by Ryals, R. K.
Lyre's gaze finds me as she advances on the table. She is dressed to impress, her midsection bare.
"Well, if it isn't our magnificent savior returned from his travels," she says icily, dipping forward, her hand fluttering as she bows. Obsidian eyes drill into mine as she straightens. I don't reply.
"He couldn't resist your sparkling personality," Bruno answers her sweetly as he approaches, throwing a fleeting look at us gargoyles before moving to face the new people in our midst. Bruno's gaze is intense, wary, but his expression remains impassive.
"Sparkling my ass," Fiona Windgate murmurs as she steps up behind Bruno, her eyes shooting daggers at Lyre's back. She sweeps long, blonde hair behind her shoulder, her blue eyes wide. It's an innocent look she's perfected, but looks can be deceiving and underestimating Fiona is a mistake no one repeats twice. She is the daughter of the she-Demon Ephippas, and she can do a lot of damage with fire and electricity.
"Mmmmmm . . ." a freckled redhead croons suggestively, her lowered lashes sweeping her cheeks as she glides through the door followed closely by her freakishly identical twin sister.
Hesther and Gwenyth's entrance takes the attention off of Lyre and redirects it to the Craig brothers as the sisters' unabashed stares hone in on the dark Demons. Together, they emit a low, admiring whistle. Luther winks, but Marcas remains still, his arm going around Dayton's shoulders.
The freckled twins giggle, dramatically snatching Luther's invisible kiss from thin air before pretending to lock it into their hearts.
"Drool on your own time," Gray Harris complains as he saunters past, his gaze full of disgust.
The twins simultaneously roll their eyes, but Gray doesn't notice as he moves to a chair at the table and sits down heavily. No standing for Gray. His regard for authority is sorely lacking. He trusts no one, and this is apparent in the way he slouches before pulling a worn, grey hood up over his shaggy brown hair.
"And then there was one . . ." Will whispers near my ear.
"Two," I correct.
The doorway darkens, and I stand taller, my eyes on the silent figure within its frame. Emma Chase. Her head is down when she enters the room, the wary imp, Deidra, clinging, as always, to the back of Emma's jeans. Emma's dark hair looks damp, and she is dressed simply in a royal blue tank top over a pair of dark jeans. At 5'10, she towers over the rest of the females present, but she is so quiet no one notices. Bruises mar her arms from her fight with Bruno earlier in the training field, and she hides them behind her back.
My chest tightens. I had hoped two months away would lessen the pull between us, but it hasn't. I'm bombarded with thoughts instead: a scared girl, an ocean journey, late night conversations, her strength, her ridiculous drex, a kiss that never should have happened . . . .
"Emma," Will greets, his voice low as she moves behind the rest of the group.
Emma doesn't look up, and her presence at my back is disconcerting. Alessandro clears his throat.
"I'm assuming you're curious as to why you have been summoned here," he says, his eyes sweeping the hybrids. There is no response, but Alessandro doesn't expect one, and he gestures at Marcas. "This is Marcas Craig. He is the new Demon ruler in the Outer levels of Hell. He is also a hybrid. Recently, he fought a campaign against Lucifer in which he secured a kingdom for half-Demons in Hell. As hybrids, this makes him your king."
It's obvious by the way he steps back Alessandro is giving Marcas the floor, and the Demon leans forward, his dark blue eyes reddening. He makes a strong, intimidating leader, and looks each hybrid opposite him in the eye. All but Emma. She is still looking at the floor. I wonder at her unease.
"I am here because I need your help," Marcas begins. Marcas is blunt, and it's effective. The hybrids grow tense, their eyes locked on the Demon.
"What kind of help?" Bruno asks, using his large frame to muscle his way in front of Lyre. It's a smart move. No one wants to give Lyre the opportunity to speak first.
Marcas' gaze moves to Bruno, and I see the corners of his lips twitch. The dynamic between the hybrids have changed while I was away. They've gone from being solitary creatures to becoming a group, and it seems Bruno is the unspoken leader. Marcas recognizes this.
"Recently, a war was fought in Hell, a war for an Outer Level kingdom won by hybrids. I am their king, but the kingdom is primarily ruled by the people. The hybrids have been given a voice, and a home. I'm well aware of the difficulties hybrid Demons have faced both in Hell and out of it. Hybrids are dying at the hands of their Demonic parents as well as by the people sworn to protect them."
Marcas' words are cutting, a direct insult to Demons and gargoyles alike. Will, Marion, and Grace stiffen, but I don't move. Our races have both made mistakes.
Marcas gestures at the hybrids. "Our kingdom in the Outer Levels is a new one, and realistically, it is doomed to fail . . ."
"And this is supposed to mean something to us? Until today, we didn't know we had a king and we're supposed to care about your kingdom?" a voice breaks in, and I'm surprised to see it's Gray. He's sitting forward now, his hood back, his fingers steeped on the table in front of him.
Marcas doesn't look at him. His eyes remain on Bruno's, but I notice the small tick in Marcas' jaw, and I know Gray's interruption has annoyed him.
"I'll give you that, Hybrid. Until recently, I didn't know of your existence either. I am the son of the she-Demon, Lilith, and as much as I despise the woman, her power still runs through my veins. Each of you is the product of an equally powerful Demon. You're hybrid blood is different, more potent than the average hybrid."
Bruno glances quickly at Gray.
"And this is supposed to mean something to us?" Bruno asks, repeating Gray's previous inquiry.
Marcas doesn't move, his gaze unwavering.
"Only if you want it to. Your parentage affords you a certain responsibility to your own kind. The Outer Levels of Hell are now a hybrid sanctuary, a kingdom full of half-Demon men, women, and children. If it fails, we all die."
His words trail off dramatically, leaving behind a silence filled with thoughts. The Acropolis' hybrids know about survival. While Marcas was starting a riot in Hell and marching on Lucifer, they were escaping the Acropolis and settling into their new home in Italy. They don't care about Marcas' politics. They do, however, care about their race and it's longevity.
"Why would your kingdom fail?" a quiet voice asks, the sound breaking the silence, and I feel tempted to shudder. Emma's voice is soft. Hearing it is like having a feather brushed across the skin.
Marcas finally looks away from Bruno, but he avoids Emma's face. She seems nervous and unsure, and her gaze moves skittishly around the room.
"Our kingdom," Marcas says firmly, "only inhabits one layer of Hell, and even though our numbers are strong, we are still weak compared to Lucifer and his followers. We can only endure so many battles before we will be overtaken."
Lyre laughs, and Marcas' eyes go black.
"You have so little confidence in yourself?" she asks.
Marcas' abrupt smile is menacing, his hands settling firmly on the table before him, his sharp gaze on Lyre.
"Confidence in myself is beside the point, Hybrid. It's plain logic. You have a nation of half-Demons inhabiting the corner of a region in Hell twice as small as the rest of the Underworld with a hybrid population outnumbered two to one by full-blooded Demons."
An arm brushes mine, and I look down to discover Emma has moved up to the table. Her hands are shaking, and she clasps them together tightly in front of her. I'm not sure if it's fear making her shiver or if it's the tension in the room. Something is different about her, but I can't place it. I want to speak with her, but this isn't the time or the place.
"Then why did you do it?" she asks, her eyes on Marcas. His head swings in her direction, and she takes a deep breath. "The kingdom, I mean. Why did you fight for it if you knew it would fail?"
Marcas pins her with his gaze.
"For freedom."
"Failure isn't freedom," Bruno points out.
The other hybrids shift subtly, and it's obvious they agree. Bruno isn't questioning Marcas' rule, he's questioning its stability.
Marcas pushes away from the table, his gaze sweeping the faces opposite him. The gargoyles say nothing. We know exactly what Marcas intends to do, and there is no real reason to stop him. The choice belongs to the hybrids.
"Avoiding failure is where you come in," Marcas says. The room stills. "You, more than anyone, are aware of the hybrid animosity in Hell. It's why you were sent to the Acropolis. For protection"
Fiona snorts."Protection?"
Grace reaches out and places a hand on her arm.
"It was for protection, Fi. But the gargoyles weren't prepared to care for creatures we were bred to hate, to destroy. A lot of our families were killed by Demons. Most of them brutally. Guarding the children of Demons was asking a lot from us," Grace points out.
Fiona doesn't look at her. Even knowing it was hard for us to shelter them, the hybrids can't forgive the hatred, the prejudice they were forced to endure. Even under the pretense of protection.
Marcas moves around the table, his long, confident stride bringing him behind the students. There he paces, slowly and deliberately. The tension in the room rises, and I lose my "avoid touching Emma" fight, placing a hand on her shoulder as her fists begin to shake so violently even clasping them does not help. She doesn't seem to feel me. There is definitely something off about her.
"The point is, you were sent away from Hell," Marcas says.
His pacing slows. His movements are distracting, his stance tall and commanding.
"You were sent away because of your parents. Or more accurately, your Demonic parent. Each one of you is the product of a very powerful Demon. Not a simple demon. A powerful one. Because of that, you were spared. In the end, your powers will matter."
"And that's why you n-need us?" Emma asks.
Her stutter is obvious, and I hear Lyre chuckle from where she stands near Bruno and Will. My hand tightens on Emma's shoulder. She still doesn't acknowledge me. Her muscles are taut, strained.
Marcas pauses behind Emma, maintaining enough distance to keep her from panicking. I haven't seen her this anxious since extracting her from the hospital in Atlanta.
"Yes, that's why we need you," Marcas says simply.
Lyre breaks away from Bruno, her displeasure obvious as she moves toward Marcas.
"We don't owe Hell or you anything."
Her disrespectful tone is grating, but Marcas doesn't flinch. Dayton, however, has had enough. The fact that she has remained quiet for as long as she has impresses me. It must be Marcas' influence.
"Look, you've got a lot of nerve, and I respect that, but listening to us costs you nothing. Marcas Craig isn't just a hybrid, he's your champion. He's shed blood for your cause, for that absolutely appalling bad attitude you seem to have," Dayton growls.
Lyre spins to face the redhead, her eyes black as midnight. "And who are you to talk? What have you got to do with us?"
Dayton doesn't even blink. She smiles instead, the corners of her lips lifting dangerously.
"I am Dayton Blainey, daughter of the Angel, Bezaliel, the only known Naphil to currently walk the face of the earth. And, girl, my attitude is almost as bad as yours."
Luther laughs."That's no lie."
Dayton throws him a disgruntled look before turning back to Lyre. "Let's make this simple. We need the Spear of Destiny. It's the only way to keep Lucifer out of the Outer Levels of Hell, and we need you to go and get it."
Dayton is forthright, her tone candid. If her revelation about being the only half-Angel is startling, it is overridden by her request. The hybrids all go rigid, their silence deafening. Emma is the exception, and it is only because she is shaking almost uncontrollably now. I attempt to pull her to me, but she shakes her head hard.
"Emma . . ."
"N-n-no," she says firmly.
I drop my hand just as Fiona laughs, the sound hysterical.
"The Spear of Destiny?" she asks.
One of the Garner twins moves closer to the table."You're talking about the spear used by Longinus to pierce Jesus in the side while he was on the cross, right?" Hesther or Gwenyth asks. It really is hard to tell them apart.
Luther looks across the table at Marcas. Their eyes lock and Marcas nods.
"Yes," Luther answers.
Gray pushes away from the table, one hand still resting on the wood as he stands.
"The spear is a myth," he says.
Luther's eyes redden.
"You're a fool if you think so, Hybrid."
Luther isn't good at being disregarded. His patience is much thinner than Marcas', and his temper is notorious. Alessandro moves between Luther and the table, his hand held up.
"I think what Luther is trying to say is that the spear is very real and very powerful."
"Oh, la mia!" Maria Mancini mutters, her eyes rolling as she steps up next to Alessandro. The look she gives Gray and Luther is best described as withering. The old woman is cloaked in a long, billowy house dress, her grey-peppered, black hair in a bun at the back of her head. She plays absent-mindedly with a rosary around her neck.
"Ah, Demoni, I realize you do not know me well. I am a Seer with the ability to see past the seeming a Demon or Angel projects. It allows me to tell the difference between Angels, Demons, and mortals. Seers are also important guardians of Biblical artifacts. I have guarded many in my lifetime, no? I know many things about the object you seek."
Her Italian accent is deep, but she does not falter, her eyes on the hybrids. Maria is a strong woman, mother to the head of the S.O.S, and her wisdom is undeniable.
"The spear does exist, and it gives the wielder the power to bend the destiny of the world to his will. It also has the power to destroy Demons. It's origins alone will protect the new kingdom Marcas rules. Its tip was once smeared with the blood of Jesus. Satan cannot touch it," Maria explains.
Most hybrids are aware of the legends, of the stories associated with the spear. The spear, like any artifact that affects Demons, is something they are bred to know. The Holy Lance has a long history. Used first to pierce Jesus' side on the cross, it found its way into many hands, was held by many great and not so great leaders. Hitler's hands among them. It is the reason why Hitler, with his Nazi regime, was able to do as much damage as he did in his lifetime. It was after General Patton removed the artifact that Hitler committed suicide, for as powerful as the spear is, it has one critical hang up. If a leader loses the spear, he will die not long after.
Bruno shakes his head."And you want us to steal this for you?" Bruno asks, spinning so that his eyes are on Marcas.
Marcas meets his gaze calmly."Yes, I do. With the spear, the Outer Levels of Hell will be secure, protected against Lucifer."
Even without the ability to sense emotion, I can feel the doubt in the room. Bruno gestures at the hybrids before pointing at Marcas.
"And you expect us to trust you? You're not talking about a rag doll or a Transformer toy here. You're not even talking about stealing some expensive piece of shit out of the British Museum or destroying the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. You're talking about the fucking Spear of Destiny," Bruno argues.
This is where I come in.
"I trust them," I say, my voice loud and commanding. The hybrids turn to me, and I keep my expression even. "I left here to help rescue Dayton and fight alongside Marcas and Luther against Lucifer. Trust me, if they wanted to start a war on Earth or attempt anything heinous, they could have done it already. They don't need the spear for that. The spear is strong, yes. But Dayton and Marcas are strong too. Together they are strong. They are bound by blood. Being loya
l to them would be a smart move. Their kingdom could become your haven."
Lyre laughs, her dark eyes glued to mine.
"You want us to pledge our loyalty to them? To liars! And you, you're good at telling stories, aren't you, Reinhardt? You really expect us to believe a half-breed Angel and Demon are bound by blood. An Angel can't be bound to a Demon."
Dayton grins."Yeah, well, that theory got blown to hell," Dayton says as she leans over and pulls a small dagger out of the knee high boots she's wearing.
She unsheathes the blade, holding the knife up dramatically, letting the light from the chandelier glint along the steel before quickly slicing a shallow wound across her wrist. Luther hisses, and I know he's affected by the cut. Luther and Marcas are Cain's children. They are half-Demons cursed to crave human blood.
"Jesus!" Marion gasps, moving forward urgently, her eyes on Dayton's wound.
I stop her. "Look."
My eyes are on Marcas, my hand gesturing at his forearm. There, across his wrist, is a thin line of blood just beginning to drip down his tanned flesh. The wound is identical to Dayton's.
Gray knocks his chair over as he backs into the table, Deidra squeals as she pulls on Emma's tank top, and Bruno, Fiona, Lyre, and the twins gape as Emma's teeth chatter audibly.
"Impossible," Lyre whispers, but she doesn't sound quite as sure as she had before.
There is fear in the room now. Even the gargoyles, who'd been made aware of the bond's consequences beforehand, falter when faced with it.
"What exactly do you want us to do?" Bruno asks breathlessly.
His tone is laced with awe, acceptance. Even if the hybrids are still wary, the demonstration has made them open to negotiation. Marcas doesn't cover the wound. It is already beginning to heal, and he knows the effect the blood has on his hybrid audience. They don't crave it, but they are fascinated by it.
"To begin with, I want one of you to lead the rest on a mission to recover the spear."
Marcas does not mince words, and Bruno's gaze moves from Marcas' wound to his face.