The Sin of Wrath stopped at the door, his low deadly growl making the floor shake. The wood of the door began to burn and blacken as he turned his head back toward the one who was foolish enough to insult him. The mortal that had gotten in his way earlier was forgotten; his new target had drawn his fury. Cracking his neck to one side he started for Belor, each footstep leaving a burning mark on the ground. His clothing disintegrated from his body as the fire raged around him in a wild torrent of madness.
Belor stumbled back, hissing through his teeth. “You have a better idea? I’m all ears.”
“How about not pissing off the Sin of Wrath for fucking starters, Belor!”
Tanus looked to his side at the other voice that spoke. Ze paused, his eyes going wide. “Shit. Okay, Tanus. How about we just sit down and drink? Sound good?”
Tanus locked his eyes on Ze, turning to face him fully, and the demon sighed. “Okay, how is this fair? You’re the one who called him a girl, Belor!” Tanus watched his target back up a step. Good, he was scared, perfect prey.
“Not my fault you’re prettier!”
“Fuck you!” Ze glared at Belor as Tanus walked toward him. With each step, more of his demon form emerged. His skin began to darken to royal blue, his long leathery wings seemed to emerge from the flames that burned out of control around him.
“Asmodeus! I can see you hiding by the door. Do something!” Ze called out to Lust who was watching from the doorway. Tanus figured his target was attempting to recruit more allies. They were all too scared to engage. Cowards.
“I’m so not getting involved in this, Ze.” The shimmering golden mist remained by the door as the Sin of Wrath smiled at his prey. With a roar, he charged. Ze narrowed his silver eyes and used his brother’s momentum and rage to slip past, letting him run headfirst into the wall. He glared at his traitorous kin.
“I fucking hate the lot of you.” Tanus roared and turned, charging again. Ze grabbed his rage-blinded sibling around the head and neck, trying to prevent him moving. Tanus began to lay into Ze’s stomach with his fist, forcing the air from his brother’s lungs.
“Thousand gold on Satanus.” Mammon leaned back against the wall watching the fight.
Belor joined him. “I’ll take that bet.”
“You two are positively evil… five thousand on Ze.” Asmodeus joined them, coalescing into a human form just as Tanus got Ze in a chokehold. All three bothers winced at once.
“Woooo, ouch. That will be five thousand gold, Asmodeus.” Mammon grinned wide, watching Ze scowl at him, his face going a lovely shade of blue from lack of oxygen.
“Soul… ess… bas… tards…” Ze managed to choke out the words.
“Save your oxygen for fighting, Ze! Come on!” Mammon nodded enthusiastically and gave him the thumbs up with a smirk.
Asmodeus rolled his eyes and sighed. Pushing off the wall he walked toward the fighting pair. How come he was always having to calm Wrath?
“Tanus, bro? I’ve got a hot pair on for tonight. Seriously, twins, brother. Decide, Wrath…” He moved so he could lock his eyes on the raging demon. Tanus had his attention locked on Asmodeus, but he had not released Ze from the chokehold. “Killing Ze… or fucking two killer-hot women. Kill or fuck? Pick.”
Tanus scented the air. He knew this one. He was blood, he brought good women—he could kill later. He dropped Ze and straightened, looking down at his brother. The fire vanished. He blinked and frowned, and just like that the demon switched and the rage was gone.
“What’re you doin’ on the floor, Ze? Shit, bro, you lose something? Did you mention twins just now, Asmodeus?” He grinned wide and stepped over his coughing, gasping brother to join the others. He gestured back at Ze, nodding to Mammon, Belor, and Asmodeus with confusion. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing. He is having stomach issues, ya know, too much wine.” Mammon grinned. Ze just growled from the floor, Tanus looking between them.
“I fucking hate you bastards,” Ze’s coarse voice grumbled. All the demons, save Tanus and the half-dead Ze, burst into roaring laughter. Tanus shook his head. Clearly, he had missed the joke again. It seemed to happen a lot.
Tan had felt it, just like he had been inside that body, yet not. Every surge of anger and rage. Yet he had seen his brothers as clear as day, almost like he stood with them watching as a third person in this fucked-up movie show. The memory shifted like a tornado, spinning his world. He felt unsteady; he didn’t know what was real. Could this all be a trick of the Malakhim? The Malakhim, the angels, he knew them. Then the name was ripped from him for a moment, a torrent of pieces flashing in his mind before one large fragment fell into place.
“Blood of my blood, Sin of Wrath. Come forth. I call thee. My son, arise!”
A command—from who? What? What’s happening? I am… I am alive. Where am I? My chest, so heavy—something beating, it’s so loud. What is that?
“Open your eyes, son. It will take a moment for you to adjust to having a body. Take a breath, breathe for me. That’s it, Wrath. Pride, Envy, come over here, help your brother.”
“Yes, Father.” Two voices spoke in perfect unison.
The light is so bright. Who are they?
The Sin of Wrath opened his eyes and looked upon his brothers for the first time with a frown. He did not understand the concept of brother. What did brother mean? The two beings reached down and took his arms, lifting him to his feet. The moment their skin touched he felt an instant connection. Blue flame came alive on his flesh, flickering and reaching for them. They looked at him, then at one another as the one with silver eyes watched silver flames erupt on his own skin. The other, who bore wings of shimmering white feathers powdered with red, watched in fascination while red flame licked over his own flesh.
“Oh, no you don’t. Get back here.” Wrath turned to watch the man who had given him life snatch something from the air. An angry little ball of amethyst light hissed and fizzed in the grip of the awesome being now before him.
Wrath could feel it. His creator held immense power, the will to command armies He had mastery over the minds of others. Wrath could feel it all. The man that made him flesh was strong, he was powerful. Wrath suddenly couldn’t breathe, his chest tightening in his chest, the GOD before him emanated such authority Starlight eyes lifted quickly, locking on him, and the god uttered a word Wrath didn’t understand. Clearly his creator was angry for some reason.
“Dammit, Lust. I really don’t have time for you to be acting up! I don’t have a body ready!” He spoke to the glowing purple ball gripped in his fist. His haunting eyes never left Wrath.
Envy reached for Wrath, clearly uneasy. “I do not know what to do.”
Pride looked at Envy and nodded. He moved to Wrath’s side and knelt by his new brother. “You must be calm. He is our Father, he made us. Give it time, brother. You will adjust.”
Wrath look at Pride. One word came to his mind: leader. He nodded but the burning that had started in his chest had not gone away. He rubbed over his chest and the man called Father frowned.
“I fear you may have the worst of it, my boy…” Wrath watched as he paused and looked at his closed fist. The purple glow was trying to force its way out of his hand. The man, no, his father, must have come up with an idea because he smiled. “Wrath, come here to me, son.”
Pride took an arm and helped him stand, Envy moving to his other side, helping him adjust to his new body. Brotherhood, the word came to him; yes, this was what it was. They stopped before their father and he reached for Wrath.
“Lust here is going to find a way out of Hades if I try and keep him locked up any longer. It will take too long to make him a body like I have done with you three. So, I’m going to do something a little drastic. Sorry about this, Wrath—good thing you won’t remember any of this in the future.” His father looked at the pulsing purple light, said a word that sent power thrumming through the room, and the small ball froze. He opened his hand and the little ball hovered beside him. He left it flo
ating in the air, turning to look at Wrath. “Pride, Envy. Hold his arms tightly.” They frowned but obeyed.
Wrath did not struggle. He had no reason to, not even when his father punched through his chest and pulled out his heart. He blinked, watching the beating thing being removed. Didn’t he need that? How was he still alive? Okay, pain, pain bad. The pain was… he couldn’t describe it. How he was still breathing he didn’t understand. Even Envy and Pride looked at one another, then him, and back to where their father was ripping the heart into two pieces.
“There, that should do it.” Taking one half, he placed it back into the open bleeding cavity of Wrath’s chest and waved his hand. Wrath convulsed and sucked in a huge breath of air. Then he felt the thud, thud of his heart again. Envy and Pride released his arms and he pressed his hand over his heart. It was still there. His siblings did the same, clearly fascinated by this magic.
“You are not dead. This is good.” Pride nodded.
“Yes, very good.” Envy smacked him on the shoulder, and all three turned to watch what their father was doing with the other half of Wrath’s heart.
“Okay, quick and dirty, I’m afraid.” He put the half heart down on the chamber floor where Wrath had been lying only moments before. Lifting his wrist above it, he took out his obsidian blade and sliced along his inner arm, deep red blood welling along the wound. Wrath watched it spill down to the floor, covering the still-beating half-organ. His father’s blood seemed to shimmer and glitter as the heart began to absorb it and grow in size.
“All right. Wrath, I need you again.”
This time he paused, looking at his father with a bit of skepticism. “You are not going to rip anything else out, are you, Father?” Wariness was in his voice.
Hades grinned and shook his head, “No, dear boy. I swear, I just need some blood. It is for your brother Lust. He needs a body very quickly, you see. I don’t have time to make a solid one like you and your older brothers. Lust is impatient, and too good of an escape artist. So this will have to do. I just hope it does not lose its form over time. That would be unfortunate for him, but maybe unavoidable. So Wrath, will you help your twin brother be born?”
Twin? He didn’t know what it meant, but it sounded special. He nodded and stepped forward. Hades offered him the dagger, hilt first, and Wrath took it, looking over the black glass with reverence. He did not hesitate, he placed the blade to his inner arm as his father had done and cut along the length. Only the barest twitch of his lip indicated that he experienced any pain. His blood flowed, mingling with the god’s on the cavern floor. Wrath watched as his father grabbed the floating purple ball that was trying desperately to break free of its confines.
“Alright, Lust. Time to be reborn. I can see I am going to have trouble with you already.” Hades literally flicked the marble-sized ball of energy into the flowing blood, the ball shrieking in defeat.
Wrath shielded his eyes at the explosion of amethyst light and stepped back. Envy grabbed his arm as he swayed a little from blood loss. Pride took hold of his other arm and quickly wrapped it to stop the bleeding, but Wrath’s eyes were locked on the light that was forming the shape of a man.
“Blood of my blood, Sin of Lust. Come forth. I call thee. My son, twin of Wrath. Rise and be reborn!”
Wrath watched the body form in wonder. Then it took a deep breath, eyes flying open, deep sparkling purple in color. His new brother looked around wildly, confusion etched all over his face. He looked at Hades with a frown and touched his body all over. Lifting one hand, he looked at his fingers. Lust opened and closed his hand, making a fist for a moment before looking around the chamber. His eyes moved from Hades to Envy to Pride and stopped on Wrath. He smiled wide the second their eyes met, and Wrath instantly smile back.
Lust spoke and Wrath felt their instant bond. “Brother.”
Asmodeus, oh God, how could he have forgotten him? Guilt tore at him like the teeth of some great beast. He must have been beside himself with worry. Tanus felt sick to his stomach. His brother, his other half, the only one who always calmed him. They had shared every first experience together, protected each other, sworn to one another they would not allow the other to sink into darkness. Tanus wanted to crawl under a rock. How could he have left him? Clearly this power, whatever it was, had not finished with him. He felt the ground shift again, his head spinning, and he was thrown back into the maelstrom.
His ears were ringing. Tanus groaned, shaking his head, trying to clear it. His body ached all over, and he was pretty sure he had rock shards imbedded in his back. Blinking, he pushed himself up to his knees. When had it gotten dark? Cracking his jaw, he looked around the chamber. Where in the hell was everyone? He’d just been standing beside Abaddon when the world exploded. What the fuck?
He stumbled to his feet, then fell back against the wall, blinking, unable to comprehend for a second the wave of feathered freaks entering the chamber. The chamber, Hades, Pandora’s Box, Isabelle! Pushing off the wall he roared, making the chamber shake, and hoping it shocked some of his passed-out kin into action. He opened the flood gates on his fury and dived at the closest angel, tackling him around the waist and causing him to slip on the shattered rock. Tanus felt the hard blows to his back driving the rock shards deeper, but he ignored them, pulling on his demon soul. His nails morphed into deadly talons and he sunk them into the gut of the angelic being and tore downward. He had to give the bastard credit, he fought back despite the deep wounds to his abdomen. The angel rapidly retreated and Tanus straightened, taking stock of the room.
The sounds of battle filled the cavern, cries and roars of angels and demons. The scent of blood and flashing flames mingled with angelic light mimicking the fictional biblical battles of good and evil. Tanus was in his element. He released his hold on his human form, his demon emerging from within. Heat ebbed from his body, causing the rocks around him to heat and begin to melt. His gaze found Michael. Then the whole world came to a stop and he could do nothing but watch as if in slow motion.
A bright shaft of light left the angelic weapon and shot straight through his father as if he were nothing. Hades fell to his knees, and for the first time in centuries Tanus felt a real sense of fear that he might lose someone he cared about. The last time had been when Mammon was taken from them by the very man who now stared down the Archangel Michael, even though he was bleeding out and faced down a weapon that would most assuredly kill him. Tanus respected Hades more in that moment than he ever had before. He saw in his father, then, the man he had once been all those millennia ago, when he had created seven sons to protect the world.
He would not allow his father to die here, not by the hand of some jumped-up angelic asswipe. He made a move to intervene, stopping short only because a blur of green got there before him. He watched Mammon, his youngest brother, face down the leader of the Malakhim in full demon form. Proud didn’t even begin to describe how he felt in that second. As much as he hated to admit it, five hundred years in the Pit had changed his brother.
Mammon was stronger and harder, and thanks to Isabelle, he was a far better man than before. Michael’s words filled the chamber, and Tanus could see the rage and fury pouring off the angel. The sin that saturated Michael was almost choking in its intensity.
“Protecting Daddy, how nice. You must be that bastard who claimed my Seer. Not to worry, she will be mine again, and if she fights, she dies. What is it humans say? Plenty more fish in the sea. I can find another.” Tanus watched Michael wipe blood from his lips, then point the blade at Mammon. “A god may survive this blade, but a demon? Let’s see, shall we?”
Tanus’ growl was lethal. No one pointed a weapon at his little brother! He charged as the blade gathered its power, and Mammon stood between it and their father. He knew his kid brother; he was not about to move. Tanus reached Michael just a second before the blade fired, sending the arc of light flying off course. It struck the rock wall behind Mammon’s head. Tanus clamped his clawed hand down on Michael’s
wrist, feeling the bone cracking and the tendons tearing. The sword fell from his useless hand. And foolishly for a second Tanus thought he had done well. Michael gave him an unimpressed look, and the next second he was spinning those deadly feathers of his, slicing through demon flesh as if it were paper.
It took Tanus a moment to realize what had happened—the burning heat of being eviscerated took a second to reach his anger-filled brain. He stumbled back, falling to his knees and covering the gaping wound across his stomach, trying to stop anything major from falling from his body. Blood poured down his legs, pooling around him. Fuck, shit. Not good, no healing from this. His blood poured over his hands and arm, his eyes meeting Mammon’s. His brother’s eyes were wide in shock. Tanus frowned. Silly kid, he needed to fight. Didn’t he remembered anything he had been taught? He wanted to shout at the stupid idiot—“fight, now, don’t let him win!”
His eyes met Hades. Had Father actually reached for him? Tanus felt a little lightheaded—so this is what dying felt like? He guessed he could forgive Hades. He was the man who made him, he was his father. “Oh crap, Asmodeus, brother. I’m sorry. Forgive a stubborn bastard like me, okay?” This wasn’t so bad, no more rage, no more fury. No more fear that he would one day kill one of his own family. That would be a blessing.
He felt a bite of pain and hissed as Michael pulled his head back making him focus on the angel. “Fucker, let me die in peace!” The look in the angel’s eyes told him Michael was not going to just let him die. Tanus tried to struggle but his legs slid in his own blood. He couldn’t get any traction on the cavern floor, and the more he moved the more blood left his body. Black spots began to cover his vision when the condescending tone from the angelic fuckface blasted through the death haze he was feeling.
“Wrath, right? You are pitiful. Always trying so hard to control that which you should embrace. Tell you what, let’s give you some real wrath to experience, shall we?”
Wrath's Patience (Seven Deadly Sins Book 3) Page 26