Angel of Darkness Books 6-10

by Mackenzie Morris

  Dusty gently stroked Jaycob's wet hair with his claws. "But there's a problem with that, Jaycob. If I leave, I won't have you."

  A deep harsh voice spoke behind them. "Neither of you is going anywhere."

  Jaycob and Dusty both looked up to see the slaver standing over them with a shortsword pointed at them threateningly. Before they could move, the blade flashed in the sunlight as it sped through the air.

  "Watch out!" Dusty shouted as he grabbed the blade with his hands in an attempt to stop it. Purple demon blood splattered onto the grass. "Run, Jaycob. Get out of here. I'll take care of this one."

  Jaycob scrambled to his feet then gasped as he watched the slaver push the blade of the sword into Dusty's stomach. The blade entered him three more times before Dusty let out a pained gurgling sound and lashed out at the slaver. To Jaycob's astonishment, the demon pried the sword from his torso and turned it on the slaver. With one quick thrust, the slaver fell to the ground and was motionless.

  Dusty reached out to Jaycob as he collapsed.

  "No! Dusty!" Jaycob ran to the demon then placed his fingers on his neck to check for a pulse. It was light and fluttering, but he had no way of stopping the surging flow of blood out of the wounds. "Dusty . . . hold on. I have an idea."

  Jaycob ran faster than he had ever ran in his life up the small hill then to his shack across the dirt path. He didn't have much time, but he had to try whatever he could to save his friend. After kicking the door open, he dove at his work desk and yanked the drawers out. The crumpled papers, paintbrushes, and paint pots spilled out over the floor. He searched frantically through the messy piles of assorted wax and stone carvings until he found what he was looking for. An eight-inch-tall brown clay humanoid shape. It was crude and still being worked on, but it would have to do.

  He rushed out of the shack then slid down the embankment to where his friend was lying in a growing pool of purple blood. Jaycob knelt down beside him as took a jagged rock and sliced through the palm of his hand, just like he had done when he summoned Dusty so many years earlier. "Dusty, I'm going to mix our blood then draw a Ka'taylin demon binding rune on this golem. If you are still alive and can hear me, allow yourself to die so your soul can enter the doll. Please. You swore on our contract that you wouldn't leave me until you took my soul. I know it's scary, but you're gonna have to trust me. Trust me, please. You can't leave me now!" Jaycob mixed his blood with the demon's then used it to draw the rune on the back of the clay figure with a trembling finger. "Now, Dusty!"

  What seemed like an eternity passed as the clay figure remained motionless in Jaycob's hands. Dusty had stopped breathing altogether. Jaycob gave up hope. It was only a prototype, after all. He started to cry, but stopped once he felt movement. His eyes grew wide as the golem stood up on its own then began taking small unsteady steps in the grass. "Dusty? Is that you?"

  The golem turned to face him, it's clay engraved eyes replaced with orange demon ones. The golem bowed then patted Jaycob's knee comfortingly.

  "It worked? Dusty, say something."

  The golem shook its head slowly.

  "Oh, but you can hear me, right? This is wonderful!" Jaycob picked Dusty up and kissed him. "I will work out the details and refine this later, but right now, I am just so overjoyed that it finally worked. Now you can be with me forever. Never leave me, Dusty. Never."

  The golem reached out to wipe away Jaycob's tears with his small clay hand.

  Chapter 2

  The Vilyron military camp was alive with troops running through combat drills, workers carting supplies to the blacksmith's forge, and wild horses being broken in a corral on the far side of the tents. Jaycob, still dressed in his puffy pink silk shirt and yellow checkered skirt as always, sat next to the fire in camp and used the toe of his leather boot to scrape up another layer of the soft red clay that had become unearthed during the torrential rainstorms. He picked the glob off of his boot then smeared it onto the back of the golem that was sitting next to him. "Dusty, how does that feel? I hope these cracks go away. I don't know what I'll do if you fall apart on me. This weather definitely isn't helping you out, bud. I fear some water got into your body and expanded once it froze last night. I'll do what I can to patch you up, but you've already lived quite a long time for a crude clay doll."

  Dusty stood up and patted Jaycob's knee comfortingly with his clay hand.

  "I'm just worried about you. I honestly don't know if transferring you to a new golem body will work. I'm so scared to make any alterations for the fear that you won't wake back up. That's why I still haven't carved you a mouth." Jaycob looked up at the nearby pale yellow tent as people began loudly arguing.

  Oviel tied his long white hair back behind his shoulders as he led the two guards who forcefully pushed the tall blond seraph out of the tent. "Jeremiah, calm down. Just stop. You'll kill the kid."

  "Good!" Jeremiah shouted, wiping bright red blood off of his face. "I'll kill his angel too!"

  "You can't do that and you know it."

  "Unhand me!" Jeremiah pulled away from them then fixed his long grey canvas coat. "You'd better be glad I have other work to attend to, or he'd be dead."

  "Go on. I'll have an impartial party talk to him. There have to be easier ways of interrogating him than torture. He's already severely injured."

  "I still don't know why the healers patched him up. I'll rip out those stitches myself and laugh as he bleeds out."

  Oviel pointed towards the command tent. "Go. This isn't your problem anymore. I already said I'll take care of it."

  "You'd better. I don't have time for this nonsense. Eternal Eclipse is marching this way as we speak and my forces are greatly outnumbered."

  Oviel shook his head then spotted Jaycob sitting by the fire. "Jaycob, get over here. I want you to speak with Jaylen and find out what he knows and if he poses a risk."

  "If? If he poses a risk?"

  "Yes. If. Jaylen is only a threat if his mind is so far gone that he cannot control Finalis's abilities. I don't want to be forced to kill him, but if there's no hope of pulling him out of it, we cannot risk him falling back into Carvael's hands. For now, Carvael believes that he and Zeriel are both dead. We need to keep it that way."

  Jaycob picked Dusty up and set him on his shoulder where he always rode. "And what of Zeriel?"

  "I will take care of the Zeriel situation personally. There is some explaining and apologizing that must be done on my part."

  "And that is?"

  "Everyone will know after I tell Zeriel. He deserves to know first."

  "I don't quite understand. What explaining?" Jaycob asked.

  "If Zeriel was simply a common fallen angel, he would have most certainly died and not been brought back to life back there in the mass grave due to the burns covering his body and from the trauma he inflicted on himself in order to save Jaylen. It is my belief that Zeriel could have survived the ordeal if he had not ripped his feathers out in order to patch up Jaylen's wounds."

  "You're saying that Zeriel died?"

  Oviel sighed. "Yes. Zeriel died, but he was brought back to life in his true form for sacrificing himself to save Jaylen."

  Jaycob watched as the elderly angel flew the short distance to the other tent. He would never be able to understand angels. Dusty pointed towards the tent. "You're right, Dusty. I'd better get in there. Brace yourself. There's no telling what condition he's going to be in. You heard what his injuries were when Brinx and her spies found him." He pushed his way into the tent then stopped as he covered his mouth.

  Jaylen was secured by leather straps to two intersecting metal poles that had been dug into the hard-packed dirt. His clothes had been stripped from him to reveal the deep cut in his stomach just below his ribs that was closed with hundreds of stitches and gauze-soaked bandages. Bruises, cuts, and bright red pinpricks covered his legs, groin, and arms that were stretched above his head. A wad of fabric was stuffed into his mouth and secured around the back of his head to keep him from spe
aking or screaming. His head was bowed and his eyes were closed, but snot and tears streaked down his face and onto his chest. If Jaycob didn't know better, he would have believed the boy to be dead.

  Jaycob walked up to Jaylen then untied the gag and tossed it away.

  Jaylen opened his mouth then whimpered as his broken jaw popped, the two halves of the bone cracking against each other. More tears slipped down his reddened cheeks, both from the initial surge of pain and the dull ache from not having any pain medicine for the injury in days. His labored breathing returned in a hoarse rasping.

  "Jaylen, are you okay?"

  The boy didn't respond.

  Jaycob set the golem on one of the poles. "Dusty, undo these straps while I look around and find a way to help him. I don't care what he's done. He doesn't deserve to be tortured like this. Jaylen, what did you do to piss Jeremiah off?"

  Jaylen simply hung limply from the poles, his legs had given out long ago.

  Jaycob spotted something coiled on the table nearby then picked it up. It was a long whip of a single leather strap that was embedded with thousands of needles of various lengths and thicknesses, all stained with dried blood. "I know what this is. It's a Ka'taylin needle whip. It's very difficult to use correctly, but in the hands of a trained professional, it can be one of the most painful weapons on the planet while not doing enough damage to kill its victim. Did he use this on you?"

  Jaylen slowly nodded his head while staring down at the hard dirt floor. He appeared to not be fully in his right mind, as if he was partially in a dream. Jeremiah had seen that same expression on the faces of punished slaves during his time of enslavement. Those slaves were the ones who broke and were never the same afterwards. He felt pity for them and tried to help whenever he could, but he carried the fear of being the next one to harbor that glassy-eyed look of distance and disconnection. He had taken whippings and beatings, but it was never to the point of breaking him. Jaycob had sworn to himself that he would not let himself fall away that far. Seeing Jaylen so broken was heart-wrenching.

  Dusty unbuckled the final strap around Jaylen's wrists then jumped across the room to land on Jaycob's shoulder.

  Jaylen grabbed his head then stumbled backwards until he fell to his knees on the floor of the tent. That is where he curled up in a ball and rested his face on the dirt. He held his arms around his bare chest as he whispered something over and over under his breath.

  Jaycob found a thin sheet in the corner where Jaylen's bed used to be. He draped it over the injured boy then knelt down beside him to better hear what he was trying to say. "Jaylen, what is it? What do you need?"

  "Zeriel. Zeriel. Zeriel."

  * * *

  Oviel quietly entered the tent where Zeriel was being kept under constant supervision by an entire squad of guards and five of Jeremiah's angels. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed them then approached the white-winged angel who was sitting at the desk with his back to the entrance. Before he could speak, Zeriel held up his hand to stop him.

  "Oviel . . . why have you lied to me for so long? I trusted you, but you kept everything about me a secret. I don't know who I am or what I'm here for. How could you do that to me?" Zeriel turned around to look at him. All of his scars had vanished, leaving only smooth pale skin behind. "You have to tell me now. Tell me everything. What am I?"

  "First, we should establish some facts that have been twisted in your mind for too long. Carvael is not your father. There is no way for that to be true, seeing as how Sola has been locked away in the cage for longer than you've been alive in this form."

  "In this form?" Zeriel asked. "What form is that?"

  "This body of yours. You are much older than you believe yourself to be, Zeriel. Let me put this as simply as I can. You have been technically in existence since the beginning of everything. You and Sola are two parts of a greater being."

  "Stop there. You're saying I'm half of Sola?"

  "No. Sola is our beloved goddess and you are her son, her defender, her Prince of Heaven. That is a title, Zeriel. You were the very first angel created by Sola's hands. You were meant to be the second in command over Heaven and Aldexa. You were to train and raise her angelic army to be the defenders of humans. That is why you are able to sympathize with humans so well."

  "So I'm just an angel?"

  "No. You are an angel scion. You are, for lack of a better term, a god."

  Zeriel scoffed then ran his fingers through his spiky black hair. "You've got to be joking."

  "I am not joking. Please listen and take this seriously. It is very important. Your old body died and you took on the form you felt most comfortable with. With the surge of your magic and holiness coming back to you after you sacrificed yourself to save Jaylen, it manifested itself to bring you out of your stasis. That is why you are alive right now."

  "What is my true form?"

  "Your true form is whatever you will it to be, as long as you are an angel. All angels can control how old they look, but you can control every aspect of your being."

  Zeriel stood up then found his long black wool coat with the ruby buttons and pulled it on over his black tunic and pants. "So all my life has been a lie?"

  "No. You've lived just as you remember it."

  "Then what about before I was a cherub?"

  "Once Stephan fell down to Hell along with the rest of the Nephilim who betrayed and harmed Sola, I knew we had to protect you. So, we removed your soul and stored it inside one of the crystals in the vaults in Heaven where it would be protected at all hours by hundreds of angels dedicated just to being your defenders. We could not allow you to fall into enemy hands. We even changed the scriptures and made false copies to deliver to Aldexa in order to conceal the fact that you ever even existed."

  Zeriel turned to the mirror on top of the wooden dresser where he opened a jar of clear paste and proceeded to rake it through his hair to make it spiked even more. "So you were the one who altered the scriptures and the minds of all the angels."

  "Yes. I did it to protect you. Even Stephan does not fully know the truth. He was still a very real threat to you until he got busy with his own issues down in Hell and in The Veil. That was when we decided it was safe to let you be released from the crystal. That is when you first took this form."

  "And Carvael?"

  Oviel smiled as he watched Zeriel fluffing his new white feathers. "He has no idea either. At this point in time, Carvael believes you and Jaylen are both dead."

  "So what can I do? Do I have powers?"

  "Oh, you'd better believe you have powers, my friend. But those will be yours to discover in the upcoming battles. That is, if you will still be on our side."

  Zeriel stretched out his wings and took a deep breath. "Well, I'm not going back to Eternal Eclipse, if that's what you're asking."

  "That is comforting to hear."

  "I have a question, though. Why did I break out of whatever kept me from being myself at full power?"

  "Making you appear to be just another common Holy Angel was another part of the plan to keep your true identity a secret until the correct time." Oviel said. "Sola kept a very small portion of your soul with her and merged with it to keep your powers safe until she believed you were ready to use them. Sacrificing yourself for Jaylen must have been enough to prove to her that you were ready. Without it returning to you, you would not be here right now."

  "I see. Oviel, there's something else."

  "Ask away. I have all your answers."

  Zeriel averted his white eyes from him. "Carvael told me and Jaylen a story about you sending him to the demons for a night when he was a cherub. Is that true? Did you give him over to be tortured?"

  "Ah, that. Yes, I did. But before you call me a bad father, know why I did it. I bet Carvael did not tell you the part where he was found acting inappropriately with three very young female cherubs in the nursery or that he had stolen from the temple and blamed a guard who was in turn unjustly executed."

  "Rea
lly?" Zeriel asked, appearing shocked and disturbed at the same time.

  "And Carvael attended the execution and watched as the angel he falsely accused was tortured and had his soul ripped apart. Still, Carvael said nothing. Once I found out, I did what I had to do in accordance with Heaven's laws. It was a long drawn-out case in front of the entire Angelic Court to decide how to punish him. Besides, the demons were trusted ones and friends of the court. Sure, they roughed Carvael up a bit and mocked him, but they never even drew blood."

  "That's not what he said."

  "Carvael is a liar and he has always been a liar."

  "Was he lying about you harming Liam as well?" Zeriel asked.

  "What did he say about Liam?"

  "The same thing many of us have accused you of doing."

  "Ever since Carvael was old enough to understand that I was attracted to men, he has resented me for it. He will do anything he can to make it into something it's not. I swear on my wings that I have never harmed Liam or done anything inappropriate with him. I love Liam like a son and I would die to protect him. I mean that."

  Zeriel poured himself a cup of lavender tea then stared at the steam billowing up from the small black cup. "So as this angel scion, do I get any special privileges? Do I get to make any laws?"

  "I suppose. You officially outrank even Jeremiah now. The only force you answer to is Sola herself."

  "Right. Then I demand to see Jaylen."

  Oviel stepped in front of the tent flap to block him from leaving. "I don't think that's such a great idea. You see . . . Jeremiah has been . . . interrogating him. Jaylen has been declared a traitor and an enemy of Vilyron, remember? That's what happens to people who join the enemy during wartime."

  Zeriel slammed his teacup down on the table so hard that it shattered, spilling hot tea over the legs of the table and splattering on the floor. "I said I demand to see Jaylen. You cannot keep me from him."