Damnation's Door: A Cursed Book

by Amy Braun

  Dro was breathing shallowly in Max’s arms, blinking to stay awake. Her eyes stopped fluttering when she looked at me.

  “Is he gone?” she whispered shakily. “Is it over?”

  I nodded slowly.

  Dro slumped with relief. Max kissed her head, holding her tightly to his chest.

  “Almost over,” Warrick muttered. “I’ll be right back.”

  I gripped his arm. “Help me stand.”

  “Constance–”

  “I’m not going to lie here like a beached whale. I want to stand.”

  Warrick frowned and shook his head, muttering something that sounded like, “Stubborn, impossible woman.”

  Yet he still looped his arm around my back and carefully helped me to my feet. I hissed and swore every time I bent my body, but I was on my feet soon enough. Warrick kept his hand on my shoulder until he was sure I was steadied, then turned and walked to a dark-clothed man on the ground. He picked up his knife along the way.

  Warrick put the edge of his boot under Drake’s shoulder and flipped him onto his back. Drake’s face was a mess of pulped flesh and blood. I couldn’t feel sympathy for him as he coughed and spat red saliva.

  “How did you know?” Max asked.

  “To close the Heaven Gate, we had to destroy something beautiful,” I heard Dro mumble. “To close the Hell Gate, we had to save something evil.”

  It made sense. Lucifer had loved cruel irony.

  But he’s gone now, and the last piece of his curse is about to meet his fate.

  Drake coughed again. “You got some lucky shots in, Johnny-boy,” he rasped. He spat out more blood onto the grass. “But you don’t got it in you to kill me on my back like this. You’re too noble for that.”

  Warrick stood over him with a knife in his hand.

  “I should be,” Warrick said evenly. “Dro saved your life to close the Hell Gate. I should honor that.” His grip tightened. “But the Gate is closed now, and all I can think about is how you destroyed my sister. You killed a mentor of mine. You kidnapped an innocent girl. You stabbed the woman I love. You murdered my friend.”

  Warrick knelt down on Drake’s chest, ignoring his grimace of pain.

  “Somehow, I don’t think she’s going to stop me now.”

  When Warrick’s knife plunged down into Drake’s chest, Dro didn’t protest. Nothing magical happened in retribution when Warrick turned the blade slowly. Lucifer didn’t return from Hell to incinerate us when Drake Talbot finally died.

  After checking to make sure Drake remained dead, Warrick stood up and walked away from his corpse. His eyes were shimmering, but I could see the peace in him. It would be a while before he moved on, but he’d finally be able to sleep and wake in the morning knowing that Drake would never hurt someone close to him again.

  He stopped in front of me and curled his arm around my back, bringing me in for a deep kiss. I all but melted into him, not caring how much my ribs hurt as I wrapped my arms around him. Warrick’s kiss was no longer desperate, just calming and relieved. I was weak in the knees when he pulled back. He rested his forehead against mine, his fingertips stroking the side of my face tenderly.

  The sound of shuffling feet finally broke us apart. I looked over my shoulder as Gabriel approached with Michael.

  Both archangels looked horrible. Gabriel had devastating burns on his chest, stretching all the way to his chin. The right side of his handsome face was black with charred flesh. He was sweating from the pain and effort to hold up Michael.

  The Commander of the Heavenly Host was slumped over Gabriel’s shoulder, breathing rapidly. Sweat glistened on his pale face. His battered wings dragged limply on the ground. One of his hands was pressed to his side. Blood was oozing from between his fingertips. I stared in horror, knowing Lucifer’s sword had done that to him when he chose to save my life.

  There was a faint shuffling behind me. I watched Dro ease past, Max holding her arm to keep her steady. She stopped in front of the archangels. Her hands stretched out toward Michael, since he was the one closest to death. She touched his wound gently, but no healing glow came from her hands. She held them there longer, pressed a little harder. Nothing happened. She looked up, distraught.

  “I– I can’t do anything,” her voice trembled. “I have no powers. I… I think I’m human now.”

  Dro was choked, but Michael did something completely unexpected.

  He smiled at her.

  “You are, Andromeda. And you are overwhelmingly fortunate. Closing both Gates should have killed you. You were not born human. You were created to be molded, to absorb the powers of Heaven, Hell, and earth.” He looked at me. “Perhaps along the way, you absorbed humanity. Likely more than you realize.” His eyes turned to Dro again. “It seems that humanity suits with you. The life you have now is a gift. Do not waste it.”

  “What about you guys?” I asked. “Are you a hundred percent human now?”

  Michael shook his head. “Gabriel and I still retain some of our gifts, however.”

  “Then heal yourselves,” Dro pleaded.

  Michael shook his head again, looking resigned. “There is another who deserves a gift.”

  Both Michael and Gabriel looked at the ground behind them. My heart broke again at the sight of Sephiel’s body. The utter paleness of his skin, the blood staining his still chest, the closure of his eyes. I kept waiting for him to open his eyes and stand, to reassure us that there was nothing to worry about, and that he was fine.

  But he didn’t move. He would never move again.

  Warrick’s hand found mine and gave it a squeeze just as new tears formed in my eyes. It was as much for him as it was for me.

  “What are you going to do?” I was afraid to ask, but I needed to know.

  “His soul has already left his body,” Michael said. “He is behind Saint Peter’s Gates. But with the last of my strength, I can put forth a call to the guards watching our half of Heaven. I can tell them to direct the soul of his beloved to him.”

  My eyes widened. “You mean she’s…”

  “She was an angel when she died, Constance. Her soul returned to our afterlife after her passing. I know she did not expect to see Sephiel again, and that she will be elated when she realizes I will allow her to spend the rest of her afterlife with him, on the human side of Heaven.” He smirked, as though thinking of a distant memory. “Everiel always had a fondness for humanity. She will be delighted to find Sephiel there.”

  My heart was torn. On one hand, I knew I would miss Sephiel every day. On the other, I was glad that he would be back with Everiel. He’d be at peace with her. I imagined them sitting together, Sephiel telling her our story as they watched us from the clouds.

  Suddenly it wasn’t so hard to miss him.

  “But that will kill you,” Dro said, voice shaking.

  “It will,” Michael replied sadly. “But humanity does not suit me as well as it did Sephiel and Everiel.”

  Dro stared at Michael for a long time, desperate to help but knowing there was nothing she could do. Finally, she bowed her head and stepped back.

  Michael looked at each of us one last time. Gabriel did the same. They were looks of goodbye, and gratitude. Then they turned away and walked to Sephiel’s body. Gabriel slowly and clumsily lowered Michael next to our friend. The Commander gently put his hand on Sephiel’s chest. Gabriel did the same. I saw Michael close his eyes, and then all three of them blinked out of existence.

  I stared at the spot Sephiel had been, heart in my throat.

  Bye, Seph.

  Dro stood with her back to us for a long time before she slowly turned to face us. We didn’t say anything while she was struggling for words. Her eyes met mine, and that was when she broke.

  “I’m sorry,” Dro told us. “I’m so sorry. I thought I had control. I hate myself for what I did to you.” Tears spilled down her cheeks as she looked at me. “Connie, the things I said... I’m so sorry, big sister.”

  She couldn’t go o
n. Her eyes squeezed shut and her arms went around her middle. Sobs wracked her body.

  “I can’t fix it,” she cried. “I can’t fix it.”

  I started walking toward Dro. She saw me coming and backed up a step. I moved faster than she did. I stopped in front of her and gently took her elbow. She was tense, but didn’t stop me from pulling her forward. I curled my arm around her back and hugged her tight, afraid I would lose her again if I let go. Dro’s tears soaked my shoulder as she squeezed me. The hug hurt my ribs, but I didn’t care.

  “Constance, I–”

  “Don’t say it,” I told her. “There’s no need. I’m not angry.”

  “How? How can you not hate me for what I did? I hurt you, I attacked you, I–”

  “I did the same thing to you,” I reminded her grimly, guilt pricking my heart with angry fingers. “And believe me, I’m going to kick my ass for that for a while. But it doesn’t matter.”

  Dro pulled back and looked at me, bewildered.

  “You heard me. It doesn’t matter, Dro. I can’t hate you. Yeah, you made mistakes. Yeah, they were terrible ones. But you stopped the demons. You stopped me from getting dragged into Hell.” I grinned. “You cut off Lucifer’s damn hand.” My smile softened. “You’ve never given up on me. You just got lost. Deep down, we both knew I would find you again.”

  Dro shivered and burst into fresh tears. I hugged her again.

  “I don’t know who I am anymore,” she whispered.

  I pushed her away from me gently to look in her eyes. She had a lot to forgive herself for. There would be ups and downs, nightmares and tears. She wouldn’t be the only one enduring them.

  “You’re who you always were,” I said. “You’re Dro.”

  My sister let out a choked laugh, but it was real. That gave me more hope than I could ask for. Dro would move on from her pain and guilt.

  As for me, I’d let go, but not of what mattered. I held on to my sister because she kept me stable. Gave me something to strive for. I did the same for her, and we could both breathe easier.

  I had no reason to be vengeful. I could learn to trust. It would be tough, but it was life.

  And we had survived worse.

  Epilogue

  One year later…

  “I hate these shoes,” I complained again.

  Warrick smiled and squeezed my hand. “Relax. You don’t have to wear them for much longer.”

  I frowned at him, but my bitterness didn’t last long. Especially when he looked smoking hot in a black suit, white dress shirt, and loose black tie. I was dressed more or less the same, sans the tie, but I felt like Patrick Bateman on his way to the boardroom with an axe.

  The analogy would probably fit better if I actually brought my hatchet with me, but it was at home on the nightstand by my side of the bed. I stopped carrying it because I hadn’t seen a demon in months, but I still felt naked without it. Sure, I had a throwing knife tucked into my belt and I kept up my strength in sparring practice with Warrick, but I didn’t feel right without it yet.

  Not that I imagined anyone would attack us in broad daylight in a cemetery. And if they did… Well, I’m sure there was an open plot somewhere for me to hide a body in.

  Dro and Max were already at the tombstone. He was dressed in a similar suit to Warrick’s, though he didn’t fill it as well as my lover did. Dro wore a simple, grey knee length dress, as close to black as she could get it. Black was the one color she refused to wear again. Couldn’t really say I blamed her.

  Even without her gifts, she sensed me coming. She smiled at me, white roses in one hand and Max’s in the other.

  “Hey,” she said when we made it to the tombstone.

  “Hey,” I smiled back. “Staying out of trouble?”

  Dro’s shrug was a sweet, innocent lie. “The movers still haven’t brought the couch, but Max saw that it will be here by the end of the week.”

  “Nice,” I said.

  After we’d composed ourselves and found the strength to walk, we left Owl Creek behind for good. I never wanted to see that place again. One stolen truck, a trip to a no-questions-asked-hospital, and dozens of miles later, we ended up at our old family house again.

  Dro and I sat in the living room and talked for hours. We eventually decided that we needed distance from each other.

  I hadn’t been that hard to sway for once. It wasn’t that I wanted to be away from my sister, but the truth was that we had our own mental and emotional battles to make peace with. We couldn’t do that if we smothered each other.

  Obviously we didn’t move far apart, but we didn’t claim ownership of our parent’s house. There were too many memories in it.

  The few lingering demons that had been too far from the portal to be sucked back into Hell were hunted down by groups of brave– and stupid– vigilantes. The military and the cops had the firepower to track them, but the amount of destruction they had caused wasn’t something that could be fixed overnight. The monsters were still hiding in the shadows, and it only took a couple weeks before Warrick and the two demon slayers living in Canada were forced to confess what they were.

  Not everybody jumped for joy. A lot of them blamed the slayers for letting this happen, that they should have been protecting one family over another, that they started the war in the first place.

  Warrick was happy to ignore all the complaints and do his job, and I was just as happy to join him.

  Mexican officials declared Ciudad Juárez a quarantine zone. Nobody was to go in or out unless they had a military escort and express permission from the government. Some of the citizens were able to escape the city, but some chose to stay.

  Demons, for all their claws, fangs and savagery, were easy to kill when you knew how. Humans that loved their broken minds, not so much.

  It would be at least a decade before anyone was able to enter Juárez again, years before the Blood Thorns relinquished their hold while rival cartels fought to control the city.

  I had no intention of going back to help.

  So for the first couple of months, we stayed at Warrick’s house in San Marcos. It started off as a convenience thing while we looked for jobs and I had a black market forger make fake IDs for me and Dro in return for collecting money from a disloyal customer. It was all too familiar, but I left the customer breathing. It was the last illegal job I ever pulled, deciding that private security would be a good fit for Elisa Diego. I didn’t feel like an Elisa or a Diego, but as long as the world bought my lie, I didn’t give a shit.

  Considering the warrant on me was gone and I had a legitimate job, I was betting the lie would hold. Though I was pretty sure Warrick had pulled some strings with his Marshal pals to get me off the Wanted list.

  No one had heard a word about open portals or Lucifer. That was the biggest relief I’d ever had. I hoped the son of a bitch was sulking on his throne, and that the other demons saw his failure on earth and crippled hand as weakness. I hoped that the rebellions and in-fighting would last for eternity, since it would mean that the demons were too selfish and too stupid to try and open the Gates to earth again.

  I turned my head and looked at the grave. There was only one plot here, since we couldn’t afford to move all our lost loved ones into the same cemetery, but he meant as much to us as the ones we traveled to visit.

  Dro knelt down in front of the curved stone, brushing away the dirt that had covered his name over the year. She pulled out the vase hidden in the soil in front of the tombstone. She held the roses in both hands and swallowed her tears.

  “We miss you, Sephiel.”

  Our silence was our agreement.

  Dro pulled one of the roses from the bouquet and placed it in the vase. She stared at Sephiel’s name for a moment longer, then wiped her eyes and stood up. Max curled his arm around her as she handed the roses to the rest of us.

  Max placed his rose in the vase next to Dro’s.

  “It’s not as nice as Heaven, but I hope you still like the plot, buddy.
”

  He patted the top of the tombstone and stepped back. Dro took Max’s hand and rested her head on his shoulder.

  Warrick went next. He gracefully knelt down and put his rose in the vase. He put his hand on the top of the grave marker and paid a silent tribute to Sephiel. When his minute of silence was finished, he got up and stepped back.

  I took his place, my heart filling with heavy grief again. One of my biggest regrets was never fully thanking Sephiel for what he’d done for us. The tombstone wasn’t even my idea– it was Dro’s. A way to keep him close, she’d said. To let him know we still thought of and missed him as much as our other family members.