Altered: A Beyond the Brothel Walls Novel

by Ryans, Rae Z.

  Dorian made a noise half between a grumble and words. “I dunno.” His leg curled over my thigh, and he scooted closer. “The others seem to think it’s a great evil we cannot contain.” The Bible had referred to the gates of Hell, or purgatory, but Dorian guarded Sheol. “I have the final key.”

  But the Bible also spoke of every step in sevens: seven days, seven signs, seven seals, seven Archangels, seven princes, and sevens keys.

  My brow scrunched as my head tossed on the pillow. Dorian would have made eight, and more than seven Archangels existed. Were there truly eight steps, or another connection?

  “Stop worrying and get some rest. We’ll be trekking through the Arcadian backwoods, and you need your strength.”

  As he pressed his lips to my forehead, I closed my eyes. Dorian didn’t move, cuddling me through the evening and into the twilight hours. But I couldn’t quiet my mind. Once his light snores vibrated against me, I slipped from the bed.

  Low light flooded in from beneath the bedroom door. I cracked it open. Heat washed over me, and a lump formed in my throat. A fire roared in the hearth. Angelica stood at the mantle, staring into the swaying flames. Behind me, I closed the door and approached my sister, careful to keep noise to a minimum.

  “I’m not her,” she whispered. “But doesn’t mean I can’t care and love you. What you did for her, few would have endured, Cain. What you do now, continuing her work…”

  The lump in my throat tightened. “She endured more.”

  Angel nodded but didn’t glance at me.

  “I’m trying to understand, to grasp what happened to my sister, where Mother’s spell went wrong.”

  “That’s not why I refuse him. Jules is dead.” Angel might as well have spoken about the weather. “I killed him…ripped his heart out and squeezed the life from his worthless body. My only regret is I didn’t do it sooner.”

  But there were hundreds more, like Jules, out there in the broken world. No peace would come until they all fell.

  Angelica eyed me. “Peace is a state of mind. It cannot be achieved across the boundaries.”

  I leaned against the wall. “Why bother trying? What are the boundaries?”

  The fire popped and her lips curved into a gruesome, devilish smile. “Because I cannot sit idly and watch as the world falls again.” Her hair fell into her eyes. “Their actions must stop, even if we are all damned and forgotten by God. We are still his children.”

  She sounded more like Angelica—or Tomas—her emotions bled into her tightened jaw and fists.

  “The spell failed. It couldn’t fully cross the boundaries of time and space…I don’t know what that means, but it’s in my head.”

  I shifted gears and asked, “What are the keys for? Angelica had to know—her memories are yours, are they not?”

  Korrigan spun and pinned me against the wall. She wrapped her tiny hand around my neck, and she squeezed, wielding the might of a hundred men. I gasped, struggling for air, and clawed at her hand. My heart thundered. Pristine fangs extended in her mouth, clicking louder than the popping fire, and my gaze widened. No words escaped; I would die. Fuzzy lines formed around my vision, flickering in and out. Harder, she compressed my windpipe.

  My back slid up the wall, my legs dangled, kicking the wood, and I prayed Dorian woke from the ruckus.

  “Stop,” she hissed to herself, and dropped me.

  I slid to the floor, landing hard enough the house tremored and windows rattled. Rubbing my neck, I caught my breath. Dorian’s door banged, and as he swooped into the living room, the hairs rose on my neck. Green eyes blazed, and he grasped Angel, tossing her to the other side of the room, crashing into the kitchen table. Wood fractured. She sprung to her feet, crouching toward the ground. Lightning splintered the air outside, and a hazy, swirling vortex filled the space.

  I blinked, still unable to speak. Death held his scythe against Angelica’s neck. The guest room’s door creaked.

  “Don’t,” Veric said, rushing to her side. “Angel, bloody hell, I can’t leave you alone.” He palmed his red hair and shook his head. Veric glanced toward me. “What’d you say to her?”

  My cheeks warmed, and my gaze dropped to the floor. Didn’t I have the right to know what I’d put my life on the line for? Veric scowled but ignored my thoughts.

  Dorian dropped the blade and removed his hood. He hadn’t transformed, evident from his skin-covered hand and dark head of hair. I hugged my knees into my chest and shivered. He knelt by my side, brushing his hand through my hair. His fingers hooked my chin and forced my attention. I flinched, expecting anger, when concern flickered in his emerald eyes.

  “Babe? Did she hurt you?” He stroked my face.

  Yes and no. I nipped my inner cheek. Tears welled, threatening to drown me from the inside. My sister was dead. Soul or not, the woman across the room wasn’t my sweet Angelica. She had truly died when Boric slit her throat and forced me to watch. Would he have taken my life instead if I had given him the location?

  “He would’ve of murdered you both, mate.” Veric sighed. “You especially, Cain.”

  Dorian released me, and my head bowed toward my chest. I had belonged to Boric. When he’d shared me, the bastard never let me forget that. Stealing the keys had been a slap in the face, but by me swiping them, it had been like hitting Boric with a bat in the back of the head.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  My mouth dropped, but Angel shook her head and placed a finger to her lips. Large, amber eyes appeared as lost as I felt inside. He deserved to know the truth, to know why Boric hunted the Morning Stars, but it meant admitting part of me would always love the monster who’d betrayed me.

  “Cain?”

  I rasped, “What?” and cringed at the state of my voice. Starring into his eyes, I knew part of the lie would release from my shaking lips. “The keys…have them all now.” I closed my eyes and rested my head against the wall. “She gave them to me, and I hid them before his hunters found me.”

  “That’s not it.”

  Again, yes and no. Dorian knew about the keys, but I hadn’t given him the real ones. Sometimes magic reflected smoke and mirrors.

  Gesturing toward my pocket, my head nodded, and Dorian retrieved the skeleton key Angelica had slipped me. To the untrained eye, the key seemed like nothing important, just an old brass skeleton key. The metal never dulled and shined in the darkness. Dorian removed his chain and slid the key next to his iron one. Angel said nothing of my act, but her fiery gaze spoke enough.

  “We’ll retrieve the rest later,” he whispered, and brushed his lips over my wrinkled forehead. “Angel,” Dorian said, and faced my sister still crouching to the floor. “Next time, I won’t hesitate if you threaten my boyfriend.”

  Boyfriend? Guess he’d upgraded me from lover, and I smiled at the thought. But my stomach ached at my continued betrayal: smoke and mirrors had prevailed once again.

  In the whirlwind, he came in on, Death departed, and a barefoot Dorian stood in his place, rocking on his heels. He extended his hand and hefted me up, brushing non-existent dirt from my body. “You really are the Keeper.” Dorian’s mind wandered over the past, an old scroll, but the image quickly faded. “They are safest with you, for now.”

  I nodded and refused to glance at Korrigan. No longer could I call her Angelica. Whether she had foamed at the mouth, scowled, or hadn’t cared at his threat, I didn’t want to find out.

  “Well, it changes a few things, but nothing immediate.” He added, “But, babe, it doesn’t change the fact that I love you.”

  Will the truth of me being Boric’s lover change his mind?

  Veric asked, “What’s that awful smell?”

  The scent of decay had belonged to Dorian, but the aroma wasn’t offensive to me. Like fallen leaves and overturned earth, the fragrance brought comfort to my being.

  A smirk curved over Dorian’s lips. “Guess I better shower.”

  Veric snorted. “Death smells like death?”<
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  Dorian ignored his jab and stormed into his bedroom.

  The three of us stood there in silence, in the living room. Pipes groaned. I broke through first. “I had to tell him the truth.”

  Korrigan nodded. “You love him. There shouldn’t be secrets.”

  But secrets existed. Dorian knew I was a former sex slave. My father might have sold me, but the first hundred or so years, I had been content, happy even. Boric hadn’t always been a monster, not at first. One day my luster had disappeared, and he’d lost what remained of his mind.

  “No, he wasn’t always like this. You made him better, Cain. He talked of change, but then the Arch demons rose from the cracks of Hell.”

  I shot Veric a glance and clutched my stomach.

  “Doesn’t make what he did to you—to anyone—right, but it is the truth.” Veric curled his fists, but he, too, gave a slight nod. “You were always too good for him, mate, but I understand. Dorian will understand.”

  “I met them. The beatings started afterward,” I whispered, wincing at the words leaving my lips. “They didn’t command him to hurt me, just the others, but the control became a drug. If he didn’t have it, he took it by force.” Memories strangled my breath. I might have been sixteen my first time with Boric, but he didn’t force himself on me.

  Everything had slowly started to change around the end of the American Civil War when the Arch demons emerged. Little by little, they’d transformed Boric, eating away at his mind, and an altered man rose in power, taking but never giving a damn. At first, I’d asked God to forgive me and blamed myself for the differences in him. One day, I’d opened my eyes to the truth.

  Thoughts tremored through my body, and my head shook them aside. Villains were not born evil, and the same rule applied to Boric Garland.

  I excused myself and slipped into Dorian’s bathroom. My clothing joined his, and I slid open the door. Water poured over his muscles, and I bit my lip to keep from panting like a crazed dog. “Sweets,” I said.

  Dorian spun around.

  A huge grin plastered onto his face and he reached for me, dragging me into the steamy spray. My mouth opened, but before I had a chance to say anything, his lips consumed me. Boyfriend, yes, we could do this, and I deserved happiness too. Grasping control, my hands curled into his thick, wet hair, and a moan released into Dorian’s mouth. I pressed his ass against the tile.

  Chapter

  Thirteen

  Dorian

  A late evening sky blanketed Nova Scotia. I drew my palm over my rough face. Everyone except Korrigan and I slept. Vampires didn’t sleep, but they were capable of falling asleep. The petite pixie of a woman stood guard downstairs, by the front window. Trains whistled and chugged their forced tunes. Wooden boards squeaked beneath my feet. I joined her silent watch.

  “Death doesn’t sleep much?” She didn’t turn around.

  “I do, but the night comforts me. Do you drink?” I halted by my desk.

  She shook her head, but I reached for the decanter anyway. Cain didn’t drink either, and he hated whenever I smoked.

  “Don’t blame you. This stuff could peel paint.” No laughter or signs of amusement played on her pale, reflected face. “Are you nervous?”

  “Yes.”

  I poured the whiskey into two glasses, stepped beside her, and handed one to Korrigan.

  Her lips sipped the amber surface, but she offered no reaction to the smoky burn. “I have a problem, Dorian…I can call you that, right?”

  I nodded at the usual question. Calling me death seemed morbid for many.

  “There are two sides warring inside of me for control.” She lifted her hand. “Over here is Korrigan the slave,” she shifted the glass and raised her other hand, “but over here is Angelica. Both want different goals.”

  Hearing her speak of herself in such a way baffled me. Some humans had suffered from a split personality disorder, but I had yet to see a demon with a mental condition. Then again, as an Elioud, Korrigan had human blood. “Do you share any common ground?”

  “Freedom.” Angelica savored another sip. “Killing Jules was another, but we accomplished that. He tortured so many for so long.”

  A smile played at her lips, and I chuckled, shaking my head. She barely came past my waist, yet she attacked and killed Nephilim and joked about the fact. The feat was a daring and difficult maneuver.

  I eyed the empty street below us. “Who is in control now? What do you fight over?”

  “Korrigan is stronger. That’s why Veric calls me Angelica, I think. As if the name itself will invoke power and force me to love him. I like him. Don’t want to hurt him…but.” Her smile disappeared with a sigh. “All I have are her memories, but I am and forever will be Korri, no matter what. He refuses to accept the fate of the spell, or that I love Petre.”

  Was it the spell, or her upbringing, that caused the multiple personalities? I jotted a mental note, but I wasn’t a doctor. Raphael might shed some light on it, though.

  “Defeating Jules unlocked pieces of my mind, parts and memories I hadn’t known about. My heart, however, belongs to Petre. You say he lives, and I believe you, but I’ve built walls around myself in case you’re wrong, Dorian.”

  “And Veric?” Unfortunately, for the Elioud, her answer alleviated Petre’s crimes in my eyes. I pushed them aside. My decision was final. This beautiful creature wasn’t to blame and neither was Petre. They hadn’t known her true past. Although, she recalled life as Angelica, she saw herself as Korrigan and wanted to live as her. Who was I to force her to change?

  “He will love again, but you may call me Angel or Korri. Don’t use that dreadful slave name.”

  I asked, “And Cain? Lily?”

  A few moments passed, but I couldn’t tell if she pondered my question, or her thoughts drifted elsewhere. I lit a cigarette and inhaled a long drag, relishing in the smoldering taste of tobacco and whatever byproduct they had laced into the cancer stick. The habit calmed my nerves. My gaze glanced overhead. I had refrained since Cain disapproved. Anytime I lit up in his presence, he knocked the cigarette from my hand or scowled.

  She turned and leaned against the windowpane, crossing her bare arms over a flat chest. Chopsticks stuck out from her hair, but she wore no make-up and needed none. If it were not for Veric, Markos would have tried to hit on her.

  Her brow rose. “Doubtful. He’s smitten with Belle.”

  I chuckled at her words. Markos didn’t do smitten until Belle.

  “Neither did you. You love my brother.” Korrigan swiped the cigarette from my hand, stared at the smoke rising, and handed it back.

  “True.”

  “I want to help.” The glass rattled, and the ground rumbled. Korri gripped the ledge, and her large eyes enlarged. “Is it happening again?”

  “The tremors are Markos, or the trains.” At least I had hoped but didn’t know the true cause of the continuous quakes, which had ranged from earth-shaking to a dull, rolling thunder. If the tremors were not his doing or an approaching train, than it meant our time grew shorter each day. But it had nothing to do with the keys, and I still couldn’t fathom their importance. What did matter was my family. The Horsemen had failed to secure the quarter of the world, and God’s plan sped into action. The question remains unanswered: are we already too late?

  Korri touched my hand. The faintest sensation itched across my skin.

  “Dorian, have faith. The final end is not as near as it seems.”

  How had she and Cain survived? If she were human, Korri wouldn’t have become one of mine, despite her pride.

  “Until reuniting with Veric, I actually thought there were humans left.” She giggled and shook her head. “I’ll forgive your judgments, but I am not innocent.”

  I winked. “Are any of us?” I sighed. “Whatever you did, whatever you will do, you realize Father is loving and forgiving?”

  She dragged down her hair, and dark brown waves cascaded over her corset. “I’m not a woman of faith.�
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  Korrigan created her own fashion by blending her past constrictions with the present. More and more women had adopted the new-old southern style and added modern flair. She retreated upstairs.

  In the covert stillness, I vowed what once was would rise again. Our world needed change, innovation, and to rebuild, but none of it would happen as long as oppression ruled, and our greatest innovator was lost in the snow.

  Demons scarred the sacred Earth, but that didn’t mean we had to destroy the harmony. Not all demons were evil: holding the simple thought, I edged into the frosty night and crossed the street. Shortly thereafter, footsteps echoed mine, and I spun around. Cain smirked, and his broad shoulders shrugged.

  “Took you long enough.” Mind reading had posed a problem to our hushed plan to sneak away from the others. His fingers folded into mine, and together we headed into the train station.

  Cain inhaled and scowled. “You stink.”

  “Old habits die hard, babe.” I winked.

  After purchasing our tickets, the two o’clock chugged in, and we found our car suite. Lights flickered and power rushed through the line. Whistles blew. By morning, weather permitting, we would arrive near enough to the crash site where Tomas had buried Petre.

  Cain plopped onto the bench seat asked, “Do you think she will follow?”

  I shot him a side-glance and nodded. The train jostled, and something clattered against the roof. A smile crept over my face. “Oh, I think we’ll see her sooner than later.”

  From the outside, Korrigan opened the door to our compartment and squeezed inside.

  “I didn’t think you had it in you.” I fished out her ticket and handed it over.

  The problem all along wasn’t her, but Veric. As for her dietary needs, well, plenty of demons were onboard for her to feed on, and if not, we would figure something out.

  Korrigan plopped across from us and shivered. “What if you’re wrong? I waited over a week, and he never woke-up.” She cringed, and tears pooled in her eyes. Tiny fists were balled at her sides, and an unneeded breath whooshed from her lips. “I should’ve waited longer. Why did I listen to Tomas?”