by R. K. Ryals
Dayton flew next to me. “Is there a way to kill it?” she screamed to be heard over the noise, the waves below having risen in volume, becoming a dull roar.
“We’re going to find out,” I called back.
We were pressed against the translucent wall when the monster rose. Dayton’s mouth fell open, her scream held back by her growing panic. Her horror-struck eyes searched the sea.
Below us was a massive squid-like creature the size of several ships, an array of tentacles spreading out from a pair of angry, bulbous eyes.
Water spewed into the air as the tentacles dug into the sea, turning it into an angry, boiling cesspool.
“You take the air,” I yelled to Dayton, “I’ve got the sea.”
“Why?” she called.
“Leviathans have to ability to heat water, to make it scalding hot. My skin can take the heat. Yours can’t. Stay to the air!”
I’d barely gotten the words out of my mouth when one of the monster’s arms burst from the waves, the curling tentacle knocking me from the air. I crashed into the sea, Dayton’s screams chasing me down.
Water enfolded me, warm and welcoming, the heat calling to the demon in me. I kicked, my wide, burning eyes searching the sea.
The monster was in front of me, his body twisting and twirling, as if the more fuss he caused, the better he would feel.
Damn it all! I cried in my head, flipping so that I was diving downward. Now would have been a really good time to have a gargoyle on hand, their affinity with water making them natural defenders against monsters and demons of the sea.
The Leviathan rose up, his tentacles reaching for the air, and I shot beneath him. Sending a burst of red power into his middle, I flew through the waves, relief surging through me as he sunk a few feet into the depths away from the air.
Kicking, I broke through the surface, my frantic gaze finding Dayton. Her equally frenzied gaze caught mine, and I lifted myself out of the sea.
“We’re going to have take out his tentacles first,” I ordered. “He can’t do much without them.”
Her lips pressed together, a look of determination crossing her features.
“Go,” she said with a nod. “I’ve got this.”
Her confidence gave me pause, pride swelling within me. With a quick, pleased glance in her direction, I returned to the sea.
Behind me, the Leviathan rose. Dayton’s power shot forth, wrapping itself around two of the tentacles. She tugged, sending it reeling.
The creature roared, launching me with a crash under the waves, and I rolled to avoid the beast, plunging beneath him to immobilize three of his tentacles, my powers a crimson ray in the murky surroundings.
Above me, Dayton attacked again, her blue-tinted power jetting into the water around me, the plunk,plunk sending me rolling once more.
The Leviathan faltered, his clumsy body beginning to fold in on himself. Triumph surged through my veins, and I shot upward again, gasping for air as I splashed onto the surface. “We need to finish him off!” I shouted.
My hand rose, palm out. Dayton flew toward me, her hand grasping mine above the waves, my body below the water, hers hovering in the air.
Drawing on our powers, I tugged her familiar, blue flames into my body, letting it dance with the red fire in my veins, my eyes glowing. My free hand lifted, my fingers falling open to reveal a dancing red, white, and blue orb, the colors merging into purple in the center.
With a roar, I threw it, propelling myself out of the water and into Dayton, pinning her against the invisible barrier in the air just as the Leviathan started to flounder. In the upset, one of his tentacles lanced my back, and Dayton sucked in a breath as the pain surged through us both.
The water began to calm, the creature sinking, his bulbous eyes blank.
Dayton exhaled, her relieved breath fanning my face just as the barrier behind her vanished, the power sending her reeling. Behind her, two angels dropped in to snatch her.
Chapter 33
My need for power may be insatiable, but it was Monroe who taught me that love makes power stronger. She taught me that all men can create kingdoms, but it takes men willing to break the rules for love to create kings.
~Luther Craig, the Demon of Lust~
Dayton
No matter how many years I live, I’ll always be amazed by the way the supernatural world works. There are no rules, no time, and no thought to physical or emotional need. Being a part of it is like being placed inside of a toy ship on top of an angry ocean. You get abused, wrung out, drowned, and tossed around all while trying to get to the surface to breathe.
One moment I’d been in an angry ocean. The next, I’d been jerked from it and tossed into paradise.
Light and dark. Anger and beauty. Fear and peace.
The two angels who’d yanked me from the air after our battle with the Leviathan dropped me into the middle of a forest, and then vanished.
I landed on my backside, my gaze finding the foliage above me. Bright birds—their feathers a color I’d never seen before—flew among the branches, calling to each other. Grass every shade of green imaginable swayed like a soft carpet beneath my feet. My toes dug into the soil, and my fingers pressed against the flowers surrounding me, their fragrance so sweet it brought tears to my eyes.
“Where am I?” I asked.
It felt like the forest was alive somehow, as if at any moment, the trees would look at me and speak.
“You are in the Garden of Eden,” a familiar voice answered.
The voice made my hands tremble, tears springing instantly to my eyes before rolling down my cheeks, my heart a beating drum. My fingers dug at my bare stomach as if touching my skin would keep me awake, would make what I was hearing real and not another test, tribulation, torture, or fantasy.
“Please tell me this isn’t a deception,” I whispered.
A bright light appeared before me, blinding me, and if I hadn’t already been on the ground, I would have kneeled.
“You’ve earned the respite, daughter of Bezaliel,” an Almighty voice rang out over the trees. The glow exploded and then folded into itself, vanishing, leaving me alone with the voice behind me.
It was one of those surreal moments. It’s hard when you lose someone you love. Sometimes you lay awake at night, and you wish you could see them just once more. At the same time, there’s this fear, this palpable fear that seeing them will mess up the memory somehow, change how you once saw them.
“Dayton,” the voice said again.
My tears came harder. I wanted to see her. I needed to see her, and I was afraid that when I turned around, she wouldn’t be there. Grief has a funny way of making you uncertain.
Slowly, ever slowly, I began to turn.
“Mom?” I asked.
There, behind me, stood my mother. She looked like she always had; beautiful, peaceful, and strong. She wore blue jeans and an old sweatshirt because that was what I remembered best about her, how comfortable she was when she wasn’t trying. She was smiling, her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. The distinct scent of Bounce fabric softener infiltrated my nostrils.
“Dayton,” she repeated, her arms opening to me.
Standing slowly, I stared, my cheeks wet, my heart a broken mess. “It’s really you?” I asked.
“It’s my spirit,” she answered, stepping forward. “I’ve always been here watching you, Dayton. You’ve had a tough path, but I’m proud of what you’ve become.”
I frowned, my shoulders shaking. “I’ve done so much wrong, Mom.”
My mother closed the distance between us and pulled me into her embrace. It was almost too much being touched by her. I hadn’t felt her arms around me since I was ten-years-old, and it threw me back into that place again, that place of love where just being there made everything okay.
“You’re a good woman, Day. A little bit of a smart-aleck at times, maybe a little more distant with people than you have to be, but you’re a good woman. No one is perfect.”
My nose and eyes were leaking, my whole face a waterwork factory of joy and despair. “And Marcas?” I sobbed.
I didn’t finish the question, but she knew.
“This world isn’t a normal world, sweetheart. It’s full of lies and deceptions. It’s also full of love and beauty. The world you live in, the supernatural one, will never be simple. There will never be a right or a wrong answer. There will always be that place where you will step out of bounds. Marcas is a good man at heart.”
My face pressed into her shirt, and I inhaled, memorizing every detail; her smell, her touch, and the sound of her voice. Things get forgotten over time, and I wanted to hang on to this a little longer.
Her hands found the back of my head, her fingers running through my hair the same way she’d run them through it when I was a child.
“My time is almost up,” she said suddenly, pulling away. Her hands cupped my face. I’d never felt so old and so young at the same time, like I wanted to be one thing but needed to be another. “Just remember,” she whispered, “when the darkness comes and the fear and expectation gets to be too much, know that I’m watching. I’m watching, and I’m whispering your name.”
A lump formed in my throat, my gaze locked on hers. She had such a beautiful face, her skin smooth and her nose small. A tiny dimple marked her chin and cheek.
Leaning close, she breathed, “Let the guilt go, Dayton. One of the greatest things I’ve ever done was give birth to you. Your heritage didn’t kill me. This ugly world did. What you are is magnificent.”
She started to fade, and I grabbed for her.
“Mom!” I cried, the sound desperate. “Mom, I love you!”
Before she vanished, before she was completely taken away from me, she smiled, my words echoing back at me. “I love you, Dayton.”
My knees hit the ground, my fingers digging into the lush soil beneath me, my tears shaking me.
“Looks like your blood did save me … again,” a familiar voice, Marcas’ voice, said.
My head shot up, my startled eyes finding his, my tears stunned into silence. “Wh-what?” I stuttered.
He fell onto his knees before me. “Looks like we both earned a little respite,” he whispered.
My tears kept coming, and he opened his arms. I fell into them, letting his warmth sink down into my skin and down into my heart.
“They let you into the Garden of Eden?” I murmured against his chest.
I felt the vibration when he laughed, the sensation a pleasant one. “It looks like we’ve earned a place in Heaven’s good graces. With the triple blood in my body, and your naphil heritage, they’re convinced we’re on the side of good.”
“And are we?” I asked.
Marcas’ arms tightened around me. “We’re on our own side, Blainey. We’ve got friends and family who walk both sides. I’m where ever they need me.”
I glanced up at him. “It’s a good place to be.”
He smiled. “We’re a revelation in the supernatural world. I think, for once, they’re okay with us playing both sides, especially now.”
My eyes widened. “Now?”
Marcas stood and offered me his hand. “Seems that while we were in tribulation, Luther used the Seal of Solomon to trap Lucifer, making himself the ruler of Hell.”
Standing, I stared. “Luther is Satan.”
“That about sums it up,” Marcas said. “It makes sense. I think he’s always needed that place of authority to feel comfortable. He was used too much as a child and later as a man. He doesn’t want to be used again. And it benefits us. Luther has never had a desire to mix with human affairs outside collecting the dark souls, so a good bit of the balance between Heaven and Hell will be restored.”
It was scary, but I actually believed Luther would make a great Satan and that Monroe was the perfect woman to balance him out. Monroe was an old soul and that called to him.
My gaze went to the sky, my body suddenly open to all of it; to the feel of the breeze, the clean scent, the animals, and the trees. It felt too clean somehow, the foliage too soft, the grass too cushiony, and yet that’s what made it perfect for this moment. It made it perfect for stepping away from everything that had happened over the past two weeks, to look at life and remember why we lived it.
Beyond the trees, there was the sound of flowing water, and I took Marcas’ hand, leading him toward it.
The foliage opened up before us, revealing a water fall dropping into a shallow pool below. A rainbow arched above it. Startled birds flew.
“So,” I asked, a naughty gleam in my eyes, “how much do you think they’ll let us get away with in here during this respite?”
Marcas smiled. “You know I like how you think, Blainey.” He lifted my hand. “But first, look down.”
My gaze dropped to our joined fingers, my eyes widening when I saw the ring on my left hand, the same pink heart-shaped one that had appeared on my finger years before in an airport in Jackson, Mississippi.
“Maybe it’s time we look into making this a real thing, Blainey? Or would you hate the idea of being a Craig?”
I glanced at him, my heart filling with joy, my eyes gleaming when I said, “Heaven is where ever you are.”
Epilogue
In many ways, my story wasn’t just about me. My story became about an entire family, a family born out of trials and tribulations and emotional issues. It became about love, loss, and need.
In truth, I don’t think my story will ever end. There will always be more that can be told. There are too many people involved in my life. There are too many things that have happened.
I’ve faced so many things in my journey with Marcas, not only trials and tests in Hell but tribulations in Heaven. It bound us emotionally and mentally in a way no blood bond ever could.
As the for the people in our lives … well …
Marcas and I left the Garden and Eden and returned to S.O.S headquarters. We helped them rebuild because the world will always need men like Alessandro and the people who serve him.
Abner, the prophet, disappeared during the great rain of fire. We never found him, and I’ve always wondered if he somehow escaped and is traveling the world throwing other people’s lives into turmoil with his dreams. He was a very devoted man.
Or was he?
That was the thing about our world. Nothing is ever as it seems.
Conor has continued to build his leadership over the gargoyles, including funding a new fortress in France away from the one he was tortured in. We both still have nightmares about what happened to us. Emma comes to see him, but their duties keep them apart more often than not. Will that relationship remain? Only time will tell. Not all relationships make it. There’s a lot between Conor and Emma that I don’t think will ever go away. Their story is beautiful because of the turmoil in their lives, because of what it taught them.
As for Luther, he totally rocks the whole Satan role. Only his friends are allowed to call him Luther. I think, in the long run, he’s been trying to get on the throne of Hell since I first met him in that little apartment in Italy years ago. Luther and Monroe’s story will never end either. There’s too much darkness there, too many things they have to keep balanced in the underworld. I don’t envy them that.
The Seal of Solomon is still on Luther’s finger. It’s a dangerous artifact to entrust to a demon, the power in it enough to start a real war between Heaven and Hell, but I also think—in an odd way—that Luther is the only one not afraid to keep Lucifer bound in the ring. One day I’d like to hear how Luther did it, how he stood before Lucifer and trapped him within the Seal.
As for me and Marcas, we live in that great divide, but it’s a better divide now. Heaven and Hell both trust us. We’ve been asked to help with more than one uprising. Marcas is a good leader, and I think he could have been a threat to both realms if he’d wanted to be. All Marcas wanted was peace. Peace, love and family, no matter how flowery that sounds. He deserved it.
My most tro
ubling friend is probably Lucas, the golden Fallen angel. He came to see us after the tribulation, but mostly he keeps to his own Great Divide, to the world among the Fallen. He has a lot more responsibilities than people think. He is a dangerous man. He’s loved only twice that I know of. As an Angel who’d once been a part of the first level, he’s not gender specific. His greatest love was Luther. In many ways, I think he still cares for the old devil. Pun intended.
There was a time, however, that he also loved Monroe. It’s tragic, really. I think there’s a great love story out there for Lucas … one day.
The day Marcas and I got back from the Garden and Eden, I went to see Maria. Her death had been a tragic one during a chaotic time when I’d not gotten to process the grief. I’ve lost so many people over the years. Alessandro and Emma gave me her rosary. I carry it everywhere now, and I even call Marcas “Demonio” here and there to keep him on his toes.
There’s been too much loss. The ones I haven’t lost to death, I’ve lost to time and distance. My sister, Amber, for example. We rarely talk during the year, but we do see each other on holidays. She runs the Sethian Sect my aunt left behind, but it’s not like the old sect. It’s a good place. I even have a niece now. She’s just turned two. I’m a proud aunt, even though the visits are few and far between. One day, I want a child of my own.
Until then, I’m enjoying the family I’ve learned to love, the ones who loved me even when I wasn’t technically a part of their family.
I love my family. I love my friends. I love Marcas.
Only time will tell how all of our stories end, but I think the best thing to remember is how they started.
About the Author
R.K. Ryals is the author of emotional and gripping young adult and new adult paranormal romance, contemporary romance, and fantasy. With a strong passion for charity and literacy, she works as a full time writer encouraging people to "share the love of reading one book at a time." An avid animal lover and self-proclaimed coffee-holic, R.K. Ryals was born in Jackson, Mississippi and makes her home in the Southern U.S. with her husband, her three daughters, a rescue dog named Oscar the Grouch, A Shitzsu named Tinkerbell, an OCD cat, and a coffee pot she honestly couldn't live without. Should she ever become the owner of a fire-breathing dragon (tame of course), her life would be complete. Visit her at http://rkryals.com/ or subscribe to R.K. Ryals' Newsletter