Saint's Salvation: The Seven Deadly Sins (The Saint Series Book 7)

by Tiana Laveen

  Not since James had died had he dealt with such a mournful blow. Hymns were read and the Karta officiated over the proceedings. When it was time, Saint presented a bouquet of white flowers and placed it on Krishna’s casket. Typically, the casket would be open, but since Krishna had been beheaded, this wasn’t an option. Tears flowed as he stood there with his arms crossed over his chest. There were no words he could utter to make it better, to remove the thorn in his heart. The warmth of Cruz’s hand touched his shoulder, reminding him a legend would never be forgotten, and the man’s absence did not destroy his legacy. Krishna’s shoes were entirely too big to fill. Moments later, the fire sacrifice of the service commenced. More than an hour had passed, but it felt like a mere few seconds.

  “We do not blame you,” said a man with a deep voice, similar to Krishna’s. Saint looked over to his left. Ishaan, Krishna’s eldest son, was now standing beside him. The man offered him a pleasant smile and tapped his back with a gentle hand. “I read your thoughts. You were so open during your grief.”

  “Thank you…” Saint nodded, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “I am not going to make this about me, though. I wish to extend my condolences. Your father was like no other.” Saint extended his hand, and Ishaan gave a firm shake.

  “This is true. He was one of a kind. It was simply his time. He predicted his death. He told me two weeks ago he’d be dying soon, but he refused to elaborate. I made peace with that. I know you will be back in New York during the ten-day observance to follow, but I thank you for coming, especially considering what has been transpiring.”

  “The demons won’t stop me from paying my respects. I would be nowhere else. I will be sending fruit for the service. I know that Krishna will cross over, his soul liberated.”

  “Indeed, he will. Safe travels, and take care.” Ishaan leaned over and gave Saint a hug, then disappeared into the crowd. The funeral drew to a close and Saint and Cruz said their goodbyes. They made their way away from the crowd after the long afternoon and called for a taxi. Cruz made the arrangements on the telephone, while Saint stood by his side, his thoughts lost and wandering in shades of gray. Mourning had taken its toll on his soul, and all he wished to do was get back to the Radisson Hotel, get a bite to eat, preferably room service, then catch their plane in the early morning.

  The taxi arrived in less than twenty minutes and he and Cruz rode in silence. Saint reached into his shirt and pulled out the necklace that Krishna had once given him. He looked at the golden Om and kissed it as he fought more tears that threatened to fall from his eyes.

  Krishna, I still feel your last breath within me. Thank you for all that you’ve done. I feel lost without you…

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The following morning…

  He’d awoken to a nightmare…

  “It’s got to be them.” Saint peered at two Indian men in the airport as they sat at their gate.

  “Something does seem off. I can’t quite place it.”

  Cruz set his bottle of water down, along with the magazine he’d been flipping through. One man in a forest green shirt and jeans stood a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest and his soulless gaze hooked on them. A man stood by him, squattier and with less hair, wearing the same dull expression.

  “They’re definitely Demon Children.” Saint sniffed the air, not catching their aroma but knowing that look all too well. It was hot in the Rajiv Gandhi Airport, a sweltering heat that made Saint’s shirt stick to his skin. Fanning himself with a newspaper, he regarded the men on and off, feeling queasy each time his gaze met theirs.

  “Something isn’t right.” He cleared his throat and got to his feet. As he drew closer to the men, they took several steps back. Reaching his hand out to them to extract their memories and thoughts, one cried out in agony and planted his hands against his ears. People turned and stared as Saint stood there, reading the fiend’s mind. Turning on his heels, Saint angrily stormed away and resumed his seat next to Cruz.

  “They killed Krishna!” he whispered with clenched teeth, trying with all his might to not rush over and bash the fuckers’ heads in. “There was a third guy with them, but he isn’t here today.” He couldn’t risk doing such a thing in a place like this, but the temptation was killing him. Cruz glanced up at the men who were now making a slow yet steady retreat.

  “Looks like they just wanted to make sure you were on your way. How naïve of them to come here. Well, we have a few minutes.” Cruz glanced down at his watch then back over at the two who kept looking over their shoulder as they hurried away. “How about we give Krishna a parting present before leaving? Two gifts, to be exact…”

  And then his face cracked with a smile. Saint grabbed the handle of his carry-on bag and Cruz followed suit. Zigzagging in and out of the thick crowd, the two were no match for Saint and Cruz’s agility. The hunt caused Saint to salivate; he could practically anticipate the smell of the iron in their blood as it burst from sliced veins and arteries. He and Cruz parted ways so they’d box them in. They drew closer to a cluster of small shops. Cruz followed the shorter one while Saint stayed on top of the taller one. Soon Cruz was out of sight. Saint’s heart pounded as he sprinted towards the man. The fellow, with eyes black as coal, sped up, his fear tainting the air and tickling Saint’s sensitive sense of smell.

  You can run but you can’t hide. You stole from me. You stole from the entire A.C. Community. You did the crime; your ass is mine!

  The man dipped down a narrow path that forked towards a closed bistro and hit a dead end. Saint could hear his breathing in stereo, the hyper pitch of prey, a thumping heart seized with terror. A ‘No Exit’ sign in bright red letters glowed above the bastard’s head. With his back against the wall, the fucker had nowhere to go. Saint took steady steps towards his quarry, his head slightly bowed, and his approach steady.

  “Don’t!” the man hollered as he raised a shaky hand and pointed at Saint. “That man is crazy!” People walked about, glancing at the fellow, then towards Saint. A security guard looked in their direction. Saint waited. “We’re having a business disagreement. No worries.” Saint grinned and turned to walk away.

  You can’t hide here forever. 3 … 2 … and…

  Suddenly, from the opposite end of the airport, there was a mad dash of security. A faint scream was heard, followed by another.

  1… Cruz caught his fish of the day…

  The guard who’d eyed them spoke into his radio, then disappeared into the crowd as people gathered to gawk at all the commotion in the distance. Saint turned and spotted Krishna’s murderer, his quarry, sliding against the wall, trying to slip away. Their eyes locked. Saint’s lips curved in excitement as he looked about for cameras. There were plenty, but none pointed directly to where they stood. The man raced into the nearby restroom, not realizing he’d sealed his fate once and for all. Saint’s shoes echoed against the floor with each step.

  “Patience is a virtue…” he taunted as he entered the restroom, taking a peek at the closed stalls. He drew quiet, sniffed the air, and gleamed. “He’s a goner, she’s a goner, wouldn’t you like to be a goner, too?” he sang before dragging his fingers down the stall door that stood between him and his kill. Sucking on his lower lip, he crouched down low. A man walked out of the stall beside them, looked at him curiously, then went on to the sink to wash his hands. Saint waited until the gentleman disappeared, then spoke again.

  “I can hear you breathing … smell the salt on your skin. I can feel the raised goosebumps on your arms. Angel Children aren’t nice people. Don’t let the title fool you.” He chuckled. “You had few reservations about murdering an elder. In fact, you enjoyed it … loved chopping the head off my mentor, my second father.” Saint sighed deeply. “I’m going to appreciate this, Anupam.” Saint stood to his full height and leaned against the door. “Yeah, I know your name. I heard you whispering it in your mind, trying to convince yourself into believing you’d somehow escape your fate.”

 
BOOM!

  Saint elbowed the door hard, forcing the damn thing open. As he descended upon the sitting duck, the man crouched in the corner of the stall. Saint plucked him from the ground by the collar, then slammed his head hard into the wall. A whimper escaped the fucker’s lips as he slipped to the stall floor. Saint made his way out of the bathroom, grabbed the ‘Slippery Floor’ folding surface sign written in Hindi and placed it at the entrance of the bathroom, then went back in. He headed back to the stall to discover the bastard trying to get to his feet. Blood spilled from the back of his head and he lulled between consciousness and unconsciousness.

  “Krishna was powerful, but his body was frail. He was fearless and mentally stronger than anyone I know. You want to work for Satan? You’re about to meet your idol. Good night.” Saint wrapped his hand around the fucker’s mouth, putting an end to a scream before it left the fucker’s lips. The piece of shit couldn’t utter one word, Saint twisted his neck and snapped it in two seconds flat. Before the recently deceased even hit the floor, Saint was marching back to the gate to catch his flight. Taking his seat in the waiting area, he plucked open his bag and pulled out his iPad. While waiting for it to turn on, he looked about, hoping to see Cruz soon.

  His wish was granted.

  Cruz emerged clutching his carry-on bag, and sat next to Saint without missing a beat. He picked up the magazine he’d laid down moments earlier, and casually flipped through it. They sat there for a while, reading each other’s thoughts. Saint was pleased with their mutual handiwork. They’d go over the details later, but based on the blood under Cruz’s nails, it was more than apparent that he’d caught the little piggy by its toe and it hollered, but he didn’t let go…

  Suddenly, a security guard approached. Saint’s heart started to thump in his chest, but then the man passed them and headed into another direction.

  “Were you discreet?” Saint asked, keeping his attention on his iPad screen.

  “Of course.”

  “Good.” Saint yawned and checked the time, then polished off a can of seltzer water.

  “I’ll be back. I’m going to freshen up. I don’t like airplane bathrooms, and our flight is going to last a long time.”

  Cruz grunted a response and started flipping through his magazine again. Saint went and found another restroom altogether. This was a family one with one stall for privacy. Perfect. Closing and locking the door, Saint made his way to the latrine. His heart pounding out of his chest, he whipped out his phone, sat on the closed toilet seat, and bolted the stall door, then dialed Lawrence.

  “Hi there. How did Krishna’s funeral service go, Saint?”

  “As well as can be expected. Look, we have a huge problem.”

  “What?”

  “Cruz has been possessed.”

  “Huh? What are you talking about?”

  Saint closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  “I don’t have much time, Lawrence, but to make a long story short, we spotted the guys who killed Krishna stalking us at the airport. We went after them. In that time frame, we split up. I took care of one, and Cruz took care of the other … or so he said. But then, I noticed he was acting strange, and his mannerisms weren’t quite right. I looked into his eyes, and they aren’t his.”

  “What? Demonic possession from one Demon Child to another is virtually impossible, let alone unnecessary, and would take a lot of energy.”

  “I’m not sure how or why, but his eyes are black … and not like the black when he is upset or worried, either. No, this is that black we can’t produce, the kind that is dull and lifeless and the whites of his eyes are practically gone. He also smelled strange, not his typical scent that only we can detect. Something happened when he went after that guy, but what? I’m not sure, but he is definitely possessed.”

  “Shit! Saint, whatever you do, you can’t let him get on the plane. This was probably the plan all along, but it took Cruz as a consolation prize because it couldn’t get to you. That’s just a theory; don’t quote me on this. I need to figure this out.”

  “I can figure out the how and why later. Right now, I need to get this resolved.”

  “Saint, I’m warning you. This is a very dangerous situation. Now is probably not the time to tell you a bit of something about Cruz, but I have to. You need to know.”

  “How could it not be the time? It couldn’t possibly be worse than what’s currently happening. Our plane will be leaving in less than thirty minutes and now Cruz is a puppet for some evil entity! I need to get my ass back home and I gotta deal wit’ this shit!”

  “Cruz is a King, too.”

  “What?!”

  “Yes.” Lawrence sighed as if he, too, had the weight of the world on his shoulder. “I knew you knew he was very powerful, but it’s even more than that. He is a King Demon Child, or at least, was born to be. What that means is, he was born to lead, to rule, like you, only for the D.C. He didn’t do that, but Demon Children kings are born, not made.”

  “How long have you known this? Why would you keep something like this from me?”

  “I haven’t known for a long time, Saint. I promise. I didn’t find out until recently, actually. I noticed it during Hell Night and was going to discuss it with you and Cruz when you returned from India. You’ve been so busy lately. I mean, actually, this is good news, or so I believe it to be. He could do great things on our behalf with that sort of influence, strength and control, but under these circumstances, well—it’s terrifying, quite honestly.”

  “Thanks … that last bit of info about the frightful stage I should be in was quite helpful,” Saint quipped. “I can’t believe this.” Saint banged his head against the door. “Are you completely sure, Lawrence?”

  “Yes, quite sure. There are things he was doing, strength he was showing that he could not pull through unless he was. I was completely amazed and honestly, he seemed to be as well. The Angel Child part of him is totally suppressed right now due to the possession. The longer the demon stays within him, the more powerful that side of him will become. In the best-case scenario, the demon will get tired of wrestling within him and retreat. In the worst-case scenario, he will somehow manage to get back to the States and murder Erika, in order to get rid of the baby, his heir.”

  “Fuck!” Saint punched the stall door.

  “Since Cruz seems to be the only living one of his kind, there’s a lot at stake.”

  “Lawrence, you’re not here. There’s no priest, nothing. How am I going to perform an exorcism? I don’t have time to call anyone and by the time they’d get here, Cruz would be making his way onto the plane, with or without me.”

  “You’ll have to follow your gut. You’ve had plenty performed on you from Krishna, myself, priests and the like. The recent occurrence was the worst of course, but that is beside the point. Just do the best you can, but whatever you do, do not let him get on that plane!”

  Saint disconnected the call and slowly opened the stall door. He swallowed a groan when he saw Cruz standing there, the door lock dangling out of one hand and dark gray smoke flowing out his ears and nostrils. With a dark smile, he showcased his teeth in an awkward, exaggerated way. Saint looked down and took note that Cruz wasn’t standing on the floor. He was floating a few inches above the surface.

  Before Saint could even blink, Cruz’s cold hands wrapped around his throat and squeezed before slamming him hard down onto the cold, filthy floor…

  “I present to you, a man of war…”

  Contracts made with the Devil don’t hold up in a court of law…

  Cruz gleamed down at the man that he only partially recognized. Sweating and screaming within, he could feel his entire body being taken over by the heavy darkness. As if trapped in a thick bubble, he watched himself strike Saint several times in the head with the lock from the bathroom entrance. Dragging him towards the back of the stall, he closed and locked the stall door, noting Saint’s bloodied hair, his scalp swollen and red as he bled, staining the floor. Saint�
��s eyes fluttered. He appeared to be losing consciousness.

  TAKE HIM OUT!

  He pounded and pounded on his chest, trying to bang the man’s heartbeat into submission, make the fucker stop. White smoke ebbed from Saint’s nostrils as his irises turned red and rolled about. He sighed in pain—lovely music to Cruz’s ears. Words escaped Saint’s mouth, strained mumbles, but he could barely hear him. It felt as if they were thrashing about underwater.

  STOP IT! GET OUT OF ME!

  Cruz fought within, but the battle was brutal. A piece of him seemed to fade away with each moment.

  “Cruz…” Saint muttered, blood trickling down his chin. “Something … very bad is going to happen. If you … don’t … stop … I’m going … to have to … kill you.”

  Cruz burst out laughing. His voice wasn’t his own. He coughed up blood and the feeling of a thousand bees swarming inside of him stung him from the inside. His eyes burned and bled as he squeezed Saint’s throat with all of the strength he never knew he had. A flood of warmth and euphoria engulfed him.

  Do it.

  Do it.

  DO IT.

  The color began to drain from Saint’s complexion. His bronzed, healthy appearance turned ashen and blue, and the vein in his forehead strained against his skin. Cruz grinned from ear to ear as he felt the life draining from Saint.

  “Demon … what … is … your … name?!” Saint choked out, his eyes gleaming red with anger.

  “We’ve met before, King Angel Child. You know me well. I’m Eligos, the Duke of War. I did Cruz’s bidding, and now I want payment, with interest. That’s YOU.”

  “This … is not … what you and Cruz … agreed upon.”

  “It wasn’t mentioned, but no one said it wasn’t included…”

  Saint’s eyes went from red to sky blue as he groaned in agony.

  “The war between a half Demon Child/Angel Child and King Angel Child is something hellions would pay top stolen souls to see. What a spiritual menagerie. But let me tell you, beloved, spiritual warfare is my favorite war of all…”