“Nesayiel, go prepare for battle.” Gabriel’s voice quiets my mind instantly.
Darn Mediators.
“Mikayel, you have a war to prepare for. We will deal with her concerns later.”
He lied. Mikayel lied to me.
And Azzaziel—he told the truth.
My mind can’t reconcile my thoughts. I walk to my room, confused.
Enraged.
There is nothing glamorous about war, or its preparations. Not donning the heavy uniform, dark leather that stands out against the golden hues of my pale skin. Nor mentally preparing for death.
It’s been more than four centuries since the last conflict with Azzaziel. He and a small army tried to invade Celestium that time. The war lasted three minutes. And the Dark One ran, defeated.
This time would be different.
This time he had an army of thousands.
The time he had an equal. Aydan.
I grab the whetstone and sharpen my sword and dagger. Each stroke caresses my anger, fueling it. Mikayel’s conversations rise to the surface of my thoughts. I felt his torment, his guilt, his shame. The old stories were true. Azzaziel’s stories were true.
Mikayel knew about love and the choices I face. He knew who Aydan was, knew about my love. He knew everything.
And he refused to help me.
“I brought the new armor," Mikayel says as he appears at my door, his eyes sad. “Let me help you put it on.”
The golden breastplate matches my skin. Mikayel’s sword, the symbol of the Sentinals, adorns the front.
Mikayel helps me fasten the armor around my body. “We should talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Nesayiel—”
“No. You lied to me.” There is so much anger in my words, anger I have no intention of controlling. “You told me I was the problem, that my feelings for Aydan were the problem. You made me feel ashamed. And all the while, you knew exactly what I was battling inside.”
“What did Azzaziel tell you?”
“He said you fell in love with an angel. A Guardian. You betrayed your orders to end the relationship. He said you put everyone at risk.”
Mikayel’s shame is palpable. His emotions—anger and guilt—pass through his expressions until he becomes stoic.
“So it’s true, then? Everything Azzaziel told me was true?”
Deny it. Deny it. Deny it.
“Yes, it’s true.”
Disappointment washes through me. Azza, the Dark One, the embodiment of evil—he’s the honest one? Mikayel, everything I aspire to be…
I can’t finish the thought, can’t conceive of a world where my mentor lies. Everything I thought I knew rains down as my illusions are shattered.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why were you so...hard on me?” I can’t stop the pain seeping into my words as my body shutters.
He stares at me, the same hard expression on his face. “To keep you from making the same mistakes.”
“What mistakes, Mikayel? Loving him?”
Tell me the truth, Mikayel. Tell me.
“No!” He yells. His voice betrays the anguish he tries to hide. “Risking lives to satisfy that love. I’m certain Azza didn’t tell you the whole story.”
“He told me enough.”
“Did he tell you what her death did to me? What my choices condemned me to? I live with the burden of her death. Her torture. Me. Azza may have committed the crimes, but it was my fault. And now we are locked in an endless war because of my own selfishness.” Mikayel’s wings ruffle as he opens and shuts his fists, his body stiff. “I did not want you, my best Sentinal, to repeat my mistakes.” Mikayel whispers. “I couldn’t let you live my life of shame. I care too much to let that happen to you.” His face softens. “You remind me too much of her.”
“There were other options, Mikayel. Aydan still has good in him. I can feel it. You could have shown mercy. Offered redemption. Gabriel would have agreed if you asked.” I don’t care about Mikayel’s excuses. I stand, stoic and stiff. Exactly like my master.
“Things are seldom as easy as you make them out to be.”
“You stole the only hope I had. The only hope he had. And we will all pay the price for it now. He has turned to Azza. He will become like Azza. Everything that was good will be—”
“I know.” Mikayel looks broken—as broken as I feel.
“And you did nothing to stop it. You, the only other Sentinal to understand love, chose to turn your back on him. On me.” I turn away, unwilling to see the pain my words inflict. “Did you know about our past?”
Say no. Say no. Say no.
“I suspected after you failed at the club that first night.”
My world spins to a halt as his words stab at my heart. “You should have helped me then.” My voice cracks as my wings twitch nervously behind me. So much betrayal. So much pain. “You should have warned me,” I whisper as my legs buckle. “Prepared me for this.”
“The Council believed—”
“What? All of you knew? The whole Council?”
Mikayel sucks in a deep breath and hides behind his warrior façade. “None of that matters at this point.”
It matters to me. Anger and pain weld together as the walls to my chamber close in around me. I pace, desperate to escape the feelings that threaten to undo me. I grab my sword, allowing its weight to focus my thoughts. I swing it once, twice, three times. The movement centers my mind.
“Azza must be stopped,” Mikayel says as I swing the sword once again. “Before Aydan can join his ranks.”
“At least we agree on that.” I thrust the air in front of me.
“I want you to fight at my side, Nesayiel. But, I need to know you will do what I ask of you. No matter what I order.”
I stop and stow my weapon. “I have never disobeyed you on the battlefield.”
“You have never faced off with your lover, either.”
His words flatten me. “You already condemned him to death the minute you refused my request for redemption. He means nothing to me now.” A lie, I know, but one I have to believe in if I’m to do what I must.
“Promise me, Nesayiel. You must follow every order. If I command you to leave, you leave. Otherwise, you must stay here with your friends.”
“I’m not staying here. No way. This is as much my fight as it is yours. He killed Lorelei, my human sister. And now he’s prepared to join Azzaziel. I will not let him twist into a replica of the Dark One.”
“This cannot be about vengeance.”
“Why not? It’s about vengeance with you. It always has been.”
“Because, Sentinal, it will cloud your judgment. Trust me.” The authority in Mikayel’s voice stops me. “If you are only going to seek vengeance, I will forbid it. It has to be about something more.”
I shroud my feelings, becoming the Sentinal Mikayel trained me to be. “Vengeance is no more my cause than it is yours. I will do anything you command of me.”
Mikayel drills into my thoughts. I allow him to see the torment and betrayal, see the pain he has inflicted—pain as deep as that inflicted by any of the UnHoly.
Mikayel’s face echoes my feelings, passing from agony to anger to detachment. “So you agree to my terms? You will follow every command?”
“I know my duty.” I say, my detachment matching his.
“Then, we leave in ten minutes.”
The tears fall as soon as I’m alone, stinging my cheeks. Betrayed. Again. And not just by Mikayel, but the whole Council.
Their silence condemned me to this fate. Condemned Aydan to his death.
Their silence killed my sister.
My stomach clenches as I swallow everything down.
My guilt.
Mikayel’s lies.
Aydan’s betrayal.
Lorelei’s sacrifice.
I don’t have time for this. Don’t have time to wallow in my useless emotions. So I focus my energy elsewhere.
On Lori...They�
��ll pay for your death, my sister. I promise.
On Aydan…You betrayed me for the last time.
On Azzaziel…One way or another, your reign ends tonight.
Fastening my gauntlets and strapping on my weapons, I walk to the Great Hall, ready for war.
And my sweet vengeance.
Chapter 39 - Marked
Aydan
I emerge from the shadows into the church courtyard. Mikayel’s statute looms in front of me, holding the Sword of Truth. Soon it will be the only thing that can kill me. Make him come, Nesy. Make him finish this. The words bring little comfort.
I look around the gardens. Four days since I met Nesy—again. Two days since I knew who she was. One day since I promised myself to her.
It feels like a century.
She hates me now. Hates what I’ll become.
So do I.
“A few more things before we can proceed.” Azza places a hand on my shoulder, sending a shiver down my spine.
Shadows coil around the courtyard as the UnHoly file in around us.
I’ve never seen so many dark creatures assembled in one place. I wasn’t part of the last battle with Celestium. From what I was told, that one ended in defeat. Based on the mob mustered here now, things will be different.
Deadly.
“Tonight is the night we’ve waited centuries for,” Azza bellows. “Tonight, we will end the Council’s rule and crush their army. We know how to penetrate their skin, how to end their lives.” Azza’s voice bleeds through the ranks of UnHoly. They scream, their hatred palpable.
My stomach twists with disgust. I’m sorry, Nesy.
“Tonight,” Azza continues. “I will forge another Dark One as I unleash the Beast. Aydan is more than my apprentice now. Tonight, he becomes my equal. One more that cannot die at the hands of the Sentinal. One more to secure our victory over Mikayel and his army.” Azza catches my eye and smiles.
The crowd erupts in a burst of anticipation.
“Aydan is no ordinary UnHoly. He was trained by me for one purpose. To bring down the Sentinals once and for all.”
More cries erupt from the mob.
“And he has done a brilliant job. He confused the one meant to destroy him. Convinced her to betray her orders.”
Azza’s words slap me to attention.
I did confuse her
—and she confused me.
Profess my love for her
—I will always love her.
Tempt her
—was that always your plan, Azza?
“Tonight he binds himself to me. He will bear the marks and eliminate the last of his ties to Celestium. None but Mikayel will be able to harm him.” Azza’s voice drops to a whisper. “And Mikayel will not live through the night.”
The horde goes wild with excitement. They throw rocks at the statue of Mikayel, breaking off pieces of stone from his wings, his body, his face.
What have I done?
What have I done?
I close my eyes and do the only thing I can think of—something I haven’t done since leaving Celestium.
I pray.
“Succurre mihi, Mikayel. Defendere Celestium. Divina virtute in infernum detrude daemones. Help me, Mikayel. Defend Celestium and cast Azza into the Abyss. End his reign.” My whisper pulls me into a strange place deep inside my memories. A place before my fall.
Fresh scents invade my thoughts—a combination of sunshine and vanilla. Celestium. The younger version of me accepts my role as a Watcher, taking an oath to protect humanity from the likes of Azza.
So much has happened since then. So many broken promises and shattered vows. And yet, as the ancient prayer lingers on my tongue, a part of me feels like I never really left Celestium. Never entered the nightmare that now defines me.
A symphony of screams from the UnHoly fills my senses as the last of the prayer fades away. Azza pulls me close, the foul stench of his breath hard against my cheek. “You will not betray me now with your little prayers, Aydan. You will take your oath and wear the brand.”
Although his words are barely audible, they scream through my thoughts. My life is what I’ve made it.
A Living hell.
“I am yours, Master.”
Azza wears a sadistic smile as fire erupts on the ground next to me. A stone pedestal springs up from the flames. Six weapons lay on the altar. One for each of the marks I am to bear.
Azza picks up the weapon closest to him—his own dagger. He places it into the blue-orange center of the fire and turns it until it glows red-hot.
“Almost time, Aydan. Almost time. When the ceremony is complete, you will forget all about your warrior angel. And any hope you still harbor of living in Celestium.”
I stare into the abyss of Azza’s eyes. “You’ll keep your agreement about Nesy? You won’t hurt her if she returns?”
“I will not be the one to harm her as long as she does not interfere. But if she tries to stop me in any way, I will end her life with one swift stroke.”
Her name feeds my torment. “And you will instruct your UnHoly to not harm her?”
“Your UnHoly. Once the ceremony is complete, they will serve you as well.”
I don’t want followers.
I don’t want to rule.
I only want her safety.
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“You heard all I will say. Now, will you take your marks? Or does Nesy die?”
For a second time, I pray. The prayer offers little comfort. Images of my life as the Beast churn my disgust.
A moment passes
—there is no way out.
And another
—I chose this fate centuries ago.
Azza’s grips my shoulder and squeezes. “Well?”
“Let’s get this over with,” I say, eyeing the red-hot dagger in Azza’s hands.
My heart pounds too loud in my ears as I drop to my knees, the concrete grinding into my skin. I can hear the blood thrumming through Azza’s veins, hear the wind moving through the air. I tilt back my head in submission, ready to end my life.
The dagger twirls in Azza’s hands. He draws the hot blade across my skin, carving the long Celtic symbol down my neck. The mark extends from my jaw to my collarbone in an intricate pattern of knots that blend into my flesh.
Blinding pain streams through me. I grind my teeth, refusing to acquiesce to the feeling of the blade slicing through me. Every loop, every line, brings more torment. Putrid scents invade my nostrils as I hear my flesh sizzle.
Azza chants in the ancient language, releasing the Beast. His voice filters through me. Each word flares the agony caused by the mark, fusing it to my skin. Syllable by syllable, cut by cut, Azza forms the loops and knots of the first mark.
I squeeze my eyes shut, enduring each hate-filled moment.
I will not break.
Seconds click by until Azza finishes the first rite. My torment ebbs with the withdrawal of his dagger. My nausea passes. As my mind clears, I know…
I will never be the same.
“The first of six has been placed,” Azza says to the crowd. “Each mark is to be made by a different tool, each representing a different bond. One to me and one the UnHoly. One for the clans of dark creatures. One for the crimes of Celestium, one for the sins of mankind. And the final mark as a commitment to freeing our brothers in the Abyss. When Aydan has received all six marks, when we have beaten the Sentinals, we will free those trapped in the eternal flames.”
The mob roars with excitement.
“We will never be subject to the Council’s twisted version of justice again.”
More screams erupt around me. My mind twists around the sounds. I may have survived the first mark, but I doubt I can stay conscious for the rest. Nesy floods my awareness—the scent of her hair, the curve of her face, the blue of her eyes.
My salvation.
I must stay alive, if only to keep her safe.
“Ready for your next mark?”
Azza’s breath quivers the hair on my cheek. “That one was nothing compared to the rest.”
I paint a picture of her in my mind.
Help me, Nesy.
Azza grabs the next tool of my torture, the fang of a werewolf. “I’ve been saving this one just for you. Ever since you killed my pet in Germany.” He dips the fang into a vial of smoldering violet liquid. Drops fall to the ground, scorching the concrete next to me.
He loops the second mark through the first, creating a maze of crisscrossing patterns. It feels like liquid fire against my skin. A growl escapes my lips. I look at Azza and grind my teeth. Again, I think of Nesy. Picture the way she looked the first night at the club. Blond hair cascading over her shoulders, endless black leather boots, eyes I can lose myself in.
If only.
My master continues to carve the pattern in my skin. I cling to the image in my mind. Clawing my own skin, I fight back the nausea welling inside. Lightning streaks across my vision.
I will not scream.
I will not scream.
My skin hisses as Azza forms the mark. He chants, sending a fresh wave of agony through me.
Seconds last for hours as Azza replenishes the smoldering liquid on the fang. Each gash burns its way through the outer layers of my skin and into my soul.
Lacrimosa (Requiem Series) Page 19