  “Look. You remember what this means?” I held up my wrist to show off the serenity prayer bracelet he’d gifted me, not only to reassure him, but also to emphasize my point.

  “Okay.” He nodded, studying me closely.

  Unlike the past, my shoulders didn’t tense up and I wasn’t silently praying that he couldn’t see through my bullshit pack of lies.

  Transparency was our new thing. I wanted him to know I was telling the truth and had no hidden agenda. I wasn’t going off to indulge in every detrimental vice known to mankind.

  I’d come so far in two and a half years; we both had. I still had a long way to go to begin feeling halfway whole again, but I needed him to believe the illusion that I was okay, that I wasn’t struggling to carry on.

  I needed to believe it too, for both our sakes. We’d lost far too much for me to
selfishly hurt him again.

  “If you talk to Ryker, will you thank him for me?”

  I’d already thanked him over a dozen times through multiple texts and phone calls. Only, he hadn’t replied to a single one.

  I knew he was ridiculously busy. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. Regardless, I still wanted to speak to him personally—not the robotic bitch directing me to leave a message or send an SMS.

  Dad’s brows narrowed in concern, creating lines on his forehead. “He still isn’t returning your calls?”

  Damn, leave it to him to hit the nail on the head. Thankfully, he didn’t know the real reason I’d been blowing the man up.

  “Mm-mm,” I hummed, gnawing on the inside of my lip. “He’s probably just super busy, especially round this time of year. You know, with the charities and everything.”

  “I’m sure that’s it,” Dad replied a little too cheerfully, strictly for my benefit. “You enjoy yourself, sweetheart.” He gave me a light kiss on the cheek and then sent me on my way.

  I felt his eyes on my back the entire walk to the Tahoe where my friends were waiting.

  “You all set?” Lilly asked once I was securely inside.

  “Yep, let’s do this.” I wedged my duffel bag on the floor in front of my feet and buckled my seatbelt. As the truck pulled away from the curb, I flashed my dad a smile and gave him a small finger wave.

  He quickly returned it before speaking into the cellphone now pressed to his ear.

  I sighed, knowing exactly who he had just called and who would have answered. I’d thought of calling from dad’s phone myself but I didn’t want Ryker to know how thoroughly obsessed with him I’d become.

  “Hey, chica. You all right?” Camilla asked from behind me.

  “I’m good, Cam.” I didn’t bother turning around to give her my well practiced phony smile; she would see right through it.

  I focused my attention on the side mirror, watching my dad’s form gradually grow smaller and smaller the further we traveled.

  There was an odd sense of finality in leaving him behind that I did my best to shake off.

  I couldn’t pinpoint where the trepidation was coming from. I knew I’d be back to our weekly nights of pizza and SVU marathons soon enough.

  There was nothing unusual or revolutionary about a twenty-two year old woman going on a retreat with three of her girlfriends.

  Yet, I still exhaled a small breath of relief when we reached the end of my block as if I’d just done something monumental.

  Low chimes indicating that the door was open roused me from a peaceful slumber.

  Groans of complaint came from the backseat, alerting me that I wasn’t the only one who had been woken up.

  My lids fluttered open and I squinted, needing a second for my eyes to adjust and to clear the sand away.

  Lifting my head from the hoodie I’d balled up between the seat and window as a makeshift pillow, I slowly probed our surroundings.

  There was nothing to see but a seemingly endless stretch of darkened road, a broken down van a few yards up ahead, and the tiny white building of the gas station we were at.

  It was the perfect setting for a horror movie. At any second I expected a crazed man wielding a chainsaw to come running from the shadows.

  “Why the hell did you stop here, Lilly?” Camilla asked before I could.

  “Umm, because this big ass monster doesn’t run on air.”

  She pointed to the dash where the Low Fuel symbol was flashing, oblivious to our wary gazes.

  “They’re closed,” Marcy stated, not bothering to thaw any of the ice that constantly seemed to coat her tone.

  “Thank you, Marcy, for pointing that out. I somehow missed that the parking lot was empty and the building is completely dark. I guess I’ll have to pay at the pump with a credit card like hundreds of other travelers do,” Lilly retorted.

  She finished tying her blonde curls in a sloppy top bun, grabbed her wallet case, and then slid out of the truck, slamming the door behind her.

  Marcy released an exaggerated sigh, and I groaned internally. Everyone had been doing so well getting along. I knew that was as good as over now.

  Their fights always started with snarky comments; then came the underhanded insults.

  “Metric gas station.” Camilla read the name on the dimly lit sign towering above us.

  I was immediately grateful to her for not letting the tension settle with silence.

  “We’ve been on the road for almost four hours.” She unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned forward to show me the screen of her phone.

  “You’re right,” I noted, seeing it was already ten-forty-two. “We might as well get out and stretch. We’ve got another hour or so left.”

  I had one hand on the door handle before I finished my sentence, eager to be out of the truck even if it was only for a few minutes. My ass was numb and my legs felt cramped.

  “Hell yes, I need to pee.”

  “Thanks for sharing.”

  “Anytime,” she laughed, rummaging in her purse for the sanitary wipes she always carried before climbing out.

  I glanced in the rearview at Marcy, who had yet to say another word. Her face was turned away from me, partially hidden by wisps of her ombre bob.

  “Are you coming?”

  “No.” The response was immediate, stiff, and at this point pretty much expected.

  I turned back to the front and swallowed down my snappy reply. Her standoffish attitude used to hurt, but now it just frustrated the hell out of me.

  We’d been friends since third grade—Camilla, too.

  When I had begun drinking my weight in alcohol and doing every drug under the sun we drifted apart, and hadn’t been the same since.

  I had logged our damaged relationship onto my mental checklist along with all the other things I wanted to try to mend, which is why I invited her on this trip.

  Seeing her upturned nose and total indifference, I wondered not for the first time if it was a major waste of my energy and effort.

  The shittiest part of all was being unsure of what it was I needed to be trying to repair, what angle to come from. I mean, what if I’d actually given her a reason to act this way?

  There were so many nights I couldn’t remember. There were tiny fragments of events I couldn’t for the life of me piece back together to form a clear picture.

  Both of these things combined led to tragic outcomes I would be indebted to for the rest of my life.

  I had such an overwhelming number of regrets that sometimes drowning at the bottom of a bottle and turning my liver to mud was more appealing than facing the reality of a painful and distorted past.

  Being completely honest, I wasn’t sure I could. The scars on my heart and soul told a story I wasn’t strong enough to speak aloud. I didn’t have the strength to rip open the sutures in my head and face the demons dwelling inside, begging to come out.

  Maybe one day, but that wasn’t going to be anytime soon.

  Pressing my lips into a firm line, I brushed a hand over my bracelet to remind myself I was stronger than I gave myself credit for in many other aspects of life.

  My father was counting on me, and I couldn’t let him down.

  I couldn’t let myself down.

  As much as I didn’t want to, it was time to start considering that maybe the relationship between Marcy and I couldn’t be repaired. But I’d cross that bridge if I ever reached it.

  I retrieved my cell from my hoodie and got out of the truck, dragging in a breath of cool summer air the second the soles of my tennis shoes hit solid ground.

  Checking my notifications tab, I saw a few junk emails but nothing else. Not a single call or message. It wasn’t all that surprising since the only friends I had left were all on this trip with me.

  Dad would be asleep in his favorite La-Z-Boy recliner by now, an empty can of Bud Light on the end table.

  And the only guy I was interested in was ignoring me.

&
nbsp; Not wanting to wake Dad with a phone call, I decided to shoot off a quick text to let him know where I was so he wouldn’t go into conniptions over my delayed arrival.

  I then sent yet another text to Ryker, letting him know I was on my way to the resort with the girls. I told myself this would be the last one. I knew that was a lie.

  As I was tapping away at the screen, the hairs on the back of my neck slowly rose. I hit send on my message and took another look around. Were we being watched?

  There was nothing out here that I hadn’t seen on my first sweep. Come to think of it, not a single car had passed this gas station since we’d stopped.

  Something about that didn’t sit right with me, but I kept my complaint to myself, not wanting to spook my friends.

  I found myself eyeing the van again, wondering how long it had been broken down, when a throat cleared.

  I glanced over at Lilly, my blue eyes clashing with her hazel. She dimmed the screen on her phone and pocketed it, keeping her gaze trained on me.

  “I take it Marcy is still being a bitch?” She nodded her head at the rear window.

  “That question is rhetorical.” Camilla’s voice carried from where she was squatting at the edge of the parking lot.

  “Guys,” I sighed. It’s not like she couldn’t hear us. Without the door chimes, it was freakishly quiet. Fuel flowing through the hose and into the tank sounded ten times louder than it normally would.

  “I don’t see why you invited her, and I don’t know why she agreed to come. She treats you like shit,” Lilly continued, not bothering to lower her voice.

  Camilla made an audible sound I’m sure meant she agreed, and pulled up her sweatpants.

  I wanted to tell them they were wrong, but sadly they weren’t. So for once, I simply didn’t say anything.

  I wasn’t in the mood to rehash a conversation I’d had a dozen times. I also didn’t want it to look like I was defending Marcy. That could be misconstrued as me taking sides. The last thing I wanted to do was end up in the center of an unnecessary argument between the three of them.

  Marcy and Camilla weren’t as close anymore because Camilla had never left my corner when Marcy did.