Hell Fire

by Dee Davis

  He grabbed her as she stepped off of it, not giving a damn about anything other than reassuring himself that she was all in one piece.

  "You're smothering me," she said, pulling back, laughter lighting her voice.

  "I just don't want to lose you." The words were out before he had the chance to think about their meaning.

  "Not a chance," she said, her eyes suddenly sobering.

  They stood for a moment, and then turned together toward the back wall and the indentation where they'd seen the sparkle of crystal.

  They moved forward together, the area in front of them flooding with dancing light as the torch hit first the burnished gold of a small altar, and then the multifaceted red glow of the Devil's Delight.

  Chapter Ten

  Celeste couldn't take her eyes off of it. It was almost as if it were calling to her, reaching out with crimson fingers of light to draw her forward. A ridiculous notion but nevertheless it was there.

  She took a step toward it, but Marcus physically stopped her, his arm an unmovable barrier to her goal. "Don't touch it," he said, the sound of his voice cutting through the hypnotic effect of the stone. "It might be booby-trapped."

  She shook her head, feeling as if she were shaking off something physical. "So what do we do next?"

  "I'll try and dislodge it."

  "Like Indiana Jones?"

  Marcus frowned, as if he had no idea what she was talking about. Apparently his love of art didn't extend to Spielberg.

  "You know," she said, containing a laugh, "move the stone and replace it with a rock or something—to keep it balanced?"

  He considered the idea for a moment, clearly still not getting the reference, then bent down to pick up a rock roughly the size of his fist. "It's worth a try."

  Moving carefully he stepped up onto the natural dais and extended both hands toward the ruby, the rock in his right. Celeste held her breath as he eyed the stone.

  "There's a bracket here. Made of gold. The ruby is sitting on it." He inched forward for a closer look. "The way it's sitting I'd say that the weight is spread across the frame. I think maybe you're on to something," he said, his attention still on the ruby.

  Then with an audible exhale, he counted to three, then snatched the ruby with his left hand, placing the rock in its place with his right.

  Celeste twined her fingers together, waiting for the ceiling to fall or the floor to open. But nothing happened, the quiet room seeming to mock her fear. Then there was an ominous click, and she watched as the bracket dropped a quarter of an inch, the rock falling with it.

  Heart pounding, she waited again, but again there was only silence.

  The ruse had worked. The bracket held. Her grandmother had been wrong. She hadn't wasted her watching TV.

  Marcus turned to face Celeste, his look triumphant, but as he looked beyond her shoulder, his eyes narrowed, suspicion wiping out all semblance of his elation. "I should have known."

  Celeste whirled around, surprised to see her father standing on the other side of the chasm.

  "Just making certain you don't get any ideas about my ruby." Her father looked sinister in the flickering torchlight. Almost like a stranger. She turned back to Marcus, her principal thought to let him know that she hadn't known her father was following them, but at the sight of his anger the words died on her lips.

  "So all of this was just another of your tricks," he said, his green eyes never leaving her father. "Get your daughter to seduce me into taking her along for the ride, then you swoop in to scoop up the spoils."

  "Something like that. Actually there's a lot more to the story than you know. But I'm getting ahead of myself." He moved closer to the chasm, his eyes on Celeste. "Take the stone, Celeste. It belongs to me now."

  Her heart twisted, the need to please her father conflicting with the need to protect Marcus. There was something in her father's eyes she couldn't put a name to, but she knew as surely as she knew anything that somehow it meant danger for Marcus.

  "I can't," Celeste said, the words coming of their own volition. "I won't."

  "God damn it, girl." Her father's voice was condemning. "Don't tell me you've fallen for him." The last was said with such derision she almost felt as if he'd physically struck out at Marcus.

  "I haven't fallen for anyone. I just don't like you treating me like some kind of trained monkey." It was almost as if her father had morphed into someone else. Or maybe it as if she were seeing him for the first time.

  "You've fallen under his spell." Her father waved his hand in dismissal. "I should have known better than to send a lamb into the wolf's lair. But you see, my dearest daughter, you've made a horrible mistake. You have no idea who it is you've fallen for. Or did he tell you all his sordid secrets?"

  She looked from Marcus to her father, having absolutely no idea where the conversation was headed, but not liking the looks of things. Marcus was holding the ruby so tightly she thought it might cut his hand, his anger giving way to something deeper. Darker.

  "He hasn't told me anything at all except that his mother died and that he and his father are estranged. Right?" She looked to Marcus. She might not know his secrets, but she knew him. Knew his heart. At least she thought she did.

  He gave her a curt nod, a muscle in his cheek ticking as he stood statue-still, his gaze locked with Cedrik's. "Leave her out of this. She doesn't need to know any more than she already does. This is between you and me."

  "Except that I'm standing right here," Celeste said, her own anger rising. "And I have a right to know what's going on. What secrets, Marcus?"

  "Yes," her father continued, "Marcus, tell us about your sordid past. All seven centuries of it."

  "Seven centuries?" The words hung in the air, taking on a life of their own, Celeste's head spinning, knowing with certainty that this was the shadow that had been standing between them.

  "Marcus is immortal, Celeste. He's not human. At least not in the sense that you and I are. Check the cut on his head." Her father's eyes glittered in the light, his gaze flitting from Marcus to the stone and then back again.

  "You were there?" she questioned her father, disbelief mixing with her anger. "And you didn't help us?"

  "Just check the wound."

  Still struggling with her cascading emotions, she walked over to Marcus, knowing her eyes were full of questions. But he said nothing, standing perfectly still, his expression purposefully blank. She reached up with shaking fingers and lifted his hair. The skin was smooth and unblemished.

  Her stomach roiled, and she fought to maintain her balance. "I saw it. You were really hurt. There was blood everywhere."

  "I regenerated." His tone was flat. As if saying the words had somehow sucked the life right out of him.

  She swallowed her fear, her mind trying to make sense of what they were trying to tell her. He couldn't be immortal. No one was. But even as she had the thought, her brain trotted out the image of all his books, his name written in each of them. His ability to read archaic languages. His inability to remember Indiana Jones. His courtly manners. His pirate’s logs. Faust calling him "Captain." It all rushed at her with the force of a hurricane and she lifted her eyes to meet his. "You can't die?"

  He shook his head.

  And surprisingly the only thing she felt was anger. "I thought you were dead, you son of a bitch. You scared me half to death. And I can die." It was a ridiculous response, she knew it, but the entire world seemed to have gone topsy-turvy.

  "There's more." Her father's words cut through her hysteria.

  She almost laughed. What else could there be? The man had superpowers and was allergic to kryptonite? She waited, feeling as if the chasm was expanding, threatening to suck her down into its depths.

  "My father is the devil." Marcus spoke the words so softly, she almost didn't think she'd heard right. But one look at his face and she recognized the truth. Saw his pain. His vulnerability.

  "And your mother?"

  "A mortal like you. He
pretended to be something he wasn't and seduced her." The irony of his words was not lost on her.

  "How long have you known all of this?" Celeste asked, turning back to her father.

  "I've suspected for a long time now. But I needed proof."

  "And I just provided it." Marcus showed no expression, but she could feel his tension.

  "Your admission is icing on the cake. If I'd known you were going to be so forthcoming, maybe I wouldn't have had to take such drastic measures."

  "What have you done, Father?" Celeste asked.

  "Only what was absolutely necessary. I needed access to the ruby. Preferably with Marcus in attendance."

  "Why?" Celeste asked.

  "Because the Devil's Delight was created from Christ's blood— the power of all that is good. And now the devil's spawn holds it in his hands. The blood of God's son—and the blood of the devil's."

  He waved at Marcus's still bloodied hand holding the stone. "The prophecy has been fulfilled."

  "Prophecy?" Celeste managed.

  "In the ancient texts it says that the blood of Heaven and Hell shall combine in rubicund light, creating absolute power. Just look at it." His face contorted in the flickering light. "The power of Heaven and Hell concentrated there in the Devil's Delight."

  She could see it actually. The glow spreading out across the cavern. She'd experienced it firsthand, in fact, the memory of the ruby's siren call still resonating inside her. But Marcus had broken the spell, and she'd found the strength to ignore it.

  "It's just a stone, Father."

  Her father's eyes narrowed. "Come on, Celeste. Surely you can see that it is more than that."

  Marcus took a step off the dais, but her father shifted, the torchlight reflecting off the gun in his hand. "Don't move."

  "I think we've covered this ground already." Marcus stopped, but his tone held a sneer. "You can't kill me, Cedrik."

  Marcus took another step, but her father changed his stance, pointing the gun at Celeste. "You're right. Nothing I can do will harm you. But I can kill her. And I know for a fact that's something you can't stomach. Remember Adelaide?"

  Beside her, Marcus flinched.

  "That's right, I know all about it. Faust was only too happy to spill his guts."

  "Faust would never ..." Marcus started, but couldn't seem to finish, his eyes glittering with anger.

  "He didn't have a choice. You may not be able to kill an immortal, but believe me, there's no problem drugging one."

  "Where is he?"

  "I assume on the Apollyon working off a hell of a hangover. I didn't stick around to see."

  Celeste followed the exchange with a numbness that left her feeling almost paralyzed. Her father was threatening to kill her, and the man she loved was immortal. She fought her rising panic and turned to look at Marcus, searching his face for some sign of the demon her father was insisting he was. But all she saw was Marcus—the man that she loved.

  The realization hit with surprising simplicity, and without thinking she reached out her hand. For a moment she thought he would refuse to take it, but then his fingers closed strong and warm around hers.

  "Celeste," her father goaded, "he's a devil."

  "No," she said, suddenly sure of her center. "No, he's not."

  Her father's face twisted in anger, his desire for the ruby turning him into a stranger, and then the gun fired, the sound echoing off the rock walls. Marcus jerked her arm, pulling her behind him as another sharp report gave testament to the fact that her father had no problem pulling the trigger.

  "If you want to save her, Diablo, give me the stone." Her father held out one hand, firing another shot, but Marcus dodged it, careful to keep his body in front of hers.

  "That's three bullets, Cedrik. I can wait."

  Her father moved the gun, aiming not at them, but at jagged stones that made up the ceiling. "But only one shot will bring down that roof. And while I'm sure you'll live through the experience, I can't promise the same for my daughter."

  "Don't listen to him," Celeste whispered. "We'll find a way out. And even if we don't, we can't let him have the stone. Surely you see that we can't let anyone have it."

  The ruby glowed red in the palm of his hand, almost as if it were refuting the point.

  Or agreeing.

  "Can't you feel it?"

  Marcus shook his head. "Only a little. But I saw what it did to you."

  "Throw it in the chasm," she whispered. "Send it back where it came from."

  "Or better still, give it to me." With a hot whoosh of fire, and presumably brimstone, a wiry man with a goatee appeared on the rope bridge, a well-manicured hand extended toward Marcus.

  "Well done, my son."

  A chill followed the heat, and Celeste tore her gaze from the bearded stranger to look up at the man still clasping her hand.

  "Is that..."

  "My father," he finished for her.

  "Your client." Understanding slid home, even before he nodded. She tightened her fingers on his, telegraphing all the love in her heart. "Whatever you do, Marcus, we're doing it together."

  *****

  Marcus stared at his father, his mind going a thousand directions at once. Cedrik stood frozen, his attention locked on the bridge. One devil sparring with another. Except that his father was the real deal, which meant that Cedrik didn't have a chance.

  Celeste still stood beside him, her hand clasped in his, trust, determination, and something more shining from her eyes. It warmed him in places he'd thought forever cold. She'd seen the truth and still she stood by him.

  Whatever he chose to do, she'd be there by his side. His heart sang, as if wakening from a dark sleep, and he felt whole in a way that he'd never dreamed possible.

  "Marcus," his father said with a frown, "give me the ruby."

  It was starting to be a sad refrain. And suddenly Marcus knew what he had to do. To hell with his life. To hell with his father's. The ruby was dangerous. It had ruined God knew how many lives. Including Celeste's father's.

  It stopped here.

  He threw the ruby high into the air over the chasm, the stone sparkling as it tumbled downward. Celeste's father dove for the stone, as Marcus's father held up a hand, but just as the ruby's trajectory started to change, Marcus raised both hands, calling upon the powers he had buried for centuries. One second, two, and then blue light emanated from his fingers, the arc connecting with the Devil's Delight—the contact shattering the ruby into glittering particles of dust.

  Cedrik teetered at the edge of the precipice, hands reaching for the remnants of the Devil's Delight, as he screamed, "No." One minute he was standing there, and then he was tumbling downward, his cry still echoing off the rocky sides of chasm as he disappeared from sight.

  "Father." Celeste moved toward the edge, but Marcus was faster, his hand closing on her arm.

  "He's gone," Marcus said, wrapping her in his arms. "It's over."

  But Celeste shook her head, pulling free of his embrace, turning instead to face his father as the last glints of red dust sank into the hole. "You knew this would happen. This was all a test."

  "And Marcus failed." His father's eyes sparked with anger. Anger and disappointment.

  "Maybe from your point of view," Celeste said, her anger almost matching his father's. "What he did he did for me." She faced the old devil fearlessly, and Marcus's heart filled with pride.

  "I'm well aware of the fact," his father said, his dark eyes locking on his son's. "The choice was always yours to make, Marcus. And unless I'm missing something here, I believe you've already made it."

  Marcus held his father's gaze, his arm tightening around Celeste.

  The old devil nodded once and then disappeared in another burst of flame, the cave seeming abnormally quiet after all that had preceded it.

  "O, my God," Celeste whispered, staring at the place where his father had stood.

  "That's one way of looking at it, I suppose." Marcus turned back toward the chasm
, searching the shadows for signs of life.

  "He's dead, isn't he?" Celeste looked down into the darkness, fighting tears. "Maybe it's for the best. He betrayed us both."

  "Not intentionally," a cultured voice said, preceding the powerful beam of a flashlight. Faust stepped out of the shadows. "It was the power of the stone. I'm afraid his desire blinded him of what was really important." Marcus's friend blithely crossed the bridge, the ropes not even swaying.

  "I just wish it had been different," Celeste said. "He wasn't always like ... like that."

  "Power corrupts," Faust said, joining them at the edge of the chasm. "But perhaps in death he has at last found peace."

  Celeste nodded, but she didn't seem convinced.

  "Are you all right?" Marcus turned to her, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

  "I'm fine," she said, reaching up to touch his cheek. "You're the one who's bleeding." She pulled back her hand, the significance of her words hitting home. "You're not regenerating."

  Marcus reached up to touch the cut. It hurt like bloody hell. He centered his thoughts, concentrating on rebuilding.

  Nothing happened.

  "I'm afraid that's not going to help much," Faust said.

  Marcus frowned, and Celeste grabbed his hand, as if by touching him she could heal him herself.

  "It's only a cut, Celeste. Stop worrying." Faust laughed. "But I'm afraid he'll have to heal the old-fashioned way."

  "My choice," Marcus said, astonishment mixing with certainty. "When I chose Celeste, I chose life." He paused, emotion threatening to unman him. "I chose love over immortality."

  "That you did, my friend," Faust said, smiling his approval. "That you did."

  Marcus closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the blood pump through his body, the air as it filled his lungs and then was released again. It was as if he'd never really felt the sensations before. As if, despite the centuries, he were only just now coming to life.

  He felt Celeste's hand on his arm. Felt the question there even though she hadn't put it into words, and in response he swung her into his arms, spinning her around in sheer delight.

  "I love you, Celeste Abbot," he said, slowing to a stop, "and if you'll let me, I intend to spend the rest of my days showing you exactly how much."