by S Lawrence
She sits me gently down and then stands, pushing her hair away from her face before walking into her bathroom. I watch as she leans in turning on the water. She stares at herself in the mirror, and I wonder what she is thinking. Steam begins to thicken the air, and she sighs deeply before grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it up and over her head. Just before I turn away, I see the scars criss crossing her body, and rage floods my body. Her skin is a map of torture and horror, things done by beings created to love and care for others. It makes me disgusted. It makes me want to go down and kill them as they rest, but even I can’t kill them without help.
I leave her while she stands under the hot water. I can’t help her here right now. Flashing out of the house, I slip through their barrier; it wasn’t created for one like me. He is still standing on the sidewalk, although he has moved slightly farther down the street, his eyes locked on the house.
I remember him from before. He’s angrier now, but it will aid him in the fight to come. Turning, I look back as I feel a slight surge in power. There, in the shadows stands Micheangela; she along with Seraphina are the worst of those that fell.
It had been a domino effect -- the first fell after killing the seven and many others, and then others watched as they ran amok among the humans, doing whatever they wanted. Many that made the choice afterwards only wanted the freedom to sin, hungering for the decadence of the flesh. They do not fight in the war, uninterested in the fate of humanity.
They would be, if they understood. Her eyes scan the grounds, skipping over me in this body, which is why I chose it.
Turning away from her, I make my way to him. ‘Take me to your leader.’ I find my joke funny. If his face is anything to go by, he doesn’t.
“I’ll take you to Evander. Unless you mean Lucifer?” He raises an eyebrow.
‘Neither scare me, Torryn. And neither does a once upon a time guardian angel with no one to guard.’ His nostrils flare; it is the only hint of how much my words surprise him. ‘I knew you as you were and I know you as you are.’
I say nothing else as he turns and stalks to a low slung, matte black sports car. Instead I follow right on his heels and leap in as he opens the door. Settling myself in the passenger seat, I curl up and wrap my tail around my face, ignoring his look as he slides in and starts the engine. It growls and vibrates the car as he whips out into midday traffic. We race through the city, heading southwest to the edge of the Bayou des Allemands, where the offices of Demon Bayou Rum have been since the days of pirates and smuggling. I haven’t only been watching the Fallen.
Evander was smart to choose this city as a base. I only wish he had caught them the first few times they had been here killing. Unfortunately, Seraphina had been much more careful before. She only grows bold because of the new lead on the other women. Another reason these demons must hurry. It will do no good to save Lillian if they find the others.
I have a moment of regret, of self doubt over my own inaction all these thousands of years. So many lives have been lost, families destroyed by their vengeance, but I couldn’t risk changing fate or the prophecy.
“You coming?” His perturbed tone interrupts my self reflection, and I raise my eyes glaring at him before standing and stretching.
I walk slowly across the leather seat before digging my claws into the Italian leather at a hop to the ground. I can hear his molars grinding. I’m not sure I can smile in this form but if it is possible, I am.
Just like at the house, I saunter through their magical security, and it gives the demon pause.
He has reason to be concerned. That is only a hint of the power I have. If only it was enough to end this war.
Eight
TORRYN
She was striking. Beautiful in an unconventional way. The scar made her even more so, at least to me. I ignored the cat as I pondered her. She is a mystery. Why would a human woman be living with the Fallen? I had driven here on autopilot, as even now I’m out of sync with everything around me. The cat is standing on the steps of the antebellum home we have used for offices, watching me. His black fur is stark against the crisp white paint and faded bricks.
Staring at him for a few moments, I try to get a sense of who and what he really is.
‘Are you going to stand there all day?’ The deep voice startles me enough that I shift into a defensive stance. Did that fucker just roll his damn eyes at me? I shove the door of the car, and it slams hard. The noise from it echoes over the water of the bayou. The symphony of insects falls silent. All I hear is my own heart beat and the low rumble of a purr.
His tail switches from side to side as I stomp up the stairs and open the door. Let him be pissed. I know that isn’t his true form; he could change to something with hands, I’m sure.
The knob of the door bounces off the wall, and Evander peers up one eyebrow raised. I step aside, sweeping my hand behind me. That eyebrow drops and joins the other as it furrows.
“You get a pet?” He asks as he pushes back from his desk.
“No.” My flat tone matches my deadpan expression.
‘Pet, indeed.’ The voice rumbles through my brain, and anger simmers in it.
The beast flounces into the middle of the office as Evander steps around his desk. In the time it takes me to blink, the huge black cat is replaced by an angel, fucking wings and all. I try not to gape. Memories of Heaven pour through my mind, and I fist my hands at my side.
“I’m here to help.” He is dark like the cat -- dark chocolate flesh with dark, wavy hair. His eyes are the bright golden green of the cat. It is slightly unsettling, and yet I can’t look away. He smiles, and his teeth are brilliant white and perfect. The smile makes me tense for reasons I can’t explain. I don’t recognize him.
I glance at Evander. I don’t see recognition but I do see something else. Shifting my stance, I ready myself to defend my friend and leader. He is still beside his desk, and I see his finger slide under the edge of it. Oh shit, this is bad. That alarm goes directly to Lucifer. The thought has barely formed in my mind when the man himself appears behind Evander’s desk in front of the large stained glass window. His glow lights the window like the sun before he controls it as his eyes narrow.
“Caliel.” Respect fills his smoky voice. Caliel. I have no clue, but Evander straightens. Yep, this is bad.
“I found him. Well, he found me, but I tracked him to a house on Saint Charles. A house shrouded in magic and reeking of the Fallen.” My words are loud in the silent room.
“He led you to Avalon. You didn’t track him,” Evander murmurs, and I stiffen. He glances at me, noticing the slight movement. “There is only one here that could track him.” His eyes turn to Luc before locking on my own.
Oh. Who is this angel that outranked Evander in Heaven? I look at him with renewed interest. Why did he… lead me to her? The word irritates me almost as much as the look on said angel’s face.
“You were running out of time and nowhere near finding them. The closest you’ve been was last night in the courtyard, but they slipped through your fingers. My sources have told me they are close to finding one of the descendants.” I feel like I’m a kid getting scolded, and it rankles. I hate that he watched as they got away from me.
“You could have told me which way they went,” I grumble.
“Yes, and today you’d be dead.” I open my mouth to respond, my anger boiling over, but Evander shakes his head once. Closing my lips together, I suck in deep breath through my nose. “Your eyes are red.”
No fucking shit, you asshole.
“I can be I suppose.” I didn’t say that out loud. Fuck.
“Why now, Caliel?” Luc walks around the desk and stands in front of the angel. They are quite the pair, light and dark. Caliel glances around the room. A leather club chair appears in front of the bookshelves, and he crosses to it, sitting down. He waves his hand and three others appear, but we don’t move.
“Really? Don't be children. Sit and I will tell you what I can.”
Sighing, Luc starts forward, choosing the chair closest to the wall. Evander and I flank the angel.
“Only the Morning Star was before me.” Oh shit, did he really just call him that out loud?
Nine
LUC
The prophet of God.
I haven’t seen him in thousands of years. He who was made second after me. He who wrote the prophecy. He is watching me closely from his reclined position, his body deceivingly relaxed. I’m not fooled.
“So, why have you come now after all this time?” Like him, I keep a calmness in my voice that I don’t feel. Just seeing him brings up memories of our father casting me in this role I did not want or deserve. Memories of his apathy to what was happening not only to his first children but to the second. One moment, I was standing bathed in his glory and the next, I was in Hell. A place I could’ve never imagined, that didn’t even exist before I arrived. It was darker than anything I’d ever seen, just blackness and nothing. No flames; that is a creation of the church.
“Are you even listening?” The words and angry tone penetrate the fog of my emotions and memories. I shake my head.
“Start again.” He frowns. “Please.” Caliel studies me for a moment before nodding once.
“They have figured a way to find the other descendants.” The words of the prophecy play through my mind, and I glance at Evander; I see he is also remembering the words.
“The other descendants?” Torryn hisses. Turning, I look at him, the meaning of Caliel’s words finally sinking in when I see the realization stamped on his face.
“Who do they already have?” I ask, and Torryn’s face says he knows the answer already.
“Lillian,” the Prophet replies, his voice low. My demon tenses in his seat. “It’s why I led you to her and Avalon. They have kept her all her life, stole her from her family after killing her mother.”
“Why didn’t they just kill her as a baby?” I ask.
“They enjoy the pain they cause her and another by keeping her alive.” Who is the other, I wonder, but know asking will do no good. If he was going to tell us, he would have. Evander is studying Caliel, trying to figure out his true purpose for coming to us.
“You were with the girl. Why didn’t you free her?” Torryn growls, drawing Evander’s concerned gaze.
“It’s not I who was named in the prophecy.” Caliel pins him with a smug look.
Torryn looks at each of us, his eyes moving slowly, taking in every tiny nuance. It is one of his gifts, his ability to read people.
“What haven’t you told me?” Evander sighs heavily at his question. Just as I open my mouth, there is a knock at the door. Our heads turn slowly to the sound.
“What do you want?” Evander yells.
“Torryn told me to come see you today,” is the gruff reply.
“Shit. I did.” The man in question is staring at Caliel. “It’s Dagen. He deserves to know also, don’t you think?” It is a dare. I nod.
“Dagen, come in.” The door opens, and the imposing demon steps through.
Closing the door behind him, he stands in front of it. He is an imposing figure, his light green eyes striking with his caramel skin. My lips twitch at his bleached blonde, well no, not blonde, white hair that stands out stark on his head. A chair appears as the ones we are sitting in shift back, making the circle bigger. I look away from the demon and toward the angel that is showing off. He smirks.
“Join us.” His voice is even angelic, and the sound causes those pale green eyes to narrow before Dagen’s feet begin to move. None of us miss the defensive posture that remains in his body. Grabbing the chair, he drags it closer to Torryn before flopping in it, his long legs sprawled out in front of him.
He nods at Evander and myself before shifting toward his friend, who raises his fist. He bumps it, and I am again reminded of how modern my champions have become. I hope it helps them in this fight.
“Should we start over?” Caliel asks.
“You haven’t said that much. But Dagen hasn’t been told anything yet.” Evander pins Torryn with a glare, the later only shrugs unrepentant.
“What does Dagen need to know?” The demon asks, speaking of himself.
“So much, my friend.” Torryn’s words are barely audible.
Ten
TORRYN
Lillian is one of the descendants.
The words are stuck on repeat in my brain. I’m not sure why that bothers me so much, but it does. Torture. I see the scar on her face and I know it won’t be her only one. A cracking sound echoes through the overly quiet office, and I focus on the room once again. All eyes are on me. Dagen jerks his head down toward my hands, and I glance down. Sharp, black claws are digging into the arms of my chair, ripping through leather and wood. Oops.
Closing my eyes, I draw deep breaths, forcing myself to calm. We may look human but we are not. Hidden just below the surface is the demon that haunts believers’ nightmares. I feel the claws receding slowly and open my eyes once more.
“Good?” Evander asks, neither mad or judgmental. I nod. “Dagen, there are some things that are happening, and because of them, you need to know something we,” he motions between himself and Luc, “have kept from you and the others that were first.”
“First?” My friend voices the question that I also have. He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything else, Luc reaches out and taps his forehead, just like he did mine. Poor bastard. I sit waiting for the rage to roll off him.
It doesn’t come. Instead, the temperature drops at least forty degrees in the room, and my breath puffs in a small cloud from my mouth. It’s been a very long time since I feel a chill this deep, either in nature or from a supernatural source. I had forgotten this power of Dagen’s. He doesn’t speak for a very long time.
“I was an angel. I guarded innocent animals, protected the species.” His voice is flat, filled with sadness. “So many lost.” His head turns to me as a tear slides down his face. I watch, unable to think of words to console my friend, as his eyes harden. “They caught me in the Garden that day. I was so surprised to see them I didn’t notice the blackness of their wings. They slaughtered me like a lamb.”
The temperature drops more as his rage finally breaks free.
“Why has our past been hidden?” I want to know also so I join him in staring at Luc and Boss.
“It was my decision. If you knew the past, you would need to know about the prophecy, and I didn’t want you to focus on the parts of it that pertain to you.” Luc stands and paces away, stopping in front of the bookcase.
“You haven’t told them?” The angel is on his feet as he shouts at Lucifer.
Pale blonde hair shimmers as the leader of hell shakes his head. When he turns back to us, I’m once again struck by how young he looks, like a vampire from a movie, frozen in between man and child. Only his eyes give away his ancientness.
“If we never found them, what good would it do? Just one more torture for an eternity. One more thing stolen from them.” His voice has gone quiet and deadly. He may look like a very young man but make no mistake, he could kill the angel with ease.
“It might have given them an incentive.”
“They needed no other incentive than to stop the Fallen’s slaughtering of humans. Do not believe the propaganda that Heaven has spread about me and my warriors; they are not the evil ones.” His lavender eyes flash with flames.
The warriors in question sit in silence, our heads bouncing back and forth like people at a tennis match.
Evander finally clears his throat. “I think it’s time to lay everything out on the table.”
I fucking agree; this cloak and dagger bullshit is pissing me off. My anger and heat is battling Dagen’s rage and cold, which means the room is almost comfortable. The two stand staring at each other.
“Yin and Yang,” Dagen murmurs so low I barely hear him.
He’s right -- they are light and dark, opposites, and if I understand, created one after the other. Go
d had some crazy fucking ideas. The whole world is one big fucked up idea, in my opinion. He made it and then left it to be destroyed because of some other bad fucking idea. Perfect.
Dagen’s elbow cracks one of my ribs or damn near does as he jolts me from my thoughts. I grimace and rub my hand over the throbbing spot before glaring at him. He jerks his head at the others, looking over I see they’ve sat again and seem to be waiting for us. Following Dagen to our seats, I shrug at Evander. I mean, cut me some slack -- yesterday I found out I had been an angel.
“The whole story, or prophecy as it were, is that each descendant is destined to one who was killed by those that fell. One of what is now a Prince of Hell,” Caliel discloses with no preamble.
The roar is deafening as the blood pounds in my ears. A Prince of Hell. There are eight, including Evander. I look at another sitting beside me. His face is white, well as pale as he can get, and his eyes are unfocused as the the bomb that was dropped detonates in his brain.
Lillian. She is destined for one of us. Fury fills me. The monster that lurks just below my humanity breaks free as I surge to my feet. I know my eyes are crimson and my claws are digging into my palms. I hear voices from a distance as images of her being hurt by those sadistic shrews flash through my mind.
My head flies back as I’m hit with a block of ice. No, not a block of ice. Dagen’s meaty fist connected with my jaw. I taste the blood pouring from the cut on the inside of my cheek and roar. The next instant, I’m blinded by Luc’s light as it wraps me in a blistering heat.
I hear his voice, calm and soothing, say, “Calm yourself, Torryn. You cannot save her like this.”
“Is she mine? Did you know?” I can’t keep the torment from my voice.