Good Intentions (The Road to Hell Series, Book 1) by Brenda K. Davies Page B

happening to her. My fingers curled into fists on the table; I took a deep breath to steady the temper I felt rising within me. Too much time on the mortal plane is making me soft. I had to return to Hell soon and claim the throne, which was rightfully mine by birth.
    Mac finished off his wine and rose to his feet; he rested his fingers on top of the book I’d been reading. “One of my favorites,” he said. “It was the best of times.” His fingers fell away from the cover.
    “It was the worst of times,” I said.
    He stared at the book before lifting his head to look at me. “That it is,” he said. “I’ll see you in the morning, Kobal.”
    I listened to his boots thudding across the ground and the rustle of the canvas settling into place once more as he made his way out. My fingers rested on the binding of the book as I stared at the green canvas wall across from me. The image of pure purple eyes haunted me as I sipped at my wine.
    I had to find out what she might be capable of, and soon.

CHAPTER 10
    River
    I pushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear as I surveyed the group of a hundred or so volunteers gathered around me. I folded my arms over my chest, feeling as though I stuck out like a sore thumb. I may only be six years older than most of them, but as I stared at their pimpled, youthful faces, I felt decades older.
    Maybe it was their enthusiastic expressions, the way they stood with their shoulders thrust back and their eyes riveted on the group of older soldiers gathered before them. They looked like puppies ready for a treat; I felt like a sullen cat looking to claw the eyes out of anyone who tried to touch me.
    Mac stood in the center and slightly in front of the soldiers across from us. The soldiers were all dressed in green uniforms, while us newbies had been given drab brown clothes to wear. The only color on my clothes, and on the clothes of the volunteers surrounding me, was the yellow band encircling our right biceps to differentiate us from the other groups of volunteers. Groups I could see training in the distance with other soldiers.
    Tilting my head back, I glanced up at the top of the wall. The red lights still flashed, but they weren’t as vivid or as noticeable in the morning sun. I could also see men and women walking on top of the wall now. The sunlight glinted off the scopes of the rifles strapped to their backs. Last night, they had blended in with the shadows. Now they were small figures moving back and forth as they surveyed a land far beyond what anyone on this side of the wall could see.
    Looking away from the wall, my gaze slid past Mac and the soldiers to the landscape beyond them. Past the houses and trees, the horizon stretched on endlessly. It all looked so peaceful out there, but all night, cries had echoed across the land. The awful sounds had to have been the ones igniting the rumors of monsters beyond the wall. They’d made my skin crawl as I tossed and turned throughout the night, caught between the urge to punch something or cry out my misery and loneliness.
    I knew one thing, all of these little sixteen-year-old volunteers may be eager to please and do what was expected of them, but if they expected me to run or do anything else, they’d be in for a rude awakening. They’d forced me to be here, but they couldn’t make me follow their rules. I’d come here without a fight because of my brothers; that didn’t mean I’d be a compliant captive.
    I stifled a yawn as I leaned against the cold concrete of the wall. Amid the exuberant young volunteers, I spotted Carrie with her head bent close to another young girl.
    What are we all doing here?
    From across the way, the man I briefly met last night strolled across the front of the soldiers. I frowned when he stopped beside Mac and they exchanged a few words. Around me, the others all stopped speaking and straightened up. I felt the current of astonishment that went through the crowd, heard the indrawn breaths, and saw