by Mandy Lee
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Katia looked down at Luc’s unconscious form, guilt tearing at her conscience. She’d actually done it. With a shaking hand, she reached forward and brushed an errant lock of golden hair off his cheek. She’d almost changed her mind, but the image of her brother’s bruised and bleeding face had driven her on. Just a little prick of the needle once he’d fallen asleep, that was all. He’d hate her when he woke, and that made her die a little inside. As she lay beside Luc, basking in the glow of love, she reached under her pillow and grabbed the syringe Amir had given her. The white liquid looked so harmless, but Amir had assured her that it was one of the few drugs capable of knocking out an immortal. Without giving herself time to back down, Katia had injected the Propofol into the man she loved. He hadn’t even stirred.
Katia got up and headed toward the doorway. Time to go. No doubt this would be the last time she’d ever see him. Glancing back at Luc one last time, Katia hoped that one day he'd be able to forgive her. “I’m so sorry. I love you.”
Steeling herself, Katia marched into the living room where Amir sat nursing a drink. He looked up at her with a sober expression as she entered.
“Is it done?” he asked quietly.
Unable to bring herself to speak past the lump in her throat, Katia nodded stiffly and dropped down on the couch beside him. Tossing back the last of his drink, Amir sighed and leaned over to place the glass on the coffee table.
“He’s going to kick the shit out of me when he wakes up...and I’ll probably let him.” He said.
Biting her lip, Katia gave Amir an apologetic look. “I’m sorry I put you in the middle of this. I just can’t…”
Amir cut off her explanation. “I get it. You don’t need to explain.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Amir, can you promise me one last thing?”
He looked at her with sad eyes, knowing that suicide missions had better odds of success than this one. “Anything,” he said.
“No matter how angry he is, please make sure he knows that I love him,” Katia said, her voice trembling as tears burned behind her eyes, threatening to spill.
“Of course,” he said softly.
Katia took a deep breath. No more tears. Time to focus on her mission.
“So, what’s next?” she asked.
Rising from the couch, Amir headed over to a cabinet near the bar. Muttering something unintelligible, he waved his hand in front of a strange-looking lock. Katia heard the snick of the tumbler as it gave way. Opening the cabinet, Amir began to withdraw weapon after weapon, tossing them casually one by one on the couch. Once he'd liberated enough weaponry to arm a small militia, Amir re-locked the cabinet and turned to face Katia.
“Right, you’ll be going in armed. These are charmed blades. If you have a run-in with Satan they won’t stop him, his minions on the other hand, will be toast.” He picked up one of the wicked-looking daggers and handed it to Katia. “You're going to need my weapons knowledge, so get ready to hit me with your Chimera mojo.”
Examining the blade in her hand, Katia replied. “I’m not quite sure how to do that. It just seems to happen on its own.”
“I did some digging when I went topside the other day. From what I understand, you just need to focus on what you want from your source. So, think of me like a computer program full of weapons schematics and battle tactics and download me, baby,” Amir chuckled.
Giving him a light punch on the arm, Katia rolled her eyes. “You can make anything into a joke, can’t you?”
“Like I’m always telling Luc, we aim to please.” He smiled back at her.
Turning the blade to the light, Katia noticed intricate writing carved along its length. “What does this mean? Bono malum superate?”
“Ah,” Amir said, putting on his best scholarly expression. “It’s a part of the charm; it imbues the weapon with power. You know how people say — “words have power” — well, it’s true. Bono malum superate…overcome evil with good.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Katia smiled. “So, shall we try the download now? It would probably be a good idea for me to know what to do with all of this.” She motioned toward the pile of weapons.
Amir scooted over next to her on the couch. "Right, you need to focus on taking specific information and abilities from me. This is going to sound cheesy as all hell in a bad vampire movie way, but…look into my eyes.” As he spoke, Amir reached forward and placed his fingertips on both of her temples. A blast of air came at her from nowhere and burrowed into her brain. She flinched at the psychic invasion. “No, don’t fight it, Katia. I’m just trying to establish a link with you to make this easier. Most demons have some kind of psychometric ability. Just relax and let it happen.”
Taking a deep breath, Katia forced her body to relax and focused her gaze on Amir’s. She allowed herself to be drawn in to their electric color, noticing flecks of red and black she'd never noticed before. The world around her blurred as she focused her thoughts. Suddenly, she was inside Amir’s mind. Katia felt like she was flipping through a photo album, trying to find the right page as images flashed past, some pleasant, some painful. Increasing her focus, Katia was able to narrow in on what she needed. Information poured into her in a blur, her muscles twitched as scenes of sword and knife fights flashed through her mind, her body absorbing Amir’s muscle-memory. With a blast of energy, Katia and Amir were knocked apart, each landing awkwardly on opposite ends of the couch. Katia struggled to sit up again. Her brain felt too full with all the new information.
Amir began to laugh as he drew himself back up to sitting. “Wow, never thought I’d say this, but that was an actual mind fuck! My brain feels violated.”
Katia winced as she looked over at him. “Yeah, sorry about that. I realize I saw some stuff you’d probably rather not share.”
Amir gave her a crooked smile. “I figured that would happen. Just keep it to yourself and we’re good.” Picking up a dagger off the couch, Amir launched it at Katia. The dagger flew end-over-end directly at her heart. “Think fast.”
Without a second’s hesitation, Katia snatched the dagger out of the air by its hilt, moving on instinct. “Holy shit,” she breathed incredulously.
Amir pumped his fist in the air in victory. “That’s my girl!”
With more confidence in her newly acquired abilities, Katia began throwing and catching the dagger, flipping it in the air faster and faster until it was moving too quickly for the eye to track. She never faltered. “Apparently, you’re great with knives Amir.”
Grabbing a gun, Amir replied with a big grin. “You’ll be pleased to know I’m also great with guns.” He tossed the weapon to Katia, who caught it expertly by the butt. Ejecting the magazine and removing one of the bullets, she examined the casing. The same Latin inscription was carved along the side. She re-inserted the bullet and slid the mag home with a click.
“Now that I’m a weapons specialist, I might as well arm up.” She stood and began to prepare. Knives, guns, and throwing stars were taped, strapped, and clipped all over her body in a matter of moments.
“Okay, now that was hot,” said Amir, fanning his face dramatically.
“Perv,” Katia laughed.
“Don’t you know it!” he waggled his eyebrows in jest. “So, let’s go over our plan one more time. We don’t want to be leaving anything to chance here.” He said, suddenly becoming serious.
“No shit,” Katia replied.
“Right-o. I’m going to walk you directly into Halja. There are a few hallways that are relatively central, but don’t get used much, so I’ll drop you there. You’ll have to get in and out as quickly as possible. I’ll keep the doorway open. Once I close a rift, time moves differently; the same walk can take five minutes one time and five hours the next.”
Katia took a big breath and nodded. “Okay, will Satan know I’m there?”
“Halja is basically an extension of him. A deep part of his subconscious will know you're there,” Amir
explained.
“Good to know. Just try to make sure we end up near the dungeons.”
“Will do,” Amir replied. “Ready to head out? The sooner we get going, the sooner I can extract you. And one more thing, Satan can’t force you into a binding ritual. It has to be done of your own free will…so for Sheol’s sake, if he captures you, don’t agree. At risk of sounding dramatic, the fate of the universe depends on it.”
Taking one last fleeting look toward the bedroom where Luc was lying drugged, Katia steeled her nerves and nodded. “Let’s do this.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Luc was furious and there was nothing he could do about it. This was by far the worst feeling in the world. His brain was online and alert; his body was paralyzed. He’d heard Katia whisper, “I’m so sorry” and “I love you,” as he’d raged against the chemical prison that kept him locked inside his head.
He understood why Katia had done it, but how could Amir not have warned him? He was utterly useless to her right now. He would never have been okay her going after her brother, particularly alone. It was a no-win situation and he was a selfish bastard who couldn’t risk losing her. That’s why she’d done it this way, she hadn't wanted him to bear the weight of standing in her path. Luc felt tears running out the corners of his closed eyes. He would gladly change places with her if he could. He could take whatever punishment Satan had in store if he could only ensure her safety.
On impulse, Luc did something he'd never done before — he sent out a psychic call to any angel listening. He knew the odds were almost zero, but hoped against hope, that even though he was in Outer-Sheol someone would hear him.
He didn’t know how much time passed, it could have been minutes or hours, when an electric charge filled the room; the vibrations felt strangely familiar. Luc’s breath caught, someone had heard his plea. He didn’t know how it was possible; angels weren’t allowed into Sheol, but he had never been so relieved. A voice Luc hadn’t heard for centuries sounded in the room.
“Lucifer Morningstar, it has been a very long time.”
If he could have, Luc would have laughed out loud, Karma was a bitch with a sense of humor. This was the last angel he’d expected to hear from ever again — Metatron. Beggars couldn't be choosers. Luc’s ego was stripped bare at the prospect of losing Katia.
Please help me. Give me the strength to save her. No matter what I’ve done she doesn’t deserve to be at the mercy of Satan.
“Agreed,” said Metatron, answering Luc's psychic plea aloud. "Though I'm not sure why you have any desire to assist her."
Frustration lit up Luc’s thoughts as he replied. Then why did you come to me? Why you, after all this time?
“I’m ashamed to admit it, but I was always envious of your gift for putting your own wishes ahead of those who looked up to you.”
Do you honestly think I can't see what a selfish asshold I was back then? That I haven't relived my mistakes a million times, making a million different choices? The pain I’ve caused, the things I’ve done...
“I’ve kept watch over you all this time, Morningstar. I’m aware of what you’ve suffered. Despite all you’ve done, I still think of you as a brother.”
Surprise at this revelation momentarily distracted Luc, but he quickly got back to the issue at hand. How are you here? Why have you come?
“So many questions — I see some things never change,” Metatron replied with a touch of humor. “Satan has upset the balance in his attempt to bind himself to the Chimera. We are unsure if he is aware; however, once Katia stepped foot in Halja, the traditional rules no longer applied. Angels can temporarily cross over into Sheol. As for why I’ve responded to your call, I’m here to offer you a choice.”
What kind of choice?
“Essentially, to offer you what you’ve always wanted — free will, freedom from service to the light or the dark, the ability to live your immortal life as you choose.”
What’s the catch?
“Should you accept this offer, you will no longer be able to enter Sheol. You must allow events here to unfold as they will.”
But what about Katia? I won’t be able to help her...
“No, I would deposit you in the human realm and leave you there.”
I love her. I can’t just abandon her here.
“There is one other option. You can accept your freedom with the stipulations I’ve already outlined or you can go after your Katia. I will even take you there. But, if you choose that course you must forfeit your immortality. Essentially, you will be entering Halja as a human, with all their inherent weaknesses. Should you die in Halja, your soul will belong to Satan. You would effectively be trading your life for the slim chance of saving hers.”
Luc laughed at the irony. He was being offered everything he’d ever wanted, yet suddenly none of it seemed important. He knew from the depths of his soul that he would be willing to suffer anything for the tiniest chance of saving Katia. She had given him her love — a gift more precious than anything in this world or the next.
Make me human. I’m going after her.
“You’re willing to give up everything you’ve ever wanted for this woman?” Metatron asked incredulously. “That is certainly not the Lucifer I remember.”
No offense, but can we pause the chat and get the show on the road?
“As you wish.”
Luc felt the warm brush of Metatron’s hand over his brow. His frozen body immediately began responding to his commands. Sitting up too fast, he felt dizziness overcome him. Blinking at the light in the room, Luc finally got a good look at his old acquaintance. Metatron had always been the formal one, the quiet one, the observer of life. His strict adherence to the rules and his constant drive to be the epitome of angelic perfection were what had made him the perfect choice to act as the voice of judgement.
As he sat there staring at Metatron, Luc suddenly felt the immortal strength leach out of his body. Weakness was something he’d never felt before, and definitely not something he liked very much. He was now subject to the passage of time, physical ailment, and injury. Glancing down at his bare chest, Luc watched as the blackened veins on his chest retracted and his sigil disappeared as though it had never been.
“Well, Morningstar, or I suppose I should just call you Luc now, welcome to the human race.”
“Thanks...don’t take this the wrong way Metatron, but I’d like to get to Halja now, if you don’t mind,” Luc said pointedly.
Smiling wryly, Metatron replied, “Always the impatient one.” He waved Luc forward to stand beside him. “As you wish.”
Rising, Luc stood beside Metatron and placed his hand on the angel’s shoulder. He only had time to take one deep breath before they disappeared in a blinding flash of light.
Chapter Thirty
Katia crept quietly down yet another steep stone staircase. Maybe this one would lead her to the dungeon and her brother. The back of her neck had been prickling non-stop since she had arrived. Halja was impressive in a super creepy way. Hallways twisted and turned, circling back on themselves like a nightmare labrynth. Fear snaked up her spine as she pressed on. She was the new kid in the Devil’s playground — she hadn’t been invited to play, and didn’t know the rules of the game. She had yet to meet up with any demons and was keeping her fingers crossed it would stay that way. Katia was terrified, but for some reason she knew in her heart that she would succeed. Her brother would be freed, and she would return to Luc.
Katia had just reached the landing and taken one step into the next corridor when a crossbow bolt slammed into the wall inches from her head. The battle instincts she’d skimmed from Amir kicked in and she dropped to the floor, rolling and grabbing for the pistol strapped to her leg. As she swung back up into a sitting position, she fired one of the charmed rounds directly into her assailant’s head in one smooth movement. Her senses took a moment to catch up with the superhuman speed with which she’d managed to dispatch her demonic attacker, but when they did she f
ound herself on her feet staring down at his face. Red eyes open and unseeing, a trail of blood seeping from the bullet wound in his forehead. His blue skin was turning a mottled gray that matched the stone flooring like some kind of hellish chameleon. Before today she’d never thought she’d have the stomach to kill, but when the time had come Katia hadn’t flinched. Her eyes flicked to the side and she saw the crossbow lying on the floor. Figuring it couldn’t hurt to get a look at what had almost lodged in her head, Katia reached up and wrenched the bolt out of the wall. Much like her rounds, these bolts were charmed. Along the shaft were the words in nomine diaboli. In the name of the Devil. Katia needed no translation, and it was clear that these bolts had been charmed to slow down any immortal that had the audacity to breach the Devil’s lair.
Footsteps echoed from somewhere down a far corridor jerking Katia out of her head and into action. The sound of the gun firing had given away her position. Keeping the weapon in her hand, Katia took off down the hallway at a run; the sound of her boots hitting the stone floor pounded in her ears. Katia swept her gaze back and forth across the hallway as she moved. Attention on high alert, she began to pass large barred metal doors at varying intervals. Dried blood caked the mortar between the stones on the floor. A hissing noise and the occasional burst of heat blasting down the hallway told her that she was nearing a boiler room. As she continued farther into the prison area hands began to reach toward her through the barred doors. Blackened and torn skin, blood dripping from open wounds, the prisoners called to her, begging for release from their own personal hell. Katia slowed her pace peeking in at the haggard and drawn faces as they looked out at her with false hope. Her brother wasn’t here.