by Ryals, R. K.
I smiled.
"Of that I have no doubt."
I released him and turned to Luther.
"I'm not biting you so you better unleash one of those wicked claws of yours and open up a wound," I ordered.
The Demon grinned.
"Well, this is new. An Angel that wants to drink my blood for once."
He laughed, his joking manner strangely relieving. I could see Monroe's face over his shoulder, and I nodded at her. She nodded back sadly, her eyes moving to Luther. There was something conflicted in her gaze.
Luther's hand transformed, claws growing from the tips of his fingers. I moved toward him, and he looked at me, his eyes on mine. I avoided Bezaliel, Sophia, and Lucas.
"Why are you doing this?" I whispered to Luther.
His bright eyes hardened.
"He's my brother, and we both deserve retribution. You just get him out alive." Luther lifted his arm, running a nail across his wrist quickly. "I don't have as much control as my brother. Understand? Make this fast."
I understood his warning. I would be vulnerable, and Luther craved blood. I took a deep breath and grabbed his wrist, bringing it to my mouth and swallowing the thick, beaded blood quickly before I had time to question myself. The pain was immediate, and I stumbled backward straight into Conor's arms as I gagged.
I grabbed my stomach, the fire in my belly so intense I had to fight the convulsions I knew were coming. Demon blood was painful as hell!
"Do it," I commanded Conor.
He nodded and held up the Seal. It was glowing, all four jewels blindingly bright as Conor ordered it to trap me. There was fresh Demon blood in my system and on my lips. The ring complied.
One moment, I was standing in the living room of my youth; the next there was only painful darkness. I was getting used to darkness.
Chapter 7
What the Seal holds within has always been a mystery. It is a prison. It is dangerous. It is a world of its own that preys on evil.
~Bezaliel~
Whatever I landed on was hard, and I rubbed at my backside as I fought the rolling waves of nausea and pain that still moved through me. I couldn't afford to pass out from the pain. Marcas was near, and I needed to get him out of the Seal.
The darkness that had cloaked me before began to recede, and in its place was a strange circular room made of mirrors. The floor, the ceiling, the walls . . . all mirrors. There were reflections of me everywhere.
I looked down at the mirrored floor and saw my hideous image, my too skinny frame and halo of wild, red curls. There was blood around my mouth, and I swiped at it with the tail of my shirt before pushing upward carefully. The pain was ridiculous, but sitting still actually made it worse.
I should have felt better by now, but I knew the ring was probably already aware of its mistake and was attempting to purge Luther's blood. We weren't bound, so the pain wasn't as bad as it had been when Marcas' blood had been ripped from my system, but it still hurt. I staggered forward, my gaze on the pale, short figure in the looking glasses surrounding me and I grimaced.
"Seriously?" I asked as I threw my hands up in the air.
Mirrors. What the hell was I supposed to do with a room made out of freaking mirrors? I walked forward, my gait slow and awkward as I breathed through the nausea. When this was all over, I wanted a week of sleep, coffee, sweets, and a huge black garbage bag full of dumdums.
"Marcas!" I yelled, turning slowly as I approached the wall.
I paused, staring at myself, at the green-eyed girl who had changed so much over the past month or so. I reached out tentatively. There had to be a way out of this room. Was one of the mirrors a door?
I touched the image in front of me and gasped when the glass rippled out from my touch, like water.
"Jesus!"
Was this the way through? I began to reach out again, but dropped my hand when a voice moved through the room.
"NO!" it yelled, and I knew it was Marcas. I stumbled backward, my hand on my stomach as I pressed at the place where the pain hurt the worst.
"Marcas!" I yelled back.
My heart was in my throat, and I looked around desperately, but all I could see was myself.
"Get out of here, Blainey!" he yelled.
He was depersonalizing me. He only called me Blainey when he was trying not to feel attached, and anger consumed me. I was not leaving without him. If he could sacrifice himself, then I could do the same.
I marched over to another mirror, reaching out just as carefully as I had before and tapped the glass. It rippled, and I stared as the reflection started to piece itself together again.
"Don't!" I heard Marcas shout, but my eyes were locked on the mirror and what I saw made my breath hitch.
The reflection that formed wasn't me. It was Lexi, Luther's Demonic twin sister who I had killed back in Italy. Her teeth were bared, and she was looking at me, her eyes filled with accusation. Guilt pressed in on me, and I fisted my hand against my mouth. I looked away, my eyes traveling to the other mirror I had touched. Its reflection was different now too. It was Damon, his eyes red, his finger crooked, motioning for me to come to him. I backed away.
"What is this?" I shouted.
"The mirrors are made to break you, to show you images of everything you fear. Everything you regret."
Marcas wasn't shouting now, but I could still hear him. His voice echoed, and I couldn't pinpoint it.
"How do I find you?" I asked.
"You don't," he said. "Only one mirror in this room will not move. It's a gateway. But it's not worth it."
He was wrong. It was more than worth it, and I wasn't Dayton Blainey for nothing. My stubbornness kept me at the Abbey and got me bound to Marcas. Now he was stuck with me.
I moved to another mirror, this one on the opposite side of the room, and I tapped it before I had a chance to chicken out. The surface rippled, and I groaned as the image changed. It was Lilith. She was inside my head, and I could hear her tempting promises, the promises of happiness, of safety. I backed away.
"Dayton," I heard Marcas say wearily, but I ignored him and touched another mirror.
It moved, transforming to reveal the fire pits of Hell, the roaming, tortured souls yelling so loudly that I had to cover my ears with my hands as I backed away. I was on my knees now, crawling to the next mirror. Damon was begging me to come to him, Lexi was accusing me of murder, Lilith was whispering silky temptations, and the souls of Hell were begging me to save them.
A tear slipped down my cheek as more nausea gripped me, and I dry heaved as the ring fought to rid me of Luther's blood. I was running out of time. I punched the next mirror. It moved.
"Oh, hell!" I breathed as I used my hands and feet to move backward along the floor.
The reflection changed too quickly, and I wasn't able to look away before I found myself hanging from the side of a cliff. I couldn't tell if it was Petra or the portal in Egypt, but I knew I was about to fall into darkness, and I cried before looking away. I could hear my screams behind me, mingling with the other noises invading my brain. It was too much. I gritted my teeth, standing slowly as I retched again. Blood suddenly covered the glass, and I watched as smoke lifted from the warm liquid. The ring was purging me.
"Not yet!" I shouted as I stumbled to another mirror.
There were only three left if you didn't count the ceiling, and I punched this one hard.
"Please," I begged.
The mirror didn't ripple, but it did change, and I shrieked as I suddenly found myself looking into my mother's dying face. I fell to my knees, tears coursing down my cheeks, my hands lifting to rest against her image.
"Mom!" I screamed.
Damon was feeding from her, and she was in pain. It wasn't long before her face drained completely of color, and her body fell, Damon laughing as he backed away. I was sobbing now.
"Oh, God!" I breathed, my eyes glued to the mirror as I started to back away.
I couldn't look away. Even dead, my
mother's face was beautiful. My mother. My heart felt twisted, wrung dry. I gulped as I moved, swallowing the bile that rose up in my throat.
"Mom," I whispered.
And then suddenly, she was looking at me, her dead eyes popping open to stare directly into my face. I froze, my heart racing. Her lips moved, and I strained to make out her words through the noises coming from the other mirrors. I whimpered as I realized it was pointless. I couldn't hear her. I concentrated on her lips. They were consistent, slow. Only two words were forming.
"Save him. Save him. Save him."
I was breathing hard now, my eyes snapping to the side as I noticed my mother's hand moving slowly. A finger moved, and I watched as she pointed at a still mirror behind me.
"Save him."
I stared at her a moment longer, watching as her eyes closed once more, her hand falling still. Mom. I shut my eyes and forced myself to move, backing toward the mirror behind me until I felt the cool glass against my back. It didn't move, and I turned slowly to find myself gazing at a sobbing version of myself, my mother's reflection in the mirror opposite.
I was suddenly beating the glass, needing to be out of the room desperately. The sounds and images were too much!
The mirror began to turn, and I breathed a sigh of relief as it opened to reveal a dark opening. I didn't give myself time to think. I just stepped inside, turning briefly to look behind me. My mother's dead reflection was still there, but when I looked at her face, I couldn't help but notice she was smiling.
Chapter 8
Her mistakes have taught her there are moments in life when regrets must be swept away, when the only way to move forward is to take the plunge.
~Bezaliel~
Darkness flippin' sucks! I scrambled to use my night vision as the mirror swung closed, drowning out the noise from the screaming room beyond, and I bent over as I retched again. Black liquid exited my mouth and spilled onto the ground, and I knew by the sudden relief in my system that Luther's blood was completely gone now. My time left in here was up to Bezaliel. It was not a comforting thought.
I straightened, my eyes searching the space behind me. There were twinkling lights in the sky. I paused.Wait. Sky? Stars? In the Seal?
I moved forward slightly only to find myself stepping on sand. My eyes widened. There was a full moon above me, a pyramid in the distance, and I wondered suddenly if this was Egypt again. Egypt inside a ring?
"What?" I whispered.
I was outside a village, a quiet village, men moving slowly about as they moved from a half-finished structure I recognized instantly. It was the pyramid Marcas had helped build. There were fires in the distance as well, and the smell of strange foods being cooked.
I didn't know what to do so I began to walk. I had only taken two steps when I heard the moan. I turned quickly, my eyes searching the desert. The moan came again. And then there he was. Marcas.
"Oh, my God!" I exclaimed.
He was chained to a large boulder, shirtless and shoeless with ripped jeans slung low on his hips. He looked sun burnt, and his lips were parched. I reached for him.
"Dayton," he whispered, his head hanging as I placed a hand against his arm, moving it up his burning skin carefully.
His powers were useless here, and I knew from the blistered skin, the parched lips, and his swollen bare feet that the moon above us was only temporary.
"Where are we? What have they done to you?" I asked.
Marcas' eyes met mine, and I knew by their red glow that he was in pain. A lot of pain.
"Set Maat," he answered.
It was the village he had told me about in Egypt when I had asked him about his cobra tattoo. I had a hard time wrapping my head around his words. We were in Set Maat. Set Maat?
We were standing in ancient Egypt, staring at a distant village that had once been Marcas' sanctuary after Sophia had chosen Heaven over him. I looked at the village, the warm fires, the shadowy figures moving to and fro.
"The people here didn't do this to me. They aren't real. It's a mirage. The Seal is doing it. This whole thing isn't real."
When I looked back, Marcas' eyes were closed, squeezed shut against the scene, and I moved in front of him. It was the worst punishment imaginable, placing a weak man who thought he had lost his second love in front of a village he once sought sanctuary in. He would burn during the day and weather the cold at night all while staring at the men he had once labored next to, at the fires where he had once sought warmth and friendship. It was the village that had healed him. It was the same village being used to destroy him.
"Look at me," I said, my hands coming up to cup his strong face.
Here was a man who was constantly at war with himself, with his family, with his own people, and he was still fighting. Even chained to a rock in the middle of an illusionary desert, I could see the resolve in his gaze.
"I came to get you out," I whispered.
His eyes met mine.
"There is no way to release a Demon from the Seal," Marcas replied. "I'm in here by choice, Dayton."
It was a bad time to ask, but I asked it anyway.
"Why, Marcas? Why? For me?"
I left my hands on his face, the stubble on his jaw a comforting reminder that despite the fact that he was a Demon, he was also part man. Immortal man, but a man nonetheless. His jaw tightened against my palm.
"Once, a very long time ago, I would have said it was for me."
Marcas would always consider himself a monster. I didn't know a lot about his past, about the people he'd killed, about the things he'd done, but I knew the man in front of me now didn't deserve to be here. He'd saved a lot of lives, had fallen in love, lost that love, protected me, and then hopefully fallen in love again. I was banking on the fallen in love again part.
"And now?" I asked.
Marcas' eyes searched mine.
"All for you."
It was the most romantic thing he could have said, and I grinned.
"Then I'm getting you out of here for me. For me. I need you out of here. Just trust me on this."
His gaze moved over me, that unreadable, absolutely aggravating gaze that annoyed me so much one moment then set me on fire the next.
"My choice, Dayton."
I narrowed my eyes.
"And this is mine."
With those words, I reached for a smaller rock on the ground below our feet. It wasn't as sharp as I wanted it to be, but it would have to do.
"Dayton . . ." Marcas growled.
I ignored him, running the rock across my arm quickly. The blood that beaded up was red and thick and I held it up to his face.
"Drink," I ordered.
I didn't know if having Angel blood in him would work, but it was worth a shot. Demon blood had gotten me into the ring. Why couldn't Angel blood get us both out?
Marcas just stared at the cut on my arm, his eyes going redder, his teeth growing.
"This may not work. I'll still have Demon blood in me, Dayton," he said.
Maybe it wouldn't work, but it was all we had.
"Take as much blood as you need then. I trust you to stop before it's too much. With that much Angel blood in you, the ring couldn't keep you."
Marcas smiled sadly.
"Maybe," he said.
I used my free hand to push his face up.
"Drink. For me. If it doesn't work, then at least I know I tried, and then when we're out of here, we'll be free. You won't be bound to me anymore. Your mission is complete. And you will be alive. It's all I care about.
Marcas' unreadable gaze softened, his eyes shining, and I saw an emotion there I never thought I'd see. It made tears well up behind my eyes, and I fought them back desperately.
"You're wrong. I'll still be bound to you," he said softly.
My heart would never be the same. I held my wrist up higher.
"Drink."
This time Marcas didn't argue, and I gritted my teeth as he licked the cut before biting me. Without his powers, he
couldn't make it painless, and I was determined not to scream as he drank his fill. There were black spots building in the corners of my eyes, and I knew he was taking a lot of blood, but I didn't fight him.
"What do you plan to do once you're out," I asked slowly, my words slurred as he finally pulled away. The question was as much a distraction from the pain in my arm as it was curiosity.
I could feel my knees buckling, but I didn't go down. Marcas' body was surrounded by light, and I knew my power was moving over us both, gliding down Marcas' arms to the chains that bound him. I watched absently as they fell away, and only then did I let myself fall. His arms went around me. If he was weak from his time in bondage, it wasn't obvious, my power already healing wounds that would normally take weeks to heal.
Marcas' grip was tight. It was bold, and he leaned over me, one arm going under my neck, the other under my legs as he lifted me up effortlessly. I had lost too much weight. His eyes met mine, and even though my vision was blurry, I didn't miss his smile.
"I plan to start a war in Hell," he said.
He was suddenly an avenging Angel in the guise of a Demon, and I felt the corners of my mouth lift.
"That's the sexiest thing I think I've ever heard you say," I whispered as the world around us began to shake.
Marcas leaned against the rock as the world shifted, and I giggled.
"I'm really woozy," I said as I laughed.
Marcas chuckled.
"No, you're lightheaded."
I gazed up at him.
"Then the world isn't moving?" I asked.
Marcas' brows lifted.
"Oh no, the world is definitely moving," he said, his voice tinged with amusement.
Even joking as he was, I saw the serious glint deep in his eyes, and I knew my time was up. Weak or no, lightheaded or not, my time was up.
"Dayton . . ." Marcas whispered, his mouth suddenly near my ear. I shuddered as his breath moved over my neck. "Remember this. Even if it didn't work, even if the Seal claims me, it was worth it. Understood?"
I nodded, my eyes moving to meet his. He was so close.
"I love you."