Hellsbane Hereafter (Entangled Select Otherworld)

by Paige Cuccaro

  Since Eli and I could travel at nearly the speed of thought, we left my home in the suburbs of Pittsburgh at nine fifty-eight a.m. and arrived in New York at…nine fifty-eight a.m., although I was there a fraction of an instant before Eli. Despite his speed, the fall had taken its toll on Eli, weakening him, slowing him if only a little. We didn’t talk about it.

  He was still faster and stronger than any demon and most Fallen. He was stronger and faster than all illorum, too, except for maybe one: me. Was he stronger and faster than me? I wasn’t sure. We hadn’t tested the possibility. Neither of us really wanted to know. It didn’t matter. At least not to me.

  Jukar’s office building had been constructed with hundreds of powerful wards engraved into the foundation with brimstone. They ensured that anything lacking a spark of divine grace could only enter through the street-level doors, one being at a time. My father was paranoid his Fallen rivals might mount a siege. Go figure.

  Humans came and went, oblivious to the supernatural fortress. And the high concentration of Fallen and demons roaming the ninty-one floors was enough to trigger most seraphim’s gag reflexes. They stayed away just to avoid the stench. Those same numbers made illorum think twice before coming anywhere near the place. Demons and Fallen were hard enough to fight one-on-one, who wanted to take on a whole building of them?

  Eli stepped aside, allowing me to push through the revolving door ahead of him. I caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass and saw him flinch when he crossed the threshold. He’d told me the wards didn’t really hurt to cross. He’d said it was like a small jolt of electricity, a quick shock to remind everyone where they were and who was in charge. Not that we’d ever forget.

  I smiled at Kristy, the receptionist behind the semicircle, chest-high desk. She was a nephilim whose power was still dormant. My stomach performed the little drop and roll it always did when nephilim were near each other, like riding an airplane in a nosedive. I’d gotten used to it after coming to work for my father. I hardly noticed anymore, not that I was here that often, not unless I had to be. My father insisted all employees have some measure of angelic DNA. Like most angels, he was a snob that way, having always seen humans as petulant children that must be watched and cared for. Many simply resented the responsibility, Fallen and seraphim alike.

  Kristy didn’t know what she was. Most nephilim live their whole lives without knowing the truth. Their Fallen fathers wipe the memory of their affairs from the minds of the human women in hopes that their offspring won’t grow up to be illorum and come hunt their asses.

  Instead, Kristy believed she, and everyone around her, including me and Eli, were human, too. The lucky woman didn’t have a clue about what kind of supernatural forces surrounded her, and I wasn’t about to break her happy, normal-world bubble.

  Swallowing hard around her own internal reaction to me, Kristy’s bright smile faltered for a minute before she cheered up again. “Good morning, Mr. Eli. Is that a new coat? You look…you look great today.”

  She was totally serious, even though Eli always wore the same boring, loose-fitting clothes. Always. They were a part of him, created by his mind using the same molecules he’d called together to solidify his body and house his spirit. Humans, even half humans, just never seemed to notice.

  However, Kristy’s angelic half—and being around supernatural types eight hours or more a day—helped her notice Eli’s angelic beauty beneath the mundane, human facade when others didn’t. And Eli was an exceptionally yummy slice of man to notice, so I couldn’t blame her fangirl gush.

  “Good morning, Kristy.” Eli gave an old-world, gentlemanly bow of his head.

  Kristy tittered, her smile brightening like a six-year-old on Valentine’s Day. She shifted to the edge of her seat. If I didn’t know Eli better, I’d say he was messing with her. But no. He was just being my adorably clueless Eli. The man made common politeness downright sexy.

  The twenty-eight-year-old’s attention shifted to me, smile still big. “Good morning to you, too, Domina Hellsbane.”

  “Hi, Kristy.” I rested an arm on the narrow desk between us. “Remember I told you, you don’t have to call me Domina. That’s just a title my father’s…uh…upper level employees use. You should just call me Ms. Hellsbane, or Emma would be even better.” We had this conversation nearly every time I saw her. I still wasn’t convinced it had sunk in. The title was meant for the supernatural types. As far as humans were supposed to know, I was no one special.

  “Oh. Right. I, uh, I’ll try to remember next time, Ms. Hellsbane.” Her cheeks reddened, her pale skin unable to hide even the slightest embarrassment.

  With hair a shade or two lighter blond than Kristy’s and pale skin to match, I knew what that was like.

  She looked over her shoulder at Dolph, the refrigerator-sized security guard standing sentry against the wall behind her. With his tree-sized arms knotted over his chest and mocha face scrunched in a glower, his deep purple, almost black, eyes shifted to Kristy.

  A bubble of nervous laughter slipped out of her, and she turned back. “Anyway, um, Mr. Bedford is expecting you both. You can go right up.”

  Dolph, like every supernatural who worked for my father, had a direct mental link to Jukar. Whether Kristy understood how or not, she knew what she said in front of Dolph, she was saying in front of her boss, and he insisted I be shown respect, never mind what I wanted.

  “Thanks, Kristy.” I looked past her to Dolph, longing for the old days when standing this close to a demon meant drawn swords and a fight to the death. Not that I missed fighting, but better to fight them than share a break room. Didn’t matter how big the guy was. I was stronger, faster, and less worried about what would happen to me if I lost.

  The man’s eyes met mine, and his black brows lifted a fraction of an inch, the deep scowl fading at the corners, revealing a shadow of fear. Was it because he knew I could send his ass to the abyss if I wanted? Or was he more afraid of my father than me? Naw, it’s totally my badass sword skills.

  Satisfied in my private delusions, I gave him a dismissive tisk and turned for the hall of elevators. Eli began at my side, though his stride quickly outstretched mine as we walked across the marble floor, and he arrived first to push the button.

  It seemed like a normal weekday at The Bedford Company. People came and went, deliveries were made, and customers waited to buy their morning coffee and newspaper in the small snack shop in the lobby. In the few seconds we stood waiting for one of the four elevators, six more people arrived to wait as well. When the elevator behind us dinged, we all turned like trained dogs, hesitating long enough for the compartment to empty before piling in.

  Eight of us rushed in, the Bedford building elevators holding us easily without making us feel crammed in shoulder to shoulder. Thank God. At least four of the six were demons, and this close, the stink of brimstone coming off of them made me gag on my breakfast—twice. Lucky Charms aren’t nearly as good the second time around.

  The ride to the top floor took five minutes while we stopped on floor after floor to let people on and off. By the time the doors slid open on the eightieth floor, it was just Eli and me left inside. Two men stood waiting: one with wavy, butterscotch hair trimmed neatly above his suit collar and eyes a bright, periwinkle blue, the other a wide-faced man, square jawed, hair the same bluish black as Eli’s but peppered with gray. His midnight blue eyes narrowed on Eli, familiarity fueling his hostile expression.

  Eli shifted beside me, stiffening. “Marax.”

  “Elizal.” The Fallen grumbled his name, then stepped onboard.

  “Morning, Eli,” the other man said, his cheery tone a stark contrast to Marax’s. “Domina Hellsbane.”

  “Morning, Rumyal.” I politely brightened my smile. I didn’t bother telling him not to use the Domina title. It wouldn’t do any good. There was a time being this close to a Fallen would set the illorum mark, supernaturally tattooed on the inside of my wrist, on fire. Hell, just walking into the Be
dford building would’ve had me screaming my fool head off. But after symbolically joining Jukar’s ranks, he’d used his power to disarm the illorum warning response. Not sure how I felt about that.

  Eli forced his brooding gaze from Marax and did his best to smile. “Good morning, Rumyal.”

  It was hard to tell a Fallen’s age by looking at one. They could appear to be any age they liked and the length of time they’d been Fallen had no effect on their appearance. Rumyal looked to be in his late twenties. Marax choose to appear more mature at around forty. Eli kept his age somewhere in between, closer to his mid-thirties. They were all gorgeous, like snap-your-mouth-shut-and-wipe-up-the-drool gorgeous. At least they were to those of us who had the preternatural gift to notice.

  Demons weren’t so lucky. Since the abyss destroyed their beauty first, the Fallen who pulled them out had to remake them, in a way. So they looked however their Fallen saviors decided they would look. And some Fallen were total assholes. Go figure.

  “In to see the boss today?” Rumyal asked.

  Marax snorted. “More likely he’s come to enjoy the favor of the archangel earned by bedding his half-breed daughter. You always did know best how to endear yourself to those in power. A clever play to grasp a fair amount for yourself.”

  Like all Fallen, Jukar had lost a great deal of his strength when he fell. But being an archangel, his starting point had been considerably stronger than most, so his current level of power was still scary-strong. His minions did well not to cross him.

  A subtle shift of movement rippled over Eli’s body. I didn’t need to look to know he thought of going for his sword. I put a hand on his, and Eli met my gaze.

  “It’s more about his issues than you.” I squeezed Eli’s hand, giving him a reassuring smile, and his shoulders relaxed.

  Marax was a member of Jukar’s Inner Circle, his Dark Council some called them. Marax was old and powerful, but I was pretty sure Eli could kick his ass. I needed Eli to play nice, though. I couldn’t risk that Jukar might renege on our deal and hand him over to the illorum himself.

  Me, on the other hand, I hardly ever play nice. “Besides, he’s just jealous he’s been demoted from Jukar’s right-hand man to being his favorite little minion, now that he sees what it’s like to have a real angel at his side.”

  Marax bristled, then gave an arrogant laugh. “I’m not a child, Domina. You can’t bait me with silly insults. I know where I stand with my archangel. And so does Elizal. Don’t you, boy?”

  “C’mon, guys.” Rumyal shifted like a nervous cat on his feet between Marax and Eli. “You used to be brothers, friends.”

  “That was a long time ago.” Eli’s gaze flicked to Marax before returning to Rumyal.

  “We were never friends.” Marax rested a hand on Rumyal’s shoulder, though his gaze stayed fixed on Eli. “A friend wouldn’t turn his back on me the instant I lost my grace. When I needed him most.”

  “We’ve had this argument, Marax. Seraphim were forbidden to acknowledge Fallen,” Eli said, no longer willing to look him in the eye. “You don’t know how I suffered your loss.”

  Except that he did know what it was like to feel the loss of a fallen brother. They all did. Every Fallen, save the first to fall, knew the chest-hollowing loss. They’d each turned their backs on their Fallen brothers, judging them, shunning them, before giving in to their desires and falling themselves. Now they each knew that pain from the other side. They’d felt the spirit-crushing agony of having their family love them unconditionally one minute then deny their very existence the next. And yet they never ceased to be surprised when it happened to them. Arrogance, thy name is angel.

  “You suffered?” Marax’s dark brows shot up. “Who the bloody hell cares how it was for you?”

  “Marax, please understand—”

  “You had our brothers to ease your moment of discomfort. I suffered for years alone, running for my life from the bastard children of other Fallen.”

  I still didn’t really get why the shunning thing worked. As far as I could tell, nothing would happen to a seraphim who reached out to Fallen. Okay, so maybe their pure sparkly-clean spirit would get a little soot on it from associating with a Fallen. Big deal, right? But I figured it was kind of like the Amish shunning anyone who went against their beliefs. You open the door to evil, even a crack, and it’ll creep its way in until it corrupts everything.

  “What about the woman you fell for?” I had to ask.

  Marax’s gaze snapped to me, as though he’d forgotten in the few moments that had passed that I was there. “What difference does that make?”

  I shrugged. “I mean, you didn’t have to be alone. Not if you had her.”

  “She was with child,” he said as though that should be answer enough.

  Yeah. It wasn’t. “So?”

  He looked at me like he thought I must be slow. “I couldn’t stay with her. If the child was ever discovered by a seraph, he’d be given a sword. Living with an illorum, my banishment would be nearly inescapable.”

  I folded my arms across my belly and shifted my weight to one hip. “So you abandoned the woman you loved and your unborn child just to save your own ass?” Yeah, I was judging him. So what?

  “Emma Jane, tread carefully,” Eli said, trying to rein me in.

  That almost never worked.

  “How can you stand there blaming Eli? You made your choice. Twice. If you were lonely, I say you damned well deserved to be.”

  The tall angel’s pitying expression remained, irritating as it was. His mouth opened then closed as though unsure how to simplify his point for me. “What good would my banishment do my love and her child? I would be gone just the same. My love would have to endure a grief unlike any she’d ever known, and her child would be the cause of it, having been compelled to hunt and destroy his father. By leaving them, erasing all memory of me, I spared them at great cost to myself.”

  I sniffed my scorn. “Take it from me, abandonment is never the better alternative. The kid would’ve been better off knowing what he was from the start.”

  The elevator dinged on the ninetieth floor a half second before the brass doors slid open. Marax stepped out first, and Eli hurried to catch him.

  “Marax,” Eli said, and the bulkier angel turned. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve said it before since coming here, but I wish you’d accept it as genuine. We were friends. The way I treated you after your fall, the way I judged you, it was…it was shortsighted and unnecessarily cruel. But you must understand I was only able to come to that realization after I fell myself. I want to be friends again, Marax. Will you forgive me?”

  Marax’s midnight blue eyes shifted to Rumyal. He shook his head and looked to me, then Eli. He exhaled, straightened, and said, “No.” Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

  “Prick,” I said under my breath.

  “Well, he is a fallen angel.” Rumyal chuckled quietly beside me. “We’re not exactly known for being softhearted.”

  I looked at him and couldn’t help smiling. “Right?”

  As fallen angels go, Rumyal was a good guy. He was one of the first to welcome us into the fold, befriending Eli despite also being good friends with Marax. The two friendships meant Eli and Marax were constantly running into each other, but Eli just saw it as more opportunities to try and make amends with the older angel.

  Rumyal worked in legal, which meant he had awesome powers of persuasion, more so than most angels, and knew how to negotiate. It also meant he worked on this floor, right below the boss.

  By the time the elevator doors slid closed behind us, Marax had disappeared among the maze of glass offices, conference rooms, and hallways. The three of us followed in the same direction, strolling the wide, carpeted hall toward the private elevator deeper within the legal department. I’d made a few friends over the past months working for Jukar. But most of the people—angels, demons, and humans—just sucked up to the boss’s daughter.

  “Morning, Domina,” Alex
Broilen, demon, said. I nodded a hello.

  “Good morning, Domina Hellsbane,” another guy said. I couldn’t remember his name, but he was human. I nodded again, forcing a smile.

  Every time my casual glance met a set of eyes through glass office walls or passing in the hall, I received the friendly, yet respectfully impersonal, greeting. Not that I cared. Most of these people would’ve killed me as soon as looked at me a few months back. I played for the other team then, the good guys, and I’d have taken their heads without a second thought, too. Okay, not the humans, but the rest of them. Damn skippy, I would have.

  But now? Now everything had gotten totally wonky. I mean, I’d gotten to know some of these guys, like Rumyal and Lucinda, the demon in accounting, and Danjal, a Fallen and Jukar’s personal assistant. They were demons and Fallen, the things I’d been taught to hate, the things I’d been born to hunt. But they weren’t evil. They were just people, friends. God, I hate when reality screws with my good-guy-bad-guy list.

  “Hey, I’m having a cookout at my place tonight,” Rumyal said when we reached the end of the hall. “You guys should stop by. You can meet my new girlfriend.”

  “You’re dating someone?” I tried to sound happy for him, but my stomach clenched. I couldn’t help feeling anger over the thought of yet another woman’s memory erased when she wound up pregnant. As far as we knew, humans hadn’t discovered a birth control method that worked against angelic sperm. Not that they knew it was even needed. I was on the pill. Lucky for me, it seemed to work so far.

  He blushed, then glanced away and back again, his smile too beautiful to be angry at. “Yeah. Well, actually, it’s my old girlfriend. I mean, she doesn’t know it. She doesn’t remember me. Neither does my son. But after seeing you two together, I knew I wanted that, too. I wanted to be with her, no matter the risks. Plus, who knows, maybe we’ll win the war, and the seraphim will stop pitting our kids against us.”

  “Right.” I feigned enthusiasm at the thought.