by Elise Marion
Micah remained in the room, though he didn’t speak to, or even look at him. Jack polished off his bottle, then went for another. Remembering his dad’s warning, he decided it was far past time to start trying to mend fences with Micah. Even if they could never be as close as they had been, their partnership demanded communication and some level of respect.
“Look, whatever happens with Addison, you and I are partners,” he said, breaking the silence. “That’s not going to change, so we’re going to have to find a way to work together.”
“Partners don’t call each other rednecks,” Micah retorted.
Jack arched one eyebrow. “You had sex with my girlfriend, then you tried to hide it from me. If she hadn’t told me, I know for a fact you wouldn’t have. Partners don’t do that, either.”
Micah shrugged one shoulder. “Fine … guess that makes us even.”
“Not even,” he retorted. “But none of that matters in the grand scheme of things. We’re tied together, the three of us, whether we like it or not. There’s more at stake than which of us wins in the end. Addison has a choice to make, and whatever decision she comes to, we both need to accept it and move on.”
Rolling his eyes skyward, Micah scoffed. “Yeah, I think we both know who she’s choosin’.”
Recalling Addison’s expression when she’d asked Jack to deliver her message to Micah, he didn’t feel so sure. Maybe at first, he’d thought himself the clear frontrunner, but he couldn’t deny the truth when it stared him in the face. Their one-time thing hadn’t been meaningless. Addison and Micah had feelings for each other.
“Micah,” he said, clearing his throat. “Before I returned, Addison … she wanted me to tell you …”
His partner straightened, his chest swelling as if he held his breath. “Tell me what?”
Taking up what was left of his bottle, Jack moved to leave the kitchen. “She loves you.”
He heard Micah’s sharp intake of breath, detected the hope in that one sound. His hand curled into a fist at his side. As much as he’d wished Micah could find happiness after all he’d been through, the last person he wanted him to find it with was Addison. His Addison.
“She said that?” Micah asked, sounding incredulous.
Jack paused in the doorway to the kitchen, glancing back at Micah. “She didn’t have to.”
Reniel, along with two other angels, flew Micah, Jack, and Drew back to New Orleans first thing the next morning, as promised. After landing on the roof of the small two-bedroom apartment over a little Cajun diner he shared with Jack, Micah promptly doubled over and lost the contents of his stomach. Bad enough he hated flying; being subjected to flight in the hold of an angel proved a hell of a lot more frightening than shooting across the sky in a metal tube full of other people. It didn’t matter that Reniel possessed the strength of twenty men; when Micah flew in the angel’s hold, he spent every second praying he wouldn’t be dropped to his death.
The heights didn’t scare him so much as the notion of being in such a position without controlling any aspect of it. Relief washed over him at being back on his feet, regaining authority over his own body. Turning toward Drew, he found the boy grinning from ear-to-ear, his bright red hair standing on end from the wind.
Laughing, he ran a hand through the strands. “That. Was. Epic!”
With a chuckle, Jack clapped a hand on the kid’s shoulder, guiding him toward the wrought iron staircase leading down from the roof.
“I love seeing people take their first flight,” he said. “I remember my first like it was yesterday.”
Snorting, Micah trailed behind them, shaking his head. “It’s all fun and games ’til someone goes ‘splat’ on the pavement.”
Jack ignored him, but Drew glanced back at Micah, his eyes widening.
Grinning, Micah raised his eyebrows. “Don’t fret, kid. Almost never happens.”
Producing the key from his pocket, Jack opened the apartment’s back door, which let them in through the kitchen. The entire place was immaculate, which didn’t surprise him given the events of the past few days. After Addison had left the apartment, going back to her mother’s trailer, Micah had escaped to his boat, which had left Jack alone. One thing he knew well about his partner was that the man cleaned when he had a lot on his mind. It seemed to expel anxiety, letting him channel an abundance of energy into something productive. Their place hadn’t been this clean in months, and the broken furniture left over after their brawl had disappeared—leaving only two chairs in the kitchen, and no coffee table.
“There’s a bathroom down that hall, between me and Micah’s bedrooms,” Jack said, pointing down the hall. “We try to keep the fridge stocked, but don’t always do the best job. But whatever’s in there, help yourself. You can sleep on the couch for now. I guess at some point, permanent arrangements will need to be made for you. Until then, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need.”
Dropping a heavy-looking backpack onto the floor, Drew inspected his surroundings. “That couch looks way better than anything I’ve ever slept on.”
Curiosity pricked Micah, and he found himself wondering where Drew had lived before showing up in New York. Since he hated when people he barely knew poked their noses into his business, he decided not to ask. Addison’s little brother had a dark past, one that made him a bit unstable. Who knew what sort of consequences awakening his bad memories could have?
“Don’t drink outta the mason jars in the fridge,” Micah added. “Moonshine is a real man’s drink, and you look like you ain’t got more than three hairs on that skinny chest of yours.”
Scowling, Drew speared him with a scathing glare. “Keep pushin’ me, and I’ll show you how much of a man I can be.”
His pupils expanded until they ate up his irises, turning them black. A second later, his whites went dark, further emphasizing the fairness of his skin. The palms of his hands glowed red, and Micah noticed black veins showing through his throat, throbbing and pulsating.
“Hey, pump your brakes,” Jack insisted, taking Drew by the arm and giving him a rough yank back before he could advance on Micah.
Micah couldn’t control his laughter. “I like this kid! You got a little fire in your belly … that’s gonna come in handy when it comes time to face the enemy.”
Drew calmed, the black stains slowly fading from his eyes. The dark veins disappeared, but it seemed his rage would be harder to force back down. He still stared at Micah as if he wanted to murder him.
“Relax, kid,” Micah said. “I’m just messin’. If you’re gonna live here, the ability to take a joke is a must.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Jack added. “No one is safe around Micah.”
Knowing Jack was only kidding did nothing to hamper his reaction. The back of his neck heated, and his teeth ground together, causing an ache in his jaw.
“Yeah, not even pretty girls,” he snapped, shouldering his way past Jack and heading toward his bedroom. “If you got a girlfriend, keep her away from me, ‘cause apparently, I’m in the habit of stealin’ ’em.”
He could feel Jack’s stare on his back, but he refused to even acknowledge that he was acting like a jackass.
“What was that all about?” Drew murmured as Micah entered his bedroom and slammed the door.
He knew that at some point, this whole Addison situation would have to blow over. They couldn’t stay mad at each other forever, and switching partners wasn’t an option according to Reniel.
Did he even want another partner? Angry as he was at his friend for the things he’d said, Micah knew there was no one better to have at your back during a fight than Jack Bennett. Besides, while the insults had hurt, the reason behind them couldn’t be ignored. He’d broken an unspoken code between men. If he’d been the one who had died, and Jack had screwed his girl, Micah couldn’t say he wouldn’t have reacted the same way.
Reaching into one of his dresser drawers, he came out with a pair of clean boxers, jeans, and one of severa
l Mama Jo’s Cajun Café T-shirts. He had a shift to work, despite running on very few hours of sleep. Bills still needed to be paid, which meant he had to continue holding down his job while also working to fulfill his duty for the cause of Heaven. He’d slacked off while Jack was gone … the time had come to get back in the swing of things.
Tramping to the bathroom, he allowed his thoughts to wander to Addison. The problem was, he hadn’t just slept with her. Maybe that was what Addison saw their one night as, and of course, Jack assumed it had been all carnal and no substance. And who could blame either of them for thinking such a thing? Micah was well aware of his reputation as a womanizer, and he had very little in his arsenal to defend himself with. His love life had consisted of one meaningless night after another, and a few flings that never spanned more than a few months. Before her death, his sister had warned him that one day, he’d be the one getting his heart broken—karma for his own misdeeds.
Maybe that time had come for him. He’d allowed himself to fall for Addison, knowing she still loved Jack. While he couldn’t have predicted that his friend would rise from the dead, he certainly knew better than to expect her to love him back.
Yet, Jack’s words upon returning from his trip into Hell stuck with him.
She loves you.
Despite Jack’s assertion that he didn’t need to hear the words to know she’d wanted to say them, Micah remained dubious. He had done nothing to deserve her love, and his friend was clearly the better man. Even while irritation at Jack ate him up inside, he wasn’t stupid enough to deny that. And perhaps he was angrier with himself than with his partner. Angry, because he’d known better than to let himself fall for the wrong girl, and he’d gone and done it anyway.
He was such a fool.
As he stepped under the hot spray of the shower, he couldn’t pry loose the forlorn hope that had lodged itself deep. If only he could be the kind of man she could love. What would that even look like? He didn’t know the first thing about love or relationships, nor could he think of any redeeming qualities about himself aside from the fact that he fought for the side of Good against Evil.
Finishing his shower, he stepped out and dried off, then made quick work of brushing his teeth, shaving, dressing, and running a comb through his hair. He had told Addison he would fight for her, and he wanted to hold true to his word. All that remained now was for him to find some way to prove his worth. As far as he was concerned, Addison Monroe was more than worth it.
Chapter Six: Alternate Reality
After stepping through yet another portal, Addison had expected to emerge into a new tunnel. Instead, she found that the gateway opened into another room, similar to the one she’d met Lilith in. Stone walls glittered with chips of onyx buried in their depths, while stalactites and stalagmites reached toward each other from the floor and ceiling. Iron candelabras crowded the corners of the room, their lit tapers spreading a yellow glow. As the portal closed behind her and she struggled to get her bearings, she detected sounds coming from a distance.
It would seem this room fed into a larger one, and as she spied a set of double doors, she hesitated. Her heart had begun to race, sending a rush of blood to her extremities. The urge to flee overwhelmed her, and a fear unlike any she’d ever known caused her entire body to tremble.
What was this? This had to be just another part of Hell, and while she’d detected the oppressive atmosphere from the moment she’d set foot down here, this felt different. Something inside of her was drawn to what lay behind this door—her demonic half seeming to crave whatever she might find. Her Guardian half rebelled, warning her that her well-being depended on not walking through these doors.
But, there was nowhere else to go. She must continue to move forward if she wanted to get Alice, and herself, out of here.
Clenching her teeth, she stepped forward and push the doors open. They swung inward, revealing a room much like the one she stood in. This one, however, was not empty or silent.
The first thing she noticed was the oppressive heat. It slapped her in the face the moment the doors had opened, much like what came from a switched-on oven.
The moment she recovered from the initial assault, a chorus of voices reached out to her, rising and falling in an almost melodic resonance. Yet, it became clear that this wasn’t music. The voices weren’t singing; they were wailing—screaming and crying in agony. A hypnotizing, orange glow seemed to propel her forward, both appealing to her demonic side while disgusting the part of her that carried the light. Despite the dread niggling her, she continued moving forward, toward the source of the glow—a deep ravine cutting across the floor just a few feet away from her.
The massive crack split the room in half, bending in a serpentine pattern that originated from one of the room’s far walls, and disappeared through another.
Drawn toward the edge, she paused with her toes just on the tip of the gap that spanned about four feet across. It didn’t take her long to realize she stared down into a river of fire—at least, fire was the only thing she could think to call it. The rippling, waving motion of a substance that moved like water, yet still flickered and gave off small tongues of flames and sparks could only be described as such. The wailing had grown louder, and Addison soon identified its source. Bile stung the back of her throat at the sight of the human-like forms floating down the undulating stream, trapped within the burning depths.
They appeared transparent, stained a dingy gray, writhing and moaning as the flames consumed them. They were encased in their bones, which neither showed any sign of decay, nor were they destroyed by the flames. Despite the absence of burns or charring, the little gray beings obviously suffered. Addison clapped her hands over her ears, yet was unable to make it stop. The voice of the tormented screams seemed to echo from every corner of her mind.
She fell to her knees under the assault, the impact rattling from her bruised knees up her hips and back. She pitched forward as her stomach heaved, the contents emptying in a violent rush. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she sobbed between bouts of nausea that seemed to tear her up from inside. The overwhelming odor didn’t help matters. She identified sulfur, foremost, yet there was something else she found herself not quite sure of. A part of her realized this must be what death smelled like. There could be no other name for the rancid stench.
Turning her head to the side, she wiped her mouth on the shoulder of her shirt. The air in this place felt heavy, as if it pressed down against her in an attempt to force her prostrate on the ground. But, as with everything that had happened to her in life, she could not let it hold her down. Sucking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes for a moment and fought to regain her equilibrium. There was another person counting on her to save them, and more people waiting for her back home. She had to fight for them. With that in mind, she had what she needed to force herself to her feet. Standing, she turned to take in her surroundings.
Behind her, a large portion of the wall moved, separating itself from the stone. A loud scraping sound resonated through the cavernous room as the wall turned to reveal a large, stone platform, on which a downright angelic figure sat upon a throne made of rock. Posing as if having his portrait painted, he stared down his aquiline nose at her with an air of aloofness that only added regality to his bearing.
On either side of his seat, large, thick chains tethered four massive beasts to the wall. The best way she could describe them would be to liken them to a mix of every fearsome dog she’d ever encountered. With black bodies and faces not unlike those of pit bulls, they boasted jagged, sharp-looking spikes of fur running down their backs, and humongous paws sprouting menacing claws. Their mouths parted to reveal teeth with canines that looked big enough to impale her with one bite. Foaming at the mouth, they barked and growled, jerking against their chains and snarling at her. They snapped their jaws, and narrowed glowing, red eyes in her direction.
She’d heard Hellhounds mentioned in passing. These creatures must be it.
&nb
sp; Tearing her gaze from the fearsome beasts, she focused back on the man. He had risen from his chair, and with a wave of his hand, caused a set of stone steps to appear before him, leading down to her. He held a gleaming silver object, a scepter of sorts, which he carried at his side like a dandy would a fashionable walking stick. Everything about this man oozed beauty and refinement, from the top of his white-blond head to the tips of his pristine dress shoes. He wore white from head to toe, as if to further emphasize his own brilliance—the hue of his pale, almost luminescent skin and matching hair. Standing out in stark relief against his lily-white skin, eyes like black coal stared out from beneath blond brows, startling in both their sharpness and darkness. One look into them, and Addison knew she stood face to face with the devil himself.
“Lucifer,” she whispered, hoping she didn’t sound as frightened as she felt.
A brilliant smile split his angular face as he stepped off the bottom stair, opening his arms as if to embrace her.
“Addison Monroe,” he murmured in a silky voice carrying an effeminate tone. “We meet at last. How does it feel to come home?”
Addison clenched a fist at her side, rage causing her to tremble. “Nice try. Nothing you can say will convince me that I belong down here.”
“Come now,” he insisted, stopping just in front of her, crossing one leg in front of the other, and resting his weight on the scepter, which stretched as tall as he did. “Eligos is like a son to me, which makes you my niece. You must know that I treat the members of my family quite well. The benefits are great, indeed.”
She rolled her eyes and snorted. “What about the part when you drag them all down into Hell with you when you lose in the end? Thanks for the welcome, but I’m good.”
Narrowing his gaze at her, he pursed his lips. “Ah … pride. The most underestimated sin of them all. I love to watch you humans get in your own way, allowing pride to blind you to the fall ahead.”