by R. K. Ryals
He glanced down at me, his eyes gleaming. “Afraid?”
Monroe appeared next to us, her hand finding Luther’s shoulder. He glanced at her, the resulting look she gave him calming him, muting the fire I’d caught a glimpse of in his face.
Inhaling, Luther spread his arms before stepping over the destroyed door into the chaotic world beyond the manor, his gaze on his incoming minions.
Next to me, Monroe watched him.
“Are you sure about him, Monroe,” I asked suddenly. My best friend was different than she’d been years ago, not so much in appearance, but in other ways. Her eyes were older, much older.
Tucking her hand into her blue jean pocket, she pulled out a ponytail holder, gathering her hair at the back of her head as she glanced at me. “I’ve learned something, Day,” she said. “Sometimes it’s easier to love what’s already bad than to always worry if you’re going to be consumed by the evil yourself.”
My hand found her arm, my fingers wrapping around her skin. “You’re not evil, Roe.”
The look she gave me was full of sadness, full of the same type of fear I’d been feeling since my return from the third level of Heaven. Monroe had seen things, things I may never understand.
“You can’t see my heart, Day. I may not be evil, and I may not want bad things to happen to good people but neither does Luther. Not really. He’s at home in the madness, in the chaos that is darkness. He’s been injured too much by humanity. He wants them, the dark souls, and he wants to punish them.”
With those words, she stepped free of the house, joining Luther at his side, her eyes on the skies, on the sudden appearance of the Hellhounds.
“Your dogs are here,” I heard Luther say.
Monroe chuckled. “I knew I should have packed the treats.”
Luther’s arm snaked around her shoulders, pulling her in for a quick embrace, their gazes on the horde of creatures they ruled.
I turned away before they could greet them, the sulfuric stench that always followed the Hellhounds permeating the atmosphere. I had recognized two of them, Brim and Ember, and it was enough to remind me why I never wanted to return to Hell ever again.
My face came up against a chest, and I gasped. Hands braced me, the figure taking a step back, and I looked up to find Conor’s amused face peering down into mine. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been together like this ready for a fight, hasn’t it?” he asked. His gaze lifted, going past my shoulder to where Luther and Monroe stood, and he frowned. “We’ve all come out of this world so different.”
The words made my eyes burn, and I swallowed hard. “All those wild days at Everett’s and afternoons at Monroe’s house chewing gum and sucking on DumDums seem so far away now.”
Conor’s gaze fell to mine. “Do you still eat those?”
I laughed. “Whenever I can get my hands on them.”
He smiled, but it was a soft one, stopping just short of his eyes. “We’ve all got demons now, figuratively and literally.”
Reaching out, I touched his arm. “Emma’s not like most of them. You did good, Con.”
He leaned forward, something dark and honest in eyes. “You did, too, Day. I may have hated Marcas once, but I’ve learned to trust and respect him. I know where you’re at. I rarely see Emma, but when I do it means something. That’s enough sometimes, knowing that whatever you have to do, no matter where you have to go, that they’re behind you. That if you needed them, they’d be there in a heartbeat.”
I stared at him. “When did you get wiser than me?” I teased.
Instead of smiling, his eyes continued to darken. “Since I was tortured by my own people.” He started to reach for me, but I pulled away, a lump forming in my throat. “I’ve been where you are in so many ways, Red,” he whispered. “In time, it makes you stronger. It’s a hard place to be when you can no longer differentiate between good and evil. Because sometimes good people do bad things in the name of good.”
I’d been present when the gargoyles tortured Conor. I’d seen him hanging from the chains in the center of the fortress anteroom and watched as they tested him. All in the name of justice.
“You’re right,” I said. “It seems like it never goes away, this uncertainty and indecision.”
He glanced at the gargoyles milling around us. “It never does,” he said. “You just get better at trusting your gut.”
“You two really know how to bring a party down,” a light voice interrupted.
Lucas materialized, his gaze passing between us. “No sign of Marcas yet?” he asked.
We shook our heads.
“What about Beez’s demons?” Conor inquired, his gaze on the Fallen angel. “How are we supposed to draw them here?”
Surprised, Lucas snorted. “You of all people should know that. Beez was always going to come here with his army. That’s a given.”
I frowned. “Why here?”
Lucas laughed. “Because the S.O.S. is where the portal to the Outer Levels of Hell is.”
Conor froze. “And where the Outer Level portal is so is the Spear of Destiny.”
“One of the few ways to kill Satan,” I finished. “I did manage to learn a few things over the years.”
The Spear of Destiny had been obtained by the hybrid demons Conor had once saved from a school called the Acropolis. That was another story for another day, but because of the hybrids’ bravery, Marcas had been able to use the spear to keep Satan from ever entering his kingdom.
“Beez can’t touch the spear,” I murmured.
“But Sophia can,” Conor replied.
My pulse quickened. It was coming soon, the fight with Beez and Sophia, and I was really hoping I got my shot at revenge.
Chapter 18
The Demon of Envy is an ambitious demon. In a better world, Beez and I would have been friends. But this isn’t a better world, and anyone who wants to rule Hell is my enemy.
~Luther Craig, the Demon of Lust~
Marcas
The manor I’d left behind when I went into Heaven was not the same manor I returned to. The manor I’d left had been empty other than our small group and some of Alessandro’s men. The one I returned to was surrounded by an army—by demons, gargoyles, and hybrids—their faces hard, their bodies tensed for action.
When I landed, the first person I looked for was Dayton, but the first person I found was Luther.
“So, Heaven?” my brother asked, his green eyes searching mine.
The way he narrowed in on me when my feet hit the ground, his curious face appearing next to my shoulder, I knew he’d been watching for my return.
My gaze went to the milling army, most of it made up of demons, and I threw my brother a look. “It was a land of milk and honey,” I murmured.
Luther scowled. “Leave the jokes to me, brother. It’s not every day a demon is asked to stand before God. Actually, the last time that happened, Hell was born.”
God’s words echoed through my brain, mocking me, and I glanced up at the sky. The lightning that had been so fierce before barely struck now, but the chasms in the earth were growing larger. Steam rose from them, heavy and angry.
“He gave me permission to take care of Sophia,” I finally replied.
“You’re holding something back,” Luther scoffed, his dark gaze on mine.
For a long moment, we stood there, our eyes locked, a silent war fought between us. Luther wanted things, dark things, and as much as I loved my brother, I trusted him even less.
In the end, Luther was the one to break the silence. “You’ve always been up front with me, Marcas.”
“You weren’t always a Prince of Hell.”
“And that makes me different now?” he asked.
My gaze traveled the army behind him. His army. It was full of grotesque creatures big and small. Some of them had wings, some of them didn’t, but all of them had razor sharp teeth and reddened eyes. Their drooling mouths hung agape, ready for the taste of blood.
“What you
are now,” I said, “changes a lot of things.”
“You’re afraid of me,” Luther accused.
The stare I gave him was a hard one. “No, brother, I’m not afraid. But making pacts with the devil is a lot trickier than making pacts with men and gods. You chose this.”
Luther frowned. “Just remember this. Monsters are often a lot easier to understand than men and gods. At least with them you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
He started to walk away before the last word had even left his mouth, the sentence trailing behind him.
After what God had asked me to do for my people, I didn’t disagree with my brother. I didn’t disagree in the least. I just didn’t trust Luther.
“So, you made it back in one piece?” another nosy voice broke in, this one as lyrically witty as my brother’s.
“I have nothing to tell you, Lucas,” I sighed, my gaze finding the Fallen angel approaching me through the crowd.
“Oh no,” Lucas clutched his chest, “I wouldn’t dare question you about your little tête-à-tête with God. By the way, does the first level still use gold?”
I walked away from him.
He followed. “Really? Is it gold?”
“You know it’s not,” I shot back. “I’m not discussing what happened in Heaven.”
Lucas suddenly rounded me, stopping so that I couldn’t take another step forward. “He asked you to do something, didn’t he?” His gaze searched mine, and when I didn’t say anything, he muttered, “He did. I knew it.” Leaning close, he added, “It’s a bad something, isn’t it?”
“Lucas,” I rubbed my hand over my face, “I’m not going to discuss it.”
Lucas searched my gaze, his voice lowering. “You can tell God no,” he said abruptly. “You know that right?”
I froze. “What?”
His gaze hardened. “You can say no. Sometimes the tasks the Father gives us are too big.”
“Not this one,” I said slowly. “I think this one may be necessary.”
Lucas watched me, his head lifting. “You can’t save everyone, Marcas.”
My gaze met his. “I know.”
Pushing past him, I searched the crowd for Dayton, only to be stopped short by a loud scream, the sound bone-chilling. Above us, lightning ran like a jagged hand across the dark clouds, never dropping to touch the ground. What fell instead was worse.
“Blood!” a man yelled.
The first droplet that hit my face was thick and warm, running down my skin and into the neck of my shirt.
“It’s raining blood!” Frantic screams rose up over the yard.
The demons, however, shrieked with glee.
Luther re-appeared next to me, his face hard. “They’re coming.”
I glanced at him. “How do you know?”
I’d barely gotten the words out of my mouth when I heard the flies, the buzzing sound deafening, a black cloud of insects flying through the red rain.
“Because there are two things Beez loves most,” Luther scowled. “Blood and flies.”
With a snarl, I surged forward, orders spilling from my mouth. Vaguely, I knew what I was commanding the armies to do, but my head didn’t care about my moving lips. It only cared about Dayton. Dayton and the flesh eating flies.
When I found her, she was standing near the destroyed S.O.S. doorway, her wide eyes on the sky. The blood-rain was coming faster, and it fell over her, soaking into her clothes, and turning her body into a statue painted in red.
“Dayton!” I yelled.
She didn’t hear me. All she saw were the flies, her gaze hardening. Blood fell from my dripping hair, rolling down my forehead and into my eyes, and I swiped at it.
“Dayton!”
Her gaze lifted, her wild eyes catching mine, and for a moment, all I saw was a scared young woman, the same woman I’d spent the last four years with, the very one I’d not been able to protect when she’d needed me to protect her the most.
Her gaze hardened, her jaw tensing.
“Go!” she screamed. “Fight!” Her eyes returned to the sky. “This time they don’t have me shackled to the ground.”
A ball of light appeared in her hands, and she juggled it, a dark gleam in her eyes.
Seeing her that way—her body covered in blood and her hands fisted around her power—I felt a sudden jolt of fire. Dayton was a naphil, a half-mortal angel with a power I’d only been able to partly train because I didn’t fully understand it myself. There’d been little chance to test it over the years since the hybrid war, but by the look in her eyes, I had a feeling an entire battlefield was about to find out exactly what the only naphil left to walk the planet was truly capable of.
“Don’t get killed on me!” I yelled. It was time to let go.
She looked at me. “You die, I die.”
It wasn’t a promise or an attempt to be romantic. It was the truth. We were still bound.
I nodded. “You die, I die.”
For some reason, as we lunged into the raining blood, my gaze following her until I lost her in the chaos, I thought about the girl who’d hung below me once in the fire pits of Hell. I thought about the seventeen-year-old girl who’d stared up at me, stark fear in her eyes as she begged me to let her go. To save me.
I found myself whispering what I’d told her then. “I’ll follow you down.”
She wasn’t that seventeen-year-old girl anymore, but I’d watched her bloom into something better over the years, someone who didn’t deserve the kind of pain she’d had to endure. Yet, she’d do it again. She’d keep enduring it for me because that’s how she loved.
So many people saw Dayton, saw the sarcastic, foul-mouthed girl she’d once been, and failed to look beyond that. They failed to look beyond the sarcasm she’d used as a shield and the language she’d used to pretend she didn’t care.
They didn’t see the woman I’d known had always been there. The one who’d already lost so much in her life by the time she’d reached seventeen that when she did fall in love, she did it with everything she was.
She died, I died.
For now, while we were still bound, I’d always follow her down.
Chapter 19
The time is here. It won’t be long before the truth comes out, when the reality of this conflict comes to light. I’d said this apocalypse didn’t benefit me, but I’d lied. This apocalypse suits me just fine.
~Luther Craig, the Demon of Lust~
Dayton
All I heard were the flies, the buzzing a constant drone in my ears, my mind stuck somewhere between the blood-filled sky and the shackled earth in the third level of Heaven.
Demons came at me, appearing suddenly out of the curtain of blood, their mouths open, but I was ready for them. Below me, my feet stumbled over cracked earth, but I kept moving forward, throwing light and power at every nasty creature who appeared, each blast harder and more spiteful than the last.
They’d used me too long. The demons and the angels.
They’d forgotten what I was.
I was going to remind them.
“Damn you!” I screamed, ducking to miss a particularly large demon. My knees hit the ground, and I rolled, my hands coming up to throw blue light into the monster’s horrific mouth. He was an ogre-like demon, tall and large but slow, his tongue lolling, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as my power entered him. It shot out of his back like glowing icicles.
Someone stumbled next to me, and I threw myself to the side only to realize it was Conor. He was panting, his hand dropping to the ground, the earth roaring as it answered him.
“Above me!” he yelled, and I lifted my hands, using my arm to swipe blood from my eyes.
In the air, a dragon-like demon was lowering, fire rushing to the ground from his gaping mouth, the glow illuminating the blood.
Standing, I ran for Conor, sliding to land next to him, my power shooting upward just as molten rocks flew from the ground. Conor’s stones shot toward a lumbering monster pee
ling through the storm.
Conor tucked me into him, rolling over blood-covered soil just as the dragon crashed to the ground where we’d been, my power shooting out of every orifice.
“That was impressive,” Conor gasped, just as I returned the favor.
Gripping the front of his shirt, I rolled us again, the lumbering monster he’d shot fiery rocks at landing with a boom behind us.
“Yeah,” I panted, my chest rising and falling against his, “let’s try not to do that again.”
He laughed. “You’ve got it,” he promised as he moved out from under me, his gaze on the sky. “I’m out.” He winked, bat-like wings surging from his back, his body lifting from the ground and into the blood.
It seemed wrong somehow that neither of us seemed bothered by all the red. The blood was everywhere, raining so hard and so fast that it was beginning to run in tunnels along the ground.
Somewhere behind me, someone screamed, the sound of flies following them.
Jaw clenched, I surged forward, dodging monster after monster, some of them fighting for Luther, others fighting for Beez. Me, I shot at anything that shot at me first.
“Try to keep my demon body count down,” Luther’s surly voice called to me through the rain.
The blood was slowing, the clouds above us beginning to scatter.
“If they don’t attack me, I won’t attack them,” I growled back.
As the rain slowed, the yard around the S.O.S. manor became more visible, revealing our armies spread out around the perimeter. Gargoyles and hybrids flew in the sky battling the monsters with wings.
On the ground, members of the S.O.S. marched with demons, Luther leading them. Monroe stood near him, her blonde hair red with blood, her hands clutching a necklace, chants falling from her lips. Her eyes were eerily dark.
There was no sign of Marcas or Lucas.
“I’d ask you why you’re trying to stop me, Luther,” a dark voice called out, a familiar voice, and I cringed. “But I have a feeling I already know.”
Luther stiffened. “Beez, you old devil,” he called. “What a coincidence running into you here.”