From Here to Eternity: Love’s Warrior - Book One

By P.C. Stevens

The end of humanity has arrived. As if that's not terrifying enough, 28-year-old Caradia Blaine learns it could be worse when she's abducted by supernatural creatures and forced through a misty doorway. Upon landing in a different realm, Dia discovers she's the key to bringing a warlock king's deceased spouse back from the dead, the price being her life. This is hardly a problem. Her loved ones are gone and she wants to die. Just when Dia begins to accept her role in an otherworldly society, an unexpected caregiver comes along. Prince Lachlan must ensure Dia lives long enough for his father to conclude his use of her. Fate, however, has its own agenda. The prince soon realizes she could be of tremendous use to him, but falling in love was never part of the plan... Enter a world where falling in love makes the impossible possible. Not only does the bond between lovers have teeth, it's not afraid to bite.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Mar 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781645364528

P.C. Stevens

P. C. Stevens discovered her love for writing through her love of reading. She credits her favorite authors for inspiring her to write and share her own stories. She is a wife and mother living in Minneapolis, Minnesota. In addition to writing, she enjoys reading, exercising, keeping up with current events, and spending time with her family.

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Glossary

About the Author

P. C. Stevens discovered her love for writing through her love of reading. She credits her favorite authors for inspiring her to write and share her own stories. She is a wife and mother living in Minneapolis, Minnesota. In addition to writing, she enjoys reading, exercising, keeping up with current events, and spending time with her family.

Dedication

Dedicated to my family, Kiki, Frodo, and Mini Me.

Copyright Information ©

    P. C. Stevens (2020)

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, 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.

Ordering Information:

Quantity sales: special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Stevens, P. C.

From Here to Eternity

ISBN 9781641826020 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781641826037 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781645364528 (ePub e-book)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019907759

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published (2020)

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street, 28th Floor

New York, NY 10005

USA

[e-mail]

[phone]

Acknowledgment

I’d like to thank my husband for believing in me, my parents for ensuring my well-being and life success, and my son for behaving so well during the writing and publishing process.

Chapter One

What the fuck’s going on? Honor said throwing up her hands, her face twisted in disgust.

Dia shook her head, unsure what to say. She and Honor had been watching their favorite reality show, Monsters & Mayhem when a snow screen and beeping noises replaced the monstrous mayhem.

Dia chewed her fingernails, slowly realizing she’d heard those noises before, but never for real-life emergencies.

This is not a test, the television said in a calm female voice. What? Honor said, her hands still suspended. She shook her head and Dia laughed despite herself.

She wasn’t sure how long she and Honor listened to Ms. Calm and Collected deliver her spiel when the salt-and-pepper screen switched to the most beautifully strange creature sitting at a news desk, no one else in sight.

With a gasp, Honor clapped a hand over her mouth and bolted to her feet. What the fuck is that?

Humans, the being said, your time here on Earth is about to change in ways you won’t believe until you see it for yourselves.

Dia couldn’t be certain whether she was looking at a male or female, and the creature’s voice, which her ears soaked up in ecstasy with its ethereal candor, didn’t help.

Long locks descended from the being’s head, but it wasn’t hair, per se. The silvery strands seemed alive as they twisted and floated around a face of the palest skin imaginable. It wasn’t sickly pale, but comely pale, the shimmery alabaster only accentuating the rest of its unfathomable elegance. Dia itched to touch its glowing flesh. Would it feel as beautiful as it looked?

Honor was under no such spell, breaking Dia’s trance as she stomped to the nearest window.

Dia forced her gaze from the creature to her best friend and roomie. Anything going on out there?

She pressed a hand to the glass. I don’t see anything.

She returned and sat next to Dia. The two threaded arms. I’m scared, said Honor.

According to the mesmerizing creature, its kind would begin ruling humans that day.

Despite the period of darkness that followed, there was hope to be had. In the midst of the anarchy, one woman had the power to change history for both humankind and the Pirmas.

This is the story of Caradia Blaine, and how the arrival of the Pirmas marked the beginning of a life she never knew existed.

Chapter Two

Dia! Holy shit! They’re here! Honor flung the door to Dia’s room open.

Stomach joggling, Dia looked up from her book. Ever since the Pirmas had arrived she’d tried to forget about their callous plans. With no television or Internet, she’d dove into the impressive library she’d collected over the years, but even her most cherished books by her favorite authors hadn’t achieved diddly at distracting her. Are you sure?

Oh, I’m sure, Honor replied, practically breathless. She was more excited than Dia had ever seen her. Considering she had no idea whether she’d live to see tomorrow, her joy seemed a tad misplaced. Honor was convinced she was going to be Chosen.

The Pirmas had explained that there would be a chosen few, namely the Chosen, who they’d bring over to their world. Humans who weren’t Chosen faced instant execution, while the Chosen themselves would receive answers to questions on the mind of every human.

Where did the Pirmas come from?

What was their master plan?

Did their arrival mark the beginning of the Apocalypse?

Were they God?

Did they create humans?

The Chosen would also serve a certain purpose, a promise so vague Dia got the willies thinking about it. And Chosen or not, there was no escape. At the moment, a female with abnormally pale eyes stood outside the door of their condo. No one could leave while she was around. She’d arrived hours after the wondrous creature appeared on television. Though she looked human, she’d demonstrated otherwise by tossing one of their neighbors over the balcony without moving a muscle. Messing with her was asking for death.

Dia wasn’t sure if she’d rather die or be Chosen. But unless she wanted to kill herself before they arrived, she was forced to fear both outcomes.

As far as she knew, everyone she cared about still lived, which mattered greatly regarding her own will to live.

Aren’t you going to get dressed? Honor asked, wrinkling her nose. You know, at least make yourself presentable?

In answer, Dia burst out laughing.

Her roommate put her hand on her hip. What’s so funny?

She took a moment to study her friend, who looked phenomenal, but Dia didn’t believe the Pirmas would be impressed. Honor’s long reddish-brown hair was done up in a high ponytail. A shiny blue halter-top left much of her backside bare and stopped just above her hips, and from there she wore tight dark blue jeans that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her lips were painted blood red, a color that went nicely with the rest of her outfit. She looked ready for a night out, not for an encounter with murderous otherworldly beings.

Dia wanted to ask why she bothered prettying herself up for what could be her funeral, but quelled the urge. If Honor had hope, she’d not rip it away.

Forget it, Dia answered. And no, I’m not going to make myself ‘presentable.’ She used her fingers to quote the word Honor had used. I have nothing to prove to these… things! Fuck ’em.

Honor rolled her eyes and exited the bedroom. Fresh nervousness settled in Dia’s gut as her gaze flew to the window a couple feet away. She bit her lip. Did she dare look out? Deciding whether or not to peer out the window had become a cruel game of dark anticipation during recent days. Who would come for them and what would they look like? Besides the pale-eyed telekinetic guard, she’d only seen one of the Pirmas’ many species; the ones playing news anchor with silvery, flyaway hair, and perfectly round, multi-colored eyes framed with lashes as long as human fingers. Their noses were pert, as were their mouths, and their teeth gleamed silver like their hair, sharp alternated with blunt.

Inching closer to the window, she reached out to draw the shades when something crashed through the glass. Dia barely got her hand out of the way in time. She screamed and made a beeline for the door; which Honor had left open. She was almost there when the door slammed shut by itself. Still screaming, she grabbed the knob. It turned, but wouldn’t open.

An eagle! Had it been an eagle? A hawk, maybe… A very very very large eagle or hawk…

But her gut said that even though she’d glimpsed wings, or at the very least feathers, on whatever was in the room with her, it was no bird.

No! Please. No, no, no! Dia banged her hand against the door and turned the knob to no avail. Fear gripped her in its angry fist. She couldn’t turn around, too terrified to face what was behind her, what had locked her in there with it. Intrusive thoughts bombarded her with images of monsters she’d seen in movies.

Pazuzu from The Exorcist, the Crypt Keeper from Tales From The Crypt, James Cameron’s Aliens (please no acid blood!), the werewolf from American Werewolf in London, Pennywise from Stephen King’s It, and on and on they came. Within seconds, her limbs went numb and she became lightheaded. Dia worried she’d piss herself or worse—pass out, as she continued pounding on and turning the knob to a door that wouldn’t budge.

A warm touch on her shoulder made her freeze. The disturbing images in her head ceased at the sound of a rich, musical voice.

There there. Whatever the being touched her with (a hand? a wing?) stayed on her shoulder. Don’t be frightened. There’s no reason to be frightened.

Though Dia’s pulse calmed and feeling seeped back into her hands and feet, she had serious qualms with the no reason to be frightened bullshit spewing from her intruder’s mouth. She had every reason in the world to be frightened. Aliens, whether actually from another planet or not, were killing millions of humans, a nightmare scenario to anyone with a brain… or—

Honor! She gasped. Where was she? She had to have heard the commotion. Given how excited she was to meet these creatures, Dia thought her roommate would have been on the other side of the door in a heartbeat, demanding to be let inside.

The next thing she heard came from behind her and sounded like a tongue clicking the roof of a mouth.

Honor, the invader said, following with a dramatic pause. We’ve taken care of her. Without thinking, Dia turned to face him, hiding shaky hands behind her back as she fought the urge to vomit.

The intruder could have passed for human… on Halloween, and even that would’ve been a big maybe. Blond, blue-eyed, and beautiful, his glorious wings were partly unfurled and blanketed in snow-white feathers.

Sh-she’s dead? Dia whispered.

Dead. His brows furrowed as his gaze hit the floor. If that’s what you must call it, then yes, Honor is dead.

A sob scraped past her achy throat. Honor. Dead. Just like that. Here one minute, gone the next, yet…

Where’s her body? she all but shrieked.

Birdman took a moment to study her, and as she stared back, she couldn’t tell if he was annoyed, in awe, or confused. Several seconds ticked by. Dia stomped her foot as hard as she could. Well? Is it here? Can I see it? Not that she wanted to see her best friend’s body, but taking the freak’s word for it was out of the question.

Then Dia was no longer in her bedroom, but in her living-room looking down at Honor’s lifeless body. There was no blood or physical signs of violence, just the corpse of a gorgeous twenty-eight-year-old woman who’d had her whole life ahead of her. Honor’s eyes were open, her brown iris now darkened to match the color of her pupil. Prickly heat saturated Dia’s skin as tears coursed down her face. Heart thudding in her ringing ears, she reached to touch her best friend’s cheek, but before she could, she found herself back inside her bedroom, face-to-face with Birdman.

We must go, he said, grabbing Dia by the upper arm and dragging her toward the busted window.

No! She planted her heels in the carpet and tried to pull from his grasp, but it was as if she weighed nothing more than one of his feathers.

Wait! Was that really Honor? How—did you just show me her? Dia asked.

Yes. He knocked away the shards of glass clinging to the window frame with his fist, not seeming to mind the cuts to his skin.

Why, why, why? was all she could say as he pulled her in front of him, her back to his chest and wrapped both arms around her torso before pulling her in tight. She was too shaken to care about his next move as he leaned their entwined bodies out the fifth-story window and leaped into the open sky.

Then, Dia met peaceful blackness.

Chapter Three

When Dia awoke, she lay atop a soft mattress on a four-poster, king-size bed in a huge room decorated in red, white, and brown. She sat up and looked around, her brain registering little besides those three colors. It took a minute before she noticed she wore only a bra and panties, what she’d been wearing during her encounter with Birdman.

Honor!

Upon the reminder of her best friend’s demise, Dia buried her face in the red comforter to muffle her sobs. Though she’d predicted Honor’s death before the Pirmas arrived, never in a million years had Dia thought they’d leave her breathing.

I’ve been Chosen.

Why her and not Honor? They were both female, in their late twenties, pretty, virtually identical, not counting some physical attributes.

Head still buried, Dia shook it against unwelcome musings. She wouldn’t be able to reason out why she lived and Honor died. But in that moment, she wished she was dead. It didn’t matter where she was, or who, or what she awaited, their plans for her… any of it. She simply wanted to die.

Lifting her head, she looked through tear-blurred eyes for anything that could end her life. Doubtful she’d find a pistol, bottle of pills, or blade lying around. On either side of the bed stood a nightstand, but the drawers of each were empty. There were two dressers, one with a vanity and one without, but those drawers were empty as well. She checked under the bed. Nothing.

Dia ripped the red satin sheet off the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. She made herself as comfortable as possible, curled up surrounded by dozens of pillows and ruminated while shedding countless tears for a long while. Eventually she sank into a fretful slumber amid worries over her parents, the only people besides Honor she loved.

Dreamland slung her into a twisted reflection of her disquiet, plopping her in the living room of her apartment. Her mom and dad lay side-by-side on the living room floor, the exact place Honor’s dead body had been. They were dead, their colorless eyes open and pupils dilated, looking at her through black holes.

To Dia’s horror, her mom spoke, Caradia left us to die alone. They chose her, you know. A tear trickled down the side of her face. She never even said ‘goodbye.’

We gave her everything, her father chimed in. But still, she left. My little girl— his voice broke. I never got to hug my little girl before she left, and now she’s gone, forever.

Dia gasped herself awake, then closed her eyes, and crammed the heels of her hands into them. Stop, please! she cried, losing her breath on a monumental sob that shook her body.

Please, I can’t… I can’t do this. Help me. Please… Please, just help me! She didn’t know who she was lamenting to, but lament she did, until her throat went raw and her face and neck stiffened from layers of dried tears.

Once her mind cleared of emotional fog, she fidgeted while staring up at the red canopy, and staring, and staring, and staring some more. The room lacked a clock and windows, making it nigh impossible to grasp a concept of time. Had it been hours or days since she’d first woken? As the seconds crawled by, Dia wondered if she’d actually died back at the condo with Honor, and her fate was to spend eternity in this red, white, and brown room, slowly going mad.

Abruptly, she sat up. Why hadn’t she thought to look for an exit? There were no windows, but surely, there was a door.

She was right. And it just so happened the moment she laid eyes on it; it flew open.

Chapter Four

Dia screamed at the male filling the doorway a good forty feet from the massive bed. It wasn’t a birdman, but he looked human.

He smirked. I’m not human. His voice was deep and seductive, raising goosebumps across her flesh. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Did he read my thoughts?

He took a step into the room, followed by another, and another, until he stood a couple of feet away. Instinct urged Dia to flee, but her limbs were heavy, sinking into the mattress as if the bed wished to swallow her. Was it weird she wanted it to?

Caradia, he said, then paused as if waiting for a reply, but she remained silent.

The stranger’s chin-length black hair framed a pale, sharp-featured face. As she looked into his eyes, she noticed their inhuman characteristics. The irises, which were much thicker than a human’s, were golden… or was it orange? Bronze? Whatever the color, it swirled around the pupil like churning lava. The longer she looked, the harder it became to look away. She needed a closer examination. Would he let her touch them? So beautiful…

He blinked, and Dia gasped at realizing she’d been crawling towards him without knowing it. The sheet she’d wrapped around herself lay forgotten behind her. She snatched it back up and covered herself before sitting cross-legged and taking care to avoid his gaze.

Sorry, he said. It’s best not to meet my gaze. My eyes can hypnotize, especially those… in your current state.

Dia studied her lap, unable to conjure a shred of a care about his stupid fucking hypnotizing eyes. She pulled the sheet as tightly as possible around her body, as if it alone could protect her from this creature and her mysterious fate.

I suppose you have questions, he said. But first, how about we make you a bit more comfortable, hmm? Are you hungry? We can get you anything you like. She looked up to see he leaned toward her; his plump lips curved into a smile. Literally, he added with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Hungry? The word was alien for half a minute. Then the idea of food wrenched her gut. She shook her head.

He straightened. All right. Would you like to bathe, or dress, perhaps?

She met his gaze, then remembered that wasn’t a good idea and looked at his nose. I want to die. Is that a possibility?

His smile vanished. No, that’s not a possibility.

Tears pooled in her eyes as she emitted a loud and lengthy groan. Crying was getting old fast. Too bad she couldn’t cry herself to death.

Rise, the man said. You can bathe and dress in fresh clothes. That is likely to make you feel better, hmm?

Her instinct was to cause a fuss, but all the tears had exhausted her. What was the point of fighting? It wasn’t as if she could physically outmatch this strapping male standing between her and the door. Even if she made it to the door, what were the chances she’d know where she was? Besides, it appeared he was here to give her answers, and she’d be a fool to not take advantage.

No. You’re here to answer my questions?

He gave a terse nod.

You can start by telling me why I can’t die. You could easily break my neck. Will you do that for me?

No.

Livid heat burned Dia’s face and neck. The urge to launch herself at the guy made her legs quiver. Why the fuck not? You people have killed billions of us already. What’s one more?

His eyes widened as he replied, You’re Chosen, as if that explained everything. To him, perhaps it did.

She waited for him to continue, but apparently, he had nothing to add. She sighed. "Fine. I’m Chosen. Speaking that word sullied her tongue, almost making her shudder. Will one dead Chosen really matter in the scheme of things? Who’s going to notice?"

Tilting his head back, he stroked his chin with his thumb and forefinger. Trust me, your death would matter and the biggest reason for that is because of who’d notice.

The laugh his use of ‘trust’ had conjured died in her throat. Did he just reveal she was promised to a maniac? What does being chosen even mean?

He smiled, evidently relieved she’d moved on from planning her own death. To understand that, you must first understand who we, the Pirmas, are.

Okay. When he didn’t immediately continue, she lifted her brows and hiked her shoulders. Who are you?

We are, put very simply, ancient beings of myth and legend. Long, long ago humans lived with us, and they wrote of us and we of them and we shared our experiences and journeys with one another. Then, there came a time when the Pirmas left Earth, and as millennia passed, mankind started to forget about us. They forgot we were real, and the stories humans had written of us became works of fiction, told as fairy tales and legends instead of real history. Now, it’s time for our return. We’ll take back what is rightfully ours. He pinned Dia with an intense gaze, his golden eyes burning hot and bright before he looked away. We will not be forgotten again.

That made little sense, given dead people didn’t have memories, but arguing with him would be a waste of time. Though she thirsted for answers, she didn’t know what to ask. Should she go with the standard who, what, when, where, and why? It occurred to her she didn’t even know her visitor’s name, so she asked him.

Pursing his lips, he seemed to think it over before saying, You can call me Mitch.

Mitch? she asked, incredulous. Not the kind of name she’d expected. She’d thought it’d be more regal and ancient, like Cassius, or Thoros.

The corner of his mouth twitched, telling Dia he’d lied. His name was not Mitch.

Mitch. He nodded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Okay, Mitch, why is this happening? Why are you murdering us? Why did you have to kill Honor? My parents! Why did they have to die?" Her voice grew louder with each word.

Mitch cocked his head and knitted his brows. Die? They have not… died.

Dia’s mouth parted. What do you mean?

He sighed. Death is a human concept. Nothing… no one really ever dies. If that meant what she thought it meant… All of a sudden, her desire for death strengthened, becoming almost unbearable. More tears splashed down her cheeks, landing in her lap.

You weep for those who have died, yet you wish for death, Mitch said. If death is a bad thing, why would you want to die?

His words took a while to register and when they did, she shook her head and furiously wiped more tears away. She was about to speak, but Mitch beat her to it.

What you call ‘death,’ we call ‘transition.’ Your ‘death’ is something we treasure. When good souls transition, it’s celebrated. They have crossed over into Paradise. Mourning a passing into the afterlife, in most cases, is simply not done.

Dia stifled a sob. Ar-ar-are you s-saying th-that Honor, Mom, and Dad are still alive, in Paradise?

"If they are good people, then yes. They