Savior (The Keepers of Hell Book 1) by DANIELLE JAMES

was allowed to steal. No one could take something from Shax and get away with it. No one.
         It didn’t matter that Ash meant more to him alive than dead at the time. Hell was in a mess, and this was his chance to gain power. Lucifer had been killed by his own son with the Spear of Destiny. Who knew where the little idiot even found it, but it was the only weapon capable of killing one as strong as Lucifer. But his son was sick with power. While that idiot was ranting and raving like a depraved lunatic, the leaders of the realms were gathering power. They all knew that Stephan, Lucifer’s demented son, would never rule Hell. Not for any amount of time. That stupid fuck was hell bent on revenge for some slight he imagined against him. Or maybe it wasn’t imagined. Whatever the deal was, he was focusing all his attention on getting his revenge and not paying attention to what was going on in Hell. Everyone knew that Stephan would end up getting himself killed. From the rumors, he was messing with some pretty powerful supernaturals, including a warrior angel.
         Shax was using Ash to destroy any demon that might be able to put up a fight against Shax when the time came for someone new to claim the throne. He could do it himself, but where was the fun in that? Besides, if Ash got himself killed, his soul belonged to Shax. He would continue his servitude into his pitiful afterlife.
         He felt the atmosphere ripple and knew that Ash had gone to Hell to find his latest assignment. As soon as he did, Shax went to the doctor’s home. He made himself invisible to her eyes and let himself into her house. It was a quaint little place. The walls were a cheery yellow and the furniture looked like a Pottery Barn had thrown up in her living room.
         He found her fast asleep in her bed with her dark hair spilled over the white pillows. It was no wonder Ash had taken to her; she was very nice to look at. Perhaps one day he would play with her. But not yet. She was fidgeting in her sleep. Her legs kicked and she groaned. A nightmare, possibly.
         He approached the head of the bed and softly laid his fingertip on her temple. “Tell me your secrets,” he said quietly. He watched as the dream she was having played in his head like a movie.
    ***
         Elizabeth knew she was dreaming. She’d had the same dream over and over for most of her life. But it wasn’t really a dream. It was a memory.
         She was back in her twelve year old body, in the attic of her foster home. She hated her foster parents. They were mean, vindictive, and selfish. The only reason they took on foster children was for the monthly check the government provided them with for caring for the children.
         They drank, often. Elizabeth and her foster brother, Eric, only got new clothes at the beginning of the school year. And it wasn’t because her foster parents bought them. No, it was because the school they attended had a special program to provide new clothes for the underprivileged children in their district. A teacher from the school would take the kids shopping about a week before the onset of classes, allowing them to pick out a few items for themselves.
         Elizabeth and Eric wouldn’t have even had that if Elizabeth hadn’t signed herself and her brother up for it. She had asked the teacher not to tell her foster parents about it and gave her some background on their home life. The teacher, of course, had called social services. But her foster parents were smarter than that. Whenever the worker would visit, they would have the house clean, they would both be sober, and there were no liquor bottles to be found in the house.
         And every time, after the worker left, Elizabeth and Eric received their punishment. There was one time that Elizabeth had to miss school for a week due to the bruises and swelling on her face where her foster father had taught her a lesson about speaking their business to