Revelation: Trinity Part 1

by Gemma Humphrey

  “We’re stronger together,” she told him, watching as he exhaled, straightened, determination setting his jaw.

  They turned to stand back to back, fingers entwined, as the demons pick themselves up and closed in again, expressions wary.

  Christian squeezed her fingers, reassuring, and she squeezed back, drawing from him the strength that she needed. She knew she had the power to fight – to win – if she could only command the source. She closed her eyes, reaching out to pin point each individual threat, seeking them out like a heat sensor in the dark.

  She anticipated the first strike the moment the satisfaction of the demon fluttered over her consciousness, thinking that she was vulnerable with her eyes closed. Unthinking, Rose’s hand shot out, hitting the centre of a hard chest encased in a tuxedo and, before he could react, he’d burned out from the centre in a sizzle of white light, and an explosion of dust.

  Not dust, Rose realised, soil. It pattered onto the floor, filling the air with its warm, wet scent.

  Breathing hard as a fresh wave of strength powered through her veins, she vaguely acknowledged the fact that she’d just killed a man.

  Not a man, her mind corrected fiercely, A demon.

  She caught Beelzebub’s eye as the last remnants of static fizzled around her in a halo of white, and quickly lifted her expression, throwing a smirk at the older woman. Elle did nothing but narrow her eyes – Rose barely caught sight of it as a fresh assailant whirled in her direction, looking to catch her off guard.

  “Hello Princess,” she sneered, a pretty brunette in a pale pink dress and matching lipstick. Rose dispatched her the same way as the first, not waiting to watch as she burned up in a flickering flash of silk and dirt.

  Rose wasn’t a princess. She didn’t need saving. She was the Archon –

  She knew she had this.

  ***

  Christian's attack on Beelzebub’s demons were swift, incisive, brutal. A lunging knee to the crotch was followed up with a blunt elbow to the top of the head. He cut short the follow through with a swinging back-fist to drive a blow hard into his assailant's face.

  Across the room, Rose – graceful, fluid, but no less decisive in her assault – whirled around and placed a hand on a demon's chest. The lightest touch, the barest of glances, and the demon shattered.

  Christian had never seen anything like it and, as soil rained down over Rose, as she turned to dispatch another, he felt a ferocious pride fill his soul. She was glorious, fearless, and so achingly beautiful that Christian could hardly tear his eyes away.

  Distracted, he fell backwards as a man in a crisp black suit leaped on top of him. On instinct, he threw his weight to the ground, bringing his feet up into the chest of the demon. Absorbing the impact through his knees, he kicked out, thrusting him into the air and across the room.

  The momentum had Christian landing nimbly on his feet and, his resolve redoubled, he set about the remainder with renewed vehemence. A stamp to the side of the knee, a bladed hand across the throat, a spinning elbow to the sternum, his foes fell as quickly as they arrived.

  ***

  Elle watched the fight play out in front of her, waiting calmly. She’d been impressed by the Archon’s blatant display of power, recognising Nate’s trademark move with a delicate frown in his direction. The girl showed a tenacity that she’d not expected, ending the fight for some of Elle’s finest soldiers with barely a backward glance.

  The Guardian, on the other hand, took a more traditional approach. Elle’s smile was feline, predatory, as she watched the large man fight.

  It was almost art, she mused, as he launched his assailant across the tent with barely any effort, reaching for another without pause. She’d happily sacrifice her entire army just to watch him work.

  Feeling it was time to up the stakes, Elle turned her gaze from the Guardian to a man waiting expressionlessly at her side.

  “Baalzephon,” she called, and he stepped forward to receive instruction.

  “Tell our friend it’s time for his intervention.”

  Baalzephon nodded and Elle waited until he’d strode from the tent, before turning to Nate.

  “Enjoying the show?” she asked. Nate held her gaze, but Elle saw the rage that flicker in his eyes, the slight shake of his shoulders. He was barely keeping himself in check, desperate as he was to step in and help the girl.

  Elle smiled, turning back to the fight, and to Baalzephon, who caught her eye as he returned, nodding slightly.

  It was time to divide and conquer.

  ***

  The demon who’d managed to evade Rose’s grip for the third time, suddenly turned and moved away, as if by some unspoken command. Rose spun, her full skirt whirling as she tracked his movement, and saw a group closing in on Christian, grabbing his limbs and twisting them until he was unable to move.

  Rose felt the spike of pain that throbbed through him at every jerk of his body, and strode forward, intending to distract his attackers enough for him to break free. But before she could reach him, two hands shot out and knocked her backwards, flinging her to the ground.

  She landed awkwardly, her strength jolting out of her – to burn up the demon who had pushed her, in an instant. Rose paused, stunned that she’d been able to dispatch him without contact, before the phantom sting of pain in Christian’s limbs, his rage that he couldn’t break free of their hold, had her gathering herself and getting to her feet.

  Christian, and those who held him, had moved from where she’d seen them. Rose was confused by the difference before realising he was bleached of colour, blending into the crowds who, amazingly, still continued to dance around them.

  He was released and the demons flickered back into colour, sharing sly smiles of triumph. Rose took stock of their positions whilst she waited for Christian to return to the Shroud, confused by the tactic.

  It had gone quiet, the noise from the party giving way to an ominous, echoing silence, but it was only when Christian looked up, seeing straight through her, pain and confusion flashing across his features, that she knew.

  Something had happened to the Shroud, Christian wasn’t coming back.

  Rose was on her own.

  ***

  Christian growled in frustration, unable to shift back to the Shroud. Some invisible force was blocking his way, solid and responsive to the touch of his consciousness, but completely unyielding – despite the enormous effort he was exerting to try and break through.

  He exhaled hard, unable to comprehend that Rose had been left on her own, unprotected and at the mercy of Hells highest ranking soldier, whilst he was trapped on Earth to suffer the consequences.

  He flinched as a firm hand gripped his arm, jerking away.

  “What happened?” Ben demanded, as Ana closed in behind him. “Where’s Rose?”

  Christian ran his hands through his hair, pushing with all his might against the barrier, searching for any sign of give, any gap.

  “Trapped,” he hissed through his teeth, “I can’t –” His breath rushed out of him in relief as he spied Roc entering the tent, with eight men and women he guessed to be Powers, from the heat that radiated from them. He rushed over, unable to spare a thought for Ben and Ana as they followed behind.

  “Where is the girl?” Roc’s tone was brusque as he addressed Christian, his trademark coat standing out amongst the formal wear around them. The Powers were in formal-wear, and they blended into the crowds of students as they filtered through the tent.

  Knowing he didn’t have time to explain in full, Christian gave an overview of events, his heart pounding as he fought to keep his report factual.

  Roc blinked, the only indication he’d heard Christian’s desperate words, before nodding to the Power that waited by his side.

  “You know what to do.”

  The man nodded, relaying instructions to the other men and women, who began forming a wide circle across the floor of the tent.

  “What can we do?” Ben directed his question
to Roc, who looked over in surprise, unused to being addressed by Mortals.

  “You do nothing,” he shook his head as he moved forward to join the circle, “we do our jobs.”

  Christian stepped forward with him, “Roc,” he pleaded, unable to stand by and watch.

  Roc took stock of the Powers and their positions, “Would you like me to save the girl or placate your wounded pride?” he asked in weary irritation, one gloved hand held tightly in the pocket of his jacket. “The Powers aren’t an easy commodity to come by, and they don’t take kindly to clearing up other people’s mess,” his gaze flicked over at Christian accusingly as he spoke, “So you will stand down, or there will be nothing I can do to stop them from walking out and leaving you to it. Do I make myself clear?”

  Christian held his gaze, refusing to back down, and Roc sighed. He hesitated, before his gloved hand reached out and clasped Christian’s upper arm. He was silent for a brief second, before his eyes lifted.

  “I’m sorry,” Roc said, quietly. He released Christian’s arm, but not his gaze. “I will keep her safe,” he vowed.

  Christian swallowed down panic. If Nisroc – the Prince who considered empathy a weakness – felt the need to comfort him, then he must consider it likely Rose wouldn’t survive. The thought knocked the air out of his lungs, and he barely saw as Roc nodded across the circle to a man dressed in a fitted black suit, designed with combat in mind.

  “Assist Jamaerah. He could use your strength.”

  Christian nodded gratefully, crossing the floor and standing next to the older man, who shifted to allow him a place in the circle. He looked to Ben and Ana, indicating that they should do the same, watching as they picked a Power and took their places with a tentative glance in his direction.

  Christian felt the slight jolt as Jamaerah tapped into his energy source, closing his eyes against the gentle pull. He prayed they could break the barrier – before it was too late.

  ***

  Rose kept her eyes on Christian, only dimly aware of the seven remaining demons as they closed in, despite the hostility that swirled around her in a hateful discharge of emotion.

  He closed his eyes, and she was wondering what was going on, why he wasn’t fighting to reach her, until she noticed the larger circle of men and women, centred almost exactly around the smaller, technicolour ring of hate that surrounded her in the shroud.

  “Well, well, well,” Elle purred behind her, “Looks like your man brought his own friends to the party.” She giggled, the sound far too feminine for the Lieutenant of Hell, and Rose realised that these stern strangers were trying to break whatever force was trapping her in the Shroud. Hope flashed through her, and she turned to face the woman in green, thinking hard about ways she might buy them some time. What was it they always did in the movies?

  Knowing that she needed to keep Elle talking, she straightened her shoulders and met her amused gaze.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked, pleased her voice didn’t falter as it bounced off the strangely echoing barrier. “I hate to break it to you, but if you want me on your side, this,” she indicated the men and women that prowled around her, “Isn’t exactly winning me over.”

  Elle chuckled, her eyes flashing green. “Oh, sweetheart,” she cooed, “You think that’s what this is about?” She sighed dramatically, “I’m afraid that ship sailed a long time ago.”

  “What?” Rose stuttered, confusion hissing through her. What else could she want?

  “I’m sorry, but the offer for you to join us,” her tone was disdainful, “ended the moment you rejected Nathaniel in favour of your precious Guardian.” She indicated to where Christian stood, eyes still closed as he focused, the lack of colour and the cut of his suit making him look like an old photograph.

  “Beautiful,” she murmured in a moment of appreciation. “Useless,” her lips twitched into a half smile, “But beautiful.”

  “Then what do you want?” asked Rose.

  “Now there’s a question,” Elle giggled mischievously, “But the only thing I want from you,” she paused, holding Rose’s gaze, “Is the end of your existence.” She smiled sweetly as cold anticipation surged through Rose’s body. “Which reminds me…”

  Elle did nothing more than lift her head, meeting the gaze of her minions who had yet to move from their sentient position. They stepped forward in unison, but Rose was ready for them, and the seven men and women sizzled into nothing, their cries of pain cut short as they were engulfed in the white static of heat and light. The soil that fell sounded like rain hitting canvas in this strange enclosed bubble of the Shroud.

  Quickly taking stock, Rose realised she was down to three. Elle, Nate, and another man – his height and bulk intimidating even by Christian’s standards – who hadn’t moved from where he’d positioned himself a couple of paces behind them.

  Rose exhaled as her strength pooled back into her body, grinning as surprise flashed across Elle’s face. She quickly recovered, replacing it with a bored roll of her eyes.

  “Is that the best you’ve got?” Rose taunted, the static crackling in her fingers making her brave.

  Elle acknowledged her with a slight raise of her eyebrow. “Merely an aperitif,” She smiled cruelly, “You do seem to have a certain… appetite for destruction.”

  Rose ignored the guilt that flooded her veins, knowing she’d have time to punish herself if – when – she survived this. She lifted her chin, meeting the gaze of the older woman defiantly. “Give it your best shot.”

  Elle flashed a set of perfect white teeth before turning her head in Nate’s direction. Doubt flickered through her as Rose realised she hadn’t anticipated his involvement.

  “Bring me your girl.”

  ***

  Nate had been observing the exchange silently, hoping Elle would assume making him watch Rose’s death would be punishment enough. He closed his eyes at her instruction, despair washing through him as he realised he should have known better, hating Elle more than he had in their entire history – spanning centuries.

  Elle caught his gaze with amusement, her eyes flashing in silent challenge as she traced the pain that ran across his features.

  He ignored her, turning to Rose, who watched him intently, the tense set of her shoulders her only indication of fear. He swallowed down the lump in his throat.

  This was it, he reminded himself. His final task. If he could just get through it, he would be free of her. Free of the confusion and trite human emotion she’d awakened in him.

  Free of everything, because one touch of her hand meant death – and Nate welcomed the sweet oblivion it would provide.

  He drank her in as he stepped towards her, relishing the bitter-sweet moment. His last.

  Tentatively, he reached up to brush the hair back from her face, feeling her tense under his fingers in a small shake of her head.

  “Nate,” she whispered, her eyes wide and glistening. They pleaded with him, begging him not to make her do what she knew she had to.

  He ignored her pleas, ignored everything around her – from the black and white couples that swirled about ignorantly, to the circle of Powers, fighting hard to break the barrier he’d tried himself to escape.

  Instead, he concentrated on her face, tracing the lines and shapes of her. He smiled, hoping she’d read the acceptance in his eyes, bracing himself for the pain as he carefully placed his lips to her forehead.

  ***

  Rose knew Nate expected her to burn him like the others, that she had no choice if she wanted to survive. But her heart forbade it as he’d flashed her his half-, rising up in her chest with such force that the Energy inside of her had surged and tingled, fighting to be released. He’d placed his lips to her forehead with such tenderness, such care, that something inside of her broke and she leaned into the warmth of him, even as he pulled back, shock written on his face.

  By sparing Nate’s life, she was condemning hers, but Rose didn’t regret it as understanding appeared in his ey
es.

  He loved her – she felt the realisation reverberate through her, a little part of her lighting up in astonishment, even joy.

  She cared for him, too, despite all that he’d done, and she held his gaze, trembling under the wave of anguish that flowed through her, unsure who it belonged to as Nate’s eyes hardened in their resolve.

  He reached out and grabbed her arm, yanking her to him. Hard.

  “Do it,” he hissed, his eyes flashing, panic flooding his veins as he realised she would let him touch her, would let him take her to her death.

  Rose reached up to his face as she shook her head, knowing that there was nothing he could do that would change her mind.

  An amused chuckle pulled Rose out of the storm in his eyes, and she lifted her head to meet the stare of the woman behind him.

  “Bravo!” Elle called, with a slow clap of her hands, “It looks like she may have been coming round to you after all Nathaniel.”

  Rose felt Nate tense, shock flashing through his system, and she met his eyes, let him see the truth in their depths.

  “Too little too late, I’m afraid, my dear,” Elle continued, seemingly oblivious to the pair’s exchange, “It won’t save you now.” She seemed gleeful, but Rose felt the envy that bubbled through her; the epitome of the green eyed monster.

  “I can’t stop her,” Nate’s voice was low, intended for Rose only, and she winced at the pain she heard in those few words.

  “I know,” she nodded, as she straightened her shoulders, “But maybe I can.”

  Nate exhaled, apprehension rippling through him, but it was tinged with pride as he tightened his grip on her arm, pulling her to where Elle waited, his anguish intensifying with every step.

  Rose expected him to hand her over, to get out of the way, but it never happened. Instead, he gripped her tighter, indecision plaguing his thoughts as he stared. So Rose made the decision for him, gently prying his fingers loose and stepping away, dropping his gaze as she turned to face her eager assassin.