by R. K. Ryals
I’d lived a long time. I’d caused a lot of pain. Most of all, I’d caused a lot of heartache. Still, through it all, despite the fact that our time together had been the shortest—days rather than years compared to the rest of my life—Dayton had been the thing I most cherished. Because during that short time, she’d given up the most for me.
Our love was strange. I don’t know if I’d call it unhealthy. It was more unrealistic than anything. In my world, angels just didn’t mix with demons without punishment. Dayton and I were the only angel/demon couple in the world.
“Why are you doing this?” Dayton screamed.
My head lifted, my gaze finding her face. “Your love is power,” I called. “You just have to know when to use it and when to let go of it.”
They were her words, but they made sense to me. Perfect sense. I was the King of the Outer Levels of Hell, and I’d been offered a chance to save a lot of innocent lives from damnation, lives of men and women with no demon blood in their veins, whose only sin was having Cain for a father. This was also my chance to break Dayton free from the vicious cycle that was my life.
Near the manor, Alessandro walked, a box in his hands.
Dayton began to sob. “No,” she said. “Please.”
On the lawn, men and women began to appear, brought forth through the portals bordering the property. Demon blood or no, most of the sons and daughters of Cain still suffered from the need for blood. It had turned many of them into killers. Every time they had children, they ran the risk of passing on the bloodlust. Because of that, Hell had started bringing in the sons and daughters of Cain years ago.
I was going to break the cycle.
“You need to think about this,” Luther called to me. He tried to approach but angels blocked his path.
“I’ve thought about it, brother,” I answered.
He scowled. “You’re going to die. You really want to do that? For people who probably won’t even appreciate the gesture.”
I didn’t answer him, and he threw his hands up, his gaze sliding to Dayton.
Behind me, a hammer pounded on wood. Even though the angels had called this a crucifixion, my death wasn’t going to be on a cross. I was going to be laid out on the ground, my blood running into the soil, the same way Abel’s had when my father, Cain, had killed him. Blood for blood. I was going to be Cain’s sacrifice, the one he should have made years ago.
Lucas stood next to me, his face sullen. “You could have said no,” he mumbled.
I threw him a look. “Would you have been able to?” I asked. “If you had the chance to save the Fallen, to return all of your brothers and sisters to Heaven, would you do it?”
Lucas didn’t answer, and I knew I’d gotten to him.
“What about Dayton?” Lucas asked.
“This is for her, too. What if you had the chance to save Monroe or Luther?”
Lucas’ startled gaze shot to my face, and despite the situation, I smiled. “Don’t pretend with me, Lucas. I know you’ve loved both my brother and Monroe. Anytime there’s been a need, you’ve been there for them.”
The Fallen angel’s gaze fell away from mine. “You could have said no,” he repeated.
It was too late for that.
One of the angels from Heaven nodded at the ground, and I followed them to the wooden plank that had been hammered together and then pressed into the earth.
With one final glance at the people I loved, I settled on the makeshift altar, letting the angels bind me to the wooden table, my hands and feet hanging off the sides.
“The Seal,” I called. “Dayton needs to wear the Seal.”
Without the Seal, without my blood purged from her body, Dayton would die if I died.
Chapter 27
There are things you do for the people you love. Crazy, unexpected things. Everything I do has a purpose behind it. Everything I do is for power.
~Luther Craig, the Demon of Lust~
Dayton
Damn Marcas Craig! His heart, despite his parentage and his past, was a good one. He had such an incredible capacity for love. It was the reason I’d fallen in love with him. It was the reason I felt like my heart was being ripped to shreds as they tied him to the altar on the ground.
“The Seal!” Marcas cried.
Fear gripped me, tearing me asunder, and I backed into the crowd, tears running down my cheeks.
No! Please no!
Alessandro approached me, two angels flanking him. Alessandro was frowning, his face full of compassion and sorrow. He’d just lost his mother, and now he was losing a demon who’d played a large part in his childhood.
An arm suddenly circled my waist, my startled shriek stopped short by Luther’s abrupt voice in my ear.
“Don’t let them put the Seal on you, Dayton!” he hissed. “Do you understand? I don’t have time to explain. Just know this. Bound, you run the risk of dying with him, but he also has a better chance of living.”
“How?” I gasped.
“Trust me,” Luther said.
I didn’t trust Luther. No one trusted Luther, except maybe Monroe.
Luther released me, backing into the crowd just as Alessandro drew near.
“Dayton,” he said, “I know this is going to be hard, but—”
Ignoring him, I ran for the grass around the altar. The angels didn’t stop me, and I leaned over Marcas’ prone body, my eyes full of tears. They fell onto his bare chest.
“Just tell me why you’re doing this,” I sobbed. “Please.
His head turned, his gaze finding mine. “You would do it, I know you. If you had the choice, you would do it.”
He was right, damn him, because that’s the kind of person I was whether people liked it or not. I made sacrifices for those I loved. It didn’t make sense sometimes, but I did.
“Please,” I sobbed. I knew there was no use in begging, but the words just wouldn’t quit coming. “I love you, Marcas Craig. I don’t care what that means. I love you.”
He smiled. “I love you, too. Always.”
The angels pulled me away, dragging me to the edge of the crowd. Alessandro waited for me there, the box containing the Seal open. It sparkled, taunting me.
Luther’s warning rang through my head. “Don’t let them put the Seal on you, Dayton!”
One of the angels lifted the ring from the box, holding it up. He gestured at my hand, and I lifted my fingers.
Behind me, the angel next to Marcas had grabbed a thick nail and a hammer.
Tears flowed down my cheeks.
In the crowd, a figure moved with lightning speed, running straight for me.
The angel had just started to slip the Seal onto my finger, and the hammer had just begun lowering the first nail into Marcas’ hand when I suddenly realized what Luther wanted me to do.
He was playing Judas. He was going to deceive everyone, and he wanted me to help him. He wanted me to help because he was right. If Marcas was bound to me, he had a better chance at survival.
The ring started to glide down my forefinger, but I pulled my hand back, pretending to stumble, my fingers falling away from the Seal just as the first nail was pounded into Marcas’ skin.
The chaos that followed was unclear. I’m not sure if it was my scream or Luther’s triumphant sigh that I heard first.
All I do know is that, in the blink of an eye, I was on the ground, cradling my bleeding hand, and Luther had taken the Seal of Solomon.
Chapter 28
The Seal of Solomon is a great relic, an ancient ring of King Solomon created to bind demons. To own it is to have immense power.
~Luther Craig, the Demon of Lust~
Marcas
The moment I heard Dayton’s scream, I knew something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Pain … immense, terrible pain radiated through my hand and down into my arm, but I clenched my teeth against the throb, my head falling to the side, my eyes on the crowd.
“Stop!” Alessandro yelled. “You’ve got to stop! The Seal is go
ne!”
The angel standing over me froze.
Lucas shoved through the crowd, his face a mask of rage. “Damn him!” he cried, nodding at one of the angels who’d come down to earth with us. “Go find him!”
Reaching the altar, Alessandro leaned over panting. “You can’t keep going. If you kill him, you also kill the naphil.”
I started to struggle, and the angel’s eyes above me darkened. “We can’t stop now,” he said.
“No!” I screamed. “Dayton!” On the fringes of the crowd, a red-haired figure crawled. “Stop! You’ve got to stop!”
Surprisingly, it was Lucas who replied, “What has started cannot be undone. We can’t stop.”
“Marcas,” a pain-filled voice called.
My head fell to the side, my gaze finding Dayton where she crawled toward me across the lawn, the crowd parting for her.
Another nail came down, sending horrendous pain shooting through my opposite hand. A bone was crushed, blood welling around the spike. Dayton screamed, her body falling to the ground, blood seeping from her hands to soak the ground below.
I roared.
“Dayton!” Conor cried. Pushing through the crowd, he fell to his knees next to her and pulled her into his embrace.
“Take me to Marcas,” she rasped.
Lifting her, Conor carried her across the scorched lawn, his face full of conflicting emotions. “You’ve got to stop!” he yelled at the executioner, his eyes flashing.
An angel fell from the sky, a flaming sword in his hand. “There’s no stopping this.”
Another nail rose into the air. When it came down, driving into my feet, my scream rose to meet Dayton’s, sudden tears springing to my eyes.
“Down!” Dayton cried, “Put me down!”
Conor placed her next to the altar, tears streaking his cheeks, his blue gaze meeting mine. He couldn’t stop this, and it was killing him.
Dayton sobbed, blood gushing from her wounds. Still, she reached for me, wounded hand and all. “It’s going to be okay.”
I cried out, my heart breaking. Struggling against the bonds holding my hands and feet, I glared at the angels.
“She’s innocent!” I roared.
“You offered your blood as payment for your father’s sins, to redeem Cain’s offspring. We will not quit now,” the angel said, his voice monotone.
There was one more nail, and the angel lifted it, driving it hard and fast into my other foot.
Dayton screamed.
My head fell to the side, my gaze finding hers. “That was the last one,” I soothed.
Except it wasn’t. The angel lifted a knife, and when I realized what he was going to do, I fought, pulling on the bonds, my teeth changing to fangs.
They were going to slit my throat.
A demon could survive that.
A half-angel mortal could not.
Despite my panic, despite my anger, Dayton was calm, her tear-stained face turned toward me. “This is for your people,” she said. “It’s ironic, really,” she gasped, “that all of this started because your brother thought I was the key to redemption, and now here you are succeeding where he failed.”
Chapter 29
I am not a kind man, my mind saturated by the need for power, and yet oddly enough, it’s my brother who keeps breaking the rules.
~Luther Craig, the Demon of Lust~
Dayton
The moment I saw the knife a feeling of peace fell over me. It’s not that I wanted to die or that I wanted to feel pain, it was because we’d come full circle. It was because my journey with Marcas had begun with his brother’s crazy desire for redemption, and it was going to end having earned what the children of Cain wanted all along. The end to the bloodlust. The end to their father’s curse.
My gaze captured Marcas’, my eyes searching his pain-filled face. “It’s okay,” I breathed.
He winced. “You’ve got to quit doing this, Blainey,” he teased, the joke coming out strained.
“What?”
He smiled. “Saving me while pretending you’re not saving me.”
“I’m a terrible actress, remember?”
“You’ve gotten better at it,” he admitted.
I shot him another smile because it seemed the right thing to do, as if smiling would make everything else okay.
The angel above him began lowering the knife, and I winced, fear skittering up my spine.
“Look at me, Blainey. Just keep looking at me,” he insisted.
Even though I tried not to, even though I fought it with every bit of willpower I had, I found myself whimpering.
“My eyes,” Marcas demanded.
My gaze remained locked on his. While I stared, remembering every facet of his face, every line and dip and beautiful imperfection, the knife fell across his throat, blood welling in a thick long line across his skin.
Pain surged through me, a burning pain so deep and terrible that I forgot to breathe. So deep and terrible that my body grew cold, my chest quit rising and falling, and my heart quit beating.
Then there was nothing. Nothing except the sweet forgetfulness of oblivion.
That was the day we died.
Chapter 30
Satan is the highest title a Demon can have in the underworld. Lucifer, as a mighty Fallen angel, has worn that title proudly for an eternity. He’s ruled with pride, arrogance, hatred, and lust. The worst of these is arrogance, because no matter how strong a person is, no matter how mighty he becomes, everyone—even gods—are fallible.
~Luther Craig, the Demon of Lust~
Marcas
Right before the end, right before the knife’s edge slid across my throat, I made Dayton look at me, our eyes locked. I made her look at me because, in the end, that’s what our relationship had always been about. It was about having someone stand beside you, about knowing that no matter how bad the storm got, no matter how vicious the moment became, that we still had each other.
“I’m here,” I thought, my mind linked to hers. “I’m here.”
I kept saying the words over and over again, repeating them as the blade cut into my skin, as it bit into my flesh, the steel drawing blood, weakness, and death.
In the end, it wasn’t my body I felt slip away, it was hers, her heart beat slowing, her pulse ceasing to exist.
In my head, my body roared, the blood leaking from it, my heart looking for that beautiful dark oblivion, seeking that world of shadows filled with peace.
My mind screamed, the darkness plummeting toward me fast and hard. Dayton was never supposed to be a part of the end. She was never supposed to be part of the ultimate sacrifice.
When she quit breathing, when I could no longer feel her a part of me, I exhaled, and I fell. I fell into a world of death.
Darkness …
Emptiness …
Thud,thud
A flicker of recognition … memories …
Thud,thud
“Marcas,” a voice called out. It was a small voice, full of fear and uncertainty …
Darkness …
Thud,thud
A flicker of recognition …
“Marcas.”
It was her voice, and she was scared. Around me, there was nothing except blackness, as if I was stuck in a never ending world of sleep, that place between wakefulness and slumber.
“Marcas,” she whispered.
I inhaled, the breath so deep that I could feel my chest expand even though I couldn’t see it.
“Dayton,” I exhaled.
A half-relieved, half-fearful sob escaped the ebony veil.
“I’m blind,” she said.
“Breathe slowly,” I told her. “I can’t see either.”
There was silence and then, “Are we alive?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.
In my entire existence, I’d never heard of a black world after death. Full blooded demons once killed were reincarnated, born again in the bowels of Hell. It was a never-ending cycle of e
vil. Hybrids simply died.
“There’s no fire,” she said, the stark relief in her voice so impressive that if I’d had a face, or knew where it was, I would have smiled.
“No pits,” I reassured her.
She gasped, and I listened to her, the sound of her breath filling me with peace.
“I’m not sure this is much better,” she protested. “I feel like I can’t breathe.”
“You’re panicking, Blainey.”
“Oh, is that what this is?” she retorted.
The sarcasm, the wit I was used to hearing from her when she was scared, startled me into chuckling. “I miss you, Dayton,” I said suddenly.
She fell into silence, the words hanging between us.
“I miss you, too,” she said finally.
We’d fallen into a comfortable place in the last four years, our relationship an uncertain situation, constantly threatened by the realms. It had placed a wedge between us that hadn’t existed when we’d first met, broken only when we made love, when her body was straining against mine. Sex had become a desperate place full of heat and passion, and the need to re-connect.
“We’ve got to quit meeting like this, Craig,” she said suddenly.
I growled. “I’m not looking to meet you anywhere, Blainey.”
She laughed. “I miss that, you know?” she paused, the sound of her breath rising in the darkness. “That frustration we used to feel around each other.”
“I know,” I replied. I wanted to touch her, to feel her against me.
“I’ve been feeling it again,” she whispered.
She inhaled and then exhaled, the sound loud and panicked.
“Breathe, Blainey,” I soothed. “It’s only darkness.”
“It’s suffocating me.”