Ransom (Redemption Series)

by R. K. Ryals

  "You're right. I'm not Sophia," I said coldly.

  I wasn't going to let Lilith make me afraid. I did have the right to choose. And I wasn't going to let her take that from me. No matter how afraid I was.

  Marcas glanced away from me. I watched the way his jaw tightened, the way his facial muscles bunched as he stared out at the land below us not obscured by the carpet. I let my gaze move down his jaw to the neck and chest below it. He was all man in appearance. I kept forgetting he was also a monster.

  "I'll eat you up." I murmured, my thoughts suddenly swamped with memories of my favorite book as a child. I was Max on his journey to where the wild things are. Marcas was my wild thing.

  I let my gaze move carefully to the side of the carpet as my hands found their way back to Marcas' jeans. I really really didn't like heights. The carpet was getting lower and in the distance I could see the lighted pyramids guarded by the great Sphinx. The sky was lighter, the air somewhat warmer. My long sleeve shirt was suddenly too heavy. There was desert beyond the carpet's edge. Egypt.

  Chapter 2

  Egypt. A land of legends. It is said that a great love was borne there, that the love was destroyed by a rift that could not be crossed. This love, this rift, almost brought war. Choices were made. An Earthly war was avoided. But for how long?

  ~Bezaliel~

  "We're going in there?" I asked Marcas cautiously as I climbed off the carpet.

  My knees buckled. The tension from the height and the lengthy cross-legged position made my legs and toes tingle. I was as wobbly as a new born colt. I reached out and grabbed Marcas' jacket for support. Either he was getting used to me touching him, or he was too distracted to notice because he didn't pull away.

  "We go where the carpet wants us to go."

  It was as simple as that. Big macho Demon was listening to a piece of magical fabric. Figures. I still didn't understand this weird world where myth seemed to rule. I believe in God, but flying carpets? And Demon-trapping rings? It just wasn't logical. But, hell, logical went out the window the moment my lips touched the chalice containing Marcas' blood.

  Marcas started walking which loosened my grip on his jacket and made me stumble. My gaze locked on the pyramid. It was a dull, tan-like structure scarred by weather and time. There was evidence of limestone casing along the bottom of the pyramid, but most of it was gone revealing only weathered stone. The early morning sun wasn't bright enough to eliminate all of the shadows, but it was bright enough to cast a dull glow around us. It made the place feel enchanted. It was magical and eerie, and I was getting sick of both feelings.

  I felt a hand brush my arm, and I looked up to find Marcas watching me. He held out his other hand, and I took it gratefully. His expression never changed.

  "We need to go."

  I nodded. Staring at the ancient monstrosity wasn't going to make it disappear. Marcas pulled me up gently, and we walked toward the pyramid. I felt like an intruder who'd gone back in time using a messed up flying time machine, but Marcas walked with a confidence bred only from familiarity. The wind played whimsically with the sand at our feet as we approached the pyramid's entrance. I was suddenly glad I had on knee high boots. Less chance of sand in the shoes.

  "Have you been here before?" I asked Marcas as he stooped to enter the triangular structure.

  I looked around warily. This pyramid wasn't one I'd seen before, but then again my only experience with Egypt was stuff I'd read and snippets of programs I'd seen on the History Channel while staying with Monroe. Was there no security here?

  Marcas waited at the entrance, a rectangular doorway that seemed to be crumbling in places.

  "This tomb isn't well known," Marcas said as he took in my expression. I looked at the darkness framing him and shivered.

  "Somehow I don't doubt that. You know it?" I asked as I stepped up next to him before following him through the opening.

  I closed my eyes and wrapped myself with my inner light. When I opened them again, I saw a narrow tunnel ahead of us. Night vision could be as much a bitch as an asset. As much as I hated the dark, I was more afraid of what I'd find dwelling in it. Thankfully, Marcas' back blocked most of my view.

  "I helped build it. It's not open to the public," Marcas answered as he removed his jacket, holding it out for a moment before making it vanish. His voice echoed along the passageway.

  I paused. Helped build it? Seriously? I squinted at his back. The black t-shirt he wore clung to his skin as he moved away from me, and I fought not to whistle.

  "So that's where the muscles come from?" I murmured.

  The space between us was widening, and I hurried to catch up.

  "Much more productive than weight lifting," Marcas answered unexpectedly.

  I choked, and I'm sure my face went several shades of scarlet. Damn him! Even if my comment had been overheard, couldn't he just give me my moment?

  "So it seems."

  I focused on my embarrassment rather than the musty, stone interior we now traversed. My overactive imagination was fueling all sorts of "curse of the mummy" scenarios and none of them resulted in happy endings. Look at King Tut. Everyone involved in that discovery pretty much died. I shivered as I glanced around the tunnel. There was nothing dramatic about it, mainly stone with sporadic evidence of ancient writing. Even so, I couldn't help but feel like a worker ant trapped in a huge ant hill, constantly passing through a maze of dug out dirt looking for my Queen.

  The passageway slanted downward, and I followed Marcas cautiously. We had entered the pyramid at ground level. Why were we going down? The walls seemed to close in on me, and I fought to breathe. Maybe it was a touch of claustrophobia on my part, but the tunnel felt like it was getting narrower. I moved in closer to Marcas.

  "Shouldn't we be going up?" I asked.

  "We could."

  I reached out and grabbed Marcas' shirt, allowing my fingers to dig into the fabric as I urged him to slow down.

  "I wasn't looking for a dodgy answer, Craig."

  "Then quit asking questions, Blainey."

  I gritted my teeth. The tension between us exploded. I was sorely tempted to growl.

  "Why are we going down?" I tried again. Marcas blew out a breath.

  "Because what we are looking for wouldn't be kept in the tombs. Not in this pyramid. Alessandro made a fitting choice."

  Marcas pulled my hand away from his shirt and grasped it securely in his. The contact made me feel flushed, but I didn't pull away. Marcas never did anything without a reason, and I counted on that. He turned sideways to squeeze through a particularly narrow shaft before turning to glance in my direction.

  "Don't let go," he ordered.

  I slid through behind him, my grip tightening in his. His words made my blood run cold, and I concentrated on keeping my hand from slipping out of his grasp. The "flushed" feeling was quickly replaced by a "cagey" one.

  "What's wrong?" I breathed, my eyes widening.

  Marcas slid a little as the path got steeper, then dug in his heels to keep us both from falling. I fought hard to stay on my feet, and I could tell he was bearing my weight as well as his because the path began to resemble a slick plunge rather than a corridor. With the night vision, it was like looking at a black and white photo of an underground well shaft, only slightly more level than a straight downward plunge. The stone beneath our feet seemed somewhat grooved, and I began to see traces of soil as we continued downward.

  "This pyramid was not built for intruders," Marcas answered.

  My skin crawled. That didn't sound promising. I slid a little, and I heard Marcas grunt as my weight grew heavier. The constant scrutiny on my footwork and our clasped hands was taxing. I was sweating now, and I took short, shallow breaths to keep from breathing the dusty air in too deep. I wanted so badly to push up the sleeves of my shirt, but I wasn't going to let go of Marcas' hand to do it. No chance in hell.

  Marcas' muscles bunched as he manipulated a particularly steep drop before bracing to help me d
own. The boots I had shown so much thanks for when we'd first entered the pyramid were now getting cursed quite soundly in my head. Nikes had a much better grip. I looked at the darkness before us and shivered.

  "Where does this go?" I asked, my voice echoing around us.

  Marcas found a level part of the passageway and reached up with his free hand to grasp me by the waist. It wasn't as narrow here, and Marcas lowered me down next to him. I stayed close.

  "There's a subterranean chamber beneath the pyramid."

  Marcas didn't move as he took in our surroundings, and I used the pause to my advantage, catching my breath as Marcas surveyed. It was way too stuffy. Breathing felt like a chore. I would chalk it up to a lack of oxygen, but I'm pretty sure my anxiety wasn't helping my lungs operate to full capacity. Distracted, I fanned myself. My imagination super-imposed a fire over the drop ahead of us, and I shook my head to clear it.

  "It's like going down into the pits of Hell," I whispered as I glanced down into the darkness.

  I was leaning against Marcas, and I could feel his chest rise and fall against my shoulder. It was a comforting feeling, safe. I didn't want to go any further.

  "Hell's much, much hotter, Blainey," Marcas said as he shifted a little. My hand was still in his, and I loosened my grip slightly. I tended to squeeze when I was anxious.

  I looked up into his face and read the expression there.

  "But this is what you meant when you said, Alessandro made a fitting choice, isn't it?"

  I knew now that Marcas' earlier comment had been a sarcastic one. He looked down into the darkness, and I saw amusement there. I was beginning to read him better. Either that, or he was beginning to let me in.

  "Yes. It's what I meant," Marcas said as he moved around me, keeping my hand gripped tightly in his as he started the descent once more. I followed blindly. If there were dangers here, he knew more about them than I did.

  We slipped and stumbled for minutes without speaking. It didn't appear to be a long descent since we started at ground level, just a tedious one. Marcas' jaw was tight, and I could tell he was gritting his teeth. I watched him concentrate, and my mind wandered. He was an unusual man, Marcas. Even though I knew he was the child of a Demon and a cursed immortal, I found myself wondering if he was as much a monster as he and his reputation made him out to be.

  Marcas' face creased, his jaw tightening further as he stumbled and braced, and I suddenly found myself envisioning him shirtless, his head shaved, working alongside similar looking men as they dug and lined these tunnels. His jaw was clenched in the vision too, his concentration deep, the job dangerous. I marveled at it. To be so aged and yet not to be. It made me feel so young. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was naive. I certainly didn't have the age, the experience that he did. Hell, I didn't have the age or experience any of the Angels or Demons had.

  It was no wonder Marcas had been able to connect so well with Sophia. They had seen the world transform, had witnessed violence, sin, death, and salvation together. My one experience with a battlefield had me so conflicted I was torn into knots, transformed into a scared blithering fool. I wasn't strong or stoic. I didn't feel self-sacrificing. Sophia had been, obviously. She had chosen the greater good over love. What did I have? Determination, I knew. And, since I wasn't looking for love, only knowledge and a ring, I had to hope that was enough.

  A rumbling noise brought me out of my reverie, and I saw Marcas pause. His eyes grew sharp. The noise grew louder. I concentrated on it and realized it wasn't necessarily a rumbling noise. No . . . no, it almost seemed like a . . . like a growl.

  "Move, Dayton!" Marcas hissed, and I gasped as he brought me up against him so hard and so fast, it knocked the breath out of me.

  "Move now!" he repeated as he shifted to allow me to squeeze past him. I was in front of him now, and he held me close for a moment, his head bent so that his lips were next to my ear.

  "Go downward. Stay on the path. Do not turn around. Do you understand?" he said with an urgency that made my blood turn to ice. I looked into his face, so close to mine in the dark. My hand tightened in his.

  "You said not to let go."

  I didn't want to be separated from Marcas. Instinct told me it wasn't safe. His eyes searched mine, and I read the insistence in his gaze.

  "I wasn't counting on this."

  The growl grew louder. I felt it then. Demon. Marcas let go of my hand.

  "She wants you dead, Dayton. Go. I'll finish this. You get to the chamber and wait for me there."

  She? Lilith? It had to be. "You will die, Naphil." The words haunted me now. She was keeping her promise. I shook my head.

  "But I can help you," I insisted. Being separated couldn't be the answer. The fear of going on alone had my stomach doing somersaults. Marcas nudged me.

  "Not this time. You aren't ready for this one, Angel. Not yet. Go!"

  Marcas nudged me harder, and I moved reluctantly downward. It seemed petty to argue when I knew it was a lose-lose situation. I was afraid of the dark and what awaited me below, but the alternative wasn't any better. Certainly die or possibly die? I went with possibly die. Loose rocks and clay broke away down the corridor as I fought not to slide completely down the shaft. The growling grew massively behind me. What had Lilith sent?

  "Go downward. Stay on the path. Do not turn around." I struggled to obey. My foot slipped, and I skidded a few feet as I braced my hands on the walls flanking me. I felt the burn as skin was scraped away. I caught myself. My palms were burning. And still I kept moving, my ears straining to pick up any noise from behind me.

  I heard Marcas bark a warning, his voice low and gravelly, and I knew he'd assumed his Demon attributes. I kept moving. I was only a few steps further when I felt a stabbing pain along my arm, and I pulled my sleeve up to find a narrow gash just below my wrist. It wasn't bleeding badly, but I knew that whatever was behind me had found Marcas. Whenever he was wounded, I was wounded. We were bound by blood. If he tired, I tired. If he bled, I bled. I struggled with the need to turn back.

  "Go downward. Stay on the path. Do not turn around." I made myself move forward. A mix of growls echoed behind me, and I prayed Marcas was handling the situation well.

  "He knows what he's doing," I told myself confidently. Another step, another slight slide downward. I gritted my teeth against the laborious descent as I worked to calculate each step without slowing down. I was doing well, but stumbled again as another, more forceful jab of pain struck my unwounded arm, and I felt a familiar wetness soak into my shirt precisely where my bicep was. It made the muscle weak, and I grimaced. Marcas was alone. He was fighting this alone.

  "Help him," I whispered to my inner light.

  With the bond, I had to be able to help him in some way. I was running. I didn't like running. It was the stubborn streak in me; the same dislike for running that had caused me to stay at the Abbey when everyone else was telling me something was wrong. I wasn't going to make the same mistake. I kept going downward, but it didn't mean I had to like it.

  "Please help him." I begged the light again.

  Could I project the light? Could I share it? Damn it! I felt so dead-blasted useless! I had power. I knew this. I had seen it, but I still knew so little about it.

  The darkness below me beckoned, and I felt nauseous. Its unknown dangers taunted me, and I was a little girl hiding under a sheet all over again. Images of my sister, Amber, and me swam before my eyes, Amber's flashlight dancing on the blankets as I made up stories. The Sand Man tale was embedded in my brain.

  "I can do it. I can!"

  I breathed these words as I clambered steadily downward, concentrating on the light in my chest as I moved. A sharp burn spread down my leg, and I pulled my shirt up and my pants away just enough to discover teeth marks on my hip. I stopped moving.

  "Damn it!"

  I couldn't let Lilith do this! I gave the light my full attention, urging it to go to Marcas. I closed my eyes and imagined pieces of it sliding down my arm a
nd into my hand before moving upward along the corridor. I made myself envision Marcas, wounds where my wounds were, and I sent the light through him, begging it to enhance his power. But how did I "give" the light to Marcas? Did he have a soul? Could I attach it to his heart? Or could he already draw from it just because we were bound? Was I standing here for nothing?

  "Damn it! Just let it go, Blainey. Chance it," I told myself irritably as I imagined the light blooming behind Marcas' chest. I let it go and opened my eyes. Would it work?

  "Keep moving, Blainey."

  There was nothing more I could do. I didn't know what else to try. The bite on my hip stung, my palms burned, and my arms felt stiff as I moved. One step, two small steps, a third . . . a loud screeching filled the corridor. I smelled sulfur. The whole tunnel shook, and I braced myself against the walls, panicked. Could pyramids collapse?

  I shrieked as I lost my footing. My butt hit the passageway floor, and I dug my feet in hard as I began to slide. The screeching reached a plateau before suddenly going silent, but the shaking remained. I was sliding fast now, and I reached blindingly outward. My palms protested. A laugh circled up from the darkness at my feet, a female laugh, melodious and full.

  "You didn't think I'd let you go, did you?" the voice asked. Lilith.

  The passageway was pitch black ahead of me, beyond the boundaries of my night vision, and I screamed. She was doing this! It wasn't real! The blackness below was more path. I had to believe this. Marcas had said to stay on the path. It couldn't be a trap! The laugh was everywhere.

  "Looks," her voice echoed from below me, beside me, behind me. "Can be deeeeceiiiiving!"

  Her laughter was in my head now as I slid, and I screamed in an attempt to drown it out. I needed to slow down! I tried flipping over to grab onto the strange notches in the floor, but my fingers only bled with the attempt. I wasn't in control anymore. I could feel the heaviness that had overcome my limbs and knew Lilith was controlling my fall. The Demon battling Marcas behind me had been a trap, and we had fallen for it. She had separated us. But she wouldn't kill me. No, she wouldn't! Would she? Not when my death could possibly kill her son. I gritted my teeth.