Midnight Burn: a New Adult Paranormal Romance Novel (Gothic Angels)

by Ashur Rose

  “Iain, your boots are on fire.” Cree pointed.

  He stamped hard, putting out his smoking soles. As one, they understood that even a Dryg couldn’t last long in The Nether.

  Between his proximity to his pure and the recent cull of Raze’s detestable spy, Iain felt the rocky resistance leave his muscles. Battle-ready, he honed in on Lilith’s position and made for the nearest glowing throat of stone.

  Raze and Cree fell in behind him.

  “I wish that asshole Steele was with us,” Cree whispered.

  “He hates humans. He hates every race pretty equally, but humans are right up there with shades,” Raze said. “Don’t ask me why.”

  “He puts up with me, and I’m half-human.” Iain peered down the curving passage, seeing no auras.

  “Half-human, maybe, but you’re a proven quantity—all Bane.” Cree moved to take point.

  Raze reached to him. You know that Steele is bound to hate your pure.

  He understood, but Iain didn’t want to dwell on Steele’s affliction, his inability to bond with a pure because of the sacrifice he’d made to save Iain’s life. Now it was time for battle, not maundering through their past failures. The pull of Lilith led them into a lava tube that snaked along in glistening obsidian. It dumped out into the open. Or what appeared to be the open. Though a volcano—Sorain, by the smell of it—smoked in the near distance, farther away, stalactites and stalagmites met, hourglass features the size of mountains that defied a horizon. Their shape and size whipped the underground breeze to endless groans. The Banes crossed a partially-cooled lava floe, the jumbled landscape of sharp and melted rocks leading to low hills and another set of constructed caves.

  “Why is it so empty here?” Cree whispered.

  Raze shot a look over his shoulder. “That portal is a free ride for bound shades. Until it heals, even the lowliest Nether-spawn can take a quick vacation Earthside.”

  “How long before it closes?” Iain asked.

  “No way of knowing. Let’s get this done.”

  The Nether felt like the inside of a living, fevered creature, tunnels branching haphazardly like blood vessels. Filthy nests occupied alcoves in the wider spaces. Coal-like walls pulsed with an unhealthy glow that inspired headaches even to the mostly sightless Drygs. Sooty black smoke drifted near the ceilings, a pale pink smoke swirling around their boots. Each brother eyed the low smoke nervously, recognizing the issue of Sorain. Its ash was poisonous to the Dryg. The smoke was an unknown quantity.

  Sweltering breezes blew through the narrow chambers like fetid breaths. It caused the smoke to circulate in a thick haze. Iain realized that the shades did not occupy this realm so much as they possessed it, as they would a living being.

  It also occurred to him that while Lilith’s presence drew him forward, Cree managed to pick the right passages without his direction.

  “Cree, where are you going?”

  His brother glanced over his shoulder. “To Zorn’s prison. Where else would they put the key?”

  They chose a tunnel that angled steeply down, sporadic wind wailing like a beast in pain. Iain could easily touch the sides if he spread his arms or wings. Like intestines, the passage snaked and coiled as they descended.

  At the intersection of a globular space, Iain called for everyone to halt. At the center stood an bony vessel, six feet across. He’d seen this before in a vision called from a shade’s blood. “This is how they found Lilith,” he said.

  The brothers gathered around. Within the belly, an oily yellow substance boiled. Black scum topped the fluid in an imperfect circle. All of them jumped as the dark crust skimmed across the surface. In the middle of the black spot, a red dot opened up. Iain found himself in a staring contest with a monstrous eye.

  Screams came from all around, in all pitches, bone shaking in volume.

  “Shit, this thing is some kind of guardian!” Cree shouted over the din.

  At once, muddy auras populated the connecting tunnel, racing forward. There were more than Iain could count.

  “Help me!” Bending at the knees, Iain gripped a leg of the sinister cauldron. Raze dropped next to him in an instant. Together, they heaved. Splashing and spraying, the execrable container toppled down the tunnel, smashing the closest shades.

  Immediately, Cree bounded atop the overturned vessel, cracking skulls with powerful kicks. Iain spread his wings, pumping furiously, sailing over the combat to land in the center of the charging demons.

  Elbow to throat, knee to gut, claws raking, fangs gnashing, he became a whirlwind of death. Cree continued his attack from above, Raze moving into the tunnel, back to the wall, striking out with fatal result.

  Minutes later, only the Banes stood upright. Shades lay in the slime of the upturned scrying pot, unmoving.

  Breathless, Cree faced his brothers. “We have a real problem.”

  Iain knew it without Cree having to voice it. Despite their quick victory, Iain hadn’t culled a single victim. Shouts and scrabbling footfalls came from every direction. They were surrounded in enemy territory with no way to recharge from their killing frenzy, no way to heal.

  “Let’s get it done.” Raze pushed past, jogging down the intersecting tunnel toward the heart of The Nether.

  As they moved, they encountered more shades. These were small groups, easily smashed and ripped. Iain knew that soon they would become more organized. That, or they would simply move into a hugely populated area of The Nether. Either way, shades en masse in their own realm would overwhelm the Drygs.

  To Iain’s relief, the three brothers reached the heart of the realm with few incidents and fewer injuries. He could sense the nearness of Lilith and urged the Banes forward. Double-timing, they moved through the labyrinth of constructed corridors and chambers that led to the throne room that now served as Zorn’s prison.

  A chisel-tipped spear flashed at them as they rounded a corner, sparking against the wall. They recognized the glittering metal of the weapon. Forged volcanically, quenched in blood, the unholy spear had been dipped in the poisonous volcanic ash, sorainese.

  “Form up!” Raze commanded. “No more freestyle; these bastards are armed.”

  A phalanx of thirteen shades charged around the corridor, war mallets, rasp swords, ripper-tipped javelins and chisel spears raised. Their formation and strategy was instantly recognizable. From the rear, the javelins would fly as the spears kept the Banes at range, then malleteers and swordsmen would wade in to finish the dark work, crushing the poisoned Dryg to rubble and sand.

  All their lives, the brothers had drilled for such an attack. Before the javelins could fly, the three closed instantly with the pikers, taking a sideways stance that made them less of a target. It also allowed them to land hands on the spears for better leverage.

  In a heartbeat, the three spearmen forming the wedge of the group were hurled to the ground, the life kicked out of them. Enemy weapons in hand, the Banes hurled the spears into the three javelineers at the rear.

  Six down. Seven to go.

  Iain spun away from the slash of a rasp blade, but the sword grated across his shoulder. Intense heat flared in the wound, the sorainese affecting and infecting his stone flesh. Ignoring the cut, Iain stepped close, one foot between the swordsman’s. His hands gripped the shade’s on the hilt. With a twisting motion that broke the demon’s wrists, Iain whirled the weapon, half-decapitating his foe with the dull edge.

  Cree moved against a malleteer in a similar way, his footwork and forked tail tangling his foe’s legs. In a single motion, the Dryg swiveled away from the blow, using the weapon’s momentum and a hard kick. The shade flipped over, landing hard. Cree delivered a deft blow with the hammer before heaving it toward an attacking sword.

  Raze moved against a swordsman so quickly, it seemed the shade simply handed him the blade. Although rasp blades were intended to grind through stone, the oldest Bane’s strength drove it easily through two opponents before he launched himself at a third.

 
In a few heartbeats, the battle was done. Iain closed with the final malleteer, gripping the bone haft as the shade raised it to strike. Bending from the hips, Iain drove the blunt cap of the handle through the shade’s chest, into its heart and out its back. With a growl of victory, he yanked it free, showing the brothers in black ichor.

  Before he could toss the weapon away, Raze halted him with a gesture. “Keep the mallet. You’re hurt. You might need it.”

  “I’ll hurt when this is over,” Iain said.

  Keep the fucking weapon, Raze reached loudly.

  “Move out,” Raze said at the same time. “At least we know we’re close now.”

  Cree fell in, panting. “Phyrss damn me, if I didn’t know I’d fry to a crisp, I’d transfer to human just to sweat for a second. It’s so damned hot.”

  Jogging, the Bane brothers hurried toward the throne room. The corridor narrowed to a tight, low cave that truncated in a cold stone face. Something was wrong.

  “This is it.” Raze looked the wall up and down.

  “It can’t be.” Cree struggled to turn around in the constricted space. “Where’s the pit?”

  “It’s here, right here; I swear it is.” Raze’s expression clouded with puzzlement. He crouched, swinging a mighty blow from the hip, his living stone fist colliding with the wall. Chips and dust exploded from the impact.

  “The fact that this is the one surface down here that doesn’t look like it’s made out of charcoal briquettes must mean something,” Cree said.

  Raze whirled around. “It does mean something. This wall is made of the same stone. It just hasn’t heated up yet.”

  “Yet?” Iain said.

  “The shades walled it off. Zorn knew we would come for Lilith.”

  A sinking feeling weighed on Iain. This passage was so narrow, fighting would prove nearly impossible. And while one-on-one, the shades could do little if any damage to a Dryg in full battle spectra, hundreds of them certainly could. Shouldering himself to face the way they’d come, Iain saw distant auras collecting, drawing slowly closer. Arms glittered.

  “We can still take them out, even if I can hardly move in this tunnel,” Cree said, one hand a fist, the other a raking claw.

  Raze’s words fell like a guillotine. “We can take them out, but we can’t take all of them out by sunrise. We’ll be trapped in The Nether and completely at their mercy when we’re forced into our perch.”

  Iain hadn’t considered that, even in this submerged hell, daylight would come, even if it was never seen, never felt. Without the sun’s rays, their statue forms would not recharge. With hammers and chisels, the shades could take their immobile bodies apart chip by chip.

  “Not. Gonna. Happen.” Cree moved down the slender cave. “Get some space between us before they come.”

  Iain followed him, several yards behind. Cree would let as many through as he could—force as many of them through as he could—so that the Drygs had a chance.

  At the far end of the passage, growing closer, auras flowed toward them, a trickle becoming a river. Hundreds of shades marched toward them, perhaps even thousands. The limited space would give the shades leverage against the Banes, perhaps enough to crack their motile stone forms.

  Lilith, he sensed, was nearly close enough to touch. Behind the fresh stone wall, Iain thought. But with the onslaught of shades closing in on them, he believed he would never see her again.

  Change places with me, Raze reached.

  Iain shook his head. “I got this.”

  Take out the wall, Iain. The throne room must be behind it. It’ll give us room to maneuver, cover from missile fire. His reach was urgent. Besides, if they have Lilith anywhere, it’s there. No human could live long in this heat.

  “Phyrss damn you, Raze.”

  They shoved past each other in the tunnel. Raze nodded toward the approaching hoard. “She already has.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  LILITH

  HER MUSCLES STRAINED, TIGHT as piano wire, as she struggled to keep her joints from separating. It seemed only the slightest turn of the lever would pull her apart. Her speak flared, but her rational mind quelled it—even if she struck, she would still be painfully stretched.

  Zorn’s bastard paced to the other side of the rack. His gloved hands fell on another wheel crank.

  “I’ll bet you can’t guess what happens when I turn this one,” he said from beneath his hood.

  Her eyes froze on his hands, the wheel. This would be the one to pop her joints out of socket, leaving her immobile, her body washed in pain so extreme, her speak would let go against her will.

  And Zorn would be free of his prison.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  Lilith ground her teeth together, her eyes screwed shut. She breathed deeply, readying herself for the crippling tug.

  Zorn’s bastard startled her with a backhand slap across her breasts. Her body jerked at the filthy touch, at the humiliation, her tendons screaming with her reaction. But the hurt filling her overwhelmed any pain his debasing blow might have otherwise caused.

  “I asked if you were ready.”

  “You fucking son of a bitch!” she hissed.

  The hood nodded. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Fingers twitched and tightened. With a rusty squeal, the wheel turned. Lilith’s stomach protested as her head angled down, her feet up. Blood rushed to her head. Gravity realigned the worst of her pain to her knees.

  “Did you guess that this would angle the rack?” He walked around, looking down at her from her feet. “This next part will be a real surprise.”

  Zorn’s bastard hid the knife in his robe. Gloved fingers came together as he cracked his knuckles. With twitching digits, he reached for the soles of her feet. Feather-light touches tickled.

  Lilith tried to wrench away, letting out panicked laughter. Her muscles pulled, tearing under the stress. “No!” she laughed. “No, no!”

  “Stop me,” he said.

  His fingers moved on her feet again. Sobbing laughs escaped her throat. Every twitch and shudder made her joints burn. Lilith’s mind clouded over in a blue haze.

  “No!”

  She stilled the speak, although it was rapidly growing out of her control.

  The executioner moved to the side of the rack. His hands twitched over her ribs, her stomach, her armpits. Lilith made animal sounds, a combination of laughter and crying. Swollen, stressed tendons sang as she involuntarily tried to withdraw.

  In her hard life, she’d never felt so horrified, so miserable. If she thought the rack would kill her, she would let herself be torn apart. But it wouldn’t, the dislocations would be far worse than the agonizing stretch, and even then, she knew, the executioner would not stop.

  Shit.

  She tried to crawl inside her head, to find a calmness somewhere deep inside her consciousness. Roving fingers fired her reflexes, her involuntary spasms feeding the suffering. Despite this, her brain took hold of her speak, tamping it down. She would not release it, she would not surrender it.

  Finally, he stopped. Her skin still trembled and twitched, but the horrid suffering faded.

  “You’re a pretty tough cookie.” The executioner stepped to the tilting wheel and whirled the lever until the rack tilted slightly feet downward. “But you can’t hold out forever. We’ve only been at this a few minutes.”

  Whether that was true or not, Lilith knew the statement was meant to send her deeper into disparity. She ignored it. Zorn’s son paced around the table.

  “What do you think would happen if I broke one of your long bones?” His glove caressed her arm. Images of her limb being yanked apart flew into her mind, a compound fracture, bone piercing flesh.

  His pacing continued. “Or if I severed these big muscles in your leg?”

  The knife appeared in his hand. He cut a bloody line over her thigh.

  “I somehow doubt, even at your sudden fear of being dismembered, that you would speak against your will. No, it has to be something
more shocking.”

  The bastard moved until he stood behind her. Lilith couldn’t see him. He waved the glittering blade in front of her eyes. “Maybe a disfiguring scar. Or dislodging an eyeball.”

  The blade followed his words, scraping her nose and cheek, pinning the muscles beneath her left eye.

  “I do believe I can shock an attack out of you, Lily. Let’s try it.”

  While the knife moved out of her vision, she could sense the lingering presence, the edge hovering. It seemed he stood there for half an hour. She waited for the stab, the slice, wondering if she could bear up against it.

  Instead, he returned to the lever that tightened the rack. With a crank, the constant ache blazed as her muscle fibers separated. Lilith let out a howl. She kept her speak at bay.

  Zorn’s son disappeared behind her again. “I think slow cuts are worse than a quick slash. But we’ll try both.”

  Knifepoint against her forehead, lightly at first, then pressing down, Lilith tried not to flinch as she felt the skin break. Worse, the tip seemed to drag across her skull as the executioner sliced her open.

  Blood flowed into her eyes. She tried to blink it away. The second slash came quick, hardly felt until the skin parted. Her sockets pooled with blood, and she closed her eyes against it. Panic surged. She couldn’t see. Couldn’t brace herself against the bastard’s next move.

  Footsteps. Moving toward the instrument-covered table. Moving back. She tried to look, but her eyes burned, the lids twisting shut again. She felt her blood dripping down her cheeks, into her ears, along her jaw, pooling beneath her neck.

  So much blood.

  Searing slashes in her skin vied with the ongoing insult to her body. Breath now panted from her, her pulse racing, sweat prickling, her teeth clamped. Helpless and blind, she felt her control leaving her, adrenalin provoking her flight response. She had no way to flee, no place to flee to. Immobility stoked the fire of her horror.

  The bastard was breaking down her will. She could no longer fight against it. His next move would force the speak out of her, the energy releasing the sick fuck inside the fiery pit.