All fight left me. Out of energy, out of luck and out of time, I stopped struggling with Apollyon and tried to make peace with my fate, with what I’d helped to unleash upon mankind. Images of the dystopian future awaiting any who escaped the wrath of the Fallen were projected by my brain onto the backs of my eyelids. Unable to bear it, I opened my eyes and forced myself to look up at the ceiling as the leader of the Fallen shoved his brother closer to me to feed. I prayed for death as the second set of shackles hit the ground.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Three more Fallen were freed, my body jolting each time I heard the iron clank against the rock floor, sounding their release. Tartarus seemed to shrink as the dark angels rose to their full height and strength. Apollyon was a fool for believing he could contain them, control them when On High could not.
Dark spots danced along the outskirts of my vision in a spectacular display, but unconsciousness and death eluded me as my body continued to regenerate. Death by a thousand cuts, without the actual dying part. Each time the wound began to show signs of knitting itself back together, it was reopened. Numb to any sensation from the loss of blood in my arm, I tried to mentally check out as one more Fallen’s chains fell away.
Five down, ninety-four more to go.
Grumblings and dissent swept through the ranks as the process of their liberation dragged on. Shouts to rip me apart, splattering my blood over them in an attempt at a mass sacrament, gained favor with the restless crowd.
The spear was supposed to be my only means of death, but surely there was a clause in my contract about dismemberment? The contract I’d voided the minute I’d stepped through the portal with my demon father, Dumah. According to everyone this side of Purgatory, my ability to heal was something already mine, something I’d had all along courtesy of my bloodline, but no one had said anything about regenerating limbs.
Frustrations ran high and patience ran short as some were free and others remained bound in chains. The process was too slow and so was the flow of my blood. Calls to remove my appendages from my body and pass them around like party favors came from all corners of the room, particularly those in the back.
The first dark angel to make such a suggestion found it difficult to say any more as an arrow split through his skull, the arrowhead protruding from his eye socket. Any further demands that I be drawn and quartered were silenced as Beelzebub slipped through the same portal I’d taken with Apollyon. He made his way down the stone staircase, a small demon horde, my father among them, following his charge.
Hellfire roared up within Apollyon, the heat from his fingertips singing my back through the tattered remains of my leather bodice. Fire in his eyes, he set me down on the ground and faced the few brave enough to betray him.
“Beelzebub.” One word, three syllables, but filled with a multitude of emotions I’d never heard before. Anger at the top of them. Apollyon nodded to the leader of the Fallen, and the battle ensued.
Given the length of his incarceration, the Fallen struggled to keep up with the strikes and blows coming from the demon who’d previously served as the Devil’s right hand. Beelzebub fought with speed and precision, but the dark angel was gaining ground as he worked off the battle rust and found his footing.
It was clear that Apollyon intended to cut the head off the traitorous snake, putting an end to the dissent that had been brewing over the long months leading up to the moment he finally freed the Fallen. Skirmishes broke out around him as my father led the charge down the staircase. Right into the path of the Fallen that awaited them.
The demons were no match for the dark angels who’d taken my blood. Whatever weapons the demons had managed to procure before taking this suicide mission were no match for the strength and armor-like skin of their elders. The Fallen made quick work of the demons. Bodies, beaten and bloodied, littered the ground at Apollyon’s feet. The remains unrecognizable, I couldn’t tell if my father was among them. Based on the gore scattering the floor, I assumed he was.
A whirlwind of emotions stirred inside me with the realization that Dumah was dead. He’d been a demon. I’d spent years running from them, hating them and myself for the fear they instilled in me, before finally arming myself with the courage and knowledge to banish them. I’d become their enemy, hunted them, cast them back to Hell, and spilled my blood to close portals to seal them off from the mortal plane. Only to find out I was one of them. A traitor, loathed by my kin, deemed unworthy of the attention showered upon me by their master. None of that had seemed to matter to Dumah. Despite his part in the plot to lead me to Apollyon, he’d shown me kindness, something I’d thought demons incapable of. I mourned what remained of the angel he’d been before falling in love with my mother had cast him into shadow.
Satisfied with the humiliating defeat of the traitors, Apollyon didn’t see the coup for what it was – a last-ditch effort to save him from himself and the dark angels he was about to unleash on an unsuspecting world. The Devil turned to the leader of the Fallen with open arms and embraced his brother.
But the Fallen had other plans.
The smug smile disappeared from Apollyon’s face as the dark angels ignored his commands to stand down. Beelzebub, once a proud warrior in his army, trusted and loyal servant, fell at his feet. The Devil watched, a look of horror on his face, as the Fallen delivered Beelzebub and his small battalion into true death with an ancient prayer spoken in a language I’d never heard before.
And then all Hell broke loose.
Or Heaven, depending on how you looked at it. A new portal opened at the top of the staircase. Four Principles walked through, the Lion of God beside them. Ariel stepped to the front with her bow drawn and unleashed a shot aimed directly at me. The arrow, blazing with holy fire, pierced the ground mere inches from my leg. Small flames licked my thigh. She gave a Miss America wave, smirking when I returned the cordiality with a middle finger.
The Principles leapt from the edge, skipping the staircase altogether as they rushed to meet their fallen brothers head on. Swords clashed against hard iron chains as the Fallen used their bonds to protect themselves from the holy blades. Brutal blows of fists against skulls rained down upon the Fallen as the Principles tried to overtake them, but the freed Fallen had no intention of wearing their shackles again.
Apollyon lashed out at the first thing within reach, which unfortunately was me. The kick to the ribs knocked the wind out of me. Gasping for breath, I pushed myself up on all fours and tried to crawl away, but not before his fine Italian leather shoe connected with my ribs a second time. More than one cracked from the blow, slowing my crawl toward the staircase and the way out of Tartarus. One of the Principles knocked into Apollyon, drawing his attention from me and back to the battle in front of him. The plan he’d been crafting since my conception had slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. He was broken. A handful of freed Fallen stood between him and defeat. I almost felt bad for him.
Almost.
This wasn’t my fight, not anymore. The best thing I could do for everyone was get myself the hell out of there and as far away from the Fallen as possible. The principles would take care of the Fallen and Apollyon. The fighting provided exactly the distraction I needed. There was just one problem.
Ariel.
The Lion of God stood between me and the one portal that remained open. It probably led directly to On High, which given recent events wasn’t on my list of top ten destinations. Still, it was better than having your blood splattered all over Tartarus to free a bunch of really pissed-off dark angels and pretty much starting Armageddon.
A flash of bright, white light broke the darkness of the cavern as one of the Principles fell at the hands of a Fallen, illuminating a small passage to the left of Apollyon that I hadn’t seen before. That was my way out. It could have been a dead end, but logic said otherwise. On High wouldn’t put a portal to Tartarus in Purgatory. Though it was marked as neutral territory, those of us in the know knew it was still under the Devi
l’s control. Apollyon had found a way to open that portal. Just like the Principles had. The passage had to lead somewhere, and I was betting it led to another portal. The original gateway. Gathering up my wits and my nerve, I started to crawl away from the staircase and toward the opening in the rock wall. It had been far too long since I’d trusted my own instincts. The last few months had been nothing but misdirection and missteps. I’d stayed alive and out of the hands of Apollyon just fine on my own. The Devil wasn’t the only one whose plans had backfired. If the angels had left me the hell alone, all my blood would most likely still be in my body and the Fallen would still be locked up. Or not. It didn’t really matter. Escaping did.
Careful not to draw unwanted attention to myself, I made my way across the cavern floor. The tunnel was within reach, the soft amber glow of torchlight at the end more visible the closer I got. Fingers grazed my scalp, digging in and yanking me back by a fistful of hair.
“Jacqui-girl.” The Devil laid a kiss on my neck, lips lingering on my pulse. “Leaving so soon? Don’t be rude. You’re the guest of honor.”
“Apollyon, please.” Begging and pleading never worked with the Devil. The sweet sounds of suffering brought him too much joy. It was time for another tack. “What the fuck is the matter with you?” Still desperate to get away, I grappled for my freedom.
“Excuse me?” Apollyon stilled. The sounds of the fight raging behind us – fists pounding against flesh, battle cries and cries of pain – reached us at the mouth of the tunnel, but the Devil remained frozen in place.
“You heard me.” Body trembling, I fought to control my fear. The full fury of the Devil’s rage blazed against my back. Small flickers of hellfire leapt around us. Clothes and hair singed, I forged ahead with false bravado. “What. The. Fuck. Is. The. Matter. With. You?”
“You’re questioning me now?” With one hand still buried in my hair, Apollyon slid his other hand from around my waist up to my neck, squeezing hard enough to block the flow of air. “After everything I’ve shown you? Everything I have planned for you?”
“Don’t make this about me. It was never about me.” Drawing in a shallow breath, I ignored the burning in my throat and forced myself to keep talking. “It was always about you. You’re either too stupid or too blinded by greed to see what’s happening.”
“And what, pray tell, is that?” He eased his grip on my throat, allowing me to breathe and swallow – two important steps in talking.
“If the Fallen defeat the Principles, what’s to stop them from taking you out? If the Principles stop the Fallen, what do you have for leverage against them? No matter how this plays out, you’re fucked.”
No witty comebacks, no increased pressure on my throat or threats to kill me. For once I had his undivided attention, without any ulterior motives, and he was actually listening to what I had to say. I forged ahead.
“The Fallen never planned to follow you. They agreed to go along with your schemes for one reason and one reason only. Freedom. Once you gave them what they needed, you were expendable. Just like me. We’re not that different after all, you and I. We both heard what we wanted to hear and fell hard for a plan that was doomed from the start.”
“And you have, what, an alternative?” The Devil spun me around to face him.
Did I have an alternative? A plan that would save us all?
Movement in the tunnel, a soft scattering of rock, caught my attention and stalled my response. Something or someone was coming in via my way out. Spicy coriander, oak moss and peppermint mingled with the scent of damp earth and musk permeating the cave. A strange sense of calm swept over me as my brain picked apart the different notes in the scents I smelled. Recognition dawned. I knew that scent, and with it the answer.
The answer I’d known all along.
“It has to be you.” Muttering the words, I repeated them a second time with more conviction as my plan fully formed. “It has to be you.” The note I’d left Dane. It was the end, the outcome I’d feared but the only one that could happen.
“Yes, of course. You’re right.” Apollyon relaxed, his usual cool and confident demeanor replacing the tension that had ridden him only moments ago.
Stirred from my own plotting by his response, I realized I’d said some of it out loud. He thought it was him? How could it possibly be him? But a thought occurred to me. It could work. It had to work.
“You’re the Morning Star. You raised an army of angels to overthrow the Almighty. You almost succeeded. And now,” I spread my arms out for emphasis, “you have your own throne, your own dominion. You’re opposing forces, but equals. You didn’t build all this to just hand it over to the Fallen, did you?”
“No.” One word packed with all the conviction and fury I expected from the Devil.
“I think you know what to do.”
Darkness swirled in his eyes, black eclipsing the soft blue he only ever showed me. The beast, the creature they warned you about in Sunday school, the source of all nightmares, lived within Apollyon. He’d grown complacent, soft and content to let others do the dirty work. But in those deeds lay his domain, and to hand them over to someone else was tantamount to handing over his crown – of which he had no intention. The Morning Star had returned. The Fallen weren’t a path to ruling both dominions, but a reminder of how and why he had control over this one.
Something he wasn’t willing to give up.
Apollyon cupped my face in both hands, pulling me close. His lips brushed mine, lingering for a moment as he breathed me in before crushing his mouth to mine with the fervor of a last kiss. The Devil banked his desire. Bitter ice and cold replaced the usual burn of hellfire that caressed my body like an experienced lover. Pins and needles broke out over my body as the warmth in my extremities was pulled to my core to prevent hypothermia.
“I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.” Apollyon gave me a smile, the one I’d come to realize was only for me, as he stole my quote and threw it back at me.
“It looks good on you.” With a wink, I threw a sentiment similar to the one he’d given me back at him.
With one last chaste kiss, the Devil released me from his icy clutch of death and left me in the tunnel to join forces with the three remaining Principles. Something in the way he looked back at me, one last glimpse over his shoulder as he exited the tunnel, said he knew what I was about to do, that he had faith in me. Oddly enough, I put my faith in him, the master of lies and deception, to spin a tale that would make him into the hero. He’d save face and save the day in one fell swoop.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“You can come out now, Sin Eater.”
After the way I’d left him, the things that had happened since I’d left him, I couldn’t bring myself to say his name. My breath hitched when I saw Dane step out from around the bend and into full view. He was overdue for a haircut, the added length on top sticking out in an unruly bedheaded look that he somehow managed to pull off. Stubble covered his face, there were dark circles and bags under his eyes, he’d lost weight. Our time apart hadn’t been good to him, but he was still sexy as hell.
“You look like shit.” I’d meant to say I was sorry, but the words got stuck in my throat.
“I wish I could say the same. Hell looks good on you.”
Cuts and bruises still littered almost every inch of me from the field trip to Tartarus, but I knew Dane wasn’t gesturing to my body, something he was intimately familiar with, but the leather ensemble I wore. More comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt, the most skin I’d shown in my previous life was the low-cut anarchy tank I’d worn the night Dane found me behind the bar after I’d fought a demon. What a long, strange trip it’s been since those nights up top in Baltimore. Standing in Tartarus, a battle raging between the Fallen, the Principles and the Morning Star, it felt like a lifetime ago.
“It’s surprisingly comfortable.” With a shrug of my shoulders, I dismissed the outfit as anything worth noting and made myself take a couple steps forward.
/> “Fashionable and functional.” My Sin Eater reached for me, his fingers close enough to graze my arm, before he thought better of it and pulled back.
“Enough of the small talk.” Another woman’s voice smashed through the tension like a wrecking ball.
Ariel.
“You brought her?” The accusation was peppered with disgust. I couldn’t believe he’d brought the Lion of God. “Coward.”
“What? No, she followed me. She’s been on me like a tick on a dog’s ass since I walked out of the Basilica. Alone.” Dane folded his arms across his chest, anger radiating off him in waves.
His leather duster opened with the movement, allowing the smallest glimpse of the dagger strapped to his hip. The dagger that had once been part of the spear used to pierce the side of the Son of God. The dagger that would end any chance of freedom for the Fallen still shackled outside the tunnel and ultimately end my life.
“You brought it.” Swarmed with relief, I reached for what remained of the spear. Committed to my plan, my nerves were calm and my hands were still.
“You’ve had it on you this whole time? You son of a bitch.” Ariel knocked Dane to his knees with a hard and swift kick to the back. “Give it to me or I’ll put a hole in your head.”
At the press of the gun against his head and the soft click of the hammer being pulled back, Dane slowly raised his arms, palms facing me.
“You may have an unlimited lifespan, Sin Eater, but you can die. You’re the only one here who hasn’t been granted true immortality. Tell him to hand over the spear, hellspawn, or your boyfriend eats a bullet.” The Lion of God held out her left hand, wiggling her fingers impatiently when it wasn’t immediately met with the cold press of steel against flesh.
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