Greed's Charity (Seven Deadly Sins Book 1)

by R. A. Pollard

  Asmodeus roared and launched himself at the angel, tackling him from the bed and sending him into the wall. The plaster fractured, falling to the carpet as Asmodeus and the angel wrestled on the floor, crushing furniture in the tussle. Cercyn gasped and gripped the sword which still impaled him. He rolled from the bed, crashing to the floor with a cry.

  Fists flew. The sound of wings beating and growling male voices drowned out the pained moans of the dying man. Isabelle moved quickly to Cercyn’s side.

  The demon tried to pull her behind him. “My Seer…please you must leave,” he hissed, voice low.

  Isabelle shook her head. Grabbing the sword by the hilt, she pulled, the blade slowly coming free and with it a fresh surge of blood from the wound. She dropped the sword and covered the bleeding hole in the demon's stomach her hands quickly becoming covered in warm blood. Oh God, his body had sustained so much damage. There was no way he could take much more.

  Cercyn closed his eyes, concentration etched on his face. He was panting hard, trying to breathe through the pain. Slowly, he opened his dawn-like eyes and focused on her. Isabelle knew in that second he would fight past it all to keep her safe. Even if it meant his death.

  Then, before her eyes, he faded into shadow. Her hand passed through him. The shadows rolling around her fingers felt cool to the touch. She could only liken it to running her hand through something silky, like cream. The shadows began to reform, taking the shape of a great hellhound, its eyes like fresh blood. The gleam of fangs caught the light, and the wounds quickly stopped bleeding. The hound growled low, bounding over the bed and landing on the back of the angel, sinking his deadly teeth into the angel’s wing.

  The whole room vibrated with the pained cry. The angel stood, trying to dislodge the hound, his hair becoming slick with gushing black blood. He reached for the beast, his face twisted in immense agony. The sound of cracking bones made Isabelle wince. His roar of pain shook the building.

  “Isabelle, get out of here!” Asmodeus shouted over the growls from the hound and the swearing of the angel. He leaped to his feet, his fist impacting the face of the angelic being, his nose exploding with a flood of black blood.

  Heart racing in her chest, Isabelle nodded. She jumped to her feet and made a break for the door. For a second the world stopped. What was she supposed to do? Run? Stay in the apartment? Breathe, she told herself. Think.

  The angel couldn’t grab her if she were around hundreds of people, right? The idea of leaving Asmodeus and Cercyn to fight on her behalf sat unwell with her, though. Running into the kitchen, she grabbed the only thing she could find to use as a weapon, although she felt foolish brandishing a large kitchen knife. Damn, if she made it through this, she was going to ask the Sins to train her to fight with something that was useful.

  A low rumble began under her feet; she was sure the whole building was shaking. A blinding light came from the half open door to the bedroom, then nothing but silence. Dropping behind the kitchen island, she covered her mouth with her hand in an effort to hide her panicked breathing. Listening intently, she could hear heavy panting and footsteps as something heavy was dragged across the tile.

  “Where are you, little Seer? Come out, come out wherever you are. Your demon friends need you. I did some damage with my last attack. Looks like they might die.” The voice was foul and cold, with a tone of child-like exuberance to it. Isabelle could tell this bastard was enjoying himself immensely.

  She kept still, just listening to the sick sound of something being dragged. She managed to catch a glimpse of Asmodeus being hauled across the floor. His blood-stained face left a red smear against the tile. Her eyes locked on the glass oven door opposite her. In the mirrored finish, she could see the reflection of the angel as he moved toward the kitchen island where she cowered. One of his wings was torn. Isabelle managed to hold in her sob of worry over Cercyn. Her body shook, and she tried to breathe lightly, but it was near impossible.

  “I can hear you breathing, little Seer. Do you want your friend here to die? Come on now, I promise I won’t kill him, if you just come with me.” Yeah, right. Sonofabitch was probably waiting until she showed her face before he killed Asmodeus in front of her, just because he could.

  Placing the knife gently between her teeth, she forced herself to move. Slowly, one hand and knee at a time, she crawled to the far end of the counter and poked her head around the edge. The angel had left Asmodeus on the floor. He was bleeding freely, blood spreading out from under his body. Isabelle could see the back of the angel as he entered one of the other rooms. It looked like Cercyn had done a number on his wing. It hung, torn at an unnatural angle. Black blood coated the feathers and dripped to the floor.

  Isabelle turned her eyes to her friend, ducking quickly as the angel emerged from the room. Isabelle could hear his footfalls as he moved around the room.

  “I am losing my patience, Seer.” His tone dripped with hostility. She heard him open the door to another room off the kitchen.

  Closing her eyes, she managed to make her throat work so she could swallow. She could hardly breathe, her chest tight with terror. Crawling over to Asmodeus, she placed her hand under his nose. The soft puffs of breath told her he still lived. Taking the knife from her teeth, she laid it on the floor beside her fallen friend. Gods, what was she supposed to do? Fuck! Her body wanted to shut down from fear. Her numb brain was unable to work out what step she should take next. The choice was wrested from her when a rush of air and blinding light exploded in the room, and she was grabbed from behind.

  A hand covered her mouth, she was lifted from the floor and clutched against a concrete-hard body. She screamed and struggled in the iron grip, to no avail.

  “There you are! Ready to fulfill your destiny, Seer?” His voice was like a million bugs crawling across her flesh. She would never see Mammon again. The thought made her sob. Her nails scratched at his wrist, but he ignored her as if she were some kind of annoying insect buzzing around him.

  Abruptly, the room began to darken. The angel looked around quickly, his prize clutched to his body. He swore in a language she didn’t understand, the frustrated growl he emitted swamped by the low menace of a snarl from behind them. It promised death. It made you accept that there were evil things in the dark and this growl belonged to one of them. The angel turned to face the hellhound as he limped into the room.

  “How the fuck are you still alive? How many times do I have to kill you?” The hound snarled and charged, going for the ankles, his deadly teeth snapping at the air. The angel danced back, crashing into the kitchen counter, which caused him to drop Isabelle. She fell to the floor, her knees screaming in pain. Not about to waste her chance, she slid across the tile, through the cooling blood. Grabbing the knife, she’d left in the floor next to Asmodeus, she turned and brought it down as hard as she could into the angel’s thigh as he stepped forward and reached for her.

  He cried out, his hand going for the blade, eyes locked on her, promising retribution. The small distraction was all Cercyn needed. He skidded in low, his teeth sinking deep into the angel’s ankle. With a snarl, he turned and kicked the hound in the chest. The sound of breaking bone turned Isabelle’s stomach, as the beast was flung across the room, coming to rest against the back of the couch.

  The angel was panting now, his teeth bared as if were some beast. He turned on her again. “Fucking demon whore.” He spat the insult, madness in his icy eyes.

  Isabelle slid backward across the floor, once more through Asmodeus’s blood. She felt the wall behind her and wished she had kept the knife instead of leaving it in the angel’s leg. But he at least seemed to be in severe pain now. He was limping badly, leaving a trail of black blood on the tile. He looked like death, his eyes sunken, his dark hair plastered to his face. Slowly he advanced towards her, a sick smile spreading on his lips.

  “I’m not playing any more, bitch!”

  Isabelle closed her eyes. Think! Think! A memory struck her like lightning. She cou
ld almost see it playing before her. In the dream, Ilianna stood before her in the field of bright green grass and amazing blue sky. The woman’s lips were moving, the memory taking hold. “Yes, your powers go so much deeper than just experiencing what another feels. Being able to influence the emotions of others, to calm or instill fear if need be.” Instill fear. A sense of calm, like cool water washed over her mind and soul, slowly Isabelle opened her eyes. The angel stopped his progression and frowned, a wary expression spreading over his face.

  She felt such peace in that timeless second. The fear and the pain were gone. No longer did she worry for her male, or her friends. Her eyes pinned the angel and slowly she got to her feet using the wall behind her. She could feel the energy around her like sparking flames licking at her flesh. It called to her—she recognized this. She knew those waves of energy. Recognized the emotional echoes, and she knew how to use them. Reaching out, she pulled them into her body. The rush of power surged through her veins. Her mind had one goal: to instill fear in a being that had never experienced such an emotion before.

  She could see the aura of the angel around his body, black and grey, mixed with muted red and dirty brown. The black and grey swirled together around him like a misty halo. There was no brightness, no joy, no happiness. He was dark, she could see no good in him. Isabelle focused on the grey, she knew this was his fear showing.

  “What are you doing?” Terror began to leak into his voice. She could tell he knew something had changed; she had changed.

  Isabelle reached into this being before her, filling his soul with feelings of pain and anguish. Using her own terror as a blueprint, she sent it back into him exponentially. Using her past to help her, the years of being alone. She could felt it as it, rushed from her like water washing over him. She knew him then, knew his name, his very soul was exposed to her. When she spoke, her voice sounded so far away. Words came from her lips, but her voice…that couldn’t be her, could it? She felt the power pounding through her blood, the power of the Seers.

  Clearly the Seer didn’t know she was glowing, or that her violet eyes were swirling like small galaxies of purple and silver light. She was freaking him the fuck out. Where did she get this much power from? He felt her power wash over him, gripping at his heart like a fist. “Raphael, you have sinned. Your fate has been written. The path you take is filled with blood. Rivers will run black, your wings rendered useless.” Raphael backed away from her, almost slipping in his own blood. Her voice, it sent chills over his flesh, it rang with destiny. His heart stuttered, and he gripped the spot over it, sweat beading on his forehead.

  “Take it back, bitch! We do this for the world! How dare you curse my calling!” The words she spoke seemed to ring in his skull, over and over, getting louder and louder. His blood felt like it was on fire in his veins. He gripped his head, pulling at his hair, terror winding around his heart, stopping the very air from filling his lungs.

  Falling to his knees, Raphael gripped his head as agony ripped through him. Opening his eyes, he focused on the Seer. Her eyes swirled. He had only seen that happen with one other woman—The Oracle—the one destined for his commander. The very reason Michael was a cold son of a bitch today. He had never felt such loneliness, such soul crushing fear. This was her doing! She was evoking all this within his heart. He cried out, bending over until his head touched the floor. His mind was battered by emotions he didn’t understand and could never comprehend.

  Isabelle’s head was beginning to ache, the pain radiating down her face. A warm trickle of blood came from her nose. She wasn’t going to stop, not until he was out cold, unable to harm her or her friends again. Lights danced before her eyes. She needed help. Her head felt like it was going to split open. She reached for someone—anyone—to help her.

  Her answer came in a brilliant white flash and scorching heat. Her head pounded, vision blurred by phantom lights. She lowered her head to the floor, fearful more angels had arrived as darkness swamped her vision.

  “You summoned, beautiful?” The voice was liquid honey and sun. Apollo. Isabelle let out a sob as darkness claimed her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Raphael felt the pain ease in his brain and let out a truly feral hiss. He was going to make the bitch pay for that. Michael needed her alive, that was all. He didn’t specify she needed to have limbs or the ability to talk.

  He felt dizzy, his head swimming. Pain radiated down his spine, robbing his body of control. It was like she had short circuited his brain. It took a few moments to gather his wits. There was a flash of light in the room, and he sneered. His brothers had arrived. Lifting his head to greet them, he came face to face with a blazing god, his sky-blue eyes shimmering brightly. He knew this god, fucking flamboyant bastard.

  “Apollo, what the fuck are you doing? Why are you getting involved in this?” Raphael was shaking, the effort to speak sapping his energy.

  “Let’s just say I have an investment in the future. But clearly she had you on the ropes all by herself. Just think angel, you got your ass handed to you by a mortal girl. That’s gotta sting.” Apollo took a small step back as the angel reached for him, missing by a mile, and fell back to the floor.

  “Invested? What a fucking joke! You’re in this for something. No way would you involve yourself otherwise.” Raphael sneered at the god, trying to not look like a pathetic moron who could barely stand.

  “You know nothing of my motivations. You’re not the only ones who lives in this world, angel. You, Raphael, are a sycophant following behind Michael’s boot heels, begging for scraps from his table. I’ve got to give Michael some credit, though. He knows how to keep you stupid Malakhim pleading for more. I know Michael. When you return without the female, he will punish you, quite severely I imagine. As I am not the kind of man to rob you of such a valuable learning experience, I’ll give you a little helping hand.” The god waved his hand, and Raphael roared out in agony before he vanished from the room.

  Apollo looked around at the carnage. Red and black blood mixed on the tile floor. The Sin of Lust was unconscious, no doubt due to the nasty wound that ran from shoulder to hip. Beside the couch lay a second demon, his body in the infamous hellhound form. He looked even worse. Apollo knew him as one of the Cerberus triplets.

  He then turned his gaze on the Seer. Now she was a surprise. Not only had she managed to settle those unpredictable powers of hers, but she had also discovered how to amplify and project those emotions in others. If she had become this powerful after only a few days in Mammon’s company, how powerful could she potentially become? She had made quite an impression on him. He wasn’t about to let anything to happen to her. Not just her, but all the Seers who would soon be found.

  Michael’s little coup could rewrite the world. It wasn’t just gods who needed mortals. There were many species that needed humans to exist. If Michael did manage to open the jar, then they would need the seven Seers to seal it. He was beginning to suspect they needed the seven demons as well.

  Apollo went to Asmodeus. He wasn’t dead yet, but if something wasn’t done, he would soon pass into the next world. For a brief moment, he considered taking out one of the Seven Deadly Sins would be a wonderful badge on his god résumé. But a soft, feminine sound from behind him bought him up quick. This wasn’t ancient times anymore. No more hunting demons for sport. Taking in a breath, he moved to her side, giving her a gentle smile.

  “Easy now. I have no doubt your head must be splitting.” He lifted his fingers to her temples and flooded her with his healing light, easing the pain, and healing the damage caused to the nerves in her brain from the sudden use of so much power.

  “Apollo, I can’t thank you enough for what you did.” Her voice was a little strained. No doubt it all seemed like a blur in her mind. The adrenaline level dropping in her blood caused her body to tremble, a perfectly normal reaction. He was still amazed she had survived one-on-one with Raphael and had come out of it pretty much unscathed. She was remarkable.
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br />   “Oh sweet girl, you already had him on the run. Me showing up, just gave him reason to fly home quicker. He will be in trouble, no doubt, for not grabbing you. Let me get up those barriers I mentioned to Lucifer. Then I will heal your friends. They seem stable for now. You, however, are still at risk.” The golden god winked at her, a smile on his lips, before he vanished.

  For a few moments, Isabelle sat there leaning against the wall. She could hear her heartbeat, and the rushing of her blood through her veins. She had almost been taken. The angel had been hell bent on getting to her. It all seemed too surreal. Swallowing hard, she pushed herself away from the wall and crawled over to Asmodeus. She placed her hand on his chest, feeling the slow rise and fall and the low thud of his heart.

  Letting out the breath she felt like she had been holding since the angel arrived, she continued over to where the hellhound lay crumpled beside the couch. Gently she stroked his black fur, which was velvety soft under her fingers. His body gave off tremendous amounts of heat, which she hoped was normal. She remained by his side. If not for these two males, she would surely have been taken to god knows where. This time she doubted that anyone would have found her.

  Isabelle could feel the adrenaline crash threatening her. She leaned against the couch and listened to the silence in the apartment. The angels had failed to capture her. It meant they would be after another Seer. Even though she had never met these women, she felt a kinship with them. She had to find them. She wouldn’t let the angels abduct someone else to use in their twisted plan. She closed her eyes, keeping a hand on the slowly rising and falling chest of the hellhound. It calmed her to know he was alive, especially given the extent of the injuries he had sustained.