“Jacqueline?” A hint of impatience laced Apollyon’s voice. “My brothers have been waiting a long time to meet you. You wouldn’t want to disappoint them, now would you?”
Them really meant him. And no, I did not want to disappoint the Devil. My place at his side, the affection he’d shown me, in no way deceived me into thinking I would be spared from the creative ways he could show his disappointment. Like taking the last bits of Thomas from me and unleashing me on an unsuspecting populace to feed. I’d found a place in his good graces and it was for the best – for everyone – if I stayed there.
Forcing one foot in front of the other, I caught up to Apollyon.
“That’s a good girl.” The Devil cupped my cheek, running his thumb along my lower lip. “There’s more at stake than you know. I had such wonderful plans for our time together leading up to this moment. But it would seem Beelzebub had some plans of his own. It would seem a rabble faction prefers the status quo. So I had to move up the time table before my trusted right hand gained enough support to attempt a coup.”
That explained Beelzebub’s little chat back in the cafeteria. Find my place in the horde outside the Devil’s bedroom. That sneaky son of a bitch. One more player trying to use me as a bargaining chip. Usurp Apollyon and trade me to On High? Lock me away and use me to keep Apollyon under his thumb? He thought he could win my favor with a little advice and a cheeseburger? Color me offended. Apollyon wasn’t necessarily the best choice, but he was the most obvious, and I was laying all my bets on him.
“I’ve waited a long time for this moment, to free them.” With a hand at the small of my back, he ushered me to the edge of another cliff, this one overlooking a deep, dank pit too small to hold the Fallen packed within it.
“My brothers, this is Jax. The Elioud.” The Devil introduced me to his kin in a deep, booming voice.
In unison, all ninety-nine of the dark angels in the pit turned in my direction, a look of anticipation on their faces. I was the one, born with the purpose of saving them. Standing on the edge, looking down at the sallow faces, bodies thin and weak from their imprisonment, the jagged bones protruding from their backs a reminder of the wings they’d once had and just how far they’d fallen from grace, I wanted to free them.
And in a way free myself from the looming dread of a prophecy foretold, a destiny I couldn’t outrun; to have it done and over.
The Heavenly Host had been right to send the Lion after me. They should have tried harder to kill me when they had the chance. It may have been their actions that had put me on this path, but I’d be lying to myself if I said I wouldn’t have ended up alongside Apollyon anyway. I’d fought my inner demons for a long time, tried to be different, tried to be good. That hadn’t worked out so well. It was time to try something different.
Stepping away from Apollyon, I started down the treacherous stairway etched out of the rockface. One foot barely fit on each of the crumbling treads, forcing me to turn sideways. Palms pressed against the rock, I steadied myself and picked up the pace to the bottom. No sense delaying it any longer. My plan was to unshackle the Fallen as quickly as possible, like ripping off a Band-Aid.
I reached the first of them, still uncertain what I was supposed to do. I had no key to unlock the chains that bound him. Clueless, I looked up to Apollyon for answers. For once, the dangerously handsome Devil who had an answer for everything had nothing to say. The Fallen closest to me sighed, dropping his head in disappointment. His disbelief that I was in fact the one was so obvious I started to doubt myself. Kneeling before him, I tried to lift his head, to make eye contact so that I could apologize for being less than what he needed. I knew all too well what that felt like.
The moment I touched him I knew what to do. No matter the outcome, whether the prophecy was stopped or fulfilled, it all came down to my blood.
The burning in my stomach, the piece that was Thomas, burned so fierce, so hot, that I couldn’t breathe. Tears streamed down my face, tracking through the thin coating of dust on my cheeks from my climb down into the pit. The dark angel sensed it too, the last bit of light struggling to hold on against the rising tide of darkness inside me. He grabbed my head with both hands, his bony fingers digging into my skull as he pulled me closer to him. He possessed a strength I wouldn’t have thought possible given the length of his imprisonment. Forcing me to the ground, my back pressed against the damp, hard-packed clay, he worked his thumb between my lips, pressing down to open my mouth. Fetid breath hit me as his mouth closed over mine and he began to feed, to rip the last of Thomas from me.
The Fallen fleshed out as he fed, the shred of soul filling out his muscle and bone, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted more, needed more to become his former self. I felt it. Felt the insatiable hunger. I was all too familiar with it. But there was more than hunger bubbling up inside him. There was rage, like a tightly coiled spring. Lost within himself and his inner turmoil, his anger took over. Black dots danced along the edges of my vision as his fingers pressed harder against my skull. My head felt ready to burst like a piece of over-ripe fruit in his massive hands.
Someone shouted something. It sounded like Apollyon, but teetering on the edge of unconsciousness it was difficult to tell. The pain receded, taking the black spots with it. Clarity of mind gradually returned as I tried to make sense of what I’d felt and seen while the Fallen had almost crushed my skull. I’d wanted an end, an end to my suffering. To free myself from the bonds that had been placed on me since birth. To do what everyone had expected of me all along. But this was more than that. They were more than that, more than Apollyon knew or expected.
They were an end to everything. And I was about to unleash them.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Scrambling away from the Fallen, I pressed my back against the wall and gauged the distance between me and the steps. My blood would unlock the shackles that bound these entities to a place where nothing but their confinement existed. The dark angel and his brothers wanted their freedom, and I was the only obstacle between them and their revenge. With or without my permission, he’d spill my blood if given the chance. To say I was having second thoughts would be an understatement.
Physically exhausted from the energy drain and feeding, I crawled up the steps toward Apollyon. He needed to see what I saw, feel what I felt. Surely he’d see reason and stop this madness before it started.
Then again, maybe not.
The Fallen, partly restored by the essence he’d consumed, roared in frustration as his freedom fled up the steps. The walls and ground shook, the sound vibrating through my bones as small pieces of rock fell from the ceiling. Terrified, I collapsed at Apollyon’s feet. Grabbing his ankle, I clawed my way up his legs until my head rested against his stomach. My pleas to end this, to turn back before it was too late, were muffled against his midsection and fell on deaf ears.
Grabbing me by the hair, the Devil yanked my head back. Anger and disappointment rivaling the Fallen’s swirled in his eyes. All of it directed at me.
“Foolish, ungrateful bitch. This is what you were made for; this is your purpose. Free them and free yourself.” Apollyon jerked my head, turning it to face the Fallen below.
“I can’t.” The blow to my cheek stung. I should have seen the backhand coming, but my eyes had been locked on the partially restored Fallen testing the strength of his bonds.
“Are you honestly having second thoughts? Have I not swayed you? This loyalty you feel to them, to Him, is misplaced. Where are they? They haven’t come for you, tried to save you, offered you the salvation you so desperately sought during your meager mortality.” Still holding a fistful of my hair, the Devil dragged me back to the stairs. “I’ve taken you in, cared for you, and all I asked in return was this one thing.”
The Devil stepped over me, ready to drag me down the stairs and offer me up to the Fallen. It was no less than I deserved. Except I wasn’t the only one who’d pay the price. Mankind would bear the full burden of my birth, of my curse.
I hadn’t seen a lot of the best mankind had to offer during my time up top, but I’d seen enough to know it was worth saving from this.
This wasn’t an edge in Apollyon’s power struggle with On High, this was something else, something he couldn’t control. With the Heavenly Host at his front and Beelzebub at his back, he refused to see it. The Devil was losing ground, losing control, and he was grasping at anything that could help him.
I wasn’t the only one who’d been seeking salvation. This band of nightmares he planned to unleash was his. Only it wasn’t. They wouldn’t bow to him, just like they wouldn’t bow to their Father. The Fallen had their own agenda, one they’d been working on since shortly after their imprisonment. It was beautiful in its simplicity, albeit terrifying and not something I wanted to witness, much less survive. And far different than Apollyon had planned. In his mind, the Fallen would work with him, a.k.a for him, and share the spoils. They wanted to spoil everything, lay waste to everything their Father had created. There would be nothing left for Apollyon; nothing but servitude, and that didn’t suit him well.
Beelzebub had foreseen it. I’m not sure how, but he had, and it was the real motivator behind the demon’s coup. In his own way he’d tried to warn me, tried to sway me to his side. But my instincts were fucked, my moral compass completely broken. I couldn’t tell who the players were, never mind when I was getting played.
I was blinded by my own insecurities; too busy feeling sorry for myself and licking old wounds to see what was really happening. It didn’t matter that everyone had warned me – Dane, the angels, hell, even a few demons. But I’d refused to listen, to really see what was at stake. I’d been so busy chasing portals, saving my own ass and trying to disentangle myself from the illusions and disillusionment, that I’d ignored the real threat.
Tartarus and the Fallen.
My pleas fell on deaf ears. Apollyon was immune to my begging; had heard it all before and wasn’t moved. Dragging me before his brethren, he laid me at their feet. The first of the Fallen, and self-appointed leader of the apocalyptic army chained before us, scooped me up by the neck with ease. The Devil stepped forward, a look of concern cracking his cool façade. Second thoughts flickered in his eyes as I dangled between him and the Fallen. He wanted to protect me, to save me from what he feared the Fallen was about to do.
Blood still trickled from the corner of my mouth where Apollyon had back-handed me. Catching a whiff, the Fallen drew me close, easing the pressure around my throat enough to allow me to draw a breath and prevent me passing out. Burrowing his face into my neck, the dark angel took in my scent, trailing his way up to my jawline as he breathed me in. His tongue snaked out, lapping at the blood on my mouth, caressing my split lip. Lost in the moment, in the dark desire that had first driven him from grace, he wrapped his other arm around me, pressing my body tight against his.
My stomach and mind revolted at his noticeable reaction to my body and blood. His physical and metaphysical strength increased a little more, but it still wasn’t enough. The crimson trickle from my busted lip still wasn’t fueling him with enough power. He bit down, hard, on my bottom lip; nearly tearing a piece off. Blood welled up, filling my mouth. The Fallen suckled like a newborn babe, drawing more blood to the surface and into his mouth. Savouring the sweet, metallic tang filling my mouth and his, he ran his tongue along my teeth, licking them clean when the blood finally slowed at my lip and he’d had his fill of me.
The shackle around his wrists and ankles fell away with a clank that rang out through Tartarus, echoing off the rock walls. Cheers and howls erupted from his brothers as he spun me around, my back pressed to his front, to face them. Tears streamed freely down my face as I looked at Apollyon from the corner of my eye. Fists clenched in fury, he stood by and watched the Fallen hold me up like a trophy. The Devil wanted me – I was meant to be by his side – but he wanted to free the Fallen more.
The story of my life. Everyone wanted me, needed me for something, but there were always conditions. Always something just a little bit more important than me. Except for Dane. He wanted me too, all to himself, with no strings attached other than that I stick around. And that scared me more than the sea of dark angels bound in chains before me. Well, almost.
The next Fallen in line on the chain gang grabbed my foot, pulling me toward him. He’d witnessed first-hand what my blood could do and he wanted his freedom too. He yanked me free from his brother’s grip and I landed hard on my back. The air was expelled from my lungs, my mouth open on a silent cry. The second Fallen dragged me closer, dirt and rock cutting into my bare shoulders and exposed lower back. Jamming my elbows into the ground, I tried to gain purchase and keep the dark angel from getting a taste, with no success. A trail of skin lay behind me as he dragged me within reach.
The Fallen closest to him, starved of everything that had made them what they were before being imprisoned, with nothing but rage and hate to sustain them, grew impatient. A fight broke out amongst the dark angels surrounding us. Tossed up like a ragdoll in a mosh pit, I landed on top of the brawling crowd. Hands grabbed, clawed at my flesh as I body-surfed above the Fallen. Some lapped at the torn and battered parts of my body as I passed, hoping even the smallest drop would be enough to unbind them. Driven further into insanity by the lack of success and desire for more of the energy pumping through my veins, the few who’d managed a taste of me tore into their brothers. Fear of a limited supply turned them against one another. Clusters of fights continued to break out as I rode the current of arms pushing and pulling me further from the first of the Fallen and Apollyon.
“Enough.” Enraged, the Devil’s voice echoed off the walls, rattling the stalactites and causing mineral debris to rain down from the ceiling.
If he feared he’d lost control of the situation, Apollyon didn’t show it. Brushing the dust from his shoulders and shirt sleeves, he approached the first of the Fallen. The Devil was nothing if not a tactical genius. He’d played this game before and come out on top, the leader of his own band of fallen angels. Formally recognizing the first Fallen as leader of the tribe, he turned the dark angel to face his brothers in a display of strength. The dark angels calmed by the show of unison, I was momentarily forgotten, landing on my ass with a thud that vibrated up my spine and rattled my teeth.
Scrambling toward the back of the crowd, I wove in and out of the feet of the Fallen; stopping only when my leather pants snagged on one of their iron shackles. The chain rattled through the silence as I tried to unhook myself, drawing the attention of the Fallen attached to the shackle. A massive foot clomped down on my hair, pinning me in place.
“Bring her to me.” The Devil would have order restored before freeing his elder brothers. “Each of you shall have your turn, your freedom, but not if you kill her before she has fulfilled her purpose.”
The Fallen pinning me in place tugged at the chains connecting him to a brother on either side. Given the slack he’d demanded, he bent down and grabbed me by my hair. First item on my to-do list if I survived the night was to get a pixie cut. Tossed up and over the somewhat soothed battalion of dark angels, I was passed back the way I’d come to the front line. Apollyon’s new favorite, his brother in arms, yanked me from the hands of his brothers and dropped me at the feet of the Devil.
Bloody and beaten, I looked up through swollen eyes at the Prince of Lies, the great trickster who’d been fooling me my entire life, and spat a mouthful of my precious blood on his fine Italian leather shoes.
Chuckling, he scooped me up in his arms and commended my spirit.
“Now I am become death, destroyer of worlds.” Barely managing to mutter the words, I was surprised he heard me.
“Ah, Oppenheimer. I’m impressed. Though I much prefer the original text from the Bhagavad Gita, ‘I am Death, the mighty destroyer of the world, out to destroy.’ Much more dramatic, don’t you think?” Apollyon stroked my hair, picking out bits of dirt and rock, and he smoothed it all back into place. “And yes, death
becomes you, my darling. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”
Still cradling me against his chest, the Devil reached around with one arm and pulled a small knife from the back pocket of his pants. A gimlet blade, identical to the one I’d stabbed him with not so long ago. The leader of the Fallen nodded in agreement to some unspoken instruction and took my hand, extending it so that Apollyon could make the cut without releasing me. Not one to sit on the sidelines, the Devil planned to be an active participant in the feeding and freeing of the Fallen. I was the vessel for the blood that would end their incarceration, but he was the provider of the tainted sacrament my body had become.
Grabbing his wrist with my free hand, I struggled to keep the blade from connecting with my skin. Tears streamed from my eyes, tracking clean lines through the fine layer of dirt coating my face as I grappled with Apollyon.
“You’re only delaying the inevitable. You wanted this. You still want this, or you wouldn’t have followed me here. It’s too late to play the part of the innocent. This has always been your role. Do this and we can begin again. Do this and you will rule beside me.”
As much as I believed Apollyon’s twisted affections for me were real, I knew he would never share power. And therein lay his problem. Neither would the Fallen.
“They’ll betray you.” My head lolled in the direction of the Fallen as I held on to the Devil’s wrist.
“No more than I have already been betrayed or betrayed others. Your concern is endearing, but fear not, little Jacqueline. I know what I’m doing.”
“Pride goeth before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall.” I’d said the exact same thing to Beelzebub during our first meeting. My studies proved more useful when facing my own kind than trying to gain favor with the higher-ups.
“Proverbs 16:18. You’re just full of the good word tonight. Quoting scripture like a preacher at the pulpit.” He leaned in, throwing more of his weight behind his shoulder, and forced the blade closer to my arm, the tip nicking the surface of my skin before plunging into the muscle. “Now hush that pretty little mouth; Daddy’s got work to do.” His mouth closed over mine, muffling the cry of pain as he twisted the gimlet knife, opening the wound wider to increase the flow of blood.
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