Hellsbane 02 - Heaven and Hellsbane

by Paige Cuccaro

  I shook my head. “Just tell him I’ll see him later.”

  “You bet,” Mike said, waving before he turned to go back to work.

  “Emma Jane,” Eli said suddenly, his voice edged with dread.

  “What?” But with my next breath I didn’t need his answer. The rancid odor of rotting eggs filled my lungs, clogging the back of my throat, telling me all I needed to know. I tried not to breathe through my nose but it didn’t do any good. The stench was already inside me, seeping into my pores. “A demon.”

  “He’s near.”

  I scanned the crowd. I’d never get used to the fact that no one, except illorum and magisters, could sense the nauseating reek of brimstone. A demon could stand nose to nose with a man and he’d never know it. Eli said the stench was from spending so much time in the abyss. Brimstone was what kept them trapped there.

  Unfortunately, except for the odor, I couldn’t tell demons from humans either—not unless they shifted into their red-skinned, horned-head, claw-handed form. Which they didn’t do if they could help it. Even though they were stronger in their natural form, running around looking like the biblical devil himself didn’t generally help one blend in—and demons were all about blending in.

  I studied a face and then the next, but every set of eyes was fixed on the bloody scene before us. I’d nearly given up when, just as I looked away, a set of bright violet eyes flicked to me. “Got ’im.”

  He was a sandy-blond, six-foot-three, stack of muscled hotness and the second our eyes met he turned and walked the other way, snaking through the crowd in the opposite direction. I moved to go after him and felt Eli follow behind me.

  I spun around and stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Hey. Where are you going?”

  “There’s a good chance he’s the demon behind the attacks,” Eli said. “I will not allow you to face him alone.”

  “I know he might be the guy—and that’s why you’re not getting anywhere near him. If he is, then both of us going after him is exactly what he wants. They’re collecting angelic swords, Eli, and killing magisters to get them. You could be walking right into a trap.”

  The man standing next to us had dropped the pretense and stared openly, listening to our conversation.

  I huffed and grabbed Eli’s wrist. “C’mere.”

  We zigzagged our way out of the crowd and went to the other side of the wide concourse hallway, putting twenty feet or more between us and the back of the crowd. A cheery, ten-foot-tall woman in a smart suit dress smiled over us from the enormous lighted sign for First Bank.

  The light from the sign cast us in a blue glow that made the lines from Eli’s somber, worried expression seem all the deeper. “I don’t give a damn what a demon wants or what trickery he plans. I’m a seraph, a magister. I’m a thousand-fold stronger and faster. You need my help. You’re not going after this one alone. Plus, if he’s killing magisters, then the rules have changed.” Eli’s tone was deadly. “I can act, and I will.”

  “Listen,” I said. “I get why you want to help and that you’re worried, but I can handle this. Really. Besides, it would seriously tick me off if you got your hand and sword sliced off trying to do my fighting for me.”

  He glanced away, scoffing. “No demon could take my sword.”

  Sometimes my mighty angelic magister was just as much a guy as any mortal man—stupid male ego and all. Pride and the rest of the seven deadly sins apparently didn’t apply to angels—one of the perks of not having a mortal soul. “Right. You think Maion and Karoz believed they’d lose their swords to a demon?”

  “They weren’t prepared for the possibility,” Eli said. “I am.”

  For one breath-stealing instant the image of Eli’s surprised, handsome face flashed through my mind. His eyes wide with heart-wrenching disappointment an instant before a seething demon hacked off his hand turning his own blade on him to take his beautiful head. The vision sent a sickening weight plummeting to the pit of my stomach.

  What would I do without him? How would I get through a day without seeing his face, without talking to him about…whatever? Dan was great, a really nice guy, but I needed Eli. I needed the safety zone he gave me. I could tell Eli anything—everything—and trust that he wouldn’t judge me, wouldn’t hold it against me. He’d always be there, always care—no matter what I said, or didn’t say, no matter what idiotic mistakes I made. It had nothing to do with what he was but rather who he was inside. He’d become my best friend, my confidante. But he was more than that. The thought of losing him was like imagining myself without an arm or leg—without my heart. I couldn’t. I loved him.

  I pushed the thought from my head—fought to keep the fear from showing in my eyes, from trembling through my voice. “It’s too big a risk. Just…just hang back a few seconds. Make him think you’re not coming. If I need you, I’ll…scream.” If things got bad enough that I needed his help, screaming was the one thing I’d probably be doing anyway.

  He let out a frustrated breath, his pale, brooding eyes staring down the concourse in the direction the demon had gone. The guy was out of sight now, having taken the first corridor to the right about three hundred feet away.

  “I’ll count to ten. Then I’m coming.”

  “No. I mean, that’s too soon. Make it…make it one hundred,” I said. “And add a Mississippi in between. You know, one Mississippi, two Mississippi…” With any luck the demon would be a pile of black goo by the count of fifty.

  His worried gaze swung to me, his mouth a tense line. “One hundred. That’s it.”

  The look in his eyes was more than anger over the loss of his brothers, over the death of an illorum he didn’t know. The look in his eyes was personal—rage, fueled by unabashed terror…for me.

  My heart skipped a beat and a dull ache pressed through my chest. This was why seraphim didn’t speak to humans, why magisters were punished for growing too close to their illorum. I could see it in the tense muscles of his face, the tight line of his shoulders. His fear for me, our connection, could drive him to do the unthinkable. Would he kill any demon who hurt me like they had Mathew? Would he start a war to protect me? To avenge me?

  Would I do any less for him?

  The possible answers scared me. I swallowed hard and looked away. My hands trembled, not because I was about to face a demon, but because of Eli. Because of that intangible line we risked crossing with every breath. I pulled the hilt of my sword from its sheath, stepping back from the ledge once more.

  Eli pressed a finger under my chin, lifting my face so I’d look him in the eyes. “I need you to be careful. Please.”

  I licked my lips, pretended he couldn’t hear my heart hammering in my chest and that I didn’t notice the way his eyes followed the track of my tongue. “I’ll be fine.”

  We were getting good at pretending. Too good. Before I could do something stupid like push up on my toes and kiss him, I took off. The scene around me blurred in a rush of wind as the world flew by.

  Faster than any human could see, I moved down the concourse, following the stink of demon. It wasn’t instant teleportation, but it was close. My angelic half folded time and space and with each step I traveled huge distances. Despite my speed, my footfalls echoed off the walls, sounding like a single drum beat, nothing like a normal stride.

  Through the blur of my vision I noticed the lights from a corner newsstand as I passed and saw the occasional mass of a human body here and there—fellow late-night travelers clueless that I’d just streaked past. I moved fast through the grand expanse of the quiet terminal, barely hearing the soft piped-in music.

  I followed the demon’s scent down the escalators to the tram. The swoosh of automatic doors closing sounded the moment my foot hit the metal landing at the bottom. Three seconds later the tram on the other side roared away toward the landside terminal.

  The demon had come this way, even stood around long enough to leave a cloud of brimstone behind. I could almost see the putrid stench slowly exp
anding to fill every inch of the long embarking room. I couldn’t stomach waiting here for the next tram.

  Like most of the airport, the tram room was empty, free of witnesses, so I could call my blade. With a simple thought, an easy focus of will, my angelic power gathered the molecules from the air around me—one moment nothing, the next a solid, deadly sharp blade formed at the end of my hilt.

  I used the beautiful weapon to wedge the doors open to the tram tunnel. Not the job it was forged to do, but it got it done. It was a good five-foot drop to the tracks. I made the jump easily and took off again.

  An instant later I’d caught up to the tram, tightened my jaw, and willed myself faster. I’d done it before, moved so fast I passed through solid matter. The idea seemed bizarre, but lately bizarre had become the norm in my life.

  Trying to pass through the end and stop inside the tram was too tricky. My best bet was to keep going and beat the whole thing to the landside disembarking room. I’d wait for the demon and stage the battle there.

  The blur of my vision brightened for a split second as I moved through the lit train, and then I was standing in the long tram bay—identical to the one on the other side. With the smooth glossy wall behind me, sword double-fisted in my hands, I stood ready, staring at the tinted windows of the automatic doors. A heartbeat later, the train rumbled to a stop and the doors swooshed open.

  There was only one passenger in the tram, and I knew he was the demon by the way he reeked to high heaven. He stepped out—eyes narrow, jaw tight, muscles tense. He was ready for a fight.

  I’d never get used to how normal demons could look. This guy, with his lean body shown off under a snug muscle shirt and tight jeans, could have walked off the set of a porn movie. His sandy-blond hair flowed in soft waves back from his forehead, and his baby smooth face was a perfect mix of adorable innocence and hot, sexy sin.

  Even snarling at me the way he was, those violet eyes were captivating—his small, rounded nose and strong, rounded chin the perfect frame for a great set of lips. The demon was hot. It wasn’t hard to believe he’d once been like Eli, once been a seraph.

  Too bad all his hot, yummy good looks were just a meat suit he wore. The real being underneath the beauty was something very different. Experience told me that. The abyss changes the Fallen—inside and out.

  “Hi. I’m from the demon-greeting committee. My name’s Emma. Welcome to Pittsburgh. So sorry you can’t stay. Your departure to the abyss will board in oh…about three seconds.”

  The guy snorted. “You think you’re funny? Or are you hoping I’ll let you slice off my head just to get away from your lousy jokes?”

  I shrugged. “Whatever works.” Smart-aleck demons. Gotta love ’em.

  And just like that the sexy Adonis shifted forms—his big hands growing longer, talon-like claws forming at the ends of his fingers. His body mass increased, muscles thickening, bones lengthening. He grew taller by two or three inches and wider by the same degree. Veins bulged on his neck—down his forehead, shoulders, and forearms. He bared his sharpened teeth at me, growling. “C’mon, let’s do this.”

  His voice was raw, gravelly like a three-pack-a-day smoker. The sound didn’t go with the pretty-boy looks he’d had before, but it was standard form for demons.

  “What? That’s it? No lumpy horned head, no blood-red skin, no cloven feet? You’re not gonna get any bigger than that?” I had to admit, he was kind of a letdown.

  He waved me on with one clawed hand. “All I’ll need. Let’s go.”

  “You bet. Just one thing I gotta know first.” I adjusted my grip. “You kill that illorum back there?”

  “Would you let me go if I said no?”

  “Why? So you can live to kill another day? Uh…” I rolled my eyes, pretending to consider it. “No.”

  He stalked toward me. “Then don’t ask stupid questions.”

  “You kill Karoz too?” I asked, centering my weight—feeling the perfect balance of my sword in my hands, ready.

  But the demon stopped, eyes going wide. “Karoz? He was the boy’s magister?”

  I scoffed. “Like you care. You’re a friggin’ demon. Some Fallen’s bitch. All you care about is seducing moronic humans into throwing themselves on a grenade to protect your puppet master and keeping your ass out of the abyss.”

  He blinked at that, as though he couldn’t quite believe I’d said it. Then his expression twisted, a fresh mask of ugly rippling across his face. He crouched, preparing to pounce. “Filthy spawn.”

  Faster than an electric spark, he sprang and I ducked, his claws swinging at my head, ripping the shoulder of my white, silk blouse instead. I spun, my sword coming around and nicking his side.

  I was still wearing my date-night clothes—silk, tapered shirt, clingy black slacks, black fitted vest, and low-heeled, ankle-high cowboy boots. Not the best outfit to wear to a sword fight, but hey, it could’ve been worse.

  He skidded to a stop, slamming into the polished block wall behind him.

  “What are you doing with the swords?” I asked, finding my balance again, ready for his next attack.

  He got to his feet, seething, and looked up at me from under the shelf of his brow. “Rot in Hell, you murderous bitch.”

  The demon launched himself at me again, but this time I started my swing a half beat sooner, the blade poised to slice across his chest—maybe even sever an arm. It didn’t.

  Instead my sword met human meat and muscle, clipping a lock of bright red hair that hadn’t been there an instant before. Bodies collided and fell at my feet. My brain scrambled to make sense of the tangle of limbs, the tumbling flash of claws, hands, and legs.

  They slammed into the automatic doors, denting the white metal bottom. The sound of it echoed off the walls. The demon moved first, rolling quickly off the smaller body underneath.

  “Liam?” I said.

  He lay on his stomach, blood seeping through his shirt. I’d made a five-inch gash across his back. His blood stained the white doors.

  Slowly he pushed to his elbows and rolled over, his small Irish green eyes smiling, mouth in a crooked grin. “Hello, lassie.”

  “Are you crazy? I could’ve killed you.”

  The demon took advantage of our momentary distraction. He started toward Liam, and I felt sure he meant to finish the job I’d started. I moved quickly, stepping forward, swinging my sword, aiming to take the demon’s head from his neck.

  But just before I could connect, my legs slipped out from under me and I hit the tiled floor, slamming my hip, pain jarring up through my spine. My sword jolted from my grip and clamored out of reach.

  Panic was like a living thing in my chest, squeezing my lungs, punching through my heart. I scrambled backward after my sword, grabbed it, and turned back to defend myself—to save Liam—and then stopped cold, Liam’s sword at my nose.

  “Hold your horses there, lassie. I can’t be lettin’ you harm Amon,” he said, looming over me.

  “Amon?” I glanced at the demon on his knees by the automatic doors where Liam had been. He’d shifted back to his human form, looking vulnerable despite his long, muscled body. “He’s a demon. Why are you protecting him?”

  “Because…” Liam shrugged his small shoulders. “I love him.”

  Chapter Six

  “But you hit on me. Hard. All the time.”

  Liam rolled his shoulder. “Don’t wear a sign. A private matter, it ’tis. Besides,” he said, winking with a lecherous smile, “you liked it a wee bit, did ya not?”

  “Um, no. And, eww. Anyway that’s beside the point,” I said. “You’re gay? And dating a demon?”

  Liam’s dirty-boy smile flattened, his orange-red brows tightening. “That demon saved me life. I trust him a damn sight more than I do any too-holy-to-speak seraph.”

  Before I could ask for details, Liam suddenly flew sideways, slamming into the wall. He hit hard enough that the block wall cracked where his shoulder drove into it. Mortar dust showered the tiled floor
over the crumpled heap of his body.

  I blinked up at where he had been standing and met pale blue eyes. Eli exhaled. “One hundred Mississippi.”

  “Awesome timing.”

  “I know.” Eli glanced at Liam, who was slowly pushing up to his hands and knees, then behind him to Amon. He turned back, offering me a hand up. “This isn’t what I expected.”

  “You too?” I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet. “Just wait. It gets better.”

  “Elizal?” Eli and I both turned to look at Amon. The hottie demon braced his hands on the dented automatic doors, pushing up to his feet. His eyes were big and white, like a frightened child, glistening as though he were holding back tears.

  “Keep my name off your lips, demon,” Eli said, putting himself between Amon and me.

  The sandy-blond man shook his head, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. “Kill me. Please. This is too much to be borne. End this torment.”

  Eli narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to study the man. “It’s not for me to end you, demon. Beg the master who broke you free of your punishment or the children charged with atoning for their father’s sins.”

  “Shut yer gob, Amon.” Liam hissed in pain, dragging himself to his feet. “You’ll not go anywhere if I have a breath left in me.”

  Eli glanced from the demon to Liam and back again. “Amon?”

  The tall, handsome man nodded, quiet sobs shaking his shoulders. He wouldn’t look at the rest of us, his head down, arms folded over his muscled abs.

  “You know him?” I asked. “I mean, like from before he was a demon?”

  Eli spared me a quick look then turned back to Amon. “Yes. It was Tommy who sent him to the abyss. He was…different then.”

  Amon raised his gaze to Eli, his sheepish expression making him all the more adorably pathetic. “The abyss damaged me. I look the best my savior could manage.”

  Eli scoffed. “Savior. That’s a matter of perspective.”

  “I know,” Amon said. “The Fallen who freed me was a betrayer and freeing me was an act of further disobedience. He was banished by an illorum shortly after doing so. I had little choice but to serve him, but I’m free now and…” He straightened some, lifting his chin. “I won’t go back to the abyss.”