Solomon's Seal Read online

  A Livi Talbot Novel

  Skyla Dawn Cameron

  Praise for Skyla Dawn Cameron

  SOLOMON’S SEAL

  “Whip-smart, gritty, and fascinating. Olivia Talbot is a badass, and a mother, I’d want on my side if the world went to hell. Skyla Dawn Cameron’s deft characterization, complex plotting, and brutal action leaves the reader gasping for more.”

  —Lilith Saintcrow, New York Times Bestselling Author

  “It's well written with a balanced blend of humor and adventure you can't deny is spellbinding.”

  —My World...in words and pages

  DEMONS OF OBLIVION SERIES

  “This not-to-be-missed release rocks from word one. Skyla Dawn Cameron writes as though she’s been producing bestsellers for years.”

  —Bitten by Books

  “Urban fantasy at its best with characters and a plot that makes it stand out from the rest of its genre.”

  —The Romance Reviews

  “A dark and gorgeous heroine that will have you enthralled in moments.”

  —Bookmark Your Thoughts

  “What a riot this book was! I felt like rediscovering what the genre of urban fantasy is about all over again.”

  —Nocturnal Book Reviews

  “...fast, funny, and furious... The action and fight scenes were intense, the romance bittersweet, and it left me wanting more.”

  —The Romance Studio

  RIVER WOLFE SERIES

  “River is a powerful and new take on your typical young adult paranormal story and I absolutely loved it!”

  —Bitten by Books

  “...a fresh and unique take on the werewolf legend.”

  —Judy Bagshaw, author of Kiss Me, Nate

  “...a terrific book, filled with unique and well-drawn characters, realistic dialogue, and a great deal of humor...”

  —ParaNormal Romance Reviews

  “This book is a permanent addition to my keeper shelf, and will be revisited many times in the years to come.”

  —Elaine Corvidae, author of Tyrant Moon

  “...a story about love. Not just the happily-ever-after fairy tale kind, the real kind, the sort of love that takes two people and cements them together in relationships that are like lighthouses on rocky shores.”

  —Long and Short Reviews

  Books by Skyla Dawn Cameron

  DEMONS OF OBLIVION

  Main Novels

  Bloodlines

  Hunter

  Lineage

  Exhumed

  Oblivion

  Shorts, Novellas, & Collections

  9 Crimes

  Damaged: A Zara Lain Novella

  Whiskey Sour (& Other Stories)

  Tales from Alchemy Red: Hungry Like the Wendigo

  Tales from Alchemy Red: Dial V for Vampire

  Tales from Alchemy Red: Heaven’s Choice

  Tales from Alchemy Red: Prey (Patreon Exclusive)

  Amends: A Zara Lain Serial (Patreon Exclusive)

  RIVER WOLFE

  River

  Rebellion: A River Wolfe Story

  Wolfe (coming soon)

  LIVI TALBOT

  Solomon’s Seal

  Odin’s Spear (coming soon)

  Zheng’s Tomb (coming soon)

  STANDALONE

  Soulless

  Haunted (coming soon)

  Static (coming soon)

  Want to Keep Up with New Releases?

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  Connect with other readers (and catch sneak peaks at what she’s working on) at her Facebook fan group, Alchemy Red: https://www.facebook.com/groups/AlchemyRed/

  For exclusive content, sneak peeks, and free books, you can support her work directly at Patreon as a Patron of Snark: http://www.patreon.com/skyladawncameron

  Solomon’s Seal

  Copyright © 2016 by Skyla Dawn Cameron

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Cover Art © 2016 by Skyla Dawn Cameron

  1st Edition: September 2016

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-927966-16-7

  Print ISBN: 978-1-927966-17-4

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this or any copyrighted work is illegal. Authors are paid on a per-purchase basis. Any use of this file beyond the rights stated above constitutes theft of the author’s earnings. File sharing is an international crime, prosecuted by the United States Department of Justice Division of Cyber Crimes, in partnership with Interpol. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is punishable by seizure of computers, up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 per reported instance. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material.

  If you obtained this book legally, you have my deepest gratitude for the support of my livelihood.

  If you did not obtain this book legally, you are responsible when there are no future books. Please do not copy or distribute my work without my consent.

  Solomon’s Seal

  EX-DEBUTANTE. SINGLE MOTHER. TREASURE HUNTER.

  Disowned and left penniless for getting pregnant as a teen, former celebutante Olivia Talbot was willing to do whatever it took to provide for her daughter...including become a treasure hunter. After the Pulse hit, activating relics of legend, there are plenty of artifacts to be had—not to mention wealthy clients willing to pay top dollar for them.

  Just as her daughter’s private school tuition cheque bounces, Livi gets an offer that could be the break she needs to return to some semblance of her former life. A powerful man wants her to travel to Ethiopia and retrieve the Seal of Solomon—a mythical ring said to control demons and djinn—and this bounty comes with one hell of a financial pay off.

  The deadline: a week. The team: unreliable. The competition: her world-renowned archaeologist older brother. Nothing Livi can’t handle... Except the danger goes beyond a few subterranean serpent-dragons she might encounter or tangling with her employer’s deadly second-in-command. This client isn’t all he seems, and handing him the ring might be worse than what he’ll do to her—and her daughter—if she doesn’t.

  Dedication

  For the survivors.

  “...and he had found in certain of his books, that whoso should wear the seal ring of our lord Solomon...Jinn and birds and beasts and all created things would be bound to obey him.”

  —“The Queen of the Serpents”; Arabian Nights

  translated by Sir Richard Burton

  ❇

  Malo periculosam, libertatem quam quietam servitutem.

  (I prefer liberty with danger to peace with slavery.)

  1

  We Are Family

  The man hanging from his bound ankles over the cliff’s edge hadn’t been forthcoming with answers thus far.

  I’ve always been a try again sort of girl when not first
succeeding, so I decided to provide him with another opportunity. “I saw the tire tracks leading from the cave. Just tell me where Martin is taking my knife.”

  Sweat soaked my forehead, neck, and down my back, both from the early morning Arizona sun and the effort of keeping my quarry suspended over the bluff. My muscles burned but I maintained my hold on the rope coiled around my hands. He was maybe two hundred pounds and I wouldn’t’ve been able to hold him without the rope wound over a large boulder behind me. Even with it braced, I was tiring.

  If I was a six on the sweaty scale of one to ten, he was approaching eleven; moisture poured over his beet red face and soaked his dark hair. He twisted his head, grunting with the effort. Hard eyes glared up at me but he said nothing.

  Sometimes a simple cock of one’s brow while threatening a hired gun is enough to shake his tongue loose, but I wore dark sunglasses and figured he couldn’t see my practiced I-will-let-you-die detachedness.

  I sighed and made a show of uncoiling the rope from my hands. His eyes tracked the movement until I had the rope gripped tightly but not securely.

  I paused. Waited.

  Then I loosened my grip and let it slide.

  He slipped an inch. Just an inch. When you’re dangling by your ankles over a sixty-foot drop to dirt and rocks, however, an inch feels like quite a lot more.

  I held tight again, bracing my feet in the dirt and leaning back; the rope went taut in my gloved hands and he jerked to a halt. He didn’t shout, no, but let out a panicked yelp in a higher register.

  Before I could prompt him again, the small cell phone in the padded pocket on my belt chirped a familiar tune—the theme from The Last Unicorn.

  I sighed. “I can’t hold you forever and I really should take that call.”

  “They’ve got a helicopter!” he sputtered, his mouth tight as if he hated himself for giving in. “Thirty miles west. Probably reached it already.”

  Hmm. Knowing my target, I strongly suspected I drove faster.

  “Now let me up!”

  I stepped closer to the edge and nudged the four feet of pooled rope over. It tumbled and rolled down his body. “How’s your upper body strength?”

  He snatched the rope and frowned. “Huh?”

  I let go.

  The mercenary yelped again and the rope skidded, spitting up sand, but he didn’t go plummeting to his doom so he must have held on. The boulder it was wrapped around would hold, but it was up to him to get his ass up. I am, of course, not a coldblooded murderer, but I also didn’t fancy being followed. He’d be tired by the time he pulled himself up. Too tired to pursue.

  Still, I rushed for my cherry red Jeep waiting near the sand-dusted road, skipped the door, and hauled myself up through the open back and climbed into the driver’s seat. My keys waited in the ignition; I gave them a twist, popped on my seatbelt, shifted into gear, and spun around to drive west.

  Heat rose in waves from the dirt and barren land stretched on for miles in either direction. I didn’t know precisely where my target went, but I’d probably see the helicopter rise in the bright blue sky if I neared it and they took off. I stomped down on the accelerator and flexed my hands on the steering wheel, wishing I could teleport or something.

  I hadn’t forgotten the call. Phone synched to the rental, I dialed up home.

  “Hi, Mommy,” said the little voice after one ring.

  I smiled absently. “Hey, buttercup. Shouldn’t you be in school?”

  “Pru slept in. The school called.”

  I go away for one day and everything falls apart. “I’ll talk to the school when I get home. She’s okay?”

  “Yeah, just tired. And she let me make my lunch.”

  Oh dear. “And did she also let you clean up after making your lunch?”

  Emaleth sighed. “Mom.”

  I was going to come home to peanut butter on the ceiling, I knew it. “There are few things as dangerous as you preparing your own meal.” The Jeep hit a bump, jostling me around on the rocky terrain. Well ahead in the distance, light glinted off something shiny—vehicles, one of them containing the artifact I’d come to retrieve, if I was in luck. Luck obviously hadn’t been with me that morning since they’d reached it first, but I would put up a fight. As always.

  “What time are you coming home?”

  I slid a USP Match from the holster on my left as I pushed the pedal to the floor. The ground was rough, Jeep’s tires spitting stones and dirt, and wind rushed through the topless vehicle, so I raised my voice to answer her. “Not sure yet, sweetheart. I have a few more things to take care of.”

  There was little I could hear over the noise around my vehicle but the pouting silence of a child is unmistakable. “You’re supposed to meet Miss Jennings today.”

  Right. My daughter’s troll of a teacher who hated me. I greatly disliked the requisite parent-teacher meetings just after school started, since they involved dealing with people I wasn’t allowed to dangle over cliffs to make my point. “I will. That’s not until tonight and my flight is only four hours. I’ll be there.”

  Muffled talking sounded in the background that I was unable to pick up. My gaze narrowed on the vehicles ahead. The wide, flat black Hummer had to be Martin’s. The SUV more than likely housed some of his hired “help” who would be armed and see my Jeep coming.

  I dropped the gun in my lap and powered down the window beside me. At least I was as adept shooting left-handed, although driving at the same time would cause...issues. More wind tore through, tossing my long braid of dark hair back over the seat. I went to great lengths to braid it tight so it stayed in place, but pieces fell and whipped against my face and sunglasses.

  “Pru says the meeting is at 6:45,” Emaleth informed me. “You should be there early.”

  I was in a different time zone and couldn’t do the math at the moment, but didn’t see how that would be a problem. “I haven’t forgotten. It’s written down in my day planner.”

  “You don’t have a day planner.”

  “If I’m going to be late, I’ll meet you and Prudence there, okay?”

  “Don’t be late,” she warned in a tone that sounded more adult than six-year-old.

  The side window of the SUV rolled down and a moment later I caught sight of an elbow, a hand, and what appeared to be an AR-15.

  Wonderful.

  “I won’t be late,” I promised as I raised my gun and stuck my arm out the window, prepared to return fire. “But I’m going to have to go now because I’m in traffic and about to say some nasty things you shouldn’t hear.”

  Another woeful sigh. “You shouldn’t say bad words, Mommy.”

  “No, darling, you shouldn’t say bad words.” Nor should you chase down vehicles aiming automatic weapons at you. I’d save that lesson for when she was older, though. “I have to go but I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Are you bringing me back a present?”

  The guy aiming the gun out the window was shouting something at me—presumably regarding slowing down or ceasing my pursuit. As if I either heard or cared. “If you clean up the kitchen, I might bring you something.”

  “’Kay. Love you, Mommy.”

  “Love you too, Em.” I disconnected the call just as bullets tore through my windshield.

  Motherfucker. I ducked, keeping my right hand on the wheel, and fired randomly until the other shots ceased. The glass cracked but didn’t shatter, just impossible to see through. I figured at least Martin would have them shoot out my tires, not attempt to shoot out my face.

  I’d have to be a bit more aggressive.

  I twisted the volume knob on my dashboard so it blared high energy pop rock. Vocals cut over the wind, bass thrummed loudly to drown out all distractions so a backup plan could form. I tend to playlist my aggression; it helps.

  I dropped the gun in my lap, grabbed the wheel with one hand and the stick with the other, and swung the Jeep off the road. The rough terrain knocked me around even in four wheel drive, jostling the we
apon on my lap. In the rearview mirror, a cloud of dust puffed, covering the sky and anything I left behind me. Ahead, nothing but empty desert, some mountains, and a whole lot of rocks—no vehicles but the ones I pursued, and the road was pretty straight, too. Perfect. The Jeep held at one-twenty clicks as I sped past my target. Damned if I could guess what they were likely talking about in there, besides the fact that maybe I’d lost my fucking mind.

  Pretty sure they won’t be expecting this.

  I went left and swung the Jeep in an arc, steering it back onto the road at a sharp angle. The seatbelt cut across me painfully as I jerked against it but there was no chance to think, to catch my breath; I kept my foot on the pedal as I switched into reverse.

  The wide, intimidating Hummer blew through the cloud of dust, slowing almost imperceptibly as they realized what I was doing.

  I grinned and unlatched my seatbelt.

  Foot on the gas, right hand on the steering wheel and left on the gun, I rose in my seat so I could see past the cracked glass, over the top of the Jeep, and fired at the Hummer.

  Wind whipped my braid around wildly, the Jeep careened. I wore fingerless gloves with good grips on them any time I was out the field and I kept the wheel clutched tight, easing it back and forth as needed. My focus was on the tires—with me moving, the Hummer moving, and the wind blasting, I was doubtful I’d hit, but damn if I wouldn’t try.