Angel of Distrust

by Tabitha Barret

  He had to snap himself out of his daydream of walking through the Rose Garden past the souls of the mortals who were overjoyed to reside in Heaven to hear what Liam was saying.

  “Go ahead, tell me I’m crazy, but whoever owned this knife is an angel who is hanging out somewhere near the shore,” Liam surmised.

  Alazar nodded absently as he considered this new information. When the answer finally came to him, he took the knife and threw into the dry ground. “Haydn. He’s the Predznak with the affinity for small knives. If you take Balthazar out of the equation, then Haydn makes sense,” he growled.

  Liam shook his head. “Why not Aeries? He was a Celestial Warrior according to Týr.”

  Waving away Liam’s suggestion, he motioned to the compound with his chin. “If Aeries had been here, he would have gone into berserker mode and torn those men to pieces like they were tissue paper. Whatever weapon was in his hand at the time would have ripped the flesh from these men until nothing was left. Hell, even the walls of the barn and farmhouse would have splintered into dust if Aeries wanted what was on the other side. Either that or he would have tempted the men to war against each other until there was nothing left. Neither of those things happened here. I guarantee that Haydn waited for the right moment and swooped in. He may have tempted the men to turn on each other resulting in the gunshot wounds, but it’s more Haydn’s style to walk right through the middle of the melee to attack his target, just as he was trained to do,” Alazar said bitterly.

  Alazar turned to figure out where Tristan had gotten off to when he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his neck.

  Tristan trotted back toward Alazar and Liam having found nothing of significance in the fields just in time to see Alazar fall to his knees and slump over. A blue light appeared out of the din and lit up Liam’s face as he skillfully ducked underneath it. Before Tristan could figure out who had snapped Alazar’s neck, Liam exploded into a mass of white fur and lunged forward to bite the leg of his assailant.

  Tristan sprinted toward the intruder, but skidded to a halt when he saw the scene unfold before him. Before Liam could embed his teeth into flesh, he was swatted away with enough force to throw him into the air until he crashed into the burned-out remains of the black van in front of the barn. The ominous cracking of bone indicated that Liam’s skull had taken the brunt of the damage. Liam got to his feet for a second, but staggered and fell on his side.

  Turning to face this new threat, Tristan gathered his strength and prepared to unleash his full power upon his enemy. He would make sure that this man was forever altered by terror as retribution for these acts.

  The blue light in front of him took shape as he got closer to the burly man approaching him. Sadly, it wasn’t a light, but a sword made purely from flame—a Celestial Sword. Demyan’s contorted face was glowing in the light of his raised sword. Of all the enemies he expected to face tonight, a Celestial Warrior was the last on his list.

  His temptation died in his throat as he contemplated what to do. Though Demyan had clearly lost his mind, Tristan couldn’t bring himself to tempt a warrior. As an Advocate, he had the utmost respect for them. Even as a Predznak, he still valued their service, though he feared being hunted by them one day.

  Without a sound, Demyan’s sword came down on his collarbone and burned straight through the collar of his suit jacket and shirt until it found his flesh. He screamed in agony, but he bit his tongue before he begged for mercy. Demyan would elicit no such words from him. He would rather die in silence than die a coward crying for mercy.

  When the sword was pulled away, Tristan nearly cried for joy that he still had his head and shoulder. The pain in his chest caused his vision to darken as spots gathered to form one giant black screen in front of his eyes. He realized that he was kneeling on the ground with his arms braced behind him when his arms were unexpectedly pulled out from beneath him. A smaller blue glow warred against the mask of darkness clouding his eyes. This blue glow was equally as bad as the blue fire. The moment the Celestial Bonds were locked around his wrists, the intolerable pain in his neck and shoulder intensified tenfold and made him vomit.

  Time shifted and merged together until he realized that Demyan was standing directly in front of him, though he looked shorter, which wasn’t possible. He was taller by at least six inches. When Tristan tried to move his arms, he quickly understood the reason for the height difference due to his years of suffering in Hell. He was hanging from the barn rafters a foot off the ground and bound in Celestial Bonds—one of his least favorite positions of all time.

  A tilt of his head in either direction showed Alazar and Liam, now in mortal form, suffering the same fate.

  “What do you want, Demyan?” Tristan slurred to the best of his ability.

  “I want your master,” he replied tersely.

  Tristan tried to chuckle, but only managed to make a bubbling sound. “Are you suicidal?”

  Demyan stepped closer until Tristan could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. “I do not fear death,” he said confidently.

  “Bullshit,” Tristan coughed. He wheezed and took a deep breath to speak. “You took out Alazar first, so you most certainly fear death, yet you didn’t try to kill him, which I find interesting. You tried to kill Liam, but he was too fast for you, so you’re not as good as you think. He’s still breathing, so you fear the Destroyer, just a little, because you know what she will do to you if you kill her Nachtghul. You want me to believe that you don’t see me as a threat because you left me for last. I’m calling bullshit on that too. You hurt me to silence me because you don’t want to fear anything, yet we all fear something, Demyan. Without these bonds, I would know all of your darkest fears. With these bonds, I know that you are heading down the path of becoming a Rogue, but you aren’t there yet. If you were a Rogue, we would all be dead. Spare me your reasons for wanting my master dead, because they don’t matter. The only thing that matters right now is whether or not you want to throw your life away. Release us and seek redemption. Walk away or Death will not rest until you see his blue glowing eyes before you draw your last breath,” Tristan warned.

  Demyan’s stone face gave nothing away, but his eyes told the story. There was a conflict raging inside the warrior, but without his powers, Tristan couldn’t monopolize on it.

  After a full minute, Demyan finally crossed his arms and smirked. “I let you live so that you can feel the exact moment your master dies and understand the tragic mistake you made in pledging your loyalty to a murderer,” he said boldly.

  Tristan tried to shake his head, but gave up on the ridiculous idea. “We answered Father’s call to join her. If you can’t understand that, then you have been on the path of becoming a Rogue for much longer than I thought,” he stated.

  Demyan’s eyes shifted to Liam. “He’ll die an agonizing death when I take his master’s head. That will be satisfaction enough,” he muttered. “I appreciate the information you gave me about Haydn and his location. I will make sure that your master knows how your stupidity led to her death.” With that, Demyan turned his back on Tristan and headed out of the barn. The door slid closed and Tristan was plunged into darkness.

  Alazar blinked the sleep from his eyes, which was harder than usual. When he tried to move his neck, it felt like his bones were scraping together. It took less than a second for him to comprehend why he couldn’t move his arms or feel his fingers.

  “Tell me why the fuck someone broke my neck, strung me up, and bound me in Celestial Bonds,” he asked no one in particular.

  “We were jumped by Demyan who wants to kill Anjali. All things considered, you got off easy,” Tristan wheezed next to him.

  Swinging his head in Tristan’s direction, it took a few tries to angle it properly to see his brother. His flesh was charred and peeling along his neck and collarbone. His stomach roiled at the sight of the blackened skin. By the looks of it, he had been tortured. “I recognize a burn from a Celestial Sword when I see it,” he said, pitying h
is brother.

  “The bastard didn’t interrogate me. He didn’t threaten me. He turned his sword on me to subdue me and then strung us up. It wasn’t until after we were secured in chains that he addressed me. He wants us to suffer for choosing Anjali. It seems that he doesn’t approve of our master or our decision to follow her. I have no idea what set him off, but he’s not in his right mind, unless it’s now policy for warriors to greet people with their weapons,” he snickered, trying to hide the pain in his voice.

  He was surprised to hear that Major Demyan had gone Rogue since he was the ultimate command following warrior. Something dire must have happened to make him want to lash out at Anjali, but that problem would have to wait until he could feel his hands again.

  He glanced over at Liam and saw that he was unconscious. Blood was trickling down his face and his brown flannel shirt was caked in dried blood.

  “What happened to Liam?” he grunted.

  “He managed to dodge Demyan’s sword but he was knocked into the air and hit his head on the van. He hasn’t been conscious since. I wondered how long it would take you to wake up. It’s almost sunrise. We lost the entire night and Demyan is that much closer to finding Anjali. Sadly, there isn’t anything we can do about it. No one knows exactly where we are and there is no way to call for help. My brain is hazy, so I’m hoping you have a brilliant plan,” Tristan sniffled as a tear rolled down his cheek.

  Alazar felt terrible for Tristan, who was obviously in terrible pain. He needed to find a way to get help, but it would be difficult. Balthazar had given the Nachtghuls strict instructions to stay in Hell unless summoned, so they wouldn’t be coming to their aid. Hell couldn’t spare anyone with all three Heads of Hell away from their thrones. While locked in the bonds, they couldn’t summon help, so they were stuck for the moment. There was only one way to help Tristan and Liam, but Tristan might not like it.

  “Now would be a good time to run home, Tristan,” Alazar said devoid of emotion.

  “What in the hell are you talking about, Alazar?” Tristan mumbled, trying to look at him from the corner of his eye.

  “You can go home. God told you that you can give up on being Fear whenever you wanted and He would bring you back into the fold and give you a new position in Heaven,” Alazar stated. “You made a deal, which means that God should answer you even with the bonds cutting you off from our world. You don’t have to suffer anymore.”

  Tristan rolled his eyes and groaned. “I can’t tell if I’m delirious or if you’re being serious,” he snickered.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to call it quits for a long time, Tristan. If there was ever a time to use your get out of jail free card, it would be now,” Alazar said. It was the first time since learning of Tristan’s deal that he didn’t blame him for wanting to leave.

  Tristan sighed and mumbled something incoherently. He cleared his throat and spoke up. “What makes you think I can go home? Did you hit your head when you fell?”

  Alazar closed his eyes and said the words that had been burning a hole in his heart since he first heard them centuries ago. “God pulled you aside when no one stepped forward to volunteer to become the Angel of Fear. I wondered why He had spoken to you in private until He announced that you had taken up the mantel. After the Premena Ceremony, God told me about the deal He made with you. He told me that you were allowed to return to Him without question because no one wanted to be the Angel of Fear. He said that it was a concession for volunteering for the dreaded position. We all saw you step forward to become the Angel of Death before I came forward. God felt bad that you didn’t get the position you wanted, so He asked you to become Fear along with the provision of being able to return to Heaven if it was too difficult for you. I have been waiting centuries for you to invoke your out clause and leave us.”

  Tristan burst out laughing until his laughter turned into a choking cough.

  Alazar felt terrible for kicking Tristan while he was in pain, but it was the only way to help him and Anjali.

  “I hate you,” Tristan replied bitterly.

  Alazar was shocked by his response. “You’re the one who agreed to the deal. Why should you hate me?”

  Tristan took a deep breath and grunted in agony. “I hate you because you are the reason for my misery. I wondered why Anjali refused to accept my pledge to become her Predznak. Now I understand why she did it. You told her about my deal, you selfish asshole. I could have been free from my suffering and doubt; instead, I have been fighting with all my strength to be the angel she needs even though I do not share a bond with her. I see the way you and Balthazar look at her. I see how different both of you are since joining with her. You sabotaged me just as you expected me to do to you for centuries. If this is the reason for your banishment, then I hope you wither and die alone without our master,” he said, his voice thick with anger and unshed tears.

  Alazar felt hollow as he listened to Tristan’s emotional speech. He hadn’t considered that Tristan was still suffering without Anjali’s power to strengthen him. Tristan had always wanted to join with Anjali, until his fear overcame his senses and he began to hate her. He reassessed the situation, trying to see if he was in the wrong.

  Shaking his head, he rebuffed Tristan’s heartfelt words. “No. You say that you want to join with her, but it doesn’t matter. You can claim to be the Angel of Fear and vow to stand by her side all you want, but I still believe the day will come when you turn your back on us and call for God to relieve you of your duties,” he said vehemently. “I won’t allow that to happen. I won’t allow Anjali to put her faith in you only to be disappointed in her hour of need.” No matter how much Tristan wanted to be a Predznak, the fact remained that he didn’t have to be. He could click his heels and say, “there’s no place like home” and he would be a distant memory to the Predznak and Anjali.

  Tristan gritted his teeth and pulled at his chains only to recoil in agony. When he was able to speak, he growled through his clenched teeth. “Says the angel who is debating whether or not to return home. You believe yourself to be better than me yet you are faced with the same choice. Who will you choose, brother?”

  Alazar wanted to take offense at Tristan’s rebuttal but he couldn’t. It was true. Tristan wasn’t the only one faced with a life altering decision. How could he condemn Tristan for being allowed to leave when he was also contemplating that option?

  He opened his mouth to reply, but the barn door creaked and slowly slid open. His anger vanished as his excitement of being rescued cleared his mind.

  He was confused when he saw an old woman standing in the doorway wearing a large poncho. She, however, did not appear surprised to see three men hanging in the barn.

  “Senhora, please help us,” Tristan whispered.

  The woman either didn’t hear Tristan or ignored him. She waddled closer on her short legs until she was practically touching Alazar. She leaned in so close that Alazar thought she would kiss his leather pants. Instead, she began to sniff him vigorously. He had no idea what she was doing.

  Exchanging bewildered glances, neither Predznak spoke until she moved to sniff Tristan’s suit pants.

  “Senhora, please we need help. Can you call for someone?” Alazar said, trying to get her attention.

  Again, they were ignored.

  When she moved to Liam, a strange growl reverberated inside her throat. Alazar saw Tristan’s face fall and knew they were in trouble.

  When the woman appeared satisfied by her findings, she waddled back to the door. Closing the door, Alazar heard her say, “Perhaps Master will allow me to eat you as a reward for finding you.”

  Alazar’s heart sank and his dreams of being rescued disappeared.

  “Great. Of all the things I have feared in my life, being eaten alive by a Harpy was never one of them, until now. If someone asks how I wish to die while I’m unconscious, tell them that I prefer a Celestial Sword to being eaten,” Tristan whispered before his eyes rolled back into his skull and his head
fell forward.

  Swearing at his worsening luck, Alazar rattled his chains in desperation. He had to summon help. As heartbroken as Anjali would be to lose him and Tristan, she would be devastated by the loss of her Nachtghul. Whatever happened, he had to try to keep Liam and Tristan safe.

  ∞

  Hades sat in a dingy bar a few feet from where he had his encounter with Father and counted the shot glasses that had been flipped over on the counter. When the number of empty glasses couldn’t explain how drunk he currently was, he counted how many bottles of Tequila lay empty next to the shot glasses. There were at least four or five bottles, though it could have been six. His vision wasn’t holding steady and the dim light behind the bar was casting a glow around everything.

  It had been a long time since he had been this drunk, or rather, shit-faced. He liked the word—shit-faced. It was fun to say.

  “Girl troubles?” Miguel, the man sitting next to him enjoying his vodka, asked.

  “Isn’t that always the problem?” Hades slurred.

  Miguel nodded wisely. “Did she break your heart and steal your money, senhor?”

  Hades wanted to laugh, but instead he hiccupped. “No, she didn’t steal my money, but she will break my heart one day. Sooner rather than later, I believe.”

  Miguel tossed back another shot and burped loudly. Hades patted him on the back and fell off his stool. Miguel laughed and helped him back up.

  “That is terrible, senhor. It is worse when you see it coming and cannot stop it,” the inebriated man replied.

  Hades nodded his head. It was like knowing that something terrible would happen, but you couldn’t stop yourself from watching. Father told him that the answer to whether or not Lady Black could love him was in his heart—his black, festering heart, the one that cared for no one but his selfish self. He hiccupped again and poured another shot to drown out the ache in his chest.