The Damned and The Pure Series: Books 1-4 (The Damned and The Pure Series Box Set)

by J. D. Stonebridge

  “Centuries of isolation does that.” Lucifer diverted his eyes to hers, a small smile moving his lips. “I have not had company in so long, apart from those that are haunted above my cage.” He raised his head to look at the jagged rocks above them. Ariel followed his gaze where she saw nothing but the horrific shadows cast by the fire against the rocks. But she could hear them, the souls trapped above Lucifer’s cage

  “You never answered my questions.” Ariel blurted out the words, mustering up all the courage she could. “What is your intention? Why did you have me brought here? I doubt you are merely seeking company.”

  Lucifer’s smile grew. “Why ever not? Company is one thing a soul requires so as not to lose itself. Just ask those who are trapped in the darkness.”

  As if by command, the previously hushed voices that echoed in the cave grew louder. Ariel listened to them, hearing their anger and hatred. Such voices haunted her; she shivered.

  “Do not patronize me.” Ariel tried to keep her voice steady. “What is your intention in bringing me here? What are you planning, Lucifer?”

  Lucifer lowered his head and breathed in. He stared at the flames before him, his golden eyes thoughtful. “Your memories, the one Uriel removed, they have returned, haven't they?”

  The question surprised Ariel. “Only pieces of them,” she admitted.

  “But you remember what sin it was that you have been punished for?”

  Ariel pursed her lips. “Yes.”

  Lucifer finally returned his gaze to her. “Tell me, Ariel. Was the punishment just?”

  She answered him with silence. Ariel loved Heaven and had pledged her full loyalty to the archangels, but the memories that were surfacing made her reconsider, something that she knew her companion wanted. Therefore, she had no intention of voicing them. However, her silence was enough for him.

  “Love is one thing God taught all of us to do,” Lucifer told her. “Love your kin, and love all that He created. And yet, we are punished for what we were taught to do. Tell me, when did love become a sin?”

  One word caught Ariel’s attention, confusing the innocent angel. “We?” She repeated the word, and her curiosity brought Lucifer delight.

  “Yes, Ariel,” he said, eyes bearing down on her from afar. “Lies have been spread for so long that many have forgotten the truth - you and I were punished for the same crime.”

  Chapter One: Forgotten

  Sweden

  October, 1708

  While the lands are filled with smoke and flame

  Not one soul would beg for my name

  I hide in darkness, a small candle for light

  Lest I face the shadows that delivered me fright.

  The war rages on outside the people’s homes, battling their so-called demons while they only meet their mirrors. I have sought refuge in a quaint room above the town bar; the large lady-owner eyed me far too curiously than I would deem comfortable. Peter, the only family I have left, abandoned me for the army; therefore, I am to fend for myself.

  I hope he finds joy in covering his hands with red, while I prefer mine to be covered in black as I write.

  I considered putting the blame on my dear brother for the sleepless nights I have had these past few days. Granted, the noise of war can certainly keep one awake under the star-filled sky, but I for one slumber well, so long as my body begged for it.

  No, the battles at my doorstep weren’t the ones keeping me up at night. The battles in my frail mind do. Hearing whispers in my mind, seeing such odd things beneath my eyelids. I am certain my brother would have a laugh at the thought of me, his weak little brother who claims himself a poet, being driven mad by my own petty thoughts.

  At least one of us can have something to smile about.

  -C.W.

  The red journal that he held weighed heavy in his palms. He read the first entry repeatedly, hoping that the words would conjure up the memories hidden in his mind. But all he saw was the war the man spoke of. He had come to witness what was now known as the Great Northern War in Europe, but he was a young demon back then, who barely had control of himself.

  He traced the initials signed on the lower right corner of the page with his finger. “C.W.” He mouthed the letters, digging through his brain for any familiarity to them. Caelum… What? He laughed at himself. Of course, the name he had given himself after being born as a demon wasn’t guaranteed to be the name he’d held when he was human.

  When I was human. Caelum pondered the idea. How certain was he that the journal he held was indeed his own? Baron had been the one to tell him that, and the stiff demon had tried to kill him mere days ago.

  Caelum set the journal on the coffee table next to him, wincing at the pain on his side where the great beast of Hell had bitten him. His hand went to the wound, bound by bandages that smelled of mint and other herbs he wasn’t familiar with. The scratches he’d received from jumping off the tower and into the labyrinth had healed completely. But the wounds from the beast were healing far more slowly. The past few days, he had felt weaker than normal as well. Caelum wondered if the beast’s bite was poisonous.

  The sound of clinking bottles and shuffling feet announced the return of his daughter, Mikaela. He lifted himself from the sofa and saw her crimson hair tied in a ponytail, bouncing as she made her way around the living room. “Any news?” he asked her as she made her way to her study table to spread the materials she had in her arms on it.

  “Well, I’m officially harboring a fugitive,” Mikaela told him. “Both Heaven and Hell want your head, though I haven’t decided which one to side with. No one has announced the rewards they will offer.”

  “Ha ha.” Caelum leaned back against the sofa. “Anything useful?”

  Mikaela looked at him, her eyes narrowed and her lips frowning. “I’ve gathered enough to find out if you’re poisoned or not,” she said. She turned back to her table and fixed a few items before walking to his side.

  Caelum raised himself into a sitting position and lifted his shirt. White bandage was wrapped around his belly, keeping his wound from bleeding out while Mikaela’s home remedy worked its magic. Mikaela undid the bandage while Caelum gritted his teeth at the pain.

  “Besides me making Hell’s Most Wanted list,” Caelum began as Mikaela took a sample of blood directly from the wound. “Have you heard what’s going on down there?”

  “Nope. For once, Hell is quiet,” Mikaela said. She procured a bottle of green liquid and spread it on the wound before fixing a new bandage around him. “I guess you were the only one making noise down there. They finally found some peace once you were out.”

  “How delightful.”

  “And suspicious,” Mikaela added. “Everyone’s getting scared about it. The calm before a storm, as they say.”

  “By everyone, you mean monsters?”

  “Yes, Father. Monsters just like me,” Mikaela said in a condescending tone. Caelum watched the young witch as she patched up his wound with a stern face. She moved back to her study hastily and continued her work.

  “If this is any consolation, you are prettier than any of your kind,” Caelum said. “Of course, you know where you got your looks.”

  “Not really helping,” Mikaela replied. “I value intelligence more than beauty anyway. It’s too easy to fake beauty these days.”

  “That I can agree with,” Caelum said, lying back down on the couch. He breathed in as deeply as his wound would allow as he stared at the ceiling. “Thank you for helping me, despite my unpleasant mood.”

  For one second, everything fell silent with Mikaela’s hand hovering inches from the jar she’d been about to pick up. She sighed and retrieved the jar. “You have always been unpleasant, you know,” she told him, making him chuckle. She squeezed three drops of blood into the vial with violet liquid. Watching the blood mix with the liquid, her green eyes studied the slow change of its color. The hue began to lighten, and soon, the violet liquid turned to blue.

  “You’re clean. No
poison of any kind.”

  “Not sure if I should be thankful for that.” Caelum frowned. “If it’s not poison, why is it taking so long for me to heal on my own?”

  Mikaela turned around, spreading her hands on the table behind her as she thought about it. “Hell hates you? Cut off your membership card because you tried to play for the opposite team?”

  “Makes sense, of sorts,” Caelum said.

  "Well, now that we know you didn't get Hell rabies." Mikaela walked back to him, chuckling quietly at her own joke, carrying a pouch she’d taken from a drawer. She sat on the floor beside Caelum and procured the contents of her pouch: needles, thread, and a small bottle of clear liquid. “Let’s close that wound before it begins to stink,” she announced, slowly removing the bandages again.

  Caelum set his jaw tight as Mikaela poured the contents of the bottle on his wound, sending jolts of pain. “You’re a witch, don’t you have a more magical means to heal me?” Caelum said through gritted teeth.

  “I do. These are magic threads.” Mikaela presented the item to him, which looked like any ordinary tailoring material. Having no choice but to trust her with his life, Caelum kept quiet while Mikaela stitched up his wound. When she was done, Caelum released the breath he had been holding and looked over her work. The skin was still bright red, but the wound was closed. He watched as the threads she’d used dissolved into his side, mending the broken skin.

  “You were actually being honest.” Caelum was surprised.

  “Unlike you, I don’t lie for a living,” Mikaela pointed out. She arranged the items back in her pouch and stood up to put it away. Mikaela then proceeded to search for something on her bookcase and hurried away to the kitchen.

  “Are you making tea?” Caelum called over to her.

  “Yes,” Mikaela answered, much to his surprise. Minutes later, she appeared holding a cup of fragrant tea. She tapped him on the shoulder, telling him to get up. Caelum pulled himself to sit. “Drink this, it will knock you out.”

  “Demons don’t sleep, you know that.”

  “And demons can regenerate faster than mortals do. But that doesn’t seem to be the case on your end,” Mikaela reminded him. “It’s best that you’re unconscious while your tissues are healing, so be a good boy and drink your medicine.”

  Caelum frowned. “How can I be certain this is not poison?”

  “Oh, you don’t trust me?” Mikaela smiled, and the demon rolled his eyes, taking the tea. He took a sip of the brew, finding it soothing and sweet. Another sip sent the warmth spreading all around his body until it reached the tips of his fingers. He sighed, setting the half-drunk tea down and reaching for the red journal on the coffee table.

  “Some light reading before I snooze,” he told her, reclining on the sofa. He turned to what he had been reading and took in the words.

  “You seem to really like the intro, huh?” Mikaela pointed out. “Any luck so far?”

  “No,” Caelum admitted. No matter how many times he repeatedly read the words on the first page, nothing sparked in his mind. The location, the date, the bar, Peter, and the initials C.W. None of them rang any bells for him.

  “And still you refuse to read the rest?”

  “I’d rather find some ray of possibility before I start claiming this life as my own,” Caelum told her, his eyes still glued to the page.

  “Maybe reading more would help with that. When you’re digging for buried treasure, you’re not burying that shovel in the same batch of soil, right?”

  Caelum looked up to her, thoughtful. He shut the journal and tossed it back on the coffee table, where it landed next to the lock of dark hair he’d found between its pages. His thoughts went to the angel he met, the angel he wished to free. Worry and fear suddenly mixed inside him, and he bit them back. No point in going on a suicide mission without any guarantee it will be worth it, he reminded himself, a hand reaching to the healing wound on his side. He closed his eyes; the sooner he recovered, the sooner he could proceed to search for her.

  Slowly, his eyelids grew heavy and the image of the journal blurred. Mikaela’s brew was taking its effect, and for the first time in centuries, Caelum felt himself falling into a deep slumber.

  Sleep eluded the young man, huddled over a wooden desk with nothing but a small candle to illuminate the room. His disheveled bronze hair and a loose white shirt were evidence of a restless night, and he rubbed his face to wake himself from the images that lingered in his mind. His face showed confusion, but his eyes were filled with wonder. While the rest of the world around him slept and mourned over the price they’d paid, his mind buzzed with impossibilities he was being led to believe.

  Fumbling around the table, his hand found his trusty pen. He flipped the pages of his journal and hastily wrote his thoughts before they left him. He wrote about the war and the disease. Tears landed on the pages, making his writing messier than usual. He wrote about his regret, the guilt that plagued his heart. The deaths of hundreds burdened his shoulders and their ghosts whispered in his ears, seeking justice, seeking revenge.

  Then, he wrote about the solace he’d found. The comfort in her smile and the peace in her eyes. Beloved she was to him, and yet he did not know her name. His words bore his affection, and also his longing. He ended his ramblings with a stroke of his hand, to bear the name he wished for her to say.

  Caelum woke up with a vibration on his chest. His eyes met with the yellow ones of a familiar feline figure. “Miss Fortune?” He identified the cat who purred at him in reply. The gray cat jumped off of him and moved to Mikaela’s side, meowing at the witch. Caelum pulled himself up, eyeing the cat. “So, you’re still alive, huh?”

  “Of course, she is. I just had her investigating someplace else,” Mikaela explained. “Besides, you weren’t taking very good care of her.”

  “Sue me.” Caelum shot back. “How long was I out?”

  “Just over an hour,” Mikaela said, kneeling down to pick up the cat from the floor. “How is your wound?”

  Caelum took the risk and stretched his torso. To his surprise, he felt nothing, suggesting that Mikaela’s healing had worked properly in such a short time. “Seems that I am fine,” he assured Mikaela, finally removing himself from the sofa. He picked up his dress shirt from the coffee table.

  “Good,” Mikaela said. “So, I guess it’s fine to tell you what…Miss Fortune over here has gathered.”

  “You had the cat gathering information for you?” Caelum said as he buttoned up his shirt.

  “Yes, cats are quite reliable spies,” Mikaela explained.

  “So, what’s this information you got for me?” Caelum asked.

  “The cemetery.” The word struck Caelum, suddenly alert and focused on Mikaela’s statements. Mikaela caught the look on her father’s eyes and debated with herself whether or not she should continue. Having already blurted out the word, she really had no option. “Odd things are happening back at the cemetery you were talking about.”

  “What kinds of odd things?”

  “Supernatural things. At least, that’s what the mortals are calling it,” Mikaela said. “People have been on the news for some TV exposure claiming to have seen weird things in the cemetery ever since the old church collapsed for no reason.”

  The day of the battle returned to Caelum. The monsters, the angels, the fallen angel, Ariel…

  “Is it true? Are there strange things happening there?” Caelum asked, wanting to confirm before making a move.

  “I’m not sure. I can’t exactly have Miss Fortune travel to Kansas all by herself,” Mikaela said, scratching the chin of the cat. “But I can go over there to investigate.”

  “No,” Caelum was quick to tell her. “I’ll go.”

  Mikaela looked at him with narrowing eyes. “You literally just got yourself fixed up minutes ago.”

  “Yes, and I am extremely grateful for your help. But now that I am fully healed, I have little time to waste. Considering that I have already wasted nearly thr
ee days on bed rest,” Caelum claimed. “I will return to the scene of the crime myself.”

  “And so close to a gateway?” Mikaela reminded him.

  “The better to bring back my powers.”

  “And the ones who want your head.”

  “Better than standing idly by,” Caelum told her. “I have an angel to rescue, remember?”

  Mikaela tightened her lips in a straight line, calculating the risks of what her father was planning to do. Even though she had healed him completely, one demon couldn’t stand against the entire army of Heaven and the army of Hell. Returning to the scene where their battle began, she couldn’t bring herself to be as optimistic as he was about it.

  But there’s no point in arguing with him. “I do hope you have some plan, and aren’t just walking there like a tourist.”

  A plan? Caelum considered it. To save Ariel while keeping demons and angels alike off his back was a seemingly impossible task, especially alone. He had Mikaela, but a demon and a witch could do so little against an army.

  An army? He repeated the words in his mind. A thought came to him, a lingering memory of the fallen angel he’d spoken to not long ago. An army of monsters against Heaven and Hell. But the angel, Ramiel, has fallen. With their leader gone, would the soldiers continue their mission to protect their territory?

  Then, an image flashed in his mind: the hooded figure standing atop the church. Caelum wasn’t able to catch a close look at the mysterious one, but he was sure it was another winged fellow. Another angel leading the army of monsters? That brought more hope to the demon. One more angel who turned his back against Heaven was a potential ally to the demon who turned away from Hell.

  “There is a chance that a trace of his energy still lingers in the area,” Caelum mused out loud, confusing Mikaela.

  “What are you talking about?” she demanded.