The Fallen (Hades Castle Trilogy Book 1)

by C. N. Crawford

I zipped up my suitcase, then rose, lifting the hem of my dress to practice walking. If I shifted my hips forward a bit, I could just about move steadily. As I practiced, I grabbed an apple from the bowl and bit into it.

  Martin pulled the curtain aside, grinning at me. “Aren’t you a pretty little thing. How much for a tumble then? Half a penny?”

  I snatched a tin can of beans off the counter, and lobbed it at his head. The sound it made when it hit his skull echoed through the room.

  “Ow! Really?”

  “When will you learn, Martin?” I shouted. “I never miss. Bell-end.”

  Mum groaned, rolling over in the bed. She pulled the covers up tighter around her.

  The Holy Sisters would really have their work cut out, getting her healthy again.

  I crossed to the counter and poured Mum a glass of water. When she woke up, her throat would be parched. I set it on the little box that served as a bedside table.

  Her eyes opened a bit, and she blinked at me, smiling a little. “Lila.”

  “I got you some water, Mum.”

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she mumbled.

  I did, though. When I was a kid, I used to scream for water at night. Mum would get me a glass, then ward off the nightmares by sprinkling “holy water” on the bed. I thought it was real back then, and I’d fall asleep again, feeling safe and secure.

  I hadn’t heard her laugh since Alice disappeared.

  I rested my hand on her forehead. “You’ll get a new home today, Mum. I’m going to work in the castle. I’m going to look for Alice there.”

  But her eyes were closing, and she was already back asleep. I felt something sharp and empty opening in my chest as I watched her snore. She just wasn’t here anymore.

  But I didn’t have much time. Someone outside was calling my name—my new, fake name. Zahra.

  I crossed to the window, smiling at the sight of Finn in the narrow street outside my house. The morning light shone over his blond hair, his ruddy cheeks. He was what an angel should look like. Not seven foot tall and terrifying.

  I flashed him a thumbs-up, then teetered over to give Mum one last kiss on the cheek. “Wish me luck, Mum.”

  With my suitcase in hand, I tottered over to the door. Gripping the railing, I carefully walked down the rickety stairs in my heels.

  When I pushed open the front door, I smiled at Finn. Ludd, his crow, perched on his shoulder.

  Finn’s jaw dropped as he looked at me. “Lila,” he whispered.

  I arched an eyebrow at him, and he corrected himself. “Zahra. Of course. Zahra. Ernald sent me to escort you this morning, make sure everything goes smoothly. But you look amazing. Really just proper …” He stared at me. “You’re too good for this count, you know.”

  “Of course I know that. He’s a murderer. But maybe I can get a proper chance to find out what happened to Alice. I could sneak in there, yes, but they’d probably just kill me. This way, they’re inviting me in.”

  “What if you’re just in the dungeons there?”

  Was he trying to make me more nervous? “Well, it’s too late now, Finn.”

  He looked pale and a little bit nauseous. “I know. I’m sure the count would just execute you if you changed your mind.”

  “Relax.” I feigned a confidence I didn’t feel. “I’ll keep my wits about me. You know I always do. And I can scale the walls if I must to escape.”

  He pulled a gleaming skeleton key out of his pocket, threaded through a thin black ribbon. “Well if you do escape, this is the key to your safe deposit box. East Dovren Bank, under your real name. I didn’t take any.”

  I tied it around my neck. “I know you wouldn’t, Finn. I’ve known you since we were ten.”

  Ludd puffed out his chest.

  Finn glanced at his bird. “If I hear anything—if I hear that the angels are going to do something terrible, that you need to make your escape or be especially careful, I’ll have Ludd bring you a message. He’s trained to do that, you know. I can teach you to call for him. And he’ll swoop down with a note.”

  “Your crow might be trained to deliver messages, but I’m not trained to read them, unfortunately.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll draw the message.”

  Finn was a brilliant artist, and just about the only person I’d trust with being able to draw a complex message.

  I nodded at the winding cobblestone street. “Should we get walking?”

  He pulled the suitcase from my hand.

  I took about three steps before I was tempted to kick off my heels. Around us, closed pubs crowded the streets. People whisked past on the way to the docks. A few men turned their heads to whistle at me.

  The scent of hot bread and coffee wafted through the air. Hunger rumbled in my stomach.

  As we walked, Finn taught me how to call for Ludd—a series of little clicks and coos. Ludd flapped his wings, squawking back, looking proud of himself. Finn’s mood, on the other hand, was somber. Like he was leading me to my execution.

  The farther south we walked, the more people streamed into the streets, heading for the river. The atmosphere changed. Maybe it was the clouds sliding overhead, but everyone seemed more somber. No one smiled, or whistled, or seemed happy to be alive at all. It was like a parade of grim faces.

  “Everyone looks miserable.”

  He glanced at me, frowning. “I certainly feel terrible. It feels like maybe I’ll never see you again.”

  “You know I’ve got out of tough spots before. Remember when the Halston Boys locked me up for a ransom? I made it out fine.”

  “I know.” He gripped the suitcase tight. “But the angels can beguile you. They have aphrodisiac powers. They can make a woman think she loves them, that she desires them. They can make her forget that they are monsters. And I saw something this morning. Something that made me sick to my stomach. It will alarm you, but you need to know what it was.”

  A shiver rippled over me. “Okay.”

  “It was on Galston Street. I saw a crowd of coppers standing around an alley. So I had a little peek.” He held his hand to his mouth, like he was about to vomit. “First thing I saw was the words Time’s Up. Written in blood. And he signed it. A dash, then Samael, like a signature. It’s an angel name. I don’t know who he is, exactly. But I’ve heard he’s the worst of them.”

  My blood ran cold. “What does Time’s Up mean?”

  “It was a warning to us mortals, I think. The storm of death. The apocalypse. The angels are going to start killing us all. Because what I saw after … I’ll never forget it, as long as I live, Lila—Zahra. It was a woman’s corpse. An Albian woman. I could see that tattoo on her arm. Under the blood. We’re just like animals to them.”

  Murders weren’t unusual in East Dovren these days, and Finn had seen dead bodies before. Rattled as he was, I knew it must have been gruesome. “What happened to her?”

  “She’d been nailed to the wall, and sort of carved up. Her lungs were taken out the back, folded outward like wings. I’ve heard the angels are going to start coming for us.”

  And there went my appetite completely. “Finn, I’ll see what I can learn while I’m in there.”

  9

  Count Saklas

  The early morning light slanted in through the colored glass in my windows, but I wasn’t ready to rise from the bed yet.

  And as soon as my eyes were closed again, a vision of the future rose up before me, one where smoke clouded the night sky, and rays of moonlight beamed through it.

  I strode through the streets, death rippling off me in waves.

  Soldiers marched, dressed in dark clothes. Mortals fled from me, screaming. Blood coated their swords, their clothes. My soldiers were hunting down Albian enemies, killing them one by one.

  In my dream, I turned a corner in the winding streets, stalking over the cobblestones. Two men pressed a woman against a wall and slit her throat. Crimson streamed down her pale skin, and her eyes bulged as she slid down the wall.


  Everywhere the streets ran with blood, and bodies were starting to pile up around me. The chaos of man ruled these streets.

  When I looked back at Castle Hades, I saw the smoke curling into the dark air. The smell of charred flesh descended over Dovren.

  Tonight, conquest and destruction reigned. Lightning cracked the skies.

  I turned back to the castle, prowling past the scaffold. Bodies swung on ropes, the wood groaning with their weight. I felt a powerful female presence here tonight, making my heart race. I drew my sword, ready to cut through anyone who threatened me.

  And as I got closer to the river, I saw that it was her. Dark eyes gleaming, her brown curls around her shoulders, golden skin, full lips. She wore dark clothes. To others, she’d blend into the night around her, but to me she shone like a star. She was dangerous.

  Zahra, she’d told me her name was. I wasn’t sure that was the truth. I only knew I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  A pearly crown rested on her head, and the pale veil of a bride draped behind her hair. She was the one I was supposed to choose, though I didn’t know why. She was only a mortal. How could a mortal be so powerful?

  She loathed me because we’d invaded her land, taken over. But what could she know of real loss? She’d never felt what it was like to plummet from Heaven, your soul ripped from your body.

  She wouldn’t know how it felt to slaughter all those you ever loved.

  It didn’t matter what she thought of me. She was a means to an end, and that was it. Whether she knew it or not, she would help me rid Albia of the mortal scourge. As I moved closer to her, I felt an inexorable magnetic pull between us.

  I was running out of time.

  My eyes snapped open, and I flung off my blankets. Every muscle in my body had gone tense.

  Outside, the sky was clouding over a little. I rose from the bed. I stretched my arms over my head and crossed to the window.

  From here, I had a view of the churning Dark River.

  I had much work to do now. So many lives to end.

  And my journey began with that dark-eyed woman.

  10

  Lila

  Unable to walk in high heels over the cobbles, I’d been forced to carry them. I walked barefoot along the wide, crooked road that led to the castle.

  Nausea had climbed up my gut after what Finn told me. I wouldn’t have been able to eat breakfast even if I’d wanted it. On the brick buildings around us, the wooden shutters remained closed. The bakeries, the coffee houses, the apothecary—all of them locked up. Normally, at this time of day, Underskirt Lane was crowded with stalls, bustling with shoppers. Near the tower, this was where people went to buy petticoats, dresses, anything you’d want really.

  Today, an eerie calm reigned over the market.

  The only sign of life was outside the bird seller’s, where cages of songbirds and pigeons cooed quietly, fluttering their wings.

  I leaned closer to Finn, whispering, “Everything is shut.”

  He shook his head, frowning. “Maybe they heard what happened.”

  “I don’t think that’s it, Finn. I’m sure it was terrible, but people don’t care that much about a woman getting murdered. The streetwalkers are killed all the time.”

  “Not like this.”

  Behind us, a door slammed, and I turned to see two blond kids running out, grinning ear to ear. They were shouting at each other to hurry.

  Rushing forward, I grabbed the girl by the arm. She looked up at me, startled.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. “Why’s everything shut?”

  She tried to jerk her arm away. “The count is going to kill someone today—outside the castle. All the foreign soldiers are out there.” The delighted gleam in her eyes was positively demented. “He’s going to chop off someone’s head and hold it up for everyone to see.”

  I stared at her, still clasping her arm until she kicked me hard in the shin. As soon as I dropped my grip on her, she ran off.

  Finn had gone completely pale.

  “Alice might be in there,” I said quietly.

  “I wish it were me going in instead of you.”

  “Not sure you’re his type.” I heaved a deep breath. “All my options were bad,” I added. “And I just had to make the most of it. Frankly, that’s a state of affairs I’m used to.”

  “You are pathologically optimistic. It will be the death of you.”

  “Shut your mouth, Finn! Mentioning my death is bad luck. Now tap the brick three times and ask the Raven King for forgiveness, or you’ll be responsible when my neck breaks.”

  Dutifully, he crossed to one of the brick buildings, and knocked on it three times, muttering under his breath.

  I hugged myself as we walked. Dread hung in the air, heavy as the thunderclouds above us. It occurred to me that I was walking slowly, delaying the inevitable. But as the sky opened up, and fat raindrops started pelting us, we picked up the pace.

  Underskirt Lane opened up into Castle Road, the wide thoroughfare that swept around the base of the fortress. Throngs of Dovreners filled it today.

  Across the street from us, Castle Hades towered over the Dark River, and the dark stone walls surrounding it dominated the landscape.

  When I looked to the right, at Gallows Hill, my stomach churned. A row of Clovian soldiers stood around the scaffold, their uniforms a beautiful sky-blue material that must have cost more than a month’s rent.

  They pointed bayonets at the crowd. All of them looked menacing, and tension crackled in the air.

  I wanted to get to the front, to see the count again up close. I grabbed Finn’s hand, and started elbowing my way forward through the crowd, ignoring the shouts of protest. When I reached the front row, I glared at the line of Clovian guards. Then, I lifted my eyes to the scaffold, hardly aware of the rain now drenching me.

  The crowd went deathly silent, and goosebumps rose on my skin. The silence was broken only by the rain.

  I saw the dark cowl of the count as he climbed the scaffold steps. His features were in shadow, but a sword hung at his waist. Under his dark wool cloak, I caught hints of a somber gray suit. Those clothes alone could be fourteen thousand crowns, and every finely clothed inch of him exuded malice.

  “Citizens of Dovren. You may wish to defy me, but it won’t end well for you.” His voice was quiet, yet somehow, it seemed to tremble over the wood and stone. An otherworldly voice forged in the shadows of Hell. “It seems hanging you from my castle walls isn’t enough to deter your rebellious actions. I will execute you, one by one, until I’ve rid all rebels from Albia’s shores. If you strike against us, you will not win. Let today be a demonstration.”

  The crowd started murmuring, and jostling, and I suspected the prisoner was coming next. Around me, people started yelling “Albia,” a simple but unified chant.

  I stood on my tiptoes to try to get a look at the prisoner. His hair stuck out at all angles. He wasn’t much older than me, but a different sort of class. By the fine cut of his black shirt, buttoned up neatly, he looked positively aristocratic.

  The thief in me—the magpie drawn to shiny things—immediately noticed his silver cufflinks. And something gold glinted in the center of the silver. A lightning bolt, I thought.

  His hands were bound behind his back. On the right side of his neck, he had the tattoo that all Albian males got at age eighteen—the raven.

  My knees shook just watching him. I really didn’t want to see him die here, didn’t want to watch the sword come down on his neck. Maybe he was from a different part of the city, but he was one of us.

  “Who is he?” I whispered.

  “He’s one of the Free Men,” said Finn.

  “Who are they?”

  “Patriots,” Finn whispered back. “The resistance. I’ve tried to get involved with them, but I need to prove myself, first. They won’t have me yet.”

  That was a word Alice used to call herself—Patriot.

  Count Saklas towered over the prisoner, and
drew his sword. It gleamed like pale starlight in the gloomy light—a sword as unearthly as he was.

  I’d never seen a beheading before. Most executions happened behind the tower walls. Most were hangings. It had been hundreds of years since anyone lopped off a head in Dovren’s streets. It was the sort of thing they might do in other countries, but not here. And here was the Angel of Death, bringing back a gruesome old tradition.

  I shivered, and the cold rain slid down my skin.

  When I craned my neck, I caught a glimpse of the execution block—dark wood with a curved indentation for a neck.

  “Kneel.” The count’s command was so forceful and menacing, I nearly found my own knees buckling.

  The young man gritted his teeth, his face red. Hyperventilating, with his hands bound behind his back, he knelt as commanded.

  For one blood-chilling moment, the count’s gray eyes flicked to me. Then, he cocked his head at the prisoner. He went still—preternaturally still.

  “Lower your head,” the dark menace in his voice made me shiver.

  The prisoner lowered his head to the block, and I heard him grunting, trying to maintain his control. He seemed determined to die with dignity, but his whole body was shaking wildly. I could almost feel his fear from here, like a force crackling through the air, making my own heart race faster. Urine was puddling around his knees. No shame in that. This must be fucking terrifying.

  With his head resting on the block, an anguished cry of “For Albia!” was ripped from his throat. The crowd roared for mercy.

  Count Saklas ignored them completely. He brought the sword up, and the crowd’s cries turned now to rage, a wave of pure fury that rolled up to the scaffold. The count brought the sword down so fast it was a blur of silver.

  The world seemed to slow as the prisoner’s head tumbled onto the scaffold, blood streaming from his neck. Nausea rose up my gut, and I covered my mouth with my hand.

  Now the crowd’s cries were bloodcurdling, and they rushed forward, like they were about to storm the scaffold.

  A jolt of fear shot through me. If they kept shoving me closer to the bayonets, I’d find my skull impaled.