Fallen Reign (Se7en Sinners Book 4)

by S. L. Jennings

  But I know I can’t.

  Because I know that the villain in my dream is the demon I have to save. Even if there’s nothing left worth saving.

  Still, I try.

  I push through concrete and wood and plaster, and I reach for a kernel of consciousness. That one little speck of him that still has to be there. But then everything goes completely dark. No. Not just dark. Empty. Yet, the emptiness is palpable, sticky even. It clings to me, as if it knows I’m there, and it pulls back. I try to retreat. But the sticky blackness is everywhere, latching onto my power like a dozen leeches. I’m trapped and helpless, completely at the mercy of him—of them. All I can do is lay there and wait for them to release me. Or to find me.

  Another round of screams begins, and I lie there and listen with tears streaming down my face. Number six. I already know whose number seven. Even worse than that, I know exactly the fate I will suffer. Because as I’m trapped in the black sludge, I’m bearing witness to the torment, as if they want me to see.

  They want me to see.

  Come and see, a voice whispers in my ear.

  And I can’t close my mind off from looking…from feeling. I can’t make them stop.

  She’s just a girl, maybe a few years younger than me. Her brown hair is dull and stringy, as if it hasn’t been washed in weeks. However, her pale skin is nearly as white as her clothing. Maybe she hasn’t felt the sun on her face in months, maybe years. And she never will again.

  She stares up in horror as her shirt is ripped from her body, revealing small breasts and light pink nipples. There’s no way to cover herself; she, too, is strapped to the table. The sharp end of a blade meets the top of her belly, right between her breasts. And it begins. He—they—begin to carve.

  Bright red blood pools onto the hard table as Legion takes his time to get every symbol right. Every line and curve is exact as he cuts into her flesh to create the Demoori Sheol characters that are now committed to memory. When he’s finally done, he tenderly brushes away her tears, smearing her face with blood, then he undoes the straps. He lets her go.

  A tiny seed of hope begins to bloom inside me. Maybe I got through to him. She’s injured, but she can be saved. And if I can just push harder dig deeper, maybe no one else has to die. We can end this right here.

  He hands her the knife, and that hope deflates. What is he doing? No. No! I wanted him to stop, not sacrifice himself. But I quickly realize that I’m wrong on all accounts. Because the young girl with the Demoori Sheol symbols carved into her belly presses the blade to her throat and nearly decapitates herself with one deep slice. Blood sprays everywhere, painting the white, sterile room deep red. I bite my tongue to keep from screaming.

  He’s coming for me next. Even though I know this is just a nightmare, I can’t help the dread that floods my system and squeezes my insides like a vise.

  I count the seconds until I hear the door open. I hold my breath as I listen to his footsteps approaching. And my eyes grow wide when he steps into view.

  Legion.

  My strong, dark, devastatingly beautiful Legion.

  But it’s not him. Not anymore.

  His eyes don’t swirl with silver, backlit with the very stars that shimmer the night sky. They’re wholly black. And he doesn’t look at me like I am his sun and moon. It’s as if he doesn’t see me at all. His smile is wrong, his gait is wrong, everything about him his wrong.

  This is not the demon I love. This is The Many.

  “Hello, little one,” they croon. That bone-chilling voice…the way it crawls underneath my skin. It’s the most frightening thing I’ve ever heard.

  My first instinct is to beg, to plead. But that will do me no good. That will only fuel them. They find pleasure in human weakness. And I’m not human.

  “Let him go,” I demand, mustering all my resolve.

  They laugh, those multi-layered voices coming together to scratch against my spine. They unsheathe a blade and hold it to my chest. Then one by one, they pop every button of my white shirt until I’m exposed. I thrash against the restraints.

  “I’ll kill you,” I seethe. “All of you. Every last one of you. I will kill you myself.”

  The Many turn the blade in their palm before bringing the knife down to my skin. Smiling, they slowly trace my nipple with the sharpened tip. I have to swallow down bile to keep from choking on it.

  “What a pretty girl,” they sickeningly muse. “Your insides are probably just as pretty, aren’t they?”

  Then without warning, they nick my breast with the edge of the blade, causing me to cry out. I struggle to keep my composure, but the sight of them bringing the knife up to their lips—those lips that I have dreamt of kissing again—and tasting my blood completely unravels me. They close their eyes and give a moan of approval.

  “Mmmm, we can taste the Seraphim in your blood. We’re going to enjoy you,” they murmur. “Every piece and every drop. Don’t cry. Your beloved will feast as well.”

  My beloved.

  He’s still in there, still alive within The Many.

  My head is pounding, but I try to push against the sticky blackness, expending all my mental strength. Blood trickles from my nose and trails into my mouth, but I don’t even taste the metallic tang over the bitterness of rage on my tongue. They can’t have him. They can’t have me.

  There’s a tiny speck of light within the darkness, but it’s out of my grasp. It flickers, its radiance waning like a dying star. My Legion. I have to reach him, even if it takes every ounce of my power. Even if it’s the last thing I ever do. If I can just touch him and let him know that I’m here and I’m fighting for him, maybe it will be enough to bring him back.

  The Many take great pleasure in torturing me…touching me. They press the knife to my breasts and torso, just enough to break the skin and watch my blood pool. They’ve graduated from licking it clean off the blade and now simply lean over to suck it off of me, taking extra time around my nipples. My skin is crawling and I feel I may puke, but I merely close my eyes, refusing to acknowledge the pain and humiliation. They’ve been driven to distraction by their bloodlust, and I’m the main course. So they can carve me up until they hit bone, but I won’t stop. This may be the only chance I get.

  The Many move on to cutting off my pants and at the sight of my bare flesh, their excitement serves as the chance I need to move in closer to that tiny glimmer of light. The closer I get to it, the more it flickers, as if it, too, is using all its strength to make contact. I’m so close…so close that I can feel the heat of fading starlight. The sting of fresh cuts along the insides of my thighs is nothing compared to the aching need to reach him. I know that light is Legion. It has to be. And when I feel The Many’s blood-stained fingers stroke my delicate folds, I throw it all towards him. The hurt, the shame, the rage, I use it all to stretch as far as I possibly can, forming myself into an arrow to sink right into the heart of that light. I cast away the pain and surrender it all to him, because he is so much greater than my flesh and bone. I bleed for him. And I desperately hope that my sacrifice is enough to give him life.

  The touching stops. The knife clangs to the floor. And when I open my eyes, I see him. Legion. But it’s not him. Not the way I remember him. Not the way he should be.

  His skin is ashen, his cheeks hollow. There are dark purple circles around his eyes, which are flat and lifeless. His lips are dry and cracked, and there are lesions all over his skin.

  He’s dying.

  “Eden,” he breathes, his voice hoarse as if he’s been shouting for hours, maybe days. “Eden, I’m so…I’m so sorry.”

  He rushes to undo the restraints and picks up my shredded clothes, but he’s so weak and battered that the tasks seem to drain him. I quickly sit up with no regard for my own injuries and cup his face in my hands.

  “What have they done to you?” My lips tremble and my voice cracks on a sob. “Legion…what have they done?”

  He swallows with great effort. “I fought. Ever
y day, every time, I fought to stop them. I can’t…do it anymore. Please. Just end it. End it all now.”

  I shake my head furiously. “No. No, I can’t.”

  “You can. Just…use your light. All of it. End this now. I can’t…I can’t hold on much longer. I can’t let them hurt anyone else.”

  “I won’t do it,” I cry. Tears tinted with dried blood run down my face. “You have to stay with me. Please. Just stay with me a little longer. I will find you, I swear. Just don’t give up. Please.”

  I pull him in closer, bearing his weight as his body sags with exhaustion. He presses his cheek to the top of my head and wraps his arms around my half-naked frame, holding me with what little strength he has left.

  “I’ve lived a long time,” he murmurs into my hair. “It’s ok. It’s ok, my love. You can do it. I’ll be ok.”

  I sob into his chest, noting the feel of bones where mounds of muscle once were.

  “But what about me? What about me? Because I won’t be ok. Do you get that? If you’re gone, I won’t be ok.”

  “You will,” he whispers before kissing the top of my head. “You will live a long life. You will find happiness and love, the kind that you deserve. The kind that I’ve always wanted for you.”

  I shake my head, not wanting to hear any of it. “It’s not fair. I just found you. We need more time. We need more time.”

  He lifts my chin to face him and gives me a painful smile. Tears gleam in his eyes.

  “My love for you will live for eternity, firecracker. I may perish, but it…it will remain immortal.”

  He presses his lips against mine, and I swear I feel that flicker of light implode within my chest, shooting silver beams of stardust into my bloodstream. My eyelids flutter closed, and I melt into him, desperate to touch more, to taste more, but it’s not enough. There will never be enough time, never enough of this for the rest of my days. So even if we have mere seconds or millennia, I will never have my fill of Legion, the demon who will forever reign over my heart.

  When I open my eyes, he’s gone. And I’m alone in my bedroom at The Saint, still wrapped in Lucifer’s bathrobe.

  I unravel the tie to find streaks of dried blood all over my skin, but the cuts are gone. It wouldn’t matter anyway. Even if the Demoori Sheol symbols were carved into my skin from collarbone to belly button, I wouldn’t give a damn. Because Legion is dying.

  I had him… I had him in my arms. I felt the last remnants of his heat. I tasted his tears on my lips. I had tried so hard to convince myself that I could eventually be ok if we couldn’t save him, but I know that I was ingesting my own bullshit. There is no life without him in it. My world is meaningless if he doesn’t exist within in it.

  I.

  Can’t.

  Live.

  Without him.

  I somehow manage to make it into the bathroom through shaking sobs. The second I step into the shower to wash off the blood, I crumple to the ground, my cries crippling me. Every ripple of pain is like a shockwave that cuts through muscle and bone. The ache in my chest surges, radiating with an emptiness so overwhelming that I can’t breathe. This is what dying must feel like. And if I didn’t know that Legion was still alive, I’d succumb to it. I’d let this wave of misery wash over me and pull me under. I wouldn’t even struggle against it.

  I have no clue how much time passes before I find the will to stand up and turn off the water. My muscles are weak, my throat is sore, and all I want to do is crawl back into my bed and shut out the world. But the second I step out from behind the shower door, a jolt of electric fear zaps me back to reality.

  Three words that were whispered by a distorted, inhuman voice are now etched onto the foggy vanity mirror. And I know deep in the pit of my stomach that they were more than an invitation to bear witness to The Many’s horrors inside my dreamscape. They were a message…for me.

  Come and see.

  I halfway don’t expect to see Lucifer sitting on the couch in the sitting area with a book in his hands, but a good part of me is relieved that he is. I’m prepared to spill my guts about all of it—the dream, the words scrawled on the foggy mirror, Legion—but my resolve dissipates as I remember what went down between us just hours ago.

  “So are you just going to stand there staring at me? Or is there a reason for your creepy stalking?”

  I ignore his flippant tone and take the seat across from him. He still doesn’t look up from his book.

  “I had a dream.”

  “No shit. So did MLK.”

  “A dream about Legion.”

  “Well, that’s not nearly as inspiring as Dr. King’s.”

  I roll my eyes. He’s in a mood, but I don’t have time for his cynicism. Any other day, I’d go along with it. But after what I just witnessed, and what we shared last night, I don’t have the patience for witty banter.

  “I was at a hospital. But this time, The Many…they knew I was there. I wasn’t just seeing the aftermath. I was in it. As if it was happening in real time and I was one of the victims.”

  Finally, he closes the book, but his expression is one of boredom.

  “And how do you know they sensed your presence?”

  “Because I infiltrated his—their—mind.”

  His words are sharp, but his face gives nothing away. “Are you fucking insane? They could have killed you. Or reduced you to a fucking vegetable.”

  “But they didn’t, and I was able to find Legion.” I scoot to the edge of my seat, hoping he can sense my urgency. “He still in there, Lucifer. He’s still alive.”

  He releases an annoyed breath. “And how do you know it was him?”

  “Because I saw him. I touched him. I…kissed him.” My lips still burn with the memory of him and I bring my fingers to my mouth reflexively.

  “Well, how lovely for you.”

  Lucifer opens up his book and resumes reading. But unlucky for him, I’m not giving up that easily.

  “Lucifer, listen to me. We have to do something—now. He’s dying. Every second we waste, a little bit more of him fades away. He doesn’t have much time left. And now that we have a lead, we need to really focus all our efforts on finding him.” I pick up the laptop on the mirrored coffee table and power it on. “I know I was at a hospital, but I don’t know where. There weren’t any distinguishable signs, but I remember the stark white walls…”

  “Like every hospital in the US? Let me guess, there were also hospital beds. Maybe a thermometer or two.”

  “Can you be serious for a second?” I snipe, tapping the keys to pull up Google. “I made a list of all deaths we can link to The Many, or at least demons killing on their behalf. They seem to be making a path from New York, where we found the first one, and quickly moving south. What if we followed that trail and looked up hospitals not too far from the last killing?”

  “Sure. Let me muster up the strength to give a fuck and I’ll be right with you.”

  “What is your problem?” I snap, looking up from the computer. “You’re the one that said you’d help me find him.”

  “Yeah, well, I say a lot of things,” he murmurs. “Besides, you only encountered The Many subconsciously. You really think they wouldn’t make scrambled eggs of your brains if you tried that shit in person? Don’t be stupid, Eden.”

  My jaw is tense as I reply, “I’m not being stupid. Unlike you, I want to be proactive instead of sitting on my ass, waiting for a new wave of fresh hell to find us.”

  Lucifer shrugs. “Well, I happen to be a fan of fresh hell as opposed to day-old hell.”

  I’m getting nowhere with him, and I’m not about to go around in circles all damn day while he works the stick out of his ass. I should just drop it. If he doesn’t want to help—fine. But I’m not about to let him treat me like a moron over something I have no recollection of.

  “Wow. You know, I thought you could be an adult about this. I get it—we made a huge mistake last night, something I know we can’t take back. And if I hurt you in som
e way, I’m sorry. But I at least thought you’d care enough about your brother that you’d put your pettiness to the side for now.”

  This time, when that book snaps closed, it sends a chill down my spine.

  “And that’s your first problem. You thought I cared,” Lucifer spits, each syllable a tiny dagger to my ravaged soul. “You want so badly to see some semblance of good in me—just like you saw in Legion—that you’re forgetting one important fact. I’m the fucking Devil, Eden. I’m not your precious L. I’m not going to swoop in on a noble steed and save the world. I’m not going to act like the sun sets and rises on your ass just because you’re a decent fuck. I’ve had plenty of decent fucks, Eden. And guess what? I’ve forgotten all of them, just like I’ll forget about you. Stop telling yourself that I’ve got some inner redeemable qualities so you’ll feel better about sucking my cock. I’m not him. I’m not your boyfriend. I’m not anything to you. So forgive me for not jumping at the chance to sacrifice myself in hopes that you’ll fuck me again. I’ve eaten your pussy. That was the first and only time you will ever bring me to my knees.”

  I sit there, unblinking. And while I should feel rage at his spiteful words, all I can manage is…sadness.

  “You don’t mean that,” I whisper.

  He barks out a scorned laugh. “Do you hear yourself right now? How many ways do I have to say it? I don’t give a fuck about your broken heart. The very second this little mission becomes unbeneficial for me, I’m out. And let me tell you, that time is near.”

  “I don’t believe that.” My voice is small. Almost as small as he’s trying to make me feel.

  “Then you really are stupid.”

  I shake my head, fighting back angry tears. I hate to say it, but I had started to trust him. Hell, I’d even started to like him, probably more than I should. These last few days have been hell without Legion, but if I didn’t have Lucifer by my side, I don’t know what I would’ve done. He showed me kindness, and I had really believed him when he said that my safety was his priority. Once again, I was fooled by the wolf in sheep’s clothing. And I only have myself to blame. I let myself think he was more than an egotistical, self-absorbed prick. I let myself believe he could actually be my friend.