Chapter Five
Lucas couldn’t hide his slight limp as he made his way along the beach toward Eli. Kerbasi had pulled him in for another session with the whip a few hours before and there hadn’t been enough time to finish healing. The tendons behind his knees had taken some particularly brutal strikes. At least the robe he wore covered the worst of the damage.
He glared at the psychologist—who was wearing khaki shorts and a Hawaiian shirt of all things—as he got closer. The idea of anyone seeing him in his weakened state didn’t sit well. It was bad enough they expected him to open himself up to the collaborator.
Eli nodded at the guards flanking Lucas. “Keep the manacles on him, but remove the chains.”
“That’s not a good idea,” the one on the left said. “He’s dangerous enough with them on.”
Apparently, the guard was still bitter over the broken neck Lucas had given him.
Eli smiled and put a hand on the man’s shoulder, looking him directly in the eyes. “He won’t be a problem. He knows what’s at stake if he doesn’t cooperate. Take the shackles off—he’ll be fine.”
Lucas focused on the rising sun coming off the water. Let the psychologist deal with the guards. He didn’t really give a shit one way or another whether the chains came off or not. It wasn’t going to make talking any easier. He would give Eli just enough of what he wanted so he could go back and tell the angels he cooperated. Lucas would do whatever it took to get help protecting Melena. Thanks to Kerbasi, she needed it even more now than before.
Enough time passed that it startled him when the guard’s hands touched his wrists. Apparently, Eli had convinced him to remove the chains. As soon as they fell away, Lucas lifted his arms up and stretched. Both guards jumped back. Clearly, they weren’t cut out for this job if they were going to be that jumpy. They’d be better off going back to guiding lost souls on the mountains.
Eli looked between the two men, who were still casting nervous glances in Lucas’ direction. “That’s all. You may both go now.”
Their eyes grew round.
“You can’t be serious,” the second guard said. Apparently, he’d found his voice. “This prisoner can’t be left alone out here.”
Eli lifted his brows. “I’m going to work off the assumption you’ve had some difficulties with him in the past, but that’s not my problem. You can either go now or we can drag the archangel, Remiel, from his lofty lair to talk to you. Fine by me if you’d rather deal with him,” he shrugged, “though I doubt he’ll be happy about being disturbed.”
The guard huffed. “You’re even crazier than the guardian. Don’t blame us if things go wrong.”
Both of them stalked off, muttering to themselves.
“You’ve developed quite the reputation around here,” Eli said, eyes twinkling. “Is it really necessary to make all the guards scared of you?”
Lucas grunted. “Perhaps you should try spending a few days down here with them and see how well it goes for you. I haven’t done anything to them that they haven’t done back tenfold.”
No need to explain it took that many of them to hold him down unless he’d just come out of one of Kerbasi’s torture sessions.
“Come on now,” Eli’s lips twitched, “it can’t be that bad.”
“If you think that, collaborator, then perhaps you should request a visit. Then we can see what you’re really made of.”
“Maybe I will.” The psychologist inclined his head toward a rocky outcropping down the beach. “Let’s walk. You can work off some of that excess anger I see vibrating through you.”
“Fine,” Lucas said, not really wanting to go anywhere. It took all of his concentration to hide his limp, but he was determined to not let the other man see it. The tendons behind his knees protested with every step.
“What happened to your legs?” Eli asked.
Apparently, he wasn’t doing as good a job as he thought.
“I fell down a flight of stairs.”
Eli stumbled. “Stairs?”
“Yes.”
“You aren’t going to tell me what really happened, are you?” he asked.
“Does it matter?” Lucas lifted his brows. “Everything that occurs in this place is sanctioned by your illustrious employers.”
Eli’s expression turned pensive. “It should matter.”
“They don’t send us here for a good time, collaborator. We come here to be punished. They want our stay to linger in our minds long after we’ve left to keep us from doing anything else that might get us brought back.”
Silence fell for a few moments as they continued to walk. Eventually, Eli looked over at him. “Based on the number of times you’ve been sent here in the last few centuries, this place hasn’t been much of a deterrent.”
Lucas grunted. “It’s discouraged me a lot more than you think. They’re just quicker to judge me because of a particular crime I committed in the past—never mind that I had good reasons for it.”
“You’re speaking of when you killed Henrik Nielson and some of his supporters, aren’t you?”
“Been doing your homework?” Lucas asked.
“Comes with the job description. What made you go after them? You must have known things wouldn’t end well no matter how you handled it.”
“He and the other sensors had to die.” Lucas scowled up at the sky. “They were helping the angels slaughter thousands of supernaturals for no other reason than there were too many of us and we posed a threat. No one else had the courage to do anything, so I took it upon myself to stop them.”
Eli paused to stare out at the sea. “I was less than a century old back then and still living in Africa. It wasn’t as much of a problem for us there. You must not have been happy when they forced you to protect sensors as punishment.”
Lucas stepped into the tide, letting it rush around his feet. Too bad it was salt water or he’d be taking a drink. His mouth felt too dry after going months without so much as a drop.
“I didn’t have much of a choice,” he said. “A friend did his best to negotiate with the angels on my behalf, but no matter what we did the terms were going to be steep. I served fifty years here first and returned to a new generation of sensors. At least most of them had learned to keep to themselves."
“Tell me about your father.”
His shoulders stiffened. He should have known the psychologist was warming up for a more sensitive topic.
“He was a bastard who should have been sent straight to Hell after falling. Is that what you want to hear?” Lucas asked.
Eli cocked his head. “It’s a start. How old were you when your mother died?”
“What does she have to do with anything?”
“I imagine she has a lot to do with it.” He waved his hand down the beach. “Let’s walk. You can tell me about her along the way.”
Lucas was liking the direction of this conversation less and less. “What do you want to know?”
“Start by answering my first question,” Eli said, keeping his gaze directed at the path in front of them.
He was giving him space, but that wouldn’t make talking about his past any easier. Lucas didn’t really think about his mother much. More than two millennia took the edge off any pain he might have felt at the time of her death. She’d become a distant memory he hardly recalled. It was the time after her death he remembered with far more clarity.
“My brother and I were about eight years old,” Lucas said after a few minutes passed. “Perhaps a year younger or older. We didn’t track time as closely back then as we do now.”
“How did your father take her death?” Eli asked.
Lucas glanced over at him. “How do you think? Gadreel had fallen for her, lost his wings for her, and all he had left was twin sons he didn’t want.”
“When did the abuse start?”
Lucas clenched his jaw. He had no intention of going down a road that would have them all crying PTSD just because his father knocked him around growing up.
It was hardly uncommon back then—many men beat their sons. His father had just been stronger than most and full of too much false moral superiority.
“I think I’ve answered enough questions for today,” Lucas said, turning back to head the way they’d come.
“How important is Melena to you?” Eli yelled after him.
Lucas paused. The psychologist was pushing his limits.
“The less you cooperate with me,” Eli said, closing the gap between them, “the less chance you’ll have of ever seeing her again.”
Lucas spun around and wrapped his hand around Eli’s neck. “You need to get something straight right now, collaborator. The sensor is the one topic you will not bring up with me under any circumstances. Do you understand?”
Eli’s expression remained calm. “Zoe gets out of Purgatory in less than one year. Where do you think she’ll go first after she is released?”
Lucas cursed. How could they have only given her one year after everything she’d done? She orchestrated the largest demon possession outbreak in three thousand years—not to mention being the instigator of the last one—and she’d summoned a demon prince. All of that should have been enough to garner a much worse punishment. This was exactly why he didn’t trust the archangels’ sense of justice.
“Let me worry about the sensor. You keep your attention on my daddy issues,” Lucas said, shoving Eli away.
The psychologist scrambled up from where he’d landed on the ground. Sand now covered his beach clothes. “It would help if you’d actually talk about your father,” he said.
“We can talk about Gadreel another time. I’m done with you for the day.” Lucas spun on his heels and resumed his walk back to the mountain. At least his injuries had finally healed so he didn’t limp anymore.
Eli caught up to him a moment later. “I won’t be back for ten days. You’ll have another session in court before then.”
“Excellent. Maybe I can convince the archangels that you aren’t necessary.” Not likely, but worth a try.
“Good luck with that, my man.”
His gut churned. When it came to the angels, luck had never been on his side.
Chapter Six
Lucas woke up to a female voice singing. It echoed off the walls and filled the emptiness of the dim caverns. Firelight from a nearby torch cast shadows that almost seemed to dance with the melody. Zoe. How could such a vile woman have such a stunning voice? She was singing It Must Have Been Love by Roxette—not that he’d ever admit to recognizing the song.
He leaned his head back against the wall and stared at his cell’s icy ceiling. The lyrics had his chest tightening. When had he become some kind of pathetic sap who could allow the words to a silly song to affect him so much? It didn’t help that Zoe’s voice had such a haunting quality to it that even the strongest men would take notice. He wanted to rip her throat out and make it stop.
She hummed the last part, letting the notes slowly glide away. Blessed silence resumed. He hadn’t been sure how much more he could take.
A shuffling sound came from the direction of her cell. “I hope you two enjoyed that, considering you fools are both here because of women.”
She laughed in a way that made him want to cringe. The bitch just couldn’t keep her mouth shut and had to irritate everyone around her. If only the angels would execute her instead.
Lucas tilted his head toward his cell bars. “The better question,” he began, “is what foolish reasoning brought you here.”
She snorted. “A better one than you have. I can assure you of that.”
“Is world domination really worth all the effort? I’ve always thought it tedious and unworthy of the time and energy it would require.” He couldn’t imagine why else she’d have had all those demons summoned to Alaska.
“While I would enjoy ruling the world, my goals are personal. Not that you would understand.”
“Perhaps you should enlighten me.” he suggested. The more he could learn about her motivations, the better. He was a firm believer in studying his enemies closely.
“As if I’d tell you,” she scoffed.
Bartol heaved a loud sigh. He’d been resting his head on his knees, staring at the wall in front of him. “You’re not going to tell him about your missing daughter, Zoe?” he asked.
She let out a gasp. “How dare you? I told you about her in confidence.”
“Does it matter?” Bartol asked. He could see her from his angle. The expression he gave her said he didn’t give a shit about much of anything. “It isn’t as if he could do anything to sabotage your search—not that it will do you any good to keep looking. The angels will never let you have her back even if you do find her.”
“That’s not your problem to worry about. I’ll find her and God help anyone who gets in my way!” She screeched out the last part.
“Who is the father of this child of yours anyway?” Lucas asked. “I’m surprised I haven’t heard about this before.”
Shocked would actually be a better description. Nephilim were cursed to never have “live” children. Thousands of years ago one couple managed to have what could be termed an undead child who began the vampire race, but a very powerful witch had orchestrated that. She’d been known for her innovations in the dark arts, but she never passed on her knowledge. Every vampire since had been made, rather than born.
The only normal way for a nephilim to have a child was to mate with a sensor. Their immunity to magic enabled them to get around the curse. The problem there was every baby born of such a union was taken away by angels right after. It defeated the point in having a child. Especially since sensors and nephilim had been sworn enemies for as long as he could remember. At least, most of the time.
“Well, since it’s no longer a secret,” Zoe said after a long silence, “perhaps you should hear the rest. The father was Henrik Nielson. You murdered him only a few weeks after I’d realized I was pregnant. With the work he was doing for the angels, we might have been able to keep our daughter if you hadn’t interfered.”
Shit. Lucas had never considered that possibility. It explained why she always turned up whenever things were going badly for him over the last few centuries. He’d never tied it to her before because she’d never seemed related to the incidents—until the demon outbreak. Even then, he almost didn’t find out.
“You should know,” she continued, “that I plan to return the favor now that you’ve got your own sensor to care about. As soon as I get out of here, I promise you I’ll find her. She’ll welcome death by the time I’m done.”
Blood rushed to Lucas’ face and his muscles tightened with the sudden need to kill. He gripped the bars of his cell door and shook them with all his might. They rattled, but didn’t come loose under the pressure.
Thoughts of Melena back in her home in Alaska ran through his head. He wished he’d had the time to tell his brother to keep her close to him. The supernaturals surrounding her in Fairbanks weren’t powerful enough. Not to mention they wouldn’t know what type of danger to be looking for until it was too late. Zoe might not be a strong fighter, but she’d had more than three millennia to become a cunning adversary.
“Lay one finger on Melena and you’ll regret the day you were born once I’m done with you,” he said in a menacing voice. “Henrik caused the deaths of thousands of supernaturals in his time. He deserved what he got. Melena was only trying to protect innocent lives.”
Zoe let out what could only be described as a maniacal laugh. “Threaten me all you want, Lucas. Rumor has it you won’t be getting out of here any time soon. If ever. I only hope you’ll be alive long enough to feel her die through that claiming mark you gave her.”
“You claimed a sensor?” Bartol spoke up. The man had hardly spoken a word in the last few days, but apparently their conversation was drawing him out of his pain-filled shell.
Lucas ran his fingers through his hair. He’d always kept it short, unlike his twin brother, but it had grown out a few inches sinc
e he’d arrived in Purgatory. “Yes, I did,” he said.
The nephilim’s soulless gaze met his own. Bartol’s face had sunken in from too many decades of malnourishment. It’d take him months to fill back out once he did finish his sentence. “At least I’m not the only one here who’s slept with one of our race’s enemies. It looks like we’ve all managed to do ourselves in that way.” He shook his head. “The irony.”
Two pairs of footsteps reverberated down the tunnel. Tension rose as they got closer to their cells. Lucas’ muscles tightened as he waited to see who Kerbasi summoned this time. When they stopped in front of Zoe’s cell, he relaxed. His plan for her had worked.
“No!” she cried out as they unlocked the door. “It’s not my turn. He took me last time!”
Lucas watched Zoe struggle after they dragged her out of her cell. They slammed her against the opposite wall several times until her head cracked. Blood ran down the side of her face and neck. Good. The more she suffered, the better. They threw her to the ground and kicked her in the ribs every time she tried to get up. Tears glistened in her eyes, and for a moment, she almost looked human. He didn’t believe it for a second.
It was only after Zoe was curled into a ball and no longer struggling that they took her away. She refused to walk, forcing the guards to drag her by the arms. The once beautiful woman looked like nothing more than a beaten and broken girl now. Her strawberry-blond hair was greasy and tangled, hanging limply down her back. Dirt and sweat coated her body.
If he knew one thing about her, though, it was that she’d make it through this. She’d cry and put up a pathetic act during her time here, but the moment she got out she’d return to being the ruthless, cold woman she’d been before. No, he didn’t feel an ounce of sympathy for her at all.
Chapter Seven
Chained by Darkness (Sensor Series, Book 2.5) Page 4