by Ryals, R. K.
There was a dagger there, a silver dagger strategically placed in his ribs. I had a flashback then, a brief moment in a car with Marcas in Italy, a moment where he had told me, point blank, that the only way to kill a Demon was to destroy his heart.
I wanted my ten steps back. I wanted those last ten gosh damn steps back! I gripped Marcas' shirt again, my hands curled desperately in the fabric as if letting it go meant letting him go.
"Do you remember what I told you at the Abbey when we fought Damon?" I asked.
Marcas didn't answer, his eyes half-closed as his breathing deepened.
"Damn it, Craig! Remember? I told you if you died on me, I'd find a way to bring you back to life and kill you myself. Understand?"
Luther's hand was on my shoulder again, but I shook it off.
"Dayton," he said gently.
I turned around and shoved Luther as hard as I could, pointing at his chest as his eyes widened.
"No!" I yelled.
I turned back to Marcas. His eyes were open now, and he was staring at me.
"Dayton," he whispered.
I shook my head, hard. He wasn't dying! But his breathing, his skin, was changing, and I sobbed, my heart a twisted, messed up version of what it used to be.
"I love you," he breathed.
But I didn't say it back. I didn't say it back because he wasn't dying. He wasn't leaving now when he needed to rule a kingdom. He wasn't leaving now because it didn't matter if I could be with him or not. As long as he was alive, I was alive.
"Please!" I begged the Heavens, but there was no response. Not until . . .
"Look for the light, but never forget the darkness."
It was my father's voice, and I brushed away the tears as I looked up, startled.
"What?"
"The dream," he answered.
The stupid dream! The Godforsaken dream that never died! It had haunted me my entire life, and it haunted me still. I wanted to scream.
"Remember who you are," his voice said, and I laid my cheek against Marcas' chest.
His heart was slowing too quickly, his breathing more shallow with every second. Tears soaked his t-shirt. He should have already been dead. If he had been human, I'm sure he would have been. I closed my eyes and thought about the dream.
My dream. The dream where my father kept telling me to look for the light. It was always about the light. The dead blasted light I never seemed able to find. Until the scene changed. And then there was darkness, darkness and rain that ripped into my skin and made me bleed as if it could sink into my soul and rip it free.
Light then dark. Who was I?
I was Dayton. I was part Angel. I was part human. Light and dark. I was the only Naphil to ever walk the face of the Earth who wasn't insane. But I had the tendency for evil. Even Lucifer had known, had known that the part of me that was an aberration was tempted by sin, by evil. Light and dark.
It hit me like a ten ton boulder dropped on top of my head. The damn dream had been a clue all along. Always beneath the light, there is darkness. I was stuck between two worlds and always would be.
I reached down and grabbed the handle of the dagger in Marcas' chest. Luther swore and grabbed my wrist.
"What the hell are you doing?"
I shoved every last bit of power I had into Luther's hand, and he jerked backward, his face a mask of pain.
"Dammit!"
I didn't spare him a glance. Again, I grasped the dagger, my eyes on Marcas'. There wasn't much life left.
"Trust me," I whispered. "Don't let go."
With that, I leaned over and placed my lips on his before pulling the dagger free. And in that moment, in that final moment, I bit the inside of my cheek, using my teeth to slice it open until blood gushed forth into his mouth from mine. And then I bit his lip, drinking down his Demonic blood as fast as I could. All within the space of a second. All while pulling a dagger free. And as I slid the knife from his ribs, I heard Marcas swallow and breathe for the final time.
And that was before the convulsions began. That was before one final thought blazed through my head.
"You had your revenge, Lucifer. This is my retribution."
Chapter 27
In Heaven, there is a prophecy. In the name of retribution, a relationship will arise between an Angel and a Demon. And, in the end, this relationship will destroy the world.
~Bezaliel~
Pain. I had spent a lot of time over the past two months in pain. Pain, near death, and dying. I was dying now. I was sure of it. My heart was destroyed, and there was a fire in my blood that was boiling me from the inside out.
"Don't let go," a voice whispered, and I realized it was mine.
I was talking to myself. It was a bad habit.
"That's right," a voice answered.
It was female. Monroe? I opened my eyes and regretted it instantly. My heart couldn't take the scene.
"Hello," Monroe said gently from next to me, her blonde hair falling into her face as she leaned over me.
My eyes met hers. I was at S.O.S. headquarters in the bed of a room I had once shared with Marcas.
"Hello," I responded.
My answer was dull, lifeless. Monroe smiled.
"You are a glutton for punishment, you know that."
I let my head roll to the side.
"Not now, Roe. Not now."
I couldn't talk. It hurt too much to talk. Everything hurt, and it wasn't a physical pain. It was worse, much worse.
"Dayton," Monroe said, her hand taking mine in hers. "You don't feel it do you?"
I turned back to her, my eyes narrowed.
"Feel what?"
Monroe leaned over, her mouth near my ear.
"The light, Day. Look for the light."
She pulled away, and I sat up, my eyes wide as she grinned. The light. I grasped at the power in my chest and gasped. It was different. My power was different! It was stronger, edgier, darker, and that excited me.
I threw the covers off, barely sparing a glance at the pink 'Peace' yoga pants and white tank top someone had managed to get on me.
"Where is he?" I asked.
Monroe pointed at the door.
"Two rooms down, but Dayton . . ."
I didn't stop to find out what she was about to say. I simply ran. I ran two doors down and stopped, my hand on the knob. It was cold against my palm, and I was suddenly afraid. I had bound myself to him again. In a last ditch effort to save his life, I had bound us, and I wasn't sure he'd be happy about it.
I took a deep breath and pushed the door open, and there he was. Marcas, his back to me, his cobra tattoo dark against his tan skin. He was leaning over a bed, a hand on top of the mattress as if he, too, had just awoken from convulsions. But when the door opened, he straightened. And then he turned.
It was the slowest turn in history.
And when he was finally facing me, I avoided his gaze, doubt consuming me. Instead, I stared at his waist where a pair of black cotton drawstring pants were tied, and then I let my gaze move upward, slowly, ever so slowly, freezing suddenly when my eyes reached his chest.
There was a scar there, a jagged white scar the length of a dagger. No wound, but there was a scar, and it didn't look like it would ever heal.
"I'm told she was a magnificent sight," Marcas said suddenly, his voice low.
I continued to stare at his chest.
"Who?" I finally asked, my heart beating faster than any human's ever should.
"The girl who pulled a dagger from the heart of a Demon ruler and gave him back his life."
My eyes finally met his, and the smile in it was enough for me.
I ran. I ran, and he caught me.
My face was against his chest now, his heartbeat steady and solid beneath my ear, his arms around me, steadfast and sure. I closed my eyes because the emotions were too much. Too strong. No . . . no, they were enough. Just enough.
"There is a prophecy," I began.
"That isn't us," Marcas int
errupted.
I listened to his heart. Strong. Steady. Beating.
"How do you know?"
"Because you aren't truly an Angel and I'm not truly a Demon. It's a prophecy that may or may not happen, but it won't be now. It won't be us. And when war does come to Earth, we will fight it, together, on the same side."
I couldn't get enough of his heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Beating.
"I think, however, it's probably important for you to know that I'll be spending a good deal of time in the Outer Levels of Hell," he said quietly.
So the hybrids still had their kingdom. The thought made me smile against Marcas' chest. We were bound again. Where he went, I'd have to go. And vice versa.
"As long as dumdums are allowed there, it'll be all good."
Marcas chuckled, and the vibration was the most wonderful sensation in the world. I waited for him to get quiet, and then I took a deep breath.
"Heaven is where ever you are," I whispered, my tone serious.
Marcas grew still. His heart rate picked up. One, two, three, four . . . I would never quit counting it. Each beat meant something to me.
One of Marcas' hands found my face, and he lifted my chin until our gazes met.
"Say that again," he said.
My face was serious when I said it, all doubt gone.
"Heaven is where ever you are," I repeated.
Marcas smiled, his gaze searching mine.
"How incredibly cliché of you, Blainey."
My eyes narrowed, and I glared, my temper flaring.
"Cliché? And after everything . . ."
"Blainey?" Marcas said.
I paused.
"Yeah?"
"Shut up."
His mouth covered mine before I even had a chance to argue, his lips desperate, a hand tangled in my hair. All I could do was hold on, one hand over the scar on his heart. The kiss wasn't enough. It would never be enough.
Epilogue
The Heavens are watching them, the Demon ruler bound to the only Naphil ever born sane on Earth. By being bound, they have given up the protection of both Heaven and Hell. They will live in Exile, watched. Always watched. Always in danger.
~Bezaliel~
Two weeks later . . .
The sun was beginning to set in the vineyards beyond S.O.S. headquarters, cloaking the sky in a myriad of pastel colors, and I watched as a bird spread its wings and took flight, moving from the limb of one tree to another some distance away. It was a white bird. Pure as snow.
"A dove," a voice said.
The wind moved over the balcony where I stood, and I smiled.
"Dad."
Bezaliel stepped forward, leaning on the rail near my shoulder.
"That is music to sore ears."
I grinned.
"I figured it was about time."
Bezaliel's gaze moved to mine.
"How are you doing?" he asked, his tone serious.
I looked out at the horizon.
"Good, Dad. Really, really good."
It was all we said for a while, leaving the moment in silence, letting the wind heal wounds still raw.
"They are busy," Bezaliel said suddenly inclining his head to the yard below.
I glanced down, smiling when I saw Maria berating one of the younger members of the S.O.S. He made the mistake of rolling his eyes and met the wrath that was Maria's cane.
The old lady was and always would be someone extremely important in my life. She had taken it upon herself to help me finish highschool even though she didn't know enough written English to read the books. I also kept trying to convince her that highschool wouldn't do me much good in the Outer Levels of Hell, but the only thing that excuse had gotten me was a little grumbling, a nice hot cup of tea, and a lecture. She'd looked at me with those knowing, raised brows of hers and said,"You will be here on Earth part of the time, and you'd be surprised what you need to know, Child."
There was no point arguing with her. Maria's cane came down on the boy again, and his 'yowl' could be heard all the way across the yard.
There, on the edge of the property, two heads came up, and my grin widened when I recognized Luther and Conor, their laughter obvious when they caught sight of Maria and her new, unsuspecting protégé.
The Demon and the gargoyle had developed a strange camaraderie, and I was sure part of it was Conor's current obsession with hybrid rights. It was a fight that wasn't over yet. It was a fight Marcas was heading and Alessandro was sponsoring. Strange that, but I wasn't about to question the motives of the S.O.S.'s leader. I was, however, interested in meeting the Demon-hybrid girl who had Conor tied in knots. So far, he had been evasive, but I knew she didn't live far from the S.O.S. manor, and now that things were beginning to calm down some, I was going to go on a human scavenger hunt before long.
We were all in a good place. Marcas and I were still learning what it meant to be bound. Before, we had been so focused on getting unbound that we had never really enjoyed the benefits. And it was important we learn. Bound, we were constantly in danger. Heaven and Hell had us marked, watched. In their eyes, we linked two realms that shouldn't be linked. But, so far, neither realm had attempted to undo it. I think Bezaliel had a little something to do with that, and it was a good thing too because I never intended to wear the Seal of Solomon ever again for the rest of my long, currently immortal life. They'd have to kill me first.
But, for now, I lived as long as Marcas lived. Bound, my life would continue as long as his did. It was a little disconcerting at times, but reassuring. I wasn't sure I could live without him, so it was a comfort knowing that if something happened to him, my life would be forfeit as well.
So, I used my new immortal time effectively. I trained with Marcas, I did school work with Maria (although I was beginning to discover I was schooling her more than she was schooling me), and I read and wrote A LOT. Books were a comfort to me. They always had been. I was even attempting my least favorite book, Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare. Why? Because, in the end, my story wasn't much different. Dayton Blainey of the house of Heaven fell in love with Marcas Craig of the house of Hell, but we had rewritten our ending and given it a purpose.
I was banking on that purpose.
"Do you believe the prophecy pertains to Marcas and me?" I asked my father suddenly.
Bezaliel looked at me, his eyes searching mine, and I felt something I hadn't felt since mom died. Kinship.
"No. Your relationship does not completely fit the prophecy. It was foretold that a relationship would arise out of retribution. You may have sought that later, but your relationship did not arise from that. And I think Marcas is right. It will be a full-blooded Demon and Angel. It will come to pass, but not yet. Not now."
I nodded. It was enough. His hand covered mine on the railing, and I didn't pull away.
"How's Amber?" I asked him.
He had returned to the Abbey recently, and I knew he had met with her. Bezaliel smiled.
"She is well. She has flourished in the sect under Sister Mary. They are doing a lot of good."
This relieved me. She was my sister. We shared a history no one else would ever understand.
"Monroe is in New Orleans now," I said.
It was an attempt at conversation, but I also knew it would interest my father. Monroe had spent a lot of time at my house when we were children.
"New Orleans?" Bezaliel asked, surprised.
I laughed.
"I know, right? I asked her if she was suddenly interested in becoming a Voodoo priestess, but she swears it's for her witchcraft. She has an aunt there who owns a shop. She thinks she can help Monroe with this connection she seems to have with Demonic power."
Bezaliel nodded, his expression grave.
"She is in danger now. Lucifer is aware of her powers, and he is interested."
I was afraid of that, and it worried me.
"Will you send Lucas to watch her," I asked.
Bezaliel smiled.
"He's
already there."
I looked back out over the yard. It was a good thing Luther didn't know that. I had seen the hybrid Demon's interest in my best friend. It surprised me a little actually because Luther was a loner who wasn't known for being serious.
"I'm proud of you, Dayton," my dad said suddenly, his voice breaking into my thoughts. I pulled my hand free of the rail and turned to him.
"Dad," I said slowly, my voice breaking despite my resolve not to get choked up. "I don't blame you for Mom's death. I did once, but I don't anymore."
Bezaliel's eyes were bright when he looked down at me.
"You saved me, Dayton."
This surprised me, and I felt my eyes widen.
"Saved you?"
He nodded.
"I was making a lot of bad choices before I saw your mother and assumed Daniel's identity. I was on a fast road to Hell. And then you came, and I had to protect you, protect what you were."
He leaned down and lowered his voice.
"The first time your mother laid you in my arms, I knew."
I gulped, the tears too close to the surface to hold at bay much longer.
"Knew what?" I asked.
He placed a hand on my shoulder.
"That you were my redemption."
No greater words could have been spoken between a father and a daughter. He opened his arms, and I went into them. It was like coming home. And in that moment, when I closed my eyes, I saw my mother's face as she whispered, "Save him."
And I knew now who she meant.
About the Author
R. K. Ryals is a scatterbrained mother of three whose passion is reading whatever she can get her hands on. She makes her home in Mississippi with her husband, three daughters, a Shitzsu named Tinkerbell, and a coffeepot she couldn't live without. Visit her at http://rkryals.com
Other Works Available
The Redemption Series
Redemption
Ransom
The Acropolis Series
The Acropolis
The Labyrinth
The Thorne Trilogy