Death's Widow

by Lori Aisling

  Luc ran his fingers through his dark hair, his amber eyes staring into the distance. “We can correct this. Tell me Michael and his team are working on scouring the halls of Heaven- they aren’t simply ‘wishing this away’, right?”

  “No, Jophiel came to assist me today and she said Michael is indeed purging. I haven’t spoken with him, so I don’t know if he has any answers, but we know for a fact one of the archangels is indeed responsible. Bonded with one of your top lieutenants, the team would be strong enough to harness Callon’s power. That is the only way; lesser demons, the cherubim or seraphim couldn’t hold that much strength, I just don’t think it’s possible. The only reason I was able to was due to the bond. He shared it with me freely. Besides, in order to create such deep roots and devotion, it has to be higher-ranking members of the realms.”

  “Since you and Cal are the only two who can actually destroy a soul, for them to hold his strength is indeed against our favor. Tell me, Death. Do you know if Callon and the Lord actually have souls?”

  His question shocked me. I didn’t know, and frankly, I never even considered it. I guess I assumed all living beings possessed a soul. “Why wouldn’t they?” I asked.

  “The Lord and Death were the original beings. The archangels, including myself, obviously, came shortly after. It has been assumed the archangels have souls and we know the lesser Timeless do as they have been reaped. However, if Death, the Lord, and the archangels were designed to always ‘be’, then why would they house a soul?”

  “So if the Lord and Callon don’t have a soul, and they are killed, there is absolutely no chance of them completing a cycle and returning to their place in the design? Is that what you are insinuating?”

  “There has to be a reason God was taken. In order for this ‘dream team’ to take control of the afterlife, they need upper management out of the way. Callon is being used for his power, and they are trying to assassinate you to remove you from the design. If The Lord can be killed and He has no soul, it’s endgame, Amara. Same with the archangels, if I’m right. We need to step up our game, and quickly. We are all living on borrowed time if I’m correct in this assumption.”

  Fear coursed through my veins with the thought of my love being killed- permanently. There was a part of me holding out hope even if he was dead, I would someday find him, living as a seraphim, or some other Timeless. The thought of him being completely erased from existence wasn’t something I was ready to accept. “We’ll find them both. The Lord will be returned to His realm and Callon will be back as The Counterbalance.”

  “You are going to need to accept the facts as they are laid out in front of you , Amara. I know you are fighting for your soulmate, and as noble as that is, you can’t get lost in ‘what-if’s’. The chance Callon is alive remains slim to none, and you know I’m right. You need to get your head in the here-and-now- You are Death. You are the future of the counterbalance, not Cal. I see you get a faraway look in your eyes and it pisses me off; it’s weakness. Knock it off,” Satan scolded.

  “Fuck you, Luc. Just because you don’t believe he’s still alive, doesn’t make it so. I happen to feel there is still a good chance to save him, and if you want me to salvage what’s left of your shitty realm and the fucking Light, too, then grant me this one fucking luxury!”

  “Prove it, Amara! Show me one tiny fucking iota of proof Callon is alive. Someone is out there, reaping souls! Tell me, please, who exactly can do that? Oh wait, that’s right. YOU and the power Cal holds. These are elementary skills, dear girl. His strength has been pulled from his body and is being used by another. How the fuck do you think he can live through that? Show me. Show me proof.”

  “The bonding mark. It’s not gone. It’s fading, I’ll admit it, but it’s not gone yet, Luc. Until it’s gone, he’s not dead. I know it.”

  “Let me see it. I looked at it extensively while I was treating you. Let me see if it has faded further.”

  “Fuck you. Go to Hell, you bastard,” I snarled, my throat tightening as his brutal truth bit into me.

  “Dammit, woman. I’m not trying to hurt you, I’m trying to help you,” he sighed, stepping closer to me, ignoring Lue’s snarl as she stepped between us. “Let me put this another way: If The Lord is killed, and we slaughter a few archangels for being traitors and if we find Callon has indeed passed...how are you going to continue, Amara? The pressure on The Counterbalance will be even greater than ever. You are so vital to both factions. We need you, and I’m concerned about your state of mind should we find your mate has fallen when you have placed all your faith on one slim chance. Let the cloak of Death go, you aren’t reaping now. Release it and let me see your back.”

  “I can’t take it off right now. I don’t have a shirt on,” I mumbled, still pissed and hurt with his revelations.

  “I’ll glamour you a top. It will be as real as actual cloth, it just won’t transfer to another realm, so you’ll need to stop by your house to dress. Or come to mine and I’ll give you some real clothes,” he crooned, going for the ‘knight in shining armour’ approach, which wasn’t working.

  “I’m still mad at you, Luc, dammit. We have all this shit going on, and here you are, pushing my buttons and trying to piss me off. Let me enjoy what tiny grasp of my own reality I have left. The only thing I want to do is kill shit. I loved annihilating your dark souls, by the way. And the itch I get thinking about wiping out a whole troop of Timeless who have defected makes my panties wet, for fuck’s sake. Let me put this in simple words: I am not okay.”

  Lucifer smiled wide, his tongue snaking out to lick his top lip. “Tell me the part again about your panties,” he urged, his voice deep and carnal.

  “What is wrong with you?!” I yelled, and in spite of myself, I laughed. “And why can’t I stay mad at you?” Taking a step back, my boot heel caught my cape and stumbled, narrowly avoiding tromping on the condemned soul I was still dragging behind me.

  “It’s all part of this fabulous package, my dear. What can I say, I’m charming,” he purred. “But seriously, while you don’t have to show me the mark, we are going to interrogate traitors. Death is The Counterbalance, they aren’t going to be intimidated by you while you wear the mantle of Death. As The Widow, they may have more respect for your wishes.”

  “Fine. Go ahead.” I released the brooch and turned my back to him, releasing the cape and it disappeared with a whisper.

  I heard Lucifer whistle softly through his teeth. “I lied, Death. I had every intention of looking at the mark. It has faded considerably since I last viewed it, I’m afraid.”

  “But it’s still there, Luc, and I have faith in that.”

  “It’s but a smudge, sweetheart. Let’s not focus on it right now, we have the afterlife to save. This outfit should do nicely.”

  I turned to face him as I looked down at the wardrobe he ‘glamoured’. Oh hell, no. I looked preposterous. Standing in front of The Devil himself was a full-on dominatrix. Black garter belt, corset, even elbow-high leather gloves and six-inch platform heels. Nostrils flared, I stared at him. “Are you kidding me right now?” I yelled. “Change it!”

  “You are no fun, pet. That is a powerful statement right there. I’m ready to give you the signed title to my kingdom as we speak, all you need to do is demand it,” he teased, hiding his laugh behind his palm.

  “Luc! Now!” I stomped my foot, the heel landing on uneven ground and I tripped, tottering around like a newborn calf as I attempted to maintain my balance.

  “Oh, you’re absolutely right, honey. If you can’t walk in heels, the outfit will never do.” Snapping his fingers, I was relieved to see my leather pants were back, as were my boots, and he completed the top with a sensible white t-shirt and black jacket.

  “Thank you,” I stressed. “Now can we get to ripping some souls apart, or do I need to do something else to entertain you?”

  “I’m good. That mental image will last me for years.”

  “Which one? The one of me stumbling
around like a drunken prostitute?”

  Winking at me, The Devil took the computer cord holding the soul and began walking towards the prison. “I’m keeping them both,” he said, still chuckling.

  Going Under

  The foot-thick, iron gates of the prison opened automatically as Lucifer approached. My senses were immediately consumed with the sounds of suffering. Soul-wrenching screams assaulted my ears, the coppery smell of blood and burnt flesh dominated my nose, my eyes taking in the carnage which so recently took place behind the formidable, concrete block walls.

  Cells secured with black, iron bars carved with ancient runes and symbols lined both sides of the long aisle leading to a circular room at the far end. Chains hung from the ceiling and it was clear the demons hanging like cattle at a slaughterhouse suffered the brunt of Lucifer’s wrath. Deep inside my psyche, I knew I should be disturbed at what I was seeing. So much pain, torture, and misery drenched the air. I was suffocating in its intensity. However, the woman who awoke from a deadly toxin designed to destroy her was not the same person she was before. I was Death. I was Timeless. I was immune to the suffering of those in any way responsible for the loss of my mate. This den of demise was about to get a lot darker- I was here for answers and I wasn’t leaving without them.

  Lucifer grabbed a free chain ending in a wicked hook and nonchalantly wove the sharpened end through the spine of the condemned, pathetic soul. Instantly ripped from the coma-like state Lucinda’s toxin produced, the soul shrieked, twitching about like bait on a hook.

  Stepping back to survey the room, Luc casually removed his jacket, hanging it carefully on a peg near the entrance of the large chamber. Calmly rolling up the sleeves on his crisp, white dress shirt, he looked at me. “Tell me, Death, are you confident you’re prepared to step into my world? Trust me when I say you will not be the same after this night.”

  “There’s nothing I won’t do to save him, Luc.”

  “And if he’s already dead? Can you forgive yourself the atrocities you partook in to see this to its end?”

  “I will only regret I didn’t do more.”

  The Devil smiled, his amber eyes flashing, as a deep, feral growl rumbled in his chest. “Very good, Amara.” He motioned for me to step forward. “Take my hand and let me show you my progress thus far. Remember, you asked for this.”

  I walked the few steps to stand before him and without hesitation, I grabbed his hand. His grip was firm, the light in his eyes turning to flames as he stared back into me. Suddenly, my mind filled with images so violent I gasped. Blood, torn flesh, exposed muscle, broken bones, and the sound of utter agony flooded my mind.

  Seeing through his eyes, I began watching Lucifer slide a slender dagger into the belly of the demon chained before him. “You have commanded my prison for years, Belial. I granted you leadership, rank, and power far beyond your meager beginnings. This is how you repay me? Tell me where Callon is, and your torture will be be no more than blissful rapture at my hand.”

  “He’s dead. He’s but an empty vessel, his lifeforce drained for a greater purpose,” the degenerate snarled, spitting a wad of blood on his boss’s face.

  “Who is responsible?” Luc asked calmly, wiping the bloody spittle from his cheek with the back of his hand.

  “You have become weak. A sad joke. You allow the Light to live, granting all decisions to Death. Hell is no longer the powerful and feared realm it was designed to be. We will no longer follow you!” he screamed as Lucifer twisted the knife in his Lieutenant's belly.

  “Who is behind the attempted assissination of the Counterbalance?” Luc snarled, the sticky crimson plasma running down the blade onto his hand.

  “The Widow will die. She is nothing. So soft,” the demon chuckled, his teeth stained red.

  “You’ll see how soft she is,” Lucifer whispered, “She’s going to kill you, traitorous scum, and I will watch her. You will not be sentenced- You will die screaming.”

  “She will redeem me!” the hellion yelled as The King of Hell shoved his other hand inside the fiend’s chest cavity, ripping the malignant soul free from its host before flinging it to purgatory.

  Luc’s memories flashed through my head quickly, one vile act after another. The Widow will die. The Widow is weak. Pathetic. Widow. Widow. Widow! Rage slithered through my body as the damned word pounded itself into my psyche, the vivid images of the demise and debasement of those responsible causing my body to tremble with excitement.

  The next scene was Lucifer’s hands wrapping around the throat of a female demon, the muscles in his forearms pronounced and straining. The woman was trying to speak, her forked tongue thrashing about, her eyes bulging from their sockets. “TELL ME!” Satan bellowed as he released her.

  Gasping for breath, the succubus stared at her master with black pits for eyes. “It’s not too late. Take her, Great Lord. Take the Widow! The true Counterbalance is dead, and she is but a ripe peach for you to pluck from the vine. You will rule all! Feel her writhe under you as you absorb what is rightfully yours! You will be unmatched for eternity! She’s nothing but a grieving husk!”

  Stumbling backward, I cried out as I broke free from his hold. Lucinda stepped to my side, snarling, her viper rising to stare into Lucifer’s face. “Shh, pretty pet,” he cooed at my serpent. “Your Mistress is fine, isn’t she?” he questioned, a smirk tipping his lips, “She likes it.”

  “I will never be yours,” I snapped, still living the memory I just witnessed.

  “Perhaps not. But you’re here now.” He stepped closer, invading my space, the dancing flames in his eyes seering into my brain, promising avengement and punishment for all involved in my ultimate loss. “Reap your revenge, My Queen. Feel your power,” he crooned, his hand settling on my lower back, pulling me closer to him. “Slay with me.”

  His voice was like a soothing intoxicant, numbing what was left of my humanity. I felt power oozing from my pores, inundating the air with the greenish-grey color of my realm. The words from his memories fueling my fury: He’s dead. Callon is dead. Death is dead. Widow. Weak. Kill her. Dead. Dead. Death!

  I felt a scream rip loose from my throat while I let the strength of my mantle tear into the bodies of the demons around me, my intent powering the flow. “WHERE IS HE?” I screamed as I ripped and gouged at the tattered souls and vessels surrounding me. Black sludge from demolished souls ran across the floor in rivers, shrieks of pain, terror, and shock reverberating off the stone walls.

  Lucifer worked next to me, his brutal methods of torture honed to a fine art. Blood and bits of flesh joined the fluid from destroyed souls saturating my white shirt, my hair sticking to my face as I repeated my demands to the now terrified victims, defenseless against us.

  My heart beat fast in my chest, and I could feel the adrenaline race through my veins as one after another, I destroyed the souls, wiping them from existence as if they never lived. Luc praised me, his satin-smooth voice justifying and condoning every vile act of misery I bestowed upon my prey. His acceptance embraced me, the encouragement he offered so freely opening dark chambers in my mind; places of degradation addictive in their pull.

  I felt his dominant presence behind me, his hand on my waist, gently pulling me against his frame as my rampant power continued to batter the damned beings in the room. I leaned my head back onto his shoulder, my eyelids falling to half-mast as his dark magic tempted me. Want. Lust. Control. Pain. Acceptance. POWER. My body quivered with desire.

  Unexpectedly, a vision blasted into my mind, crystal-clear and focused, shoving all other thoughts aside. It was Callon, leaning over me, his arms on either side of my head. His silver eyes sparkled, the moon reflecting just enough light to showcase his strong jaw and chiseled features. His mouth drew up in a sexy smile before his lips captured mine, scattering my focus. He tasted of aged whiskey and his scent flooded my senses. Nibbling my ear lobe, his heated breath sent shivers through me as he whispered ‘I love you’.

  The memory faded only to
be replaced by another, just as vivid. I was in the shower, my arms braced against the tile walls, warm water running down my body. Callon was behind me, filling me with his solid length. One hand held my hip tightly, the other was cupped around my throat, his teeth nipping the back of my neck. His hips pistoned forward and I cried out with the exquisite pleasure of his domination, his growled words branding themselves into my core. ‘You are mine, Amara. For eternity. MINE.’

  I jerked myself away from Lucifer, my eyes taking in the absolute carnage I inflicted displayed around me. “I can’t. I won’t!” I screamed, as I placing my hand on Lucinda’s head and racing from Hell, falling to my knees in Death’s realm.

  Better Than Me

  The calming void I called home wrapped me in the peace of absence, the subtle glow whispering to me as my pulse slowed and my breathing returned to normal. My eyes assessed the mess of blood and fleshy bits covering my pants and boots. The shirt and jacket Lucifer glamoured for me was now gone and I instinctually covered my chest as I rose to my feet and walked the few feet to my front door.

  Lucinda trotted through the entrance and immediately flopped out on the living room floor, seemingly pleased to be back home. I walked straight into the bathroom, turning the shower on hot, steam bellowing from the glass stall. My mind was a whirlwind of emotions, with guilt taking center stage as I removed my boots and peeled off the sticky, blood-crusted pants.I rolled them up and threw them in the garbage before stepping under the scalding stream.

  I watched the drain greedily suck up the black and red tinged water as it flowed in filthy rivulets from my hair, face and neck. My mind recalled visions of the vile things I just did and I swallowed the bile crawling up my throat.