Revelation (Redemption series Book 4)

by R. K. Ryals

  ~Luther Craig, the Demon of Lust~

  Marcas

  I found Conor and Luther the way I thought I would find them, busy and expectant. Conor had been in his sequestered stone fortress in France attempting to put to rights what the previous gargoyle Director had thrown asunder, fixing prejudices and reassigning council positions.

  When I’d landed on the fortress’s roof with Emma, Conor hadn’t played any games, his icy blue gaze meeting mine.

  “Which side do you choose?” he’d asked.

  I’d been unable to give him an answer, my suspicions about the coming war between Heaven and Hell still unfounded and new.

  In the end, I’d left Emma behind with Conor, their plans to leave immediately for S.O.S headquarters floating on the stormy breeze, as I opened a portal to the underworld.

  Luther, I found in his study in his inner kingdom of Hell, his expression smug. He’d earned the right to feel that way, and I used the one thing I knew would pique his interest; bribery. I offered him power for his help.

  “I need you, brother,” I said, my even gaze on his face.

  His brows rose. “You know which side I’m on, Marcas. I don’t play well with the good boys.”

  “I’m not asking you to play well. I’m certainly not asking you to play fair. I’m asking you to outsmart both sides.”

  Luther’s eyes narrowed. “What are you offering me?”

  My lips quirked. “More power.”

  “Damn,” he lifted the half full snifter of brandy he was holding in a mock salute, “you always did know how to speak to my heart. But,” he lowered the snifter, “I think the time has come for hard truth, brother.” He propped his hip against his desk, swirling the amber liquid he held, his eyes darkening. “You’re not looking at a war between Heaven and Hell.”

  My back stiffened, my gaze skirting the room. The work space was a chaotic mess, the walls covered in clocks and the floor showered with Monroe’s vintage films.

  “You know something,” I said. It wasn’t a question.

  Luther snorted. “I always know something.”

  I snarled. “Cut the attitude, brother. Tell me what we’re facing.”

  Luther pushed away from the desk, setting his snifter on the wooden surface, before approaching me. If it wasn’t for his sharper cheek bones, his green eyes, and the fact that he was a few inches shorter than me, we could have been twins.

  “There’s an incredibly pissed off prince here in Hell. It might have something to do with the fact that I overthrew Amos for his position as the Demon of Lust, but hey, who knows with demons, right?” He winked.

  “Get to the point, Luther. You always were an overdramatic storyteller.”

  My brother chuckled. “Yeah, well this is a good one. You know that pretty lightning show happening on earth?” He pointed at himself and then at me. “We’re the cause of it, brother.”

  My brows furrowed. “You’re not doing a good job clearing this up.”

  Luther shrugged. “You know the Demon of Envy, don’t you? Old Beez? Seems he doesn’t like me very much. You know, for my position and all. As for you, he hates you even more. Something about how you were supposed to sit on the right hand of Satan but chose a half-angel woman instead.” Luther laughed. “Demons get so riled up over the littlest issues.” He lifted his fingers, indicating how tiny he thought the problem was. “I mean whatever did we do to him? So, you created a kingdom for hybrids, and I am now higher ranked than he is. Go us.”

  “Luther—”

  “But the juicy part, I mean the really juicy part of this, is that Beez is the one who tried to kill you during the hybrid war, the one in the cloak who shoved that damned silver dagger through your chest only to be stopped by a naphil. She stole his glory.”

  A cold, uneasy feeling began to settle over me. “What are you saying, brother?”

  Luther’s eyes blackened, anger lighting his features. “I’m saying that Beez wants to be Satan, and he thinks the quickest way to overthrow Lucifer is to overthrow me and use your naphil girlfriend. To take on the Craig brothers.”

  My suspicions grew, the unease with it. “Why you? Why does he want you, too, Luther.”

  My brother winked. “Because, like him, I fully intend to take Lucifer’s place as Satan one day. I’m a threat to him here.”

  I exhaled. “That still doesn’t explain the storms happening on earth.”

  “Oh, that,” Luther shrugged. “That’s because your ex angel lady is having a fucking orgy with the Demons of Envy and Jealousy, with Beez and Ben.”

  It was the most unexpected thing Luther could have told me, the shock of his words rendering me speechless, my mind on overdrive.

  “What?” I growled, my eyes reddening.

  The teeth in Luther’s mouth sharpened, the anger in his face as potent as the fury I felt building in my heart. “Craving blood yet, brother?” Luther asked. “That’s right. She wouldn’t screw you, but as soon as you find an angel willing to choose you over Heaven, she fucks two other demons. Go figure.”

  “Why?” I snarled.

  Luther leaned close. “I’m still trying to figure that out. That may be a question for Lucas. One thing is for sure. No matter how much they hate you, it’s nothing compared to what they feel for your naphil girlfriend. Suit up, brother. Your ex lady has broken the rules, and with it she’s fulfilled the old prophecy.”

  The cold dread in my stomach was growing, becoming a painful blow to my gut, and I moved to place a hand against Luther’s desk, using the wood for support.

  Luther frowned. “So, it’s not good news, but I didn’t realize you’d take it this hard.”

  Pain suddenly lanced through me, spearing me in the ribs, and I pressed against the desk’s surface, my teeth clenched, my pulse quickening.

  “It’s not me,” I said abruptly, my head shooting up. “Something’s wrong with Dayton.”

  “Shit!” Luther swore. “Where did you leave her?”

  My breath hitched, another surge of pain stealing my breath. “Italy.”

  Luther swore again. “What the hell! You left her topside?”

  With a roar, I grabbed my brother by the throat, my temper soaring. “If I’d known what you knew I wouldn’t have!”

  Luther snarled, his fist finding my gut. Normally, it wouldn’t have been enough to make me stumble, but with the lancing pain coming from Dayton, I fell back against his desk.

  “I can be your enemy, brother, or we can find out what the hell happened,” Luther gasped.

  In my head, I heard Dayton scream, and my blood turned to ice. “Get the witch,” I ordered, “and let’s go.”

  Chapter 7

  Hell is a volatile place. It’s not for the weak minded or the weak of heart. Demons are always seeking retribution, always fighting for positions of power, and always looking to be bigger or badder than the guy above them. Beez, the Demon of Envy, is no exception. As one of the seven deadly sins, he rules a kingdom almost as large as mine. I, however, haven’t ruled mine for as long. To him, I’m the weak link, a way to secure his rule of Hell. Only he needs blood more powerful than the blood in his veins to crush Satan. For Lucifer was once an angel of God, and it will take much more to defeat him than a demon born in Hell.

  ~Luther Craig, the Demon of Lust~

  Dayton

  The first thing I saw when I came to was Sophia, the angel Marcas had once been in love with, the one who’d chosen Heaven over loving him.

  My back was against a hard surface, my arms and legs shackled to the floor. Above me was nothing except air, blue air so clear it looked like the water in advertisements for tropical resorts, as if looking hard enough would reveal something special among the azure expanse. Below me, I heard rumbling thunder.

  “Wondering where you are?” Sophia asked, her sing-song voice so beautiful it would make mortals cry.

  It made me angry. “What are you doing?” I asked her.

  She smiled, her otherwise blue eyes bleeding to black
and then blue again. “What do you see when you see me?” she asked.

  Sophia was a Seraphim, an angel of the first hierarchy of angels, a six winged, beautiful creature who sat on the right hand of God. She was ethereal, her long blonde hair a shining veil, her blue eyes so light, they were almost pearlescent.

  “What have you done, Sophia?” I asked, tugging at the shackles binding me.

  She snarled, the expression so unexpected compared to her usual placid personality that I recoiled. “Done?” she asked, her features switching from serene to cruel and back again so quickly that I knew she was struggling to control what was happening to her. “All you see when you look at me is beauty, isn’t it?”

  I tried lifting my head, but it was slammed backward, her answering growl quieting me.

  “I’m so tired of being perfect. It’s hard having to choose what’s right all of the time,” she leaned over me, her gaze studying me. “You got to keep him. Not only that, but you were never punished for it. Why you? Why are you allowed to be happy with him?” Her face transformed, as if she were trying to cry but couldn’t.

  Sudden pity washed over me, my heart hurting for her despite my predicament. I’d never hated Sophia. She’d made the choice she thought was right, the one she believed would protect humanity. I’d been the one to fail, whose love for Marcas had been too strong to walk away from.

  “You’re stronger than me, Sophia,” I whispered.

  She laughed, the sound harsh and cold. “No, I was a fool, but I can fix that. I can fix everything.”

  Fear did a dance up my body, leaving my pulse erratic, and my breathing short. “What have you done?” I repeated.

  She grinned. “I’m going to change the rules, Naphil. I’m going to give other angels a choice. Angels aren’t supposed to feel emotion, did you know that? None.” She winced. “I guess that made me an anomaly. Kind of like you in a way. I fell in love and that wasn’t supposed to be possible.”

  “Sophia—”

  My head lifted and then slammed back down again, the ground beneath me as hard as cement. It sent crushing pain through my skull, my vision blurring.

  “Did I say you could speak? You’ve been allowed too much, naphil. You’ve stood in the way of too many people.” She laughed, and then sobered. “He came to me, and it was just too good.” Her head bobbed. “Too good. It was just too good.”

  “What Sophia?” I asked despite the fear of retribution.

  She smiled, her eyes going so black that it was startling against her golden skin. “Beez,” she breathed. “The Demon of Envy. He offered me power, naphil. He’s right, you know. It is possible. There are enough angels here who want the same thing I do that they are willing to rebel. We could overthrow God. Wouldn’t it be wonderful?”

  My eyes widened in horror, terror filling my veins. “Sophia, you let him in, didn’t you? You let the demon in you. Did you sleep with him?”

  Her head whipped around, her livid gaze on my face, turning her beautiful features into something ugly. “You have no right to judge!” Her voice deepened, echoing. “You have no right! You made a choice, and you won!”

  Swallowing hard, I kept my gaze riveted on hers, “I wasn’t trying to win anything. I did make a choice. You did, too, and yours was the more righteous one. Don’t you see that, Sophia? You were doing good things.” My desperation kept me talking, my brain searching for every possible way I knew to pacify her.

  She stared, her expression suddenly full of sadness. “What does it matter, naphil, when I didn’t get him?” Standing, a long white, gauzy dress flowing around her, she turned, her voice growing cold. “You can have her now.”

  I wasn’t expecting the man who stepped into the light above me. He was a beautiful man, tall and broad with high cheekbones and long auburn hair, not as red as mine, but close.

  “Hello, Dayton.” His voice was deep with a booming quality that slammed into me, knocking me breathless. “You don’t remember me, I’m sure. Imagine, if you can, for a moment, a cloaked figure with a dagger rushing for a certain half-demon leader.”

  I gasped, memories slamming into me.

  I worked my way down a hill, sliding as I hurried to reach Marcas, and that's when I saw the shadow. It was a large shadow, a cloak covering a body hidden by a hood. It took only a split second for me to realize it was headed for Marcas at a speed too quick to stop. There was a scream so loud it froze an entire battlefield. And as I watched something silver enter Marcas' body, I realized belatedly that the scream was mine.

  “No,” I whispered.

  “Oh, yes,” the man replied. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Beez, the Demon of Envy. See, I had this plan. I was going to kill Marcas, the hybrid son of Cain favored by Lucifer, the man who was going to sit on Lucifer’s right hand. When Marcas turned against the Dark Father, I was going to be the one to kill him, to find favor in Satan’s eyes. You foiled that, naphil. You foiled it, and now you and Marcas are going to pay.”

  He leaned over me. “To be a Prince of Hell and a seven deadly sin, you’ve got to have certain abilities. Let me introduce you to mine.”

  With one flick of his hand, I was suddenly in agony, my body arching off of the floor, nausea and horrific cramps invading my stomach. I wanted to curl in on myself, to clutch at my abdomen, but the shackles stopped me.

  Reaching for my inner light, I tugged at it, the energy running down my arms and legs, the power moving into my stomach. It helped, but not enough, and I found myself screaming.

  Above me, Beez laughed. “It won’t stop me, naphil. No matter how much you pull at it, how much power you use, it won’t stop me. Not when you’re pitted against a seven deadly sin and a Seraphim. You will suffer, and with you, the man you gave up everything for. I won’t kill you. No, that’s too good. I’m going to destroy your mind, and then I’m going to give you back to him, broken. Then, when breaking you breaks him, I’m going to destroy you both.”

  The only reply I could give him were more screams, my body convulsing, the pain so unbearable it far surpassed anything I’d ever felt before in my life, as if my body were cooking from the inside out.

  Pain … so much pain.

  My body seized, my hands and feet pulling against the shackles.

  Pain … my body was nothing except pain.

  Above me, a cloud of black insects formed, buzzing loud and angry. At first, I thought I was imagining the fly-like creatures, the pain keeping me from focusing. But when they dove, the first one biting into my flesh, I realized I wasn’t imagining anything. I was going to be eaten alive.

  Pain … so much pain.

  My skin was a mass of living, breathing mutant flies with teeth. They roamed over my flesh, biting, feeding, and injecting a strange, painful liquid into my veins.

  I wanted to beg, but the pain wouldn’t even allow me that. Maria’s voice rang through my head. Fight!

  I tried. I tried so hard to struggle, to pull at my power.

  Some of the flies were inside my skin now, and I cried, tears streaming down my cheeks. The pain. There was so much pain. My skin, my insides … everything was on fire. I was being pulled to pieces, and the fear I’d once felt for the pits of fire seemed petty now.

  Fire would have hurt less.

  Chapter 8

  In the large scheme of things, the key to ruling Hell is to never trust anyone in Hell, to surround yourself with beings who owe you something. Because at the first sign of weakness, at the first sign of faltering, you’re dead. A full blooded demon is a powerful thing. A full blooded demon in league with a full blooded angel is devastating. There’s a reason angels and demons are forbidden to mix. Because, when and if they do, the world will suffer.

  ~Luther Craig, the Demon of Lust~

  Marcas

  The pain never stopped, the sensations ripping through my system, so powerful they were crippling. It took everything I had to remain standing. In the end, Luther was the one who opened the portal to S.O.S headquarters, Monroe by his side.
Monroe was Dayton’s best friend, a witch, and Luther’s lover, the two of them bound, not by blood, but through the goddess Hecate, Monroe’s family being a direct descendant to the goddess of crossroads.

  Luther caught me as I stumbled onto the lawn in Italy, pulling my arm across his shoulders.

  “He’s bleeding,” Monroe gasped.

  She moved to support my other side, her tall height an advantage. Her blonde hair, longer than I remembered, swung in front of her face, hiding the concern in her eyes. She wasn’t worried about me. She was worried about Dayton.

  Around us, the air was full of electricity; the clouds growing darker above our heads, the lightning storm an angry beast waiting to devour the earth.

  “Marcas!” a voice cried.

  I glanced up to find Conor rushing toward us, his eyes frantic, darting first to the sky and then to me.

  “We’ve got to get him inside,” Luther hissed, his gaze on the gargoyle. “Whatever you’ve got to say can wait until then.”

  Rather than argue, Conor replaced Monroe at my side, his and Luther’s combined strength propelling me toward the manor.

  The first thing I noticed was the front door.

  It was destroyed, a crumbled mess, wood and glass blown several feet into the front hall. We stumbled into it, our shoes crunching over broken timber and gleaming shards.

  There was no one to clean away the debris, the mortals too afraid of the lightning beyond to attempt leaving the manor’s safe interior.

  Pain seized me, and I went knee first into the rubble.