Retribution (Redemption Series)

by Ryals, R. K.

  "You look strong, Naphil," she said with a nod of her head.

  I wanted to laugh out loud. I knew I didn't look the least bit strong. Tired, wrung out, too skinny, but never strong. But I didn't argue with her because I knew she wasn't referring to my physical appearance. She saw the magic that flowed over me, and she knew its strength. If nothing else, my power was definitely stronger. Her eyes narrowed as she gazed at me, and I saw her glance briefly at Bezaliel who was speaking now with Alessandro.

  "Come, Naphil. Walk a moment with an old woman. Let's leave these men to their negotiations, shall we?" Maria said as she practically shoved me back out into the hall.

  Bezaliel looked up, his eyes sharp, but Alessandro just shook his head.

  "Leave my mother be, Old One. There is no arguing with her."

  The door to the refectory closed between us. I wasn't sure how I felt about being pulled from the room when I was sure anything they discussed was something I needed to know, but Maria was perceptive and she laughed.

  "Battle is battle, Naphil. They can discuss it all they want, but it will play out the way all battles play out. People will fight. People will die. I am more interested in you."

  Maria's hand was at the small of my back now, and she pressed me gently forward. I moved, but slowly. Maria's cane tapped against the stone floors, and I considered slowing more, but then thought better of it. I truly believed Maria was much healthier than she let on. The cane was a ruse I was sure. She liked to have people underestimate her.

  "You are very bright now. Your power is as strong as your father's."

  I turned to face her.

  "And this is a good thing?" I asked.

  Maria looked up at me. Even as short as I was, she was still shorter than me.

  "Your father is a wise man, Naphil. He was one of the first to fall from Heaven. He has been around since the beginning of time. Do not underestimate his power or yours."

  "I don't underestimate his powers," I argued.

  Maria slammed her cane down on my foot, and I yelped.

  "No, but you underestimate him."

  I cursed under my breath, which felt really wrong considering I was in the Abbey and considering the fact that Maria was playing with one of her many rosaries hanging from around her neck. Her long bright blue house dress covered her feet, and I watched as she tucked the tip of her cane just under the edge of her skirt.

  "I don't know how I feel about him," I admitted quietly.

  Maria "harrumphed".

  "Sure, you do. You feel betrayed, and you do not trust him, eh? This is okay, no? But remember this, Naphil. Everything Heaven does is not always understood. Your father would not have left you if he thought it wouldn't make you stronger. What you have endured will give you the strength to do what you will need to do in the end."

  I felt numbness stealing over me. Maria knew too much. She always did. She saw things, studied things, and understood things even when she wasn't supposed to know about them.

  "And what will I need to do? In the end?" I asked.

  Maria chuckled.

  "Oh no! I not make things that easy for you. Just know that I trust you to make the right choice. There is always a choice, Naphil. Always."

  "Marcas?" I whispered, leaning in close. I left the rest of my question unsaid, but she knew. She always knew.

  Maria's eyes met mine, her gaze serious.

  "When you feel like you are falling, Naphil, and you think you can't hold on any longer, remember something," Maria said, her old hand patting mine softly.

  "Remember what?" I asked.

  Her fingers curled around mine.

  "Don't let go. Let him pull you free."

  Chapter 14

  He is a strong leader. He will not falter. And in the end, he will be forced to win.

  ~Bezaliel~

  I hated vague helpful suggestions, and Maria's "Let him pull you free" montage kept ringing through my head even as we stood back inside the refectory, arguments flying over the way a Civil War in Hell should be handled. Maria was right about one thing. It was absolutely pointless discussing battles.

  "You're free of the bond now and the Seal. Trusting you isn't something we can afford to do, Demonio. How do you intend to rally the hybrids?" Alessandro asked.

  The S.O.S.'s leader was standing, his knuckles tapping the table occasionally as he glanced around the room. It was an annoying habit, and I was seriously considering throwing something at his hand. Marcas was also standing, facing Alessandro. The only thing separating them was a table.

  "I don't intend to rally anyone. I intend to challenge Lucifer."

  The whole room went up in an uproar, and I pushed away from the wall I had been leaning against, my face aghast. He intended to what?

  "Challenge him for power?" Sophia asked, her elegant voice high and shrill.

  Marcas glanced at her.

  "Over the hybrids, yes."

  "Challenge?" Sophia repeated. "You remember what happened the last time you faced him?"

  "He nearly killed Marcas and Dayton," Monroe supplied, her voice low.

  The people in the room who were unaware of our confrontation with Satan in Petra gasped, while the rest of us just stared at Marcas.

  Marcas leaned over the table, one hand resting on the wood.

  "You know as well as I do that Lucifer will be forced to listen. There is too much unrest in Hell after he ordered the annihilation of the children of Cain."

  Sophia laughed. It was humorless.

  "Oh, he'll listen, and then he'll kill you. He doesn't play fair, Marc. And then, he'll possess you. He can now, you know. You are no longer linked to an Angel. He could use you to destroy the very hybrids you hope to save."

  Marcas' jaw tightened, and I could almost "feel" the stubborn glint that moved through his gaze. He was an unreadable man. He had centuries of practice, but I had once been linked to his emotions through the bond, and I could still feel him.

  I snuck through the S.O.S. members lining the wall, my eyes on Marcas.

  "You give me no credit, Sophia. You forget how close we actually came to overcoming Lucifer's challenge in Petra. He fears me, and there are ways around possession," Marcas said firmly, his gaze skirting Monroe.

  Monroe played frantically with the amulet around her neck. My best friend was a witch, and a strong one. She had somehow created a spell that deterred Demon possession and had used it to charm the amulet she wore. In Petra, Luther had avoided possession because he wore a similar amulet around his neck. It was worth testing again.

  "And so you face him?" Sophia asked. "With what? A challenge to the death? A peace treaty?"

  Marcas' gaze met Sophia's, and he didn't blink.

  "With an ultimatum."

  I was by Marcas now but still mostly in shadow along the wall. I could feel Bezaliel's gaze on me, but I ignored him.

  "He plans to force Lucifer's hand. A kingdom of his own for Demon hybrids or face the possibility of war," I said quietly.

  I saw Marcas shift slightly, but he didn't turn around. He had known I was moving toward him. I was pretty certain he was as aware of me as I was of him.

  Sophia glanced at the shadows before returning her gaze to the Demon at the table. She was determined to pick through any plan Marcas made with a fine tooth comb, and I didn't blame her. Not really. She was the only true Angel present who had not fallen. She felt a responsibility the rest of us did not feel.

  "Lucifer will kill you," Sophia said simply.

  I should have kept my mouth shut, but I had never been good at standing in the shadows.

  "He wouldn't risk making Marcas a martyr."

  Sophia's eyes narrowed, and this time when she looked at me, she didn't look away.

  "And you feel like you can speak for Hell now?" she asked.

  Once, maybe, I would have shied away. I was, after all, interrupting a discussion I'm sure they all thought I wasn't a part of, but none of them had been bound to Lucifer's chosen second, none of the
m had been targeted by Damon, and none of them had been thrown into the fire pits of Hell. And, dammit, my mother had been murdered by a Demon. Hell had a lot to answer for.

  "I've gazed into Lucifer's eyes while he threatened to slice me open on an altar. I say I've been close enough to Satan to speak somewhat from experience. How close have you been?"

  I wasn't being friendly now, and I wasn't in the shadows. I had moved up next to Marcas, my shoulder barely touching his arm as I rested my hands on the surface of the table. Sophia stepped forward.

  "Your role in this is finished, Naphil. You are unbound from the Demon."

  Her words hurt more than they should. In the end, she was right. Marcas and I were unbound. From the beginning that had been the ultimate goal. I should want to walk away, leave this war to the hybrids it belonged to. But I was having trouble doing that, and it wasn't just my heart keeping me involved.

  During this journey, I had discovered a lot about myself. I was a hybrid Angel, the only sane Naphil in existence. My father said there was a prophecy in Heaven that forbade a relationship between an Angel and a Demon, but I wasn't an Angel. I was a Naphil with a tendency for evil. Lucifer had known it. He had seen it on the High Place of Sacrifice in Petra when anger had nearly consumed me. I think, in the end, Marcas recognized it too. My strength came from being able to choose right over wrong despite my tendencies. I was like Luke Skywalker in Star Wars. It's too freaking easy to give into negative emotions. It's harder to choose the positive.

  "Her role in this is just beginning."

  It was Marcas who said it, his voice strong and steady next to me, and I watched as Sophia's gaze swung to him. The room was deathly quiet. Even with all of the people in the refectory, we were suddenly the only three present. It was as if everyone else was nothing more than the background music at a club.

  Marcas leaned forward, one hand still resting on the table while the other moved to cover my left hand. Pure electricity shot through me, and I had to fight not to shiver.

  "She will be coming with me," he said suddenly.

  The other people in the room were no longer just background noise. Their cries were like the winds in a hurricane. Marcas and I were the calm in the middle of the storm, his hand on my hand, his gaze moving to meet mine. I stared at him, my eyes wide.

  "Whoah, Craig. Are you asking me to go to Hell with you?"

  He held my gaze, the corner of his lips twitching.

  "Only if you're into possible death, cruel and unusual punishment . . ."

  I lifted my free hand.

  "You did better stopping at the whole 'she will be coming with me' thing."

  Marcas chuckled, but even with the lightness between us, I knew by the way his hand tightened on mine that he was being serious. He wanted me with him, and although I knew he'd protect me with his life, the dangers were obvious. I'd been to Hell before. I knew the dangers. I flipped my hand over, and entwined my fingers with his. I leaned toward him, my mouth near his ear.

  "I'd go to Hell for you, Craig."

  His grip became so tight I felt the circulation in my fingers being cut off. Sometimes saying 'I love you' doesn't have the depth other words have. The moment Marcas had told me he would never forsake me, I'd known I was in this for the long haul. Those words had meant more to me than 'I love you' ever could. This was one of those moments. And I meant every word.

  "You can't take the Naphil to Hell!"

  The outside world was beginning to interfere again, and I knew by the shrill tone, the interrupting squeal was Sophia's. Marcas and I turned forward, his eyes meeting Alessandro's and Sophia's across the table while mine met my father's and Maria's. My dad's face was unreadable, calm. Maria was smiling. There were hidden secrets in that smile, and I wished, not for the first time, that I could read her thoughts.

  "I'm going with him," I said quickly before Sophia could protest further.

  Lucas stepped away from the wall.

  "It's too dangerous and risky. We could just kill the Demon now, and there would be no quandary."

  I saw Luther move to Marcas' other side, his eyes red. Marcas leaned forward, and because my hand was still wrapped in his, I did too.

  "Dayton Blainey leaves with me. I trust no one else."

  Lucas smirked.

  "You don't trust her own father? Her friends?"

  Marcas watched the fallen Angel, his eyes dark.

  "No one. I trust no one."

  His words were fierce, dark, dangerous, and I suddenly realized something incredibly disturbing. I didn't trust them either. They loved me, I had no doubt, and I knew that my friends, especially, would do anything they thought was best for me. But what they thought was best was more than likely not what I thought. I wouldn't risk being separated from Marcas.

  Sophia began to glow, her skin illuminated as she glared at Marcas. Her eyes were suddenly a shade of blue so light, they almost appeared white.

  "The Naphil will not go to Hell. Heaven won't risk her interference."

  Marcas' eyes lowered, the pupils going red. His body heated.

  "Let's clear up something now, Aurelia," Marcas said slowly, using the Heavenly name that Maria had once told me Sophia used when in Heaven. "The Naphil goes with me. If anyone has an issue with this, I will be glad to show you why Lucifer chose me as his second."

  There was silence following his threat, and I stood straight. Marcas was not the type to be blunt or forward. He was passively dangerous, the kind of predator that liked to stalk his prey quietly. He studied a situation and used it to his advantage. I had seen this several times over the past month and a half. Any threat he made was more than that. It was a promise.

  "Let her go," a low voice said, and I looked across the table at my father.

  Bezaliel's hand was lifted in a gesture of dismissal. Sophia turned on him.

  "To Hell? She could start a war!"

  Bezaliel looked me in the eye.

  "She could also end one."

  The statement was vague and Bezaliel left it at that before turning away from the table and leaving the room. I stared at the empty space he left behind.

  "The Old One is wise. I say we adjourn on his recommendation," Maria murmured, her eyes on mine and Marcas' entwined hands.

  Alessandro nodded, his gaze on his mother. He trusted her instincts.

  "Then in a couple of hours, we will meet in the courtyard. The Demonio will open a portal to Hell, and we will see Marcas and Dayton enter it safely. Monroe will prepare an amulet for Marcas for added protection against possession," Alessandro said quietly.

  Monroe nodded as Luther leaned forward.

  "I'll be leaving with them. This is my fight as well, and I stand with my brother."

  Neither Marcas nor I objected and Alessandro nodded. There was no point in keeping a Demon from entering Hell.

  "Meeting adjourned," Alessandro announced, and everyone moved to the door.

  I stood where I was, my hand still gripped in Marcas' as everyone exited the room. Luther and Conor were the last to leave. I expected one of them to look backward, but they never did. I had made my choice, and Conor respected that. Somehow I knew he respected it. As for Luther, something told me he'd protect me with his life the same way Marcas would.

  The door to the refectory closed, the sound loud in the now empty room. Then, and only then, did Marcas release my hand.

  "What happens now?" I whispered, my eyes moving to Marcas' face.

  He looked down at me, a strand of his black hair falling over his forehead. His dark blue eyes shone, and his strong cheekbones were clouded by light stubble.

  "We'll enter Hell and ask for an audience with Lucifer."

  "He won't give up the hybrids," I said confidently.

  Marcas shook his head.

  "Not without a fight, but Lucifer loves a challenge. He will want to prove his dominance over me."

  I felt my heart sink.

  "He'll use you to prove to the other hybrids that we can't win."
r />   Marcas didn't disagree.

  "Yes, which means he'll have to fight me or challenge me in return."

  I watched Marcas' face and wondered at his calm.

  "And this doesn't frighten you?"

  He smiled gently.

  "No. I'm stronger than he thinks I am. Even more so now."

  Marcas' hand suddenly slid upward along my jaw, and I froze. This moment was too real. There was no death hanging over either of us. We weren't in Hell trapped in Lilith's home, we weren't in a duel with Lucifer, we weren't in a battle with Damon, and we weren't trapped in a ring. This moment was just me and him. There was no reason to feel desperate, no reason to blame the romantic moment on any feelings other than our own. That time would come, but for now, it was just us in a room with no obligation. And I suddenly felt awkward and insecure.

  "I . . ."

  Marcas placed a hand over my lips and shook his head, amusement obvious in his gaze. He knew I tended to talk when I was nervous. I was already chewing desperately on my tongue.

  "Give me a moment, Blainey. Just give me a moment to look at my own downfall."

  There was no way to counter that statement, and he looked. He looked his fill, his gaze moving with agonizing slowness from my wild red hair to the pink Betty Boop sweatshirt and finally to my worn but comfortable Nike tennis shoes. And then he looked again, his gaze moving back upward until his eyes met mine.

  And in the time it took him to look at me, his gaze weaving a painstakingly slow trail down and up again, I felt my entire soul slip away from me and mingle with his. One look. One single look. It's amazing the emotion, the energy that one look can contain. Just one look. And when his eyes finally met mine, the color changing from blue to black to red, I felt my heart catch on fire. I suppose, considering he was a Demon, saying it felt like a blazing inferno was a fairly accurate description. One thing was certain. This wasn't desperation. This wasn't even love. This moment was passion pure and simple. And when he leaned down, one of his hands moving up my back until it was at the nape of my neck, I didn't close my eyes.

  I stared blatantly into his black irises, refusing to blink, refusing to miss a single moment. And I let myself drown in the dark depths because I could, because for that one moment, I didn't care if I couldn't breathe.