by RS Black
But that blink of another soul was no longer around. I did not know this Priest, and I no longer cared what his fate was. I turned back around, gazing upon my parents.
I’d been born exactly four times in my life. Called upon to perform the duties for which I was created. But always Death managed to stop me.
Tonight, I could see in his eyes that he had run out of plans. Sin could never truly die, not in this world. But he could wound me if he touched me with his scythe.
His bony fingers were clenching and unclenching by his side. He did not want to hurt me. Death never wanted to hurt me. He loved me.
Famine and Disease were close by, licking their lips, I could see the tremors of their destruction eating away at the land, at the creatures. They knew, as did I, that their brother had failed to thwart me this time. It wasn’t that Dean wanted to save the mortals. Not truly.
But it was his task. And Death was nothing if not predictable in his pursuit of a win.
The sickle was in his belt; he’d likely boasted of killing this body before I could perform my task. But it wasn’t true. For this was free will. My choice. He could only lob off the head of this body if I performed the task—it was why I would die. Not because of my father and mothers being released, but because of Death himself.
I glanced over my shoulder. An army of shifters, and humans who’d aligned themselves with demons, stood at the ready, their eyes peering into the thick gloom, awaiting their first true glimpse of my parents. Trees cast long shadows. The moon hung heavy and full, the wind whispering with the song of redemption. Even the earth shuddered with the beginnings of labor pain.
I was here, and there was no one to stop me. And yet, I was curious.
“What is she to you?” I asked. “I see the way you grip your scythe. You do not wish to kill her. Why?”
“Stop this, Sin.” Death gripped my forearm, squeezing with bony fingers.
The creature I inhabited was beautiful. Her skin was firm. Her hair lustrous. Her features intended to make men and women weep with envy.
“Did you love her?”
He dug in deeper, his nails tearing easily through the flesh.
“Your sting cannot harm me, Death.” I lifted a brow, glancing down at his fingers.
Jaw clenching, he snatched his hand off.
Death hated to lose at anything.
He believed his will absolute, but nothing was ever truly absolute. Not in life. And not in death. “There is an appointed hour for all things. Concede defeat. You shall not die with the rest of them. Why do you care?”
“Get on with it,” War growled.
Her sword gleamed in the night. Begging for blood.
Famine and Disease moved in closer now. I just barely made out their shadows in the tree line. Famine was a waify, leggy blonde who wore nothing so that she could show off every rib, every bone in her body.
Disease was a lovely man. Snow-white hair and brilliant blue eyes. But his touch was lethal. It’d been an eon since I’d seen any of them.
My family, all together again, it was nice, circumstances notwithstanding.
I held up my hand, shushing War. This was my time. One I did not get often. I would bask in it before I lost it.
“You wish to say anything else, Dean?”
He stepped in front of me.
The bones of his face were so incredibly beautiful. They weren’t porous and white, but glowed with silvery runes that flashed at me, called to me, beckoned me.
He was desperate. I had never seen him so.
“Can you feel her in there?” He touched my chest with his thumb. “A favor I ask you, Sin, the only favor I’ll ever ask you, is to listen. Let her in, and listen.”
War shoved Death aside. “You’ve played your role, Dean. And now it is our turn.” She turned her glowing eyes upon me. “He’s failed, sister. This is your hour and this is mine. Your sacrifice must be made. Do not listen to his viper’s tongue. He could charm the pants off the Devil himself.”
Wrath’s voice grew louder, more persistent.
I felt his need like a string tied around my soul, begging me to walk closer, move into the center of the axis, the joining point between this realm and theirs. My body twitched, my need to obey so strong.
“Just listen, Sin,” Dean pleaded. “Just open your soul for a moment, and listen to her. You might see what I do.”
I cocked my head. His words were foreign to me. Death cannot love, and yet, what was this, if not love?
“The moment I complete my task, Dean, you will end her. It is how it should be. Why would you have me care about this?”
The world around us faded away and I saw him as I’d seen him once before.
My spirit rode the winds; through every corner of the world I breathed and moved. Immaterial, fleshless, but always there, and always alone.
But Dean never forgot me.
He’d whisper to me constantly of the people. Of their lives. Of his life.
Sometimes his stories would make me smile.
Other times, curious.
“I will end her. And I do believe a part of me would suffer for it,” he admitted softly.
I moved into his body. Laying a hand upon his skeletal brow. The red gown I’d been draped in flowed like a wave around my ankles, wrapping around his legs, drawing us closer.
Taking my hands, he gripped them tight. “Open yourself for a moment, let her in, see her as I do.”
I would have said no, but I couldn’t. Not when he was so wounded, so exposed to me. I suppose maybe I loved him too.
And as I stared at him and he at me, I drew the innocent soul up from the depths. An explosion of memories overtook me.
Death. Violence. Laughter. Hate. Anguish. Despair. Love.
A five-thousand-year-old life, being relived inside me. Her despair at killing her truest friend. The love of her Priest. Her hatred of Dean. Her love of Dean.
I looked at him.
“She loves you too.”
He clenched his jaw. I could read the denial of what he felt in his eyes. I doubt he was even aware of it; the creature had not often felt the emotion in his life. But it was as I said it was.
“Though she does not feel for you as you do for her.”
His eyes glowed deeply.
The memories did not stop. They flashed through me, until the final moment when I took over. And now I knew why Dean had stalled me.
In the distance I heard a thundering.
And I smiled. “You stalled me, Death.”
Shoving him aside, I marched to the axis, dropping to my knees, and drew my hands together, chanting and calling to my father, Wrath.
The winds kicked up, swirling around me. I reached a hand into my bodice, withdrawing the blade of agony. War, Famine, and Disease stood around me, Death needed to be the fourth point of power. He would come soon. He’d have no choice.
Below us the ground trembled as the fires of Hell began to curl outward.
“You must know by now, Sin. I never lose.” Death stood before me, dressed in his dark robes, holding on to his sickle dripping with blood. Behind him a warhorse with eyes of red stomped its hooves.
The world erupted into chaos again.
A Nephilim I’d not been aware of charged the field, drawing blood as he clawed his way toward me. War jumped in front of me, her sword held at the ready. My bodyguard would bring any down who tried to bring me down.
Dean tilted the sickle toward my face.
“You betrayed me.” I shook my head, sinking my claws into the earth, calling to my father and mothers. Becoming the bridge I’d need to become to open the Gates. The souls trapped inside me began to bleed out, sinking into the depths of the earth, feeding Wrath.
He grew stronger by the minute.
Jaw clicking from side to side, he said, “You gave me no choice, Sin. This one belongs to me.”
The sickle hovered above my lips. Dean did not mean to kill me; he meant to immobilize me. One touch of it and the tr
ue soul would come alive inside me.
“It won’t last.” I shook my head, fingers still stretched into the earth and feeding it my souls. “You can only hold me temporarily. I will win. I will release my family.”
“You read her life, Sin, can you still deny her strength? It is not I who will hold you off.” He grinned. “It’s her.”
I looked at War. “Stop him.”
Her lashes fluttered. “I can only defend you. Not her.”
For a moment, I was confused. Until I saw what I did not expect to see. The Nephilim who’d charged us, the Golden Adonis of rage, had not been coming for me. He’d come for the doctor. In one hand the Nephilim held the doctor’s head; in the other, a Nephilim’s mark.
“Pandora, come forth,” the Nephilim intoned deeply.
Then Death’s scythe kissed my lips and I screamed.
Chapter 25
Pandora
Gasping, I came to life, looking around in wide-eyed horror. There were bodies ripped to shreds around me.
“Ash,” I whispered with a voice grown hoarse, my gaze immediately searching his out. He lay mere yards away from me and the moment he heard me speak, he lifted his head. His eyes were glazed with pain and he was covered in so much blood.
I swallowed hard, having a hard time remembering what’d happened to me. Glancing down, I could see I’d been dressed in a ritual gown. My hands were shoved through the earth and I could feel I’d lost many souls.
Wrath glared before me. I yanked my hands out of the dirt and trembled violently. I shook my head, unable to understand what was going on. I didn’t know where I was.
In the woods. It was dark.
And all around, a battle had been waged.
Dean knelt before me. Lilith stood beside him. And across from them were two other figures I didn’t recognize. But considering Death and War were here, the other two could be none other than Disease and Famine.
Their cold, hard gazes made me want to shrink back down inside myself.
Dean reached for me, but then drew back at the last second. He was all bone, and toxic to me.
“You’re back.” There was an inflection to his tone I did not recognize.
The clang of steel and the crackle of fire was a macabre melody being played out. Breathing heavy, panic clawed down my spine, and I shook my head.
I couldn’t move.
My body was paralyzed.
Below my feet I could see the shimmering tendrils of rippling power. Wrath’s voice was an echo in the chamber of my mind, demanding I heed his call.
“What’s going on,” I gasped, “what’s going on?”
“Your plan, Dorrie.”
“My plan?” Tears spilled out my eyes. I couldn’t remember anything other than the darkness and the anguish, the despair when I’d been trapped inside my own body with countless other dark souls, all of them ripping and tearing at me. I was their enemy.
He nodded. “Focus, demon girl. Remember the plan.”
“The plan.” I shook my head. “The plan. The—” My gaze shot to his as memories came flooding back.
My scheming with Luc. His activation as a key.
That’s when I saw my avenging angel of death. Luc stood proud before me, panting heavily, his eyes black and swimming with souls. Dick’s head stared down at me with sightless eyes. And Luc held my mark.
I choked on a sob. “You did it?”
He nodded softly. “I did exactly what you asked me to do, Dora. I came straight for the doctor, no deviations. I killed Keltse tonight. I mastered her Sloth and dropped them all.” He pointed to the field full of sleeping shifters.
I tried to crawl toward him, but my ass couldn’t move off the plot of dirt I sat on. Looking down at my lap, I knew why. I’d been bound to the earth with dark magic. The flickering heat of that spell held me as though chained. I’d never be able to move, and none of them could save me either. Only my death would free me.
I hung my head.
Dean tipped my jaw up with his finger, which was once again flesh and blood. “I figured it out when Bubba severed Asher’s leg.”
Tears trembled on my lashes.
My frenemy, my friend, Dean had been both those things to me. His words were so gentle and made my heart ache. “You prevented Asher from coming for you because War would have taken him out, just like she did Vyxen.”
A strangled cry dropped from my tongue. “Vyx is dead?”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “but most all your allies gave their lives this evening.”
I knuckled a tear from my cheek. I knew who was here. I’d been instrumental in gathering the forces before I’d been taken by the Triad. My berserker nephews would have been here. The Zombie Queen and her hive. And most of my Carnival Diabolique family. “I told her for years I never liked her, but...”
Luc dropped Dick’s head, then knelt beside me and wrapped his arms around me.
It was amazing the silence I now heard. The battle must have been fierce and violent; there were bodies and gore everywhere, but now there was nothing. Everything had stopped, everyone was looking at me. The fate of the world literally rested on me now.
I clung to Luc’s shirt. “How are you?” I asked softly.
“Hurts like hell,” he admitted, “but I’ll live.”
His chuckle was scratchy but it was the first thing tonight to make me smile.
“You had to be the one to choose, Pandora.” Dean spoke again.
“You hurt me.”
“Yes, I did.” He nodded slowly. “Because it couldn’t be easy for you. I had to drag you through Hell. I had to test you. Prove that you were who I believed you to be. Light.”
His palm was warm as he framed my face.
Light.
A thing oft hoped for and never achieved, especially by one of my kind.
I pressed my forehead to Dean’s even as Luc still held me tight in his arms. I ached for those arms to belong to Asher, but it was best for all involved if he stayed far away from me, from what was still to come.
“Where is she?” I asked. “Where is the darkness inside me?” I felt empty. Not hollow exactly. There were still many souls trapped within me, but I wasn’t as bloated as I’d been.
Dean showed me his sickle. “I’ve trapped her, but my touch doesn’t do more than wound her temporarily. Pandora”—he gripped the back of my neck and shook me—“she’s already fighting to get back inside you. If you let her in, if you give her a toehold, all’s lost. Hang in there. Please. Fight like hell, demon girl. Fight.”
As if she’d heard his words an immediate wash of fire ripped across my shoulder blades and down my spine. I howled, throat flexing backward as I felt the intrusion of the Scarlet Woman. She was clawing to come back out.
My skin broke out in a wash of sweat.
Trembling violently, I gasped.
As suddenly as it’d started, the assault ended.
Dean’s face was no longer made of bone, but flesh, and he was pale, his eyes glowing brilliantly. His grip on his scythe unyielding.
I clutched at his chest. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“You have no choice!” he snapped. “You know what you must do. So do it now!”
“Pandora!” Asher was coming for me. I didn’t turn to look at him, but I felt him.
Felt his despair and his fear; it ate at my soul like a cancer.
I was light. I wanted to live. I didn’t want to die. Didn’t want to do what I knew I had to do. But so long as I remained, so did she, and I couldn’t hold her back for much longer.
Dean was grinding his teeth so hard I heard it. His hand was shaking violently. I felt Sin’s power pushing at me once more. I was weak. And I was exhausted.
Luc crushed me in his embrace. “Pandora,” he groaned, “Don’t make me do this. Not now. Not yet.”
“I can’t hang on.” My whisper was broken and full of pain and terror. Sin was raking her claws down my back, seeking entrance once more. “You have to kill me.”<
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Hands tugged on me. Familiar hands. Warm and calloused. My lover’s hands. My Asher’s hands. Somehow he’d managed to crawl his way to me, and he was panting in my ear, hanging on to me from behind.
I shuddered. “Ash, you have to let me go.”
“Never. You’re mine. I love you.”
Those words didn’t make me feel better; in fact, they hurt. They were cruel and I wanted to hate him for it.
I could never be his again.
As if by thought alone, Bubba materialized beside me.
This was all part of the plan. The reason why I’d bitten Bubba the night I’d attacked Luc. When I’d traded our blood, I’d given him the truth. I’d shown him the plan, and what he would need to do in a case such as this.
He never flinched. He never blinked. While Asher was distracted by saving me, Bubba tossed him to the ground and shoved a knee into his chest. Asher roared. I could feel his struggle to get back to me. But he was weak from blood loss; even with his super healing it would take days to regenerate a leg.
Bubba’s part in all this was simple. He needed to stop Asher from trying to stop me. At any cost necessary, save taking his life.
I shook my head, of course, this wasn’t what I’d wanted. I hadn’t wanted any of this. But Asher had to live and he had to let me go. And the only way to make sure he’d do that was to make sure he wasn’t strong enough to stop me.
Gasping, fighting with everything I had inside me, every ounce of will I possessed, I swallowed the scream of agony and gave Bubba one final nod.
To rip my Priest’s glorious wings off.
Bubba was a monster, merciless and ruthless as he rolled Ash over and snapped them off with a violent heave.
The nubs of Asher’s wings remained. Which meant he could still heal himself. But the healing would be slow and painful.
My Priest writhed in agony, but he never cried. I was proud of him then. More proud than I think I’d ever been. He was the epitome of a true warrior. And if he could do it, then so could I.