Dark Angel

by Amanda Jones

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Bataryal

  B sat staring down at the cup of coffee in front of him. Making a face at the offending beverage, he brought it to his lips and took a long sip. What he really wanted was a shit-ton of salvia so he could get himself completely fucked up. But he couldn’t do that because he’d volunteered to be a juice-box for a baby vampire, and getting Sergei shitfaced on his first trip down feeding lane would make B a complete asshole. When had he ever worried about looking like an asshole before? That’s right, never! But then again, he’d never been asked to do a favor by a gorgeous, vulnerable surgeon…who just happened to be an immortal vampire. He was totally fucked.

  Glancing down at his watch, he realized it was just after six o’clock in the evening. The sun had gone down ten minutes ago and Sergei would be awake now if the turning had worked. B rose from the table and headed towards the stone staircase that would lead him to the basement of The Advocate. Time to get this over with. He could’ve found a blood donor amongst the throngs of demons that had arrived for their nightly hangout at the bar and knowing that he’d personally offered himself up as a meal just to impress Mara rankled. B was not the kind of guy that ever did anything to impress a woman. In his life, the women were temporary — a bandage solution to fighting the demons of his past, a past that he and Yetarel shared.

  Dark memories began to tug at his consciousness, dragging him back into the horror and shame he masked with a flippant attitude and an irreverent smile. Nobody could ever know. Images of himself and Yetarel reaching out to each other as they were tortured and violated by Satan’s minions who had discovered them after their fall flickered through his mind. Bloody and battered, they’d clung to each other in a desperate bid for comfort, trying to heal each other’s minds as their bodies healed, only to be tortured anew.

  Shaking his head in an effort to dislodge the past, B reminded himself that he wasn’t just damaged, but broken beyond repair. He had no business staring at Mara like a love-struck mooncalf, nor did he have any business trying to be the good guy. After feeding Sergei, he would go back to being who he’d been for millennia. The smartass friend that smiled and joked, the salvia user who spent half his time frosted, the fallen who had one night stands with demon females who gave no shit about him beyond saying they’d bagged one of the Princes of Hell.

  Plastering the cockiest grin he could muster onto his face, B emerged into the large basement chamber that contained the Portal to Sheol. Twin blurs — one dark, one red — zipped across his field of vision. As B’s eyes strained to adjust, the racing figures stopped on a dime. Standing near him completely immobile, as only the undead could, were Mara and a very vampiric Sergei. B’s eyes widened as he took in the man he’d brought into The Advocate torn up and bleeding only hours before. His skin, like Mara’s, had an otherworldly pallor that caused his dark hair to stand out in contrast; his eyes, once a consistently warm light brown, were bleeding to red.

  Vampires, B thought, really were the perfect predators. Like many humanoid demons, they were designed to draw their victims to their ultimate demise with their magnetic appearance, hypnotic eyes, and inviting fragrance. Suddenly realizing it looked like he was checking Sergei out, B snapped his eyes to the side and locked onto Mara. That was a mistake. Every time he looked at her, he was struck dumb by her combination of strength, determination, and vulnerability. She was truly the most beautiful creature he’d seen in his centuries of existence. Oh yes, he was fucked and he knew it. Once this feeding was done, he had to leave and make sure he never ran into her again or he was going to be at risk of developing stalker tendencies.

  B cleared his throat loudly and flicked his eyes around the basement room. “All right, let’s get the show on the road. Where do you want to do this?” he said curtly.

  Surprise registered on Mara’s face at B’s clipped tone. Raising her eyebrow she pointed to two chairs that had been set up near the table Sergei had been laid upon. “I set up a spot for you guys. Thanks again for doing this. It will be easier for him to use somebody he kind of knows.”

  Nodding tersely, B headed over to the chairs, sat down, and laid an arm wrist-up on top of his leg. He sat there silently, eyeing Mara and Sergei who were standing across the room staring at him. “Are we waiting for Sheol to freeze over here, people?” He threw out at them, rolling his eyes. He knew he was acting like a dick, but that was the plan. It would be so much easier to stay away from her if he knew she hated him. He’d been a dozen different kinds of stupid when he’d first met her bringing Sergei in, forgetting who and what he was. He could never be with someone like her; she was too good, too happy, and too normal. He would taint her with his past. It was just best to forget about it and move on.

  Sergei and Mara approached B, slowing down to a normal human pace. Clearly Mara had been teaching Sergei a bit about how to control himself in the short time since he’d risen. Sergei was evidently a quick learner and seemed to be taking to his new abilities like a duck to water. Sergei sat down in the chair beside B’s and looked up at Mara, a look of trepidation on his face. She smiled down at him. Gold began to bleed into her irises as she said, “Don’t worry, you won’t hurt him. We release venom with our bite that makes the experience pleasurable not painful. I’ll make sure you don’t take too much.”

  B had to forcibly tear his eyes away from her. Even though her hypnotic power was focused on Sergei, the twenty-four karat decadence of her eyes was mesmerizing.

  “He’s not going to turn if I bite him right?” Sergei asked.

  “Turning someone is a bit more complicated than just biting. There’s a blood exchange involved also. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine…both of you.” Mara gave a half-smile and knelt down beside B’s chair so she could keep eye contact with Sergei as he fed. As she knelt, her breasts brushed lightly against B’s thigh. He sucked in a breath, tensing as he felt a light electric current run through him at the contact. That had never happened before.

  Forcing himself to ignore the heady sensation of having Mara so close, B returned his attention to Sergei. His breath caught at what he saw. Sergei’s irises had been overtaken with a glowing red, his mouth was parted slightly, and a pair of deadly looking fangs had emerged. B watched as Sergei closed his eyes and inhaled, taking in the scent of the blood pounding through his veins. An ecstatic expression overtook his face shortly before he doubled over with a cry of pain. Lines of strain bracketed his eyes as he clutched his stomach and looked at Mara in confusion.

  “The hunger always overtakes us the first time we’re in proximity to a beating heart,” she said, smoothing her hand down Sergei’s spine soothingly. “Drink and you’ll feel better.”

  Sergei shook his head, his mind clearly rebelling against the idea of drinking B’s blood, despite the fact that all of his instincts were screaming for him to get on with it. Breaking eye contact, Mara reached out and grabbed hold of B’s hand; bringing his wrist gently to her mouth, she unsheathed her fangs. She glanced up at B as her tongue snaked out to lick along the vein running down the inside of his wrist. B immediately shuddered; little electric shocks of pleasure exploded up and down his arm. Keeping eye contact with B, Mara slid her teeth into his arm. Instead of the pain he’d expected to feel, a strange warmth infused his body, making him want to reach out and touch her, kiss her. He was falling into an abyss of bliss; he wanted to make love to her and never let her go. His skin was so sensitized that the friction of his clothing as he took each breath almost sent him over the edge. Her bite was like a drug he could happily become a slave to for the rest of his life. He felt like he had been transported back to heaven for the first time in millennia.

  Without warning, Mara detached herself from B’s arm and glanced up at him. Her eyes were glowing like twin beacons, blood red and dangerous. Instead of the fear he expected to feel rushing through him, B found himself strangely turned on by the sight. She grabbed Sergei by the back of the head and forced B’s arm to his lips, his blood running i
n tiny rivulets from the twin puncture wounds Mara had left behind. Sergei struggled momentarily against his body’s natural inclination to feed, but ultimately gave in.

  With a groan, he struck. B felt Sergei bury his canines deep within his arm. There was no pain as Sergei began to take long pulls at B’s wrist, but this time there was also no pleasure. B looked down at Sergei, watching as he fed. Tightness began to constrict his chest and his breathing became shallow and rapid. A cold sweat broke out all over his body. Sergei’s red eyes bored into B’s own, only increasing his panic.

  Images began flashing through his mind once again, Yetarel and B being held down, sharp teeth flashing, reddened eyes glowing, blood spilling. Screams echoed through his mind as he tried to yank himself out of the downward spiral. Sergei tightened his grip on B’s arm and jerked it closer, his fangs sinking deeper into B’s skin. The baby vamp’s iron grip caused B to flash back to the dungeon where he’d been tortured. Unbreakable wolframite cuffs held him and Yetarel to the damp stone wall. The demons bit and scratched them, feeding off of their blood. The Devourers forced images of heinous acts into their minds, making them throw themselves violently against the walls in an effort to render themselves unconscious. The demons stopped feeding and started touching them, hands everywhere. B tried to separate his soul from what was being done to his body, trying to detach himself as he was violated. B was so immersed in his waking nightmare that he was watching his own torture playing out in front of him like a horror film. Distantly, B heard a heartbreaking scream, it sounded as though someone’s soul was being ripped apart. He felt sympathy for that poor fucker.

  Reality slammed into him like a Mack Truck. That soul-rending scream was coming from him. Mara was crouched between his legs, cupping his cheeks, and trying to catch his gaze with hers. Her mouth was moving, but the words weren’t coming through the fog that was hovering in B’s brain. His ears were still ringing from the volume of his screams. Narrowing his eyes, he tried to focus on her mouth to decipher what she was saying. It looked like are you…something? He squinted his eyes and tried to focus all of his senses on Mara and finally her voice started to break through the static in his mind.

  “Are you okay? What happened?” Mara asked, her voice full of concern.

  A flush of embarrassment crept up B’s face as he realized how badly he’d just lost it in front of both Mara and Sergei. There was no way to hide your inner demons if you had a complete mental breakdown in a public setting. B was mortified. He always managed to have his freak-outs in private. How the hell was he going to explain this? Steeling himself, B wrenched his face out of Mara’s hands, throwing her off balance so she fell back onto her rear-end. He dug frantically in his pocket for his pack of smokes. His fingers came in contact with the packet and he drew it out with a sigh of relief that was short-lived as he flipped it open and realized it was empty. Crushing the useless cardboard in his hand and tossing it on the floor, B leapt to his feet abruptly, knocking the chair off its legs and sending it clattering to the ground behind him.

  “I’m out of smokes. Gotta go,” B muttered as he hurried back towards the staircase and freedom from his nightmares. Keeping his eyes on the ground as he left, he didn’t see the twin expressions of shock and worry on Mara and Sergei’s faces.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Katia

  Katia sat staring at her reflection in the dressing table mirror of Amir’s guest room at his apartment in the Jinn territory. An expression of frustration marred her features. They’d been here for two days now, maybe three. It was hard to keep track of the passage of time in Outer-Sheol without the sun and moon to mark the days and nights. The constant twilight state was starting to mess with her internal clock. The days and hours were starting to slide into each other while being trapped in this apartment without any contact with the world beyond. Katia blew out a breath in annoyance.

  Since leaving the motel, Luc had done his damnedest to avoid her. Whenever they’d found themselves in a room alone together, he’d managed to find an excuse to go in search of Amir. It’s not that Katia wanted to force the issue, but it seemed fair for him to talk to her about what had happened. She wasn’t the kind of woman that threw herself at a man she’d only met a few days earlier. The few lovers she’d had over the years had been temporary and kept at a distance. They were clearly going to have to find a way to deal with each other, as it appeared they would be living in close quarters for the foreseeable future. Or at least until they managed to find a way to keep them both from experiencing hell, for real.

  And then there was the matter of the explosiveness of that kiss. Katia had never experienced anything like it. The world had disappeared around them and every nerve ending in her body had come alive. She knew that if he hadn’t leapt away from her in a panic, she’d have made love to him in a heartbeat with no regrets. Lucifer or not, he had set her on fire. The man — no, the angel — was a mass of contradictions that she was drawn to and revelled in. He was dark and light, good and evil, strong and vulnerable, kidnapper and savior, her nightmare and her dream, all in the most handsome package she’d ever seen. He’d kissed her with a passion that had seared straight through to her soul; she could have stayed locked in his embrace for eternity.

  She grabbed her hairbrush off the counter and began to drag it mercilessly through her thick, black hair. Once the knots were out, she found a hair tie and began to twist her hair up behind her head in the rough bun that she favored. Katia watched herself in the mirror as she maneuvered the length of her hair into a knot. Her hair tumbled back down the length of her spine as she dropped it to rub her eyes. Clearly, she wasn’t getting enough sleep here in this strange place and she was starting to see double.

  Opening her eyes she looked back at the mirror. It was still there, the blurring around the edges of her face as she looked at her reflection. Katia blinked hard and rubbed her eyes again. Maybe she should ask Amir if he had some eye drops, she thought to herself as she turned on the dressing table stool, ready to stand and leave the room. Moving her hands away from her eyes, she looked around herself…everything was clear, sharp, and in focus. Maybe she didn’t need them after all. She spun herself back around to finish with her hair and gasped. Overlaying the image of her shocked expression was another face, a face so shockingly similar to hers it stole her breath. Heart pounding so hard she thought it would explode in her chest, Katia reached forward slowly towards the ghostly image with a shaking hand. As her hand neared the mirror an expression of shock, panic, and wonder began to suffuse the face of her spectral visitor. Dimly, Katia suspected her face was registering the very same look. The image receded slightly, as though it was being pulled backwards slowly by a thread.

  “Don’t go,” Katia whispered as she reached forward. Just as her fingertips made contact with the cool glass of the mirror, the image vanished, leaving her alone and shaking with emotion. As her heart rate slowed, a profound sense of loss washed over her. Turning on the stool and putting her back to the mirror, Katia leaned her elbows onto her knees and dropped her face into her hands. An icy chill moved through her that seeped down to her bones. Her eyes began to burn as tears formed and slowly began to leak out of her eyes, slithering in freezing tracks down her cheeks. A loud sob wrenched free of her. It felt as though someone had reached into her chest and squeezed her heart.

  The image of that ghostly face was burned into her mind. She’d seen the tangled mass of black hair surrounding a pale chiselled face, the dark eyebrows arching over tell-tale mismatched eyes of green and blue. He was real. Her brother was real; he was alive somewhere in Sheol suffering heaven knew what horrors while she sat safely tucked away in this apartment. Guilt suffused her as her tears began to run in earnest.

  The bedroom door suddenly crashed open, the frame splintering from the force with which it was thrown. Katia’s head snapped up to see Luc standing in the doorway, wild-eyed with panic and concern.

  “What happened?” he shouted, eyes roaming over Ka
tia’s body looking for injuries.

  The shock of Luc’s arrival on the heels of the soul-shaking image of her brother in the mirror had rendered Katia speechless. She sat mutely, staring up at Luc’s deceptively angelic face that seemed to promise a future of fluffy clouds and sunrises. He approached her slowly as though he were worried about her bolting from the room.

  “Katia, are you all right? What happened? I heard you cry out.” He asked softly as he crouched down in front of her. She heard him suck in a sharp breath as he looked up at her face. “My god, Katia, your tears are frozen.” He reached out a hand to touch her face, but drew back at the last second, his hand dropping back down to his side awkwardly.

  “I’m so cold,” Katia whispered, a shiver moved through her.

  Luc looked uncomfortable, as though he wanted to reach out, but didn’t know how. “What can I do?” he asked.

  Ignoring his question, Katia lifted her eyes and stared straight into Luc’s. “I saw him. He’s really here.”

  “Who’s here?” Luc asked, looking around the room quickly to ensure their safety.

  “My brother. He was here…in the mirror. I don’t know how, but he saw me,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “He’s just like me…but backwards…” she trailed off.

  Frowning, Luc questioned her further. “What do you mean backwards?”