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Marked For Death © 2021 Becca Blake


All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Cover: Bewitching Book Covers by Rebecca Frank

Editing: Charity Vandehey

Author Image Illustrator: Maria Dimova

Table of Contents


Other Books by Becca Blake

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Also By Becca Blake

About the Author

Other Books by Becca Blake


Blood Bound

Blood Debt

Blood Queen

Blood King


Marked for Death

Marked for Pain

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Chapter One

The police weren’t after us, but they were likely hunting the same thing we were—the thing that had set off multiple fires throughout downtown Omaha, Nebraska in the last hour.

Of course, they didn’t know what that thing actually was, so they had no hope of stopping it.

That was our job.

The wailing of police sirens grew louder as a patrol car turned onto the street, projecting its flashing red and blue lights along the rows of buildings.

I slipped into a narrow alleyway and waved for my partner, Ayla Silver, to follow. As she pushed in beside me, she took care not to let the slimy layer of filth on the brick wall rub off onto her black tank top.

The police car sped past our alleyway and continued further into the city. I waited for the siren to fade before stepping back out onto the sidewalk.

Even though we weren’t their target, being stopped would complicate our evening. The weapons we carried would be difficult to explain away, and the cops weren’t likely to accept “hunting demons” as an answer when they asked what two young women were doing out on the streets at one-thirty in the morning.

We’d been tracking this particular demon for far too long to allow him to slip away again, so I wasn’t about to take any risks.

“I don’t know, Riley. I think we lost him… again.” Ayla ran her fingers through the blue highlights in her short, blonde hair, pushing stray strands away from her eyes. “It might be time to go back home to Haygrove.”

“We’re not going back empty-handed again. Let’s keep moving.” I pushed past her and continued down the street.

If I were being honest, I agreed with her. This demon had been toying with us, leading us around for months, in circles across the country.

Intel reports from the Arbiters of Shadow headquarters in Haygrove, Iowa were the only reason we could track him each time he resurfaced. Even I had to admit that the hunt was getting old, but the thought of returning home with nothing to show for our months in the field…

That failure would be too much to bear.

A pair of glowing red eyes flashed across the street, then disappeared into the doorway below a neon sign that read Club Storm.

I exchanged a look with my partner. “You see that, too?”

“Sure did.”

“Let’s move, then.” I jogged to the other side of the road, and Ayla followed close behind me.

The deep pounding of bass greeted us as I pulled open the door to the club.

“The comic convention is on the other side of town.” A young man sitting on a stool in the entryway snickered as he looked us over. “Who are you two supposed to be, anyway?”

My fingers twitched over the hilt of my sword. Even with my gear, I knew I didn’t look like much of a threat—a twenty-four year old slender redhead, freckles and all, and no more than five-foot-five. My appearance often worked in my favor with the demons we hunted. They underestimated me every time, which made defeating them all the more satisfying.

Still, I hated being talked down to by some civilian kid whose ass I could kick in my sleep.

“Did someone just walk in here? Right before us?” I asked, forcing a smile in my best attempt to stick to business.

The kid shrugged. “People have been walking in and out all night. I don’t take names. Entry fee is five bucks if you want to go in and have a look.”

“I’m not here for the dancing or drinks,” I said. “We don’t plan to be here long.”

“I don’t care what you plan to do in there. The entry fee is still five bucks.”

Ayla pulled a few crumpled bills out of her wallet and handed them over.

The kid stuffed the money into his pocket and gave each of us a glowing bracelet. “Try not to stab anyone with those fake swords while you’re in there.”

We followed the hallway into a spacious room with a high ceiling and a balcony overlooking the dance floor. The space was packed with bodies and the stench of sweat, a sea of glowing bracelets and neon articles of clothing that were illuminated by black lights. It was a half-hour until last call, and the party wasn’t showing any signs of slowing down.

We’d been stupid to come in here. I hadn’t seen anything other than a kid wearing dumb glowing rave gear to a nightclub.

Ayla took my hand, and we fought our way through the wall of bodies toward the bathrooms in the back corner. The graffiti-covered walls of the restroom dulled the heavy music, giving us a welcome relief from the onslaught of bass and electronic beats.

It was a relief for me, anyway. Ayla loved this stuff.

“I told you, he’s in the wind,” she said. “We should stay here and have a drink or two, then go home in the morning.”

“We can’t.” I leaned back against the stall door and crossed my arms. “We have to find him before he skips town again.”

“What are you trying to prove? This guy is running circles around us. They need to send a bigger team for this hunt.”

“Why are you so eager to get back? You hate Haygrove.”

“Not as much as I hate

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