Her Black Soul (The Dark Amulet Series Book 3)

by A. J. Norris

  “Stay away from Hazel Stevens, you can’t help her now.”

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-NINE

  Evita

  Only a scorch mark remained of Dahlia.

  “Man, that stinks.”

  Abaddon’s voice cut through Evita’s brain like a dirty spoon, all messy-like. He waved away the lingering smoke from the Warrior gone bad. He’d opened a portal and leaned against the side edge with his arms folded. His horns jutted out in this realm and his tail swung back and forth like a cat’s. Red eyes stared back at her through his legs. She was too weak for fleeing in any capacity. Evita sneered at the Shadow-demons. A few sets of the peepers retreated.

  “What the Netherworld happened? Never mind, save it.” The Demon Ruler snorted. “Must be Dahlia.”

  Berus dug into his pocket then tossed something metallic at Abaddon.

  The Ruler snapped his hand out and caught it. “Uhh…?”

  Berus gathered Evita in his arms. She groaned and detested the demon’s hands on her, although the new vantage point helped her see what he’d given Abaddon.

  An amulet…crap.

  Hating Dahlia for sending her back to Netherworld was a place inside Evita’s mind she refused to visit. Giving in to that kind of darkness led nowhere good. She prayed for the strength to endure the other realm for another two hundred years, or however long she would be there this time. Berus stomped toward the portal.

  “You didn’t complete the assignment,” Abaddon said, moving so he filled the gateway to Hell.

  “Am-am-amulet. An-an-angel. I g-go home.”

  “I don’t know what this piece of garbage is or where it came from, but it’s not one of the amulets.”

  Berus trudged forward. Evita curled in closer to the demon’s chest. She cringed when her cheek touched his skin.

  Oh Deus…uh…

  A growl rumbled from deep within his chest. The tone sounded more wounded than angry.

  Abaddon growled back and pawed the ground with a cloven hoof. He chucked the fake amulet at Berus’s feet.

  The demon jumped out of its way. When he landed, Evita gritted her teeth. Slices of pain shot through her body where her wings were attached.

  “Home!”

  “Not on your life! The deal was for the real amulet and the angel.”

  “It is am-am-amulet!”

  “No it isn’t!”

  Berus rushed the portal, thrusting her outward.

  “Don’t bring her near me,” Abaddon hissed. The diameter of the portal shrank.

  “Take her!” Berus bellowed.

  “No! I don’t want her, she’s mate…” Abaddon’s last word trailed off. He still respected an angel’s mating ward? Why was she surprised? He’d never touched her. His past was his weakness. And he just admitted his truth to one of his underlings. The doorway to Netherworld began collapsing rapidly.

  Berus released her and Evita flew toward the Ruler but fell short. She shrieked and hit the ground, face first. Dirt went up her nose and in her eyes. She cried, writhing in pain, and gasping for air. Hoping to slip inside Netherworld before the portal closed completely, Berus launched himself over her and belly-flopped into a muddy spot. The wet earth splattered in every direction, pelting her backside.

  Evita lifted her head. Long shadows crept over her. Her heart stopped. No! Abaddon had sent the Shadow-demons for her.

  A male whispered, “Come on, Virgil needs you.”

  “Jere?”

  Oh, thank Deus.

  “We gotta go now.”

  “Too weak,” she breathed.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For wha—ow, Deus!” Her entire body screamed.

  Jeremiah scooped her into his arms. “For this.”

  He shielded her face from the winds created by his flapping wings and they soared into the sky. She shivered and found warmth when he held her tighter to his chest. The angel wanted to be a Redeemer, like his pater, however, he made a much better Guardian.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Berus

  Berus lay on his back in the mud for hours. The wet dirt dried and cracked on his face in the sun. Jeremiah and Evita had left him alone. He expected more angels would have returned for battle. However, after the sun moved closer to the western horizon, he realized that wasn’t happening.

  Unfortunately.

  He may have welcomed losing himself to the Earth. Berus had indirectly failed his Empress by not fulfilling his duty to the Demon Ruler, Abaddon. His only chance for mercy from her was to admit his failure to her personally. How was he supposed to do that now? Abaddon wouldn’t let him back into Netherworld.

  He looked up through the trees and the branches swayed in the cool breeze. The leaves cast dancing shadows across his face. His eyes circled around and he glimpsed the white birches. He sat bolt upright. The natural portal home hovered in the air, less than fifteen feet away. Berus nearly smiled, he was so overcome with relief. He wouldn’t torture Abaddon when he saw him again.

  Berus backed up and sprinted forward toward the raised natural portal. He leapt into the air, missing the nearly invisible lip of the gateway. His feet landed back on the ground again.

  His voice exploded. “Abaddon!”

  Taking a longer running leap, he jumped and his fingers caught on the ledge of the gateway this time.

  Abaddon’s head appeared and his clawed hands gripped Berus on both sides of his head. “Miss me?” The Demon Ruler kissed him, invading his mouth with his tongue, forcing his venom into his mouth. Berus knew what Abaddon’s venom caused in human souls. Would he suffer the same fate? Would he grow horns or worse…wings? He turned his head, gagged, and spat.

  Abaddon laughed and pulled away. “I’ll let you thank me later.”

  Never.

  Berus strong-armed himself up into the three-foot round portal and crouched on the ledge. He met with a resistance when he pushed forward. He saw Netherworld through the membrane. The cavernous walls and familiar screams welcomed him like no other place. He punched the barrier and it seemed to give, but nothing happened. He didn’t break through. Again and again, he beat at what was keeping him out. Abaddon couldn’t seal the portal so something else was keeping him from going further. But what?

  Berus cocked his fist back and with all his strength punched, and this time the invisible force shoved back like a wave, knocking him off the gateway’s edge, sending him reeling down. He swiped at the air hoping to catch the lip once more. He hit the ground ass first, biting his tongue. Blood filled his mouth. Berus rolled onto his side and coughed.

  He groaned and pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. When he flopped back against the ground again, his eyes picked up something brown lying near him, partially covered by some dried leaves. At first he thought it may be alive when he noticed an eye staring at him, except the fuzzy little creature didn’t blink. Or breathe. Berus stretched his arm out and clamped down on the thing. It squeaked. Jeremiah’s teddy bear. The stuffed toy smelled of the angel. He pressed it to his nose, inhaling deeply. With no one around, he gave himself permission and held it to his chest.

  The demon laid in the dirt surrounded by trees, listening to the sounds all around him for hours. Without a home, he had nowhere to go. For the first time, fear crept into his soul.

  CHAPTER

  FIFTY-ONE

  Abaddon

  Dahlia’s incompetence was the flies on Aba’s many layers of deep shit. The missing amulet only occasionally registered, and faintly at best. He had not wanted to admit this to the vengeful Warrior. His strength weakened more every day, especially his range of power on Earth.

  “Where are we going?” Suzie whined.

  Aba cringed at the sound of her voice. More and more she irritated him. “Keep quiet,” he snapped.

  “It’d help if you told me—”

  He glared at her. She shut up. They headed into the deepest part of Netherworld. Aba had itched for days, like a tic he couldn’t quell. Ignoring the draw to this sec
tion built until he no longer tolerated the need to go there. He either went or lost consciousness from ramming his head into a wall.

  What lured him to this dark cavern? Her. It. The one without a name. That damn voice in the back of his mind he pretended didn’t exist. He stopped and reached for the wall beside him in the dark passageway that was slowly tapering, closing in on him. Moisture, too thick to be water, coated his fingertips. Suzie bumped into his back. “Quit,” he said, telling himself not to change into his demonic form. If he changed now, he’d get stuck in the tunnel. Sometimes when he felt threatened, his metamorphosis trick happened on its own in Netherworld. On Earth, he transformed automatically.

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  Aba looked at his hand even though he couldn’t see anything in the pitch black. It was so dark his other senses enhanced. He walked forward a few steps, sensing they were nearing his destination. Drips he hoped were water and not something else fell into a larger collection of liquid. Every drop echoed. They must have found a high ceilinged larger cavern. Nothing else explained the echo. He stumbled and caught himself on a stalagmite. His torso draped over the formation in the ground and he held on. Suzie tripped over the same spot in the hard clay, landing in the unknown liquid pool. A fire flared, lighting the hollowed room. She flailed her arms and legs, splashing a solution that appeared the same color as the walls. Terra cotta.

  Of course.

  Aba groaned internally.

  Suzie gasped and slipped under the surface. She came up again, dog-paddling toward him. As the liquid drained off her head, she blinked. The once human surprised Aba. She never begged or screamed for his help, only saw the messy predicament as an obstacle to overcome.

  On the other side of Suzie’s bathtub, a mound-like stalagmite raised from the floor in front of the wall. The column took shape and two limbs branched out at the sides, forming something he wasn’t sure of until fingers waggled. Aba stared at the arms. When the hands rotated, he realized a head had grown, yet the entire being remained clay. The thing marveled at its newly formed hands.

  What in the fuck is this?

  The statuesque thing was female by the hourglass shape and smooth mounds on its chest.

  Below him, Suzie clutched the lip of the pool. She pulled herself halfway out, her wings dripping with brown liquid. He thought about reaching for her hand then she fell back as if someone grabbed her by the waist from behind. She still didn’t panic. Her body made waves as she was dragged through the pool. She stopped in the middle and swam the ten feet to the edge. The liquid swirled beginning in the center, gathering strength.

  Inside his head, the deep feminine sounding voice spoke. Why did you bring her here?

  Aba rubbed his temples. Pain radiated behind his eyes.

  Answer me! the voice demanded.

  He closed his eyes and put his face in his hands. Aba had a whopper of a headache, or perhaps it was a cerebral hemorrhage. “I dunno. Moral support.”

  “Do you mock me!” The voice spoke not inside his head, but behind his right ear. He flinched and spun. No one stood there.

  Suzie yelped. She’d lost her grip on the edge and was spinning around, caught in the whirlpool. “Help!” she gurgled as she went under the surface. She came up and took loud, gasping breaths.

  He threw his focus back to where the clay person formed. It had moved closer to the pool. “Who are you? Or should I ask what?” he said sharply. The eddy sped up in response. Suzie shouted, her cries muffled by the liquid. Aba saw the look in her eyes for a split second, but that was all it took; he knew she was scared.

  Only the top of her head remained above the surface. As much as Suzie annoyed him, Aba never intended for her to suffer. That wasn’t why he had brought her along. She provided a level of comfort for some reason. Familiarity, maybe? Even though she was dead and wouldn’t actually drown to death, the feelings of helplessness and suffocation were real. Aba considered this torture. Females in his culture were revered.

  What?

  His culture?

  Long forgotten or ignored nerve endings fired between his shoulder blades. He arched his back and shimmied like a bird with water on its wings. His horns throbbed. He was well aware he’d been an angel unlike any in existence today. Aba was ancient. Maybe the first angel created by Deus. More powerful than most, and consequently, more susceptible to temptation. His lust for power had corrupted him.

  “Make it stop!” Aba bellowed, wondering exactly what he wanted stopped. Suzie’s torture or his own.

  “Make what stop?” the voice spoke next to his ear again. He batted the air beside his head. A ripple of laughter zoomed around the cavern. Aba tracked the sound with his eyes like it could be seen. “You know she won’t die. Or is it something else?” She laughed again. “Yes. Yes, it is. You miss them?”

  Aba glared at the clay female. She had referred to his wings. He looked at Suzie still struggling in the pool. “Make it stop,” he whispered under his breath.

  The brown water swallowed Suzie as the current sped faster. Her limp body skimmed around just below the surface. Aba dipped his fingers into the liquid. It was the same substance as on the walls leading into the cavern. He lifted his hand to his nose. The odor was foreign smelling. Not quite sour milk, not quite rotten potatoes. He imagined Suzie had taken several mouthfuls. Aba couldn’t take much more of the sick joke at her expense.

  “She suf—her torture bores me.” He caught himself before he fully admitted the truth. “She enjoys it too much.” Aba yawned for effect. “Tell me, who are you?” he asked, forcing himself to stay out of the pool. His skin crawled with the need to move. Take action.

  “I’m called many things.”

  “Let’s start with one name.” Deus, he wanted to jump in and save Suzie.

  “Don’t you know by now? Haven’t my children spoken of me?”

  Uh, no. They hadn’t, if she was referring to the animal headed creatures. They didn’t speak in a language he understood. He never learned what the clicks, snorts, and grunts meant. Once Aba thought he was figuring out their dialect, only to discover he didn’t know a damn thing about their speech. Berus may have tried teaching him a time or two, not that he’d been willing or paying enough attention to notice.

  Aba never saw the being that had lured him to Netherworld. He’d sensed a force and sought its power. A power he wanted. He ripped his wings from his back on the first day in Netherworld. The amulets had appeared on his second day. There was no question in his mind what to do with them. Spread them on Earth, create a collection of one hundred females, human or angel, and be rewarded with total Earth domination. Simple. Or so he’d thought. Finding a suitable one last female had proven ridiculously difficult. Plus, every day his strength dwindled. He counted his harem members by picturing their faces one by one. Evita had been number ninety-seven…Ariel ninety-eight. Veronica ninety-nine…Amalya or Julia were supposed to be one hundred…How many were there? Ninety-nine or ninety-eight? He couldn’t remember. Aba dragged his palms down his face.

  “Abaddon!”

  “What?!” His knees hit the ground and he bit his tongue. He moaned, tasting blood.

  “Outbursts won’t be tolerated. All the power you think is yours can be taken away.”

  For the first time since entering the cavern, a stab of real fear penetrated his outer shell. His heart raced and his breaths quickened. He’d grown so used to the heat in this realm, he didn’t usually sweat, but now he sweated. He tore his silk shirt off. The buttons popped and flew. Beads of perspiration rolled down his back.

  The beginnings of his beast struck him, making his skin crawl as the etched markings raised. His nails and incisors elongated. His muscles bulged while his body increased in size. The seams of the leather pants he wore split. A roar rumbled out of his mouth when the last of his changes occurred. His once angel-like appearance disappeared. He was now a beast with ebony skin, thick horns, and an unrecognizable face.

  Aba sprung to his feet and c
harged the mound of clay. He ripped the head off and chucked it into the wall. Wads of clay splattered. He kicked and battered the pillar with his cloven hooves and shoulder. Terra cotta surrounded his feet, fastening him to the floor.

  The clay flowed up and squeezed his chest, constricting the airflow, making breathing difficult. His arms locked in a fixed position. Swiftly, the heavy material engulfed him up to his neck, turning Aba into a statue. He couldn’t even move his head. His thoughts went to Suzie. Her bath continued revolving. Although, he possessed some precognitive abilities, he could not foresee the outcome for either of them.

  Clay swelled up from the ground, forming into Amalya’s likeness, yet different. The shape of her eyes rounder. He stared at her features. Regret triggered inside his soul. He thought she’d be the one to complete his harem. Instead, she proved too good for him. He may have given her wings, but she’d earned them. The cocoon hadn’t tightened around his body, yet a pressing weight squashed the organ thumping inside his chest. He’d been numb so long, his emotions felt strange. Off. Self-loathing. Regret. Fear. Loneliness…Too many and all once, they bombarded him.

  Get it together, Aba. This isn’t you.

  However, maybe this was his true self.

  The statuesque Amalya-like form before him smiled in delight. She enjoyed his reaction to her creation. “Now, that I have your attention…”

  “You don’t have the eyes right,” he wheezed, unable to take a deep breath, although he kept the emotion out of his tone. He pretended not to care.

  “Yes. I do,” she said. Water spilled behind Aba like it drained off something. “I should thank you, but I won’t, since it was my doing.”

  “What are you talking—shit!” Suzie floated in the air, her body limp and lifeless. She looked dead. Her lips and fingertips were blue. He said the adage about Netherworld to himself.