The Wings of Heaven and Hell (The Arcadian Steel Sequence Book 1)

by L. M. Peralta

  The doors opened to a wall of floor to ceiling windows. I walked to the windows and glanced down. I couldn’t see the cars below. Clouds obscured my vision. The sky was dark like it was 10:00 P.M. instead of 10:00 A.M. The dark clouds swallowed the building.

  I was dizzy. I wasn’t afraid of heights, but this was different. When Felicia and I were friends, her parents brought us to Six Flags. Felicia wanted to ride the highest rollercoaster but not unless I rode with her. I never rode a rollercoaster in my life, and I screamed every time the cars dropped, but that didn’t make me as sick as when I stood above the clouds.

  A warm hand touched my shoulder. I jumped.

  “Are you afraid?” Nash asked.

  I felt my head nod involuntarily while I said, “No.”

  He smiled. “This way.”

  I followed him and scratched the back of my hand as I read the numbers on each door: 1014, 1012, 1010, 1008….

  Nash pushed open the door to room 1006. In the room was a white leather sofa across from two black armchairs and a plush rug against the hard marble floor. On a glass coffee table, between the sofa and chairs, rested a wilted lily in a ceramic pot.

  “Have a seat,” said Nash.

  I turned to sit and was startled by a lady in the corner. She wore a white skirt suit and had the same creepy smile as the secretary downstairs.

  She glided forward and stopped in front of us. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Coffee,” said Nash.

  Second coffee today. Long night, buddy?

  She turned her head and smiled at me.

  “Nothing for me, thanks.” I needed water. My mouth was drier than a raisin. But I didn’t want that strange woman to get it for me.

  The woman turned on her heel and left the room. She walked so straight-backed and with such perfect spacing between each step, she couldn’t be real. She was like a creepy mannequin brought to life.

  After she left, I realized I was hovering above the sofa. I sat down. Nash sat on the other end of the sofa with one arm stretched across the back while the other lay on the armrest.

  His hand was inches from my face as his arm closed the distance between us.

  My hands were clasped in my lap. My eyes looked down at them. I crossed and uncrossed my legs. Neither pose was comfortable for long. I thought I would break the silence, when the door opened. The secretary walked in with Nash’s coffee.

  He accepted the cup from her and took one long sip.

  The woman retired to the same corner of the room and turned away from us. I squinted at her, but I was glad I couldn’t see her face. Her smile might give me nightmares.

  The door opened again. Bob strode in, dressed in the same black suit and red tie. He glanced at me and smiled. He held the door open for someone.

  Her face was pale and thin with burgundy red lipstick. She wore a fitted, black pantsuit with red cuffs and tall red heels, not that she needed the heels as her head was an inch from the doorframe.

  But what made my eyes go wide and hands start to sweat, wasn’t her height or the rail thinness of her body, but what followed.

  As her full form strolled through the doorway, from her back was a set of blackened bones that came up in two angled arches above each shoulder and sank down to thin points near the middle of her calves. They were like wings that lost all their feathers. They were like the wings of the angel I touched.

  Bob sat in one of the black chairs across from the sofa while the tall woman stood behind the chair’s twin. Her long fingers curled upon the soft leather of the chair’s back. Each nail was long and black like a talon.

  Run! But I could feel those claws ripping through my body if I made any move toward the door. I glanced over at Nash, but he sipped his coffee and lifted the mug with steady hands.

  Bob crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap. He smiled at me like I was the entertainment.

  My eyes darted back to the long nails and up to the woman’s face. Her thin lips curled into a smile.

  “Have my boys been treating you well?” she asked.

  I nodded without thinking. I wanted to ask a hundred questions, but I couldn’t will myself to speak.

  “I have a few things I need to explain to you first, darling. Then, you can talk, okay?”

  I nodded again without meaning to.

  “You’re being hunted by an Archangel, honey. Well, you probably knew that part. His name is Raphael, and he has an agenda, you see. He doesn’t want to kill you. He wants to use you. He wants to use you to close the gates of Heaven forever. And I can’t have that. Alright, we’ve got that out of the way.”

  My voice came back.

  My eyes swept from her pale face, and the arched bones rose above her shoulders. She was the boss in this place, this place that was separate from the world. Why hadn’t I seen it sooner?

  One question burned me, one I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer to.

  “Are you the Devil?”

  “Name’s Lucifer, honey. And no, you can’t call me Lucy.”

  I gulped. “Am I…in Hell?”

  “I hate that word,” said Lucifer. “We call it Sheol. Still Hell, but it doesn’t have the same bite.”

  Either way, I was in Hell. The Hell. I don’t care what the Devil calls it. Did I die? Was Bob the Grim Reaper?

  “Am I dead?”

  “No,” said Lucifer. “Unfortunately, killing you might not solve my problem. You could still be of use to Raphael.”

  “Why is Raphael after me? I don’t understand. How could he use me?”

  “Because you can kill angels, my dear. Well, not literally. No one can kill an angel. But you can make them fall from grace.”

  Adriel told me the same. But I assumed Raphael wanted me dead because of what I could do, not that he wanted to use me.

  “But why would Raphael want to close the gates of Heaven?” I asked.

  “Because he’s jealous. He doesn’t want you or your kind in Heaven. All those souls to look after, to take care of. You would be his weapon against the angels who resist. Not all the angels agree with Raphael. They still think they are upholding God’s will although most of them have never seen Him.”

  I closed my eyes. I pinched my arm once, twice, but I was still met with Lucifer’s black eyes. “Why do you care? If the gates of Heaven are closed, there’s only one other place for souls to go.”

  “Precisely,” said Lucifer. “We’re overcrowded as it is. I’ll have to throw more souls into the Pit.”

  Bob cringed.

  “Besides,” she said. “I’m very…particular about the souls I take. Some of course, have to come here, but I like to be selective.”

  “So, I can’t leave.”

  “Not unless you want to be Raphael’s tool. But I do have a proposition for you.” Lucifer drummed her fingers against the front of the chair. “I want you to make Raphael and all his followers fall.”

  My mind raced. This was not the side I wanted to be on. I wasn’t religious, but everyone knows that the Devil is the bad guy…or girl. “Why should I do that for you?”

  “You’re damned. Your soul is on my list. If you want it back, you’ll play along.”

  On her list? I was destined for Hell. How was that possible? “I don’t understand.”

  “Bob, show her the paperwork.”

  Bob opened the folder in his lap and passed a sheet of paper over to me. The document was in a language I couldn’t understand, and the bottom was stained in blood.

  “I can’t read this.”

  “Oh, sorry, sweetheart.” Bob waved his hand over the paper, and the letters morphed into English.

  I skimmed over the contents.

  I remembered all those times I clicked agree before reading the terms and conditions. Did I agree to sell my soul every time I downloaded a new app to my phone?

  “That smear on the bottom, that’s the signature,” Lucifer said. “We do them in blood now. Far less tricky.”

  “I don’t remember signing
anything,” I said. “Not in writing or in blood.”

  “You didn’t,” said Lucifer. “Your mother did the honors before you were born.”

  I narrowed my eyes. My mother sold my soul to the Devil?

  SIX

  I threw up as soon as the car stopped outside Nash’s house. I pushed the door open and leaned my head out so that my breakfast landed on the pavement.

  Nash took my arm and led me into the house. He sat me down on a chair in the kitchen.

  “Here.” He set a cup of hot coffee in front of me.

  I don’t like coffee, but it seemed like a silly thing to complain about after I found out my mother who abandoned me also sold my soul to Satan.

  I used the mug to warm my hands as my arms shook. Steam curled above the cup.

  Nash sat across from me and sipped his coffee. “Sorry I couldn’t prepare you for that. She told me not to.”

  “Does this make you a demon?” I asked.

  He laughed. “Not everyone in Hell is a demon,”

  “I still don’t understand,” I said. “Why am I like this? Why did that angel explode into flames when I touched him?”

  None of this made any sense. I didn’t remember my birth mom, and recent information didn’t paint a very positive picture.

  “Someone must have performed a ritual,” said Nash. “Since your soul was already damned that part didn’t matter, but you still had to be willing.”

  “What ritual? I don’t remember agreeing to anything. How could this happen?”

  Nash put his hand on mine. His touch warmed me more than the mug of hot coffee.

  “I’m having a few friends over for dinner,” he said. “If you want to join us, there’s a dress laid out on your bed.”

  His hand left mine, and the coldness crept back.

  THE dress was blood red with off-the-shoulder sleeves and a skirt that dragged to the floor. The satin fabric was cool to the touch. I had never worn anything like it in my life.

  The digital clock on the bedside table glowed 7 o’clock in bright red digits. I changed into jeans and kept on the t-shirt I put on that morning. I was going to dinner, not a ball.

  I walked into the bathroom. A bag the size of a purse rested on the counter. I opened the bag. Inside was an array of blushes, lipstick, and eye shadow. I never wore makeup, and I wasn’t going to start tonight. I’d make myself look like a clown. But if Nash put the makeup here, did he think I might want it or that I needed it?

  I passed the brush through my hair once more and headed downstairs to the dining room. The table hid beneath a white linen tablecloth. A fruit salad sat in the middle surrounded by a plate of rounded slices of bread, a large bowl of pasta with bright green sauce, a platter of roasted asparagus, a rich three-tiered cake with chocolate frosting, and set in front of each seat was a bowl of tomato soup.

  Whoa. Was Nash celebrating something?

  A woman with wavy blonde hair and dark, green eyes framed by thick lashes sat at the table. I recognized her. She was the woman with Nash when he killed the angel. She wore a long, teal dress with capped sleeves. Her lips curled up, more than a smile, an invitation.

  Another woman sat across from her. She wore a long, black dress. Her black hair was twisted in a bun and bangs framed her thin eyebrows. Her eyes were dark, narrow, and very close to her nose. Ruby red lipstick flashed against her olive complexion.

  I felt like I walked in naked.

  The man seated to my far left was the only other person who wasn’t dressed like he was going to a wedding. He wore a dingy, gray t-shirt, but still sported a black suit jacket. His hair, medium brown, stuck out on one side. His eyes, set below sharp black brows, were the color of rust.

  The dark-skinned man next to him sat straight-backed in his chair. I remembered his name: Kiran. His black hair was shaved close to his head and a trimmed beard and mustache framed his full lips. High cheekbones accented his angular face. He wore a maroon suit jacket with a white scoop-necked shirt beneath.

  Nash stood at the head of the table with his hands on the back of the chair. He wore a fitted black suit and buttoned-down shirt. His posture reminded me of Lucifer’s, and a maggot of fear burrowed into my brain.

  When his gaze fell on me, he frowned, and the maggot tunneled deeper. He gestured for me to sit down in the chair next to the man with disheveled hair.

  My skin tingled. Were these people really demons? They didn’t look like demons. Could they be hiding it under a mask like the creatures I saw when no one else did? Or maybe they were like Nash. Not demons, but something else.

  If one of them lunged over the table at me and sprouted a tail or fangs, would I be prepared to run?

  Right now, I was too hungry to care.

  I dipped my spoon in the soup as soon as my butt hit my chair. The soup was cold, which surprised me. But the fusion of flavors played in harmony on my tongue: fresh tomatoes, something crisp maybe cucumbers and a rich oniony flavor. I hadn’t tasted anything so good in my life. “Holy hell,” I said.

  Did I say that out loud?

  I felt anything but invisible as the eyes of the other five diners glanced my way.

  “Is everything okay?” Nash asked.

  I looked up. “Yeah. It tastes amazing.”

  Nash grinned.

  The blonde-haired woman looked over at me. She couldn’t be much older than I was, maybe eighteen. “Just wait till you try the rest,” she said. “Nash is an excellent cook. I’m Adrianna by the way.” She motioned to the guy in the gray shirt. “And this is Tom—”

  “She’s the one?” said the woman in black. “The girl you told us about? What is she twelve?”

  “Chandra!” Adrianna snapped.

  “I’m sixteen.” I leaned across the table and grabbed a slice of bread.

  “Bit short for sixteen.” Chandra slurped the soup from her spoon.

  I dunked the bread into the bowl and waited for the soup to saturate the airy slice. “Haven’t hit my growth spurt yet, but when I do, I’ll let you know. Wouldn’t want to break the illusion that anyone under five four can’t possibly have a driver’s permit.”

  Tom sprayed soup from his mouth into his napkin. “Sorry.” He snickered.

  Chandra jabbed him with her eyes.

  Tom continued to smirk behind the back of his hand.

  It probably wasn’t smart for me to mouth off at a demon, but I was important here. Important enough to earn an audience with the Devil herself. So, I could afford a few snide remarks, right?

  I cleaned my bowl with the crust. Crumbles fell on the tablecloth. I reached for the pasta tongs and served myself a mountain. I slurped the noodles and painted the plate with green sauce.

  What was going to happen next? I was basically a prisoner here. A very well fed prisoner. Nash had been nice to me, but it wasn’t like he was offering me a way out. I couldn’t work for the Devil, but I didn’t want my soul to be trapped in Hell either. Something told me Hell wasn’t all art museums and fine dining. But how was I going to get out of this?

  “Lia?” Nash’s voice pierced my thoughts.

  “Yes?” I looked up from my plate.

  “You have a little…” he pointed to the corner of his mouth.

  After several seconds, I registered his meaning. “Oh, thank you.” I picked up my napkin and wiped the corner of my mouth. I dabbed both corners just in case. My face flushed. “I’m sorry I didn’t hear you.”

  I wiped the crumbs under my napkin. Green splotches dotted the area around my dish like a Jackson Pollock painting. Mom used to say, “Slow down, Lia. No one’s going to snatch the food off your plate.”

  “I was talking about our meeting with Lucifer,” said Nash. “This will be your team.”

  “My team?” Were we going to play rugby or something?

  “Yes, but I’m the captain of course.”

  “We’re going to help you find Raphael and the others.” Adrianna’s blonde curls bobbed.

  “Oh. Thank you…” The thoug
ht that the Devil owned my soul consumed me. But she gave me a way to get it back. She was using my soul as leverage to get me to do what she wanted.

  “Are we going to kill them?” I asked.

  “No,” said Adrianna. “Why would you think that?”

  “I saw you,” I said.

  Adrianna squinted at me.

  “I saw you kill that fallen angel.”

  “When did you see that?” Kiran spoke for the first time.

  “At my house. Yesterday. I was hiding behind the bed.”

  “How can you see us?” asked Tom.

  “I don’t know. I just can,” I said.

  “Well, technically, we didn’t kill him,” said Adrianna. “We sent him to the Pit. He could have come with us willingly. He decided to attack.”

  “It’s a shame.” Nash set his fork down.

  “So, that’s what you do?” I asked. “Bring fallen angels to Hell.”

  “Them and the demons that lurk on Earth without permission,” said Nash. “Usually they overstay their contracts.”

  “Their contracts?” I asked.

  “How do you see me?” asked Tom.

  “I—What?” With my eyes of course.

  “Demons can roam the earth for a number of years,” Chandra drawled. “They have a certain quota to meet: possessions, signing away souls to Hell. When they don’t make their quotas, they hide…on the Earth. We find them and take them back.”

  “So, you’re like demon parole officers?”

  “Yeah,” said Adrianna. “But we don’t do drug tests.” Her eyes went from green to solid black. The pupils filled her eyes, leaving no white.

  I leapt from the table.

  “What?” asked Adrianna.

  “Your eyes.” The words pulled from my lips in a whisper. But her eyes were normal again.

  The others looked at me wide-eyed as I settled back down into my chair. Even in Hell, among a group of professed demons, I was the crazy one.

  Tom grabbed my arm. “Did they look something like this?” His eyes were solid black too.

  I tried to jump away, but his fingertips dug into my arm.

  Tom blinked, and his eyes were normal again. “Sorry.” He smirked. “But what did you see?”