by Janie Marie
Nemesis let out a hiss, feeling a blade cut into her skin. She swung her sword, decapitating the devil to her side, but another burning slice tore across her back. She screamed and kicked another demon to the ground. Roaring like a wild cat, she unleashed her devastation onto the growing crowd around her.
Her speed was a gift, but it often separated her from her brothers. The path of bodies showed her deadly effectiveness, but she was alone. Alone in Tartarus was not somewhere even Death should be.
A clawed hand came across her face. Nemesis fell to the ground. It hurt, but she didn’t cry out. She quickly ran her sword into the gut of the black creature, but another set of monstrous hands grabbed onto her. They wrapped tightly around her throat, choking her. She tried to flap her wings to free herself, but she couldn’t break their hold.
Her eyesight began to blur, no air came, and she wondered if this was why Death had been so cruel. Had he known she would die?
Suddenly, her attacker was gone.
Nemesis turned and saw a figure in front of her. She expected it to be Death, but it was another.
Asmodeus destroyed those within reach of her. He was ruthless and terrifying to witness with his dragon-like wings flapping, kicking up dust as he swung his chain. He was destruction.
The demons and fallen angels he slayed were no longer distinguishable after he ripped them apart. The King of Demons swung his chain around one of his closer enemies’ throats and yanked it hard. Its head snapped off and fell to the ground in a thud, but he was already swinging at more evil.
His black armor dripped with flesh and stinking blood. Nemesis saw his red eyes lock onto her, and he reached out, pulling her up by her hand. “My lady, are you fit to battle on?”
Nemesis sneered at him and jabbed her sword near his side.
Asmodeus slid his gaze to where she had aimed her sword and grinned. “I knew those lovely eyes of yours were not devouring me out of disgust.”
She opened her mouth to insult him, but a serious look crossed his face, stopping her.
“Run, beauty. They’re coming. I will hold them back.”
She was about to argue, but another figure dropped down next to him. This one swung his black blade at the encircling demons and kicked the closest one to the ground. She looked back at Asmodeus. The King of Demons winked and turned his own attack back to the horde.
The feathered angel who had fallen beside them suddenly threw her to the ground. She fought to get back up, thinking he was attacking her, but she realized he was knocking her out of the path of another attack. He threw the demon down and smashed his head in with his boot.
“Thanatos,” she breathed.
Her beloved brother’s red eyes connected with hers. “Shh, sister.”
She shook her head, not believing she was looking at him. “But . . .”
“Leave him. Do not interfere. I do not want this for you.” He then took flight.
“Sister!” Hypnos and Moros came barreling toward her. They wielded massive swords like giants, cutting demons in half and passing them before they could even fall to the ground.
“Where’s Death?” Moros yelled at her.
Nemesis shook her head right before they heard Death’s roar.
They turned, watching as Death split his scythe into two smaller versions of his favorite weapon. He growled as he swung it in swift circles. Heads, limbs, and wings fell around him.
The main crowd had swarmed him, yet he moved with graceful yet powerful force as he sliced through his victims. His destruction was unlike any they had ever witnessed. The demons leaped on him, but he was ripping them off instantly—either smashing them into the ground or throwing them with enough violence that they were shattering against others.
“We need to help him,” Nemesis said as the rest of their companions joined them at the prison gates. “The bond with the girl is distracting him.”
Moros held her shoulder when she began to run, and a blinding flash of green lit the entire courtyard.
“He is fine,” Moros told them.
A thunderous roar sounded. It was louder than any Nemesis had ever heard before. She and the others watched in shock as the mountain of attackers on Death exploded, and three bursts of green light shot out, revealing three hooded figures.
“So, the tales are true,” Asmodeus said. “Death can split his soul.”
Three dark Deaths unleashed devastating ruin to the demon swarm. They were identical with their wraith-like, skeletal wings, each with a glowing pair of green eyes.
The one in the center seemed more violent, roaring with every swing of his scythe. “FIGHT, JANE!”
Nemesis covered her mouth.
“His female was in battle,” Moros said quietly. “She is dying.”
“Why will he not send a soul to her?” asked Sonneillon as they all watched the second and third Death roar Jane’s name.
Their victims finally realized they were in over their heads, and those who tried to flee fell to the ground, screeching in agony as their flesh withered away. One of the new Deaths exchanged his scythe for the dual pair while the other began to swing a huge hammer, smashing or hitting victims to the other two Deaths.
The Death wielding the dual blades raced around, cutting hundreds in half. The demons stood no chance against his spinning blades. He was swinging them with such speed that they looked like circular saws.
The Death with the scythe let out a roar, impaling those within reach. He sliced them from every angle, seeming to enjoy cutting them from their groin, up.
“Let’s go,” Moros ordered. “We cannot go near him without getting ourselves killed right now; he is not thinking clearly. And if the girl dies, he will be unstoppable.”
Asmodeus watched Death for a moment longer before following the others through the gate.
When they entered, they were surprised to find another battle already taking place. Many of their fallen brethren were fighting off the demonic guard inside. There was still good here, and it was ready to fight alongside the Horseman and his army.
Moros’ and Hypnos’ swords glowed brightly before transforming into huge clawed gloves around each of the brothers’ hands. They raced forward, tearing down those who rose against them.
Asmodeus chuckled to himself, witnessing Hell’s worst turn on each other. Not wanting to miss out on the glory, he sent his chains through his victims, startling Fallen who weren’t sure which side he was on. He did not care. If they fought him by mistake, he would destroy them.
Yanking the head off a former angel, Asmodeus turned at the sound of a battle cry. It was a young Fallen who was severely outnumbered. The boy wasn’t willing to go down, though.
Asmodeus grinned at the angel’s fury and approached his devilish attackers from behind. He grabbed one by his arm, smashing him into a few others before summoning his chains back to bring down on their broken bodies. He turned as the young angel ripped his sword from the last of his attackers, but more were on them in a matter of seconds.
The Demon King fought side by side with the young Fallen, together destroying all who were in their way, creating a path for Death’s team to run through.
A strangled sound made Asmodeus look over his shoulder. His new battle comrade had just been impaled by a cursed blade, a blade that had been meant for him. A violent feeling rose within his chest when it was clear the young angel had jumped in the way, saving him.
Asmodeus roared, swinging his chains while his serpent tail thrashed behind him. His demon team joined him now, but he was unleashing hell on those who had taken his new ally. When he reached the broken angel, he knelt to inspect the twisted blade that had been run through his belly. Fear was evident in the fallen angel’s ruby eyes as he choked on his blood.
The King of Demons felt a knot form in his chest as he watched the young one dying. “Thank you, young angel of the Lord.”
The angel’s body illuminated in white light suddenly and shot upward, through the darkness.
Asmodeus chuckled and stood. “Well, you don’t see that every day.”
“Redemption?” Succorbenoth asked.
He nodded. “So it seems.”
Nemesis raced through the darkened halls of the prison. The inmates screamed at her, calling her the vilest of names while some begged for forgiveness. Her brothers stopped any from approaching her, so she sped onward, ignoring how foolish it was to venture so deep into Tartarus. The more dangerous inmates were kept here, and she was alone again.
Still, she ignored the voice telling her to wait. Her heart was racing, and the only thing she focused on was satisfying Death.
Finally, a white marble door came into view. She skidded to a stop and looked around. No one was here. No other doors, no voices. No one was meant to be here.
Nemesis placed her hand over the door, coughing up blood and choking at the sight of her beautiful olive skin turning pale and sickly. She stumbled back, air rushing into her lungs that had begun to fail.
“Pestilence,” she whispered, watching her skin return to its beautiful state once more.
“Move,” a deep voice she would know anywhere said from behind her.
“My lord,” she said, bowing her head as Death approached the door.
He looked larger than normal, more unhinged, as he studied the markings on the door.
“Are you all right, Master?” she asked, stepping close. “You have never split your soul in our presence before. Does it hurt?”
He snarled, turning his head to the side. “Do you think ripping a soul apart feels good?”
She dropped her gaze to the floor, unable to look into his violent green eyes. “Forgive me.”
He said nothing else to her and tilted his head to the side before looking up at the ceiling. A low growl rumbled within him, and she knew he was focusing on the vampire girl rather than the situation at hand.
“Death, what if your brother escapes?”
“Shut the fuck up,” he said, not looking away from the ceiling.
“What’s going on?” Moros asked, coming to a stop beside her. He also looked up but said nothing else.
“Doom,” Death said, referring to the fate Moros governed.
Moros’ eyes turned white for a few seconds and then he spoke. “The knights were successful. A retreat was sounded on the other side. Jane and the other female, Artemis, fell to injury in battle. Thor arrived to aid them. Artemis will recover. Jane’s fate is shrouded in darkness, though, as I am sure you see as well.” Moros tilted his head to the side. “What is that? She’s—”
“Silence. It is nothing,” Death said, returning his attention to the door and holding his hand over it. His hand glowed green before emerald flames shot toward the door.
White flames darted out from the carvings on the door, meeting the emerald fire before it could reach it.
Nemesis covered her eyes, unable to see the magic unfolding. Yet, the loud crack of marble and sudden release of power that pushed her back into her brother’s chest told her it was over.
She peeked her eyes open, awed at the sight of blackened marble crumbling to dust.
Death entered the room first, and Nemesis stopped when Moros held his arm out, blocking her.
“What did you see?” she asked him.
Moros glared at her. “Mind your place, sister.”
“Nemesis,” Death called for her, and she quickly stood beside him.
She held her breath when she finally looked upon Pestilence. She had never seen him before, but she knew it was him when she saw his white hair and eyes. He did not look aware of what was taking place.
Nemesis glanced at the bow lying at his feet, then at the brunette siren whispering in his ear. Whatever was being whispered to him caused a reaction, though.
Pestilence reached for his bow, but Death kicked him in the chest, pinning him down with his boot.
“Nemesis,” Death said, not looking away from his snarling brother. “I want her alive.”
“Yes, Master,” she said, walking toward the siren.
“Asmodeus,” Death said, glancing at the ceiling. “Bind my brother in your chains.”
“You will fail, Horseman,” said the siren. She cackled, her lips trembling with fear, though, as Nemesis summoned her knives. “Your Jane will fall. All of you will fall at the end of this war. He has foreseen it. My lord will rule all.”
Nemesis watched Death stare at the ceiling, pushing down on his brother’s chest as though he was considering crushing it.
“Nemesis,” Death said, closing his eyes as the three demons closed in around Pestilence, all holding weapons she’d never seen. “I’ve changed my mind . . . Destroy her.”
She grinned, exchanging her knives for her sword. Not wanting to miss the containment of Pestilence, she attacked the siren who aided in the unleashing of the plague on mankind. She removed her arms, her legs, and her head before finally stabbing her sword through her heart.
Hissing, Nemesis banished her sword and took a place between her brothers, watching as Death removed his foot.
Pestilence was quick to stand, and he lunged for Death. Asmodeus didn’t let him get far. The King of Demons had the White Horseman bound in the blink of an eye, and he tugged, yanking him to the ground.
Death circled them as Pestilence spoke in a language even she did not understand. Jane’s name was the only word Nemesis could understand, and she was shaking at the sight of a skull mask forming over Death’s face.
He shook his head before it could fully form and responded in the same unknown language, his voice so loud she and the others had to cover their ears. He leaned over his brother, his eyes burning with fury as he continued. Again, Jane’s name was the only word she understood.
Pestilence said Jane’s name once more and spat in Death’s face.
Death snarled, wiping his face before glancing at Asmodeus. “The whore is dead. When will her song fade from his mind?”
“Weeks,” Asmodeus answered. “Longer if we do not remove our enchantments from him.”
“Then begin. He does not leave this place until he is clean.”
The three demons began chanting, causing Pestilence to yell and writhe in pain. Death watched for a moment before looking at Moros. “Create a barrier. No one enters or leaves until I say.”
Moros nodded and left the room.
“Hypnos, make sure he stays awake. He is to feel every ounce of pain they are inflicting on him. Do you understand?”
Hypnos sighed, but he walked forward and knelt beside Pestilence, holding his hand over his head as he kept the White Horseman from passing out.
“Master,” Nemesis said, stepping beside Death when he once again looked up.
“Leave me the fuck alone, Nemesis. Help Moros if you wish or even the wounded prisoners—but stay the fuck away from me.”
Hypnos shot her a look that she knew all too well. She nodded, bowing as she backed up to the door. She looked at Death once more, but he paid none of them any attention. He simply stared at the ceiling, not blinking or even flinching at the sound of his brother being tortured at his feet.
So, Nemesis turned, leaving all of them to find a way out of Tartarus.
The throbbing sensation in David’s hand didn’t faze him as he pushed the door to his new room open. He immediately walked to the two men working on Jane. “How is she?” he asked, leaning down to kiss her forehead. It was hard to see her like this. She was barely recognizable. Blood loss had left her paler than she already was, her lips were busted open, and the large cut across her cheek from one of the several blows she had taken to the face still oozed silver and blood. At least the puffiness from her swollen eyes was finally going down.
“She will be fine, David,” Bedivere said, lowering Jane’s mutilated hand to the bed.
David stared at her shredded fingers. If she was mortal, there would be no repairing them. The wolf had almost ripped her hand off, but, miraculously, Jane had managed to keep it from tearing her fingers and hand away, and th
e bits of skin and bone that remained were slowly piecing together. The same could be said about the gash on her forearm where a wolf’s claws had torn into her while it was trying to free itself.
They had figured out why she failed to heal properly. The undead wolf was covered in silver. By the time he’d gotten her to use her power to remove it, too much had already been pumped through her system. She was poisoned and didn’t even realize she wasn’t pulling it all out.
David took one look at her mutilated leg and had to turn away. The wolf had ripped her from her thigh down to the inside of her calf. He had no idea how she even ran on it, let alone how she was able to completely destroy the wolf that had nearly killed Artemis.
Despite his sorrow, he smiled. She had made him proud. She wouldn’t see it that way, but she had fought bravely and saved a woman who probably wouldn’t take the risk of saving her.
Jane coughed, her entire body jolting roughly until she stopped. David watched her carefully; she wasn’t awake yet.
He let out a breath and pressed a kiss to her bloody lips. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
“David, you need to feed,” Kay said, his tone just as stern as Arthur’s was when he didn’t feed.
“I’ll feed later.”
Kay shook his head, grabbing a pair of tweezers. “Just feed. She will be better soon, just like before. She’s bled out nearly all the silver.”
David closed his eyes, breathing out slowly. The fact that she bled out so badly was the only reason she was healing now.
“How badly did you hurt him?” Bedivere asked without looking away from Jane’s leg.
David chanced looking at the damage again. “Not nearly enough.”
Bedivere sighed as he sprayed some cleaning solution on the part he’d been clearing of debris. “Thor did not know we were coming. Jane wouldn’t blame him.”
David looked away. “She never blames anyone, but I can. That arrogant piece of shit deserves more than the broken face I gave him. He’s lucky I let the others hold me back.” He took an angry breath, trying to calm down. “Not only is Jane barely alive, but Artemis is severely injured and mourning the loss of her men. Is this what it had to take for him to see that his foolish actions affect others so greatly?”