by Lori Adams
Bailey’s body goes limp in my arms and I lower her to the ground. Everything happens so quickly then. Wolfgang rushes at me, his dagger flashing in a high arc. Dante snaps down his tattoo dagger and meets the attack. He aims directly for Wolfgang’s heart. The impact is a green burst of light that illuminates his body. It sends Wolfgang into violent convulsions. Dante retracts his dagger and Wolfgang falls to the ground. He shrieks a horrible, unnatural sound as his body glows through his costume. Still convulsing. Unlike Diavolessa, Wolfgang’s dark energy breaks apart inside him. Fiery bits of matter burn through his body. The red uniform catches fire. Green flames spark and devour him until there is nothing left but a sprawling figure of ashes.
Trembling, I stare at Wolfgang’s ashes, and then at Dante’s dagger. I’ve never seen anything so powerful, so completely devastating to a demon. It didn’t have this effect on the demons at La Croix, so something has changed. There is no doubt that Wolfgang is never coming back. He can’t regenerate after a kill of that magnitude.
What could a weapon like that do to me? To other spiritual beings?
The idea scares the hell out of me. How many other demons are armed with those weapons? All of them? A select few?
I snap out of my daze when Rama crouches beside me, helping with Bailey. While the demons analyze Wolfgang’s remains, I tell Rama to take Bailey to the surface. He can rise faster than I can and I want her out of here as quickly as possible. No surprise, Rama refuses to leave me.
Dante looks at his dagger like it holds some fascination for him. Then he lifts his eyes to mine and hesitates with a strange realization. A flash of rage brings his demon to the surface. His eyes turn yellow and his pupils split into snake eyes. Then he spins around and lunges at his father. He goes for the heart, wanting to destroy him as he did Wolfgang. But Lord Giano’s guards throw themselves against Dante. One takes the blade into his own gut. While the demon is destroyed, Vaughn whips out his daggers and joins Dante against the remaining guards. The crowd roars. They break through the royal guards and descend onto the dance floor. Full-blown chaos erupts. Everyone in the grotto is fighting and hacking one another. Those loyal to Lord Malachi beat down those loyal to Lord Brutus.
I push Bailey into Rama’s arms. “Go!” I shout. “I’ll follow! I promise!” He leads the way as I duck behind him. We scurry around the edge of the fighting. We don’t make it past the dais when a storm of frigid air blows into the room. Everything comes to a sudden standstill. The torches along the far wall frost over like beautiful white flames. Sheets of ice coat the south side of the pillars. The stone gargoyles seem comical in milky white masks. Demons near the epicenter freeze and make crackling sounds in their icy body armor.
I suck in a cold, familiar breath but refuse to believe what it means. There is only one explanation and it’s beyond imagination.
To everyone’s horror, a man in white and silver marches through the grotto. He is at least three feet taller than everyone else and easily spotted at a distance. His long yellow hair and braided beard rise and fall as he stomps up the aisle. A timeless Viking with frosty blue and brown eyes that rake over the cavern. Armaros is armed to the teeth with a long shimmering sword in each hand.
The damned shift in fright and clear out of his way. I have an unexplainable urge to hide behind Rama. I don’t know who or what Armaros is, only that he is someone Mom trusted. But the last time I saw him was at the mansion’s graveyard, where he seemed well acquainted with Dante and Vaughn. With all the betrayal going on around here, I don’t know what to expect from him. I don’t know how or why he is here. Or why everyone seems afraid of him. My only concern is to get Bailey and Rama out of here before we’re trapped forever. I push Rama to get moving but he won’t budge.
“Sophia?”
I hear Michael at the same moment that my second heartbeat sparks to life. I catch my breath and turn toward the sound of his voice. There he is, standing next to Armaros with an expression of stunned relief. I can’t believe what I’m seeing: Michael in full Halo regalia. It must be a trick, some demented illusion to confuse me. Angels can’t descend into Hell. Even I know that.
But my second heartbeat is no illusion. It’s strong and steady inside me. My heart doesn’t share the disbelief of my eyes. Michael is really here.
One thought divides into another, question after question whirling in my head. I walk toward him as a mixture of love and liberation floods my senses. Everything will be okay now. Michael is here.
Before I can find my voice, Lord Malachi marches between us. “Do my eyes deceive me, or do we have a Grigori and an angel in our midst?” His voice is thick with sarcasm. Despite the obvious reaction of the damned, Lord Malachi refuses to show weakness. The royal guards take his lead and cautiously move around him.
“We have business here,” Armaros says with a vapor of cold fog.
“Business? What possible business could a Grigori have here? You, Michael Patronus, I can only assume are on a suicide mission. In which case, you are most welcome.” He grins with hooded eyes.
“We are returning Sophia to the surface,” Michael states, causing the humor to vanish from Lord Malachi.
Behind him, Lord Brutus bellows, “She will never leave here!”
Armaros doesn’t spare him a glance. “Are we addressing the highest member of The Order or not?” he asks Lord Malachi in a frigid tone. It is an insult not to be taken lightly.
“You are!” Lord Malachi yells. “I sit on the High Throne. I command the royal guards.”
He turns and glares at Lord Brutus. Then he signals two royal guards who seize the old man, shove iron snips into his mouth, and cut out his tongue. Lord Brutus shrieks a sickening, guttural sound as black blood pours from his mouth. He flails in protest as they cram his tongue down his throat. He is finally pushed to his knees in total submission.
Lord Malachi smiles at Armaros. “I should mention, Grigori, that you are outnumbered by a fair amount.”
“We have come in peace with the singular purpose. Sophia will return with us, and no harm will come to you or your dregs.”
A few guards loyal to Lord Brutus draw their swords and rush at Michael and Armaros. With little effort, Armaros wields his sword around, catching them before they come within range. His sword is powered by the atmosphere of the Heavens and launches the guards high into the air without making contact. The guards thrash and rotate and quickly ice over. They drop against the stone floor and shatter.
Armaros trains his eyes back on Lord Malachi. “It was a courtesy to The Order that I came here without the full force of my brotherhood. But make no mistake, I will bring down a wrath as you have never seen, if need be.”
Lord Malachi’s smile wavers under the threat. “Do me another courtesy, then. Tell me why you would go to such lengths, such depths, I should say, to rescue the girl. Surely there will be other spirit walkers called to their Awakening. What is so special about this one?”
Armaros looks at me and I hold my breath. I want to know, too. I want to know who and what he is. Mostly, I want to understand why he looks at me with a mixture of love and pride.
He seems to be working things over in his mind, unsure what to say. After he clears his throat, he lowers his chin at Lord Malachi. “I come here because Sophia is my daughter. I have watched over her soul from her first conception. I have protected her, counseled her, and rescued her from the likes of him!” He points at Dante, who flinches in surprise. “Every time you found her soul, every time you went after her, I was there to stop you from succeeding. It was I who saved her from your scheme in Verona. I gathered her soul while you were Taken by the reaper. Every time after that, when you came within reach, I intervened. In Salem, I snatched her away before you could arrive. At the Borderlands, I drew her away from you and gave her back to Michael.”
My heart is thundering in my chest. I stare wide eyed at Armaros but without really seeing anymore. I’m trying to let his confession find a place inside me. All I can think
about is Dad. My dad back in Haven Hurst, sick with worry. The pastor who taught me to ride a bike and say my prayers. The impossibly bad dancer who loves punk music and cooks chak-chak. The man who risked his soul to save mine.
That is my dad.
Is Armaros concocting some bizarre tale to satisfy The Order? Is he stalling for time? Waiting for help to arrive? Or is he telling the truth?
I think back to all the times I’ve encountered him. With annoying clarity, I now see the truth; Armaros helped me every single time, whether I wanted it or not. Mom trusts him and…I suddenly remember her from the Borderlands. When she introduced us, she had love in her voice, not only for me but for him.
Oh, God, it’s true. This big, hulking, frosty guy is my real dad.
My eyes cut to Michael. He is nervous and concerned. He doesn’t want me to freak out. At least not yet. Slowly, he nods to confirm my conclusion.
“She won’t go with you!” Dante bursts out. He strides over but the royal guards level their spears at him. Lord Giano’s guards train their swords on him as well. “You’re too late! Sophia remembers her past life with me! She remembers being Lovaria, being in love with me! Tell them!” he shouts at me. “Tell them you remember! Tell them you love me! You have always loved me!”
It is a confession I can’t bear to admit. Dante’s love has always torn me apart. It goes so devastatingly deep. It is unconditional, uncompromising. Overwhelming. He sees things so clearly, as though our lives have always run parallel into the future. Dante’s love is that beautiful picture admired from afar in which two separate things come together. But I know the truth; up close, the two things never actually touch. It is an illusion. It is only at a distance that we are together. Only in the far reaches of his mind.
I can’t fight the gut-wrenching pain I feel for him, the torment he must be going through. “I remember you, Dante. I remember your love, our love. All our memories from Verona. All the stolen moments we shared. It was lovely and tragic. I would never have agreed to take my own life, and you knew it. That’s why you tricked me. That’s why you killed me yourself. That’s why you have tormented yourself all these years.” I step closer and lower my voice to soften the blow. “But I love Michael. He is my true soul mate. He is my life, Dante. Michael and I were made to be together. We…have been married.”
Dante’s chest swells and his eyes widen. He stares in a long, horrible silence. I have said the unthinkable; I have done the unimaginable. As this gradually sinks in, his eyes glaze over and he goes somewhere beyond this hellish place. Somewhere beyond the unbearable pain I’ve caused. I think I’ve lost him to madness. Everyone is waiting to see what he will do.
Without warning, I am yanked backward by my hair. Lord Malachi shakes down his own tattoo dagger and lays it against my throat. The green streak that comets behind it stops me cold; it’s the same dagger as Dante’s. I am scared out of my mind. Paralyzed with fear.
“I will cut her apart to get the light,” Lord Malachi warns Armaros and Michael. “Before you can move, I will destroy her.” He inches us backward toward the dais, and I stumble to stay upright. “If you leave now, I will only take her light. I’ll let her body resurface unharmed. You have my word.”
I feel a tug at my heart and my eyes shift to Michael. He wants to lift me up and away from Lord Malachi. The tugging pulls me forward against the blade and I grimace in pain. I raise my hand to him and the tugging stops.
Michael’s eyes are fixated on me, and for the first time I notice that one has turned completely brown. He is in the early stages of becoming a Grigori. Of becoming like Armaros.
“No,” Michael says. The terror in his expression melts away and he looks calm, resolute. In slow, measured steps he moves toward us despite Armaros ordering him to stop. “A bargain,” Michael says as, one by one, he tosses his weapons to the ground: two swords, a dagger from his hip, the broadsword from his back, and another dagger from his boot. Spreading his arms, he falls to his knees and looks up at me, his liquid eyes tender among the tears. “I offer my light and myself in trade for this woman, my wife. An angel, Born of Light, against a spirit walker. You have my word.”
Tears sting my eyes. I want to cry out. I’m desperate to stop him but the dagger keeps me from moving. Michael smiles softly, so full of love that I’m overwhelmed. His serene beauty cuts through me sharper than any blade. I feel the blood rushing to my face, my eyes spilling with tears.
“An angel willing to trade his life for a spirit walker?” Lord Malachi says in an incredulous tone. He is surprised and delighted by the counteroffer. A strange sort of purring noise emanates from his chest, and I try to imagine what he is thinking. He sees Michael’s eyes. He must know that Michael is turning into a Grigori. Capturing him will give them access to the upper realms, places that demons have never invaded before. I scramble for another option but Lord Malachi motions to his guards. “Very well, Michael. We have a bargain.”
The guards leave Dante to surround Michael. Once he is secured, I am shoved onto my hands and knees.
“No!” I get up and rush between Lord Malachi and Michael. “Please! Please! Take me! This is what you’ve wanted all this time! Take me! Take my light! Here!” I shove my right hand at Lord Malachi, exposing my wrist for an easy cut.
“Sophia!” Dante barks out. “You would sacrifice yourself for him?” He is enraged. Trembling and red faced as I have never seen before. His eyes glow yellow, split, and elongate.
Lord Giano orders his guards to take Dante into custody. He is the property of the third kingdom. Dante brandishes his dagger and the guards fall back, deathly afraid of it. Dante’s eyes swirl and hone in on his father.
The old man repeats the decree in a slow, measured tone, “You belong to me and the third kingdom.”
Dante turns to me and whispers, “Mi amore?” My mouth opens but nothing comes out. With a look of hopeless understanding, Dante’s eyes wash back to sea foam green. He is the handsome boy from my memories. The love of my past. He offers a tender smile, and then rotates the dagger and slams it into his own heart. I gasp. The crowd startles. The blowback of using the weapon on himself is unimaginable. Dante shatters into a billion pieces of dark energy. The burning embers explode into the air and then silently drift down like acid rain.
My hands fly to my mouth to smother his name. Eyes squeeze tight. It didn’t have to end that way! He didn’t have to do it!
Deep inside, I tell myself to believe the lies.
The silence continues for several long moments until Vaughn speaks, his voice thick with emotions. “His suffering has ended.”
I open my eyes and see that he is speaking to Lord Giano.
“There is nothing more you can do to him,” he says. “You’ve killed him all over again.”
Lord Giano has nothing to say, nothing but a look of contempt on his cruel, worthless face. Lord Malachi, however, laughs with unabashed delight. He turns to the dais and prompts the rest of the members to join him. They all have a good laugh. When he turns back around, I whirl my crystal dagger into his chest and retract it so quickly he hardly knows what has happened.
Lord Malachi sucks in a breath and clutches the hole in his robe. He looks down at the black blood seeping between his fingers. His eyes snap to mine. His face turns pale as the poison from my blade overpowers his dark energy. His jaw comes unhinged. His mouth drops open. His cheeks cave in and his eyes withdraw into their sockets. The other members rush about, yelling orders to the guards. Mass confusion erupts and we are attacked from all sides. Michael dives for his weapons. Armaros wields his swords. He hurls guards and damned into the air. I race to Lord Malachi as he falls to his knees. His blade is still clutched in his hand, and I steer it around and slam it into his own heart. I wheel away as his body explodes with fiery shrapnel. Then I whip out my crossbow pistols and fire a constant stream of blue arrows that ignite everything they hit.
Across the dance floor, Rama ducks out with Bailey while I provide ample cover. No one
is after him and he should make it safely to the surface. Despite our spiritual weapons, there are too many demons. Each one that we cut down seems to bring more. They are pouring in from the tunnels. Michael is yanking out spines. Armaros is freezing packs of demons in a large swath. When a demon knocks my crossbow away, I act on instinct and raise my Chelsea Light, blasting him into oblivion. It startles me because I’ve never used it as a weapon before. Never even knew it was possible. But my excess energy seems made for it. It comes as naturally as breathing.
Swinging around, I aim my light at the vaulted ceiling. I narrow all my energy into a single point. Once again, there is no undercurrent of love and peace within it; the energy is wired for destruction. The Chelsea Light breaks like a geyser, shooting a fiery blue beam into the air. It cracks the barrel vaults and topples the stone pillars. The ceiling of the grand grotto collapses in a loud, sweeping boom. The walls tumble down in full-scale destruction. The damned burst into flames. They cry and wail but all I hear is the familiar sound of devilish laughter.
Chapter 26
Prophecy of the Soulkeepers
FIVE MONTHS LATER
The mist is soft around us as we stroll to the secret place where we come to look down on Haven Hurst. Michael and I move in quiet whispers, hand in hand, hoping to keep our privacy a little longer. We know the others are waiting but I want one more peek.
It’s the first of May and I smile down at the town square, already swamped with activity for the May Day celebration. The shops have been transformed with temporary facades of wattle and daub and black beams. They vary in eye-popping colors of blue, yellow, red, white, and green, reinventing our quaint little town into a picturesque Germanic village somewhere along the Rhine. Flower boxes underscore every window and bulge with brilliant tulips, daffodils, rhododendrons, azaleas, hyacinths, and primrose. Glorious white pear trees brighten up the park, alongside magnolias with vibrant shades of pink.