The Fallen (Hades Castle Trilogy Book 1)

by C. N. Crawford

  The other Free Man looked me up and down with something like disgust. “Is this her?” He visibly shuddered.

  I imagined smashing his skull into the street.

  “You lied to me, Finn,” I seethed, stepping closer. I pointed in his face.

  “Did you redeem yourself?” asked the stranger.

  What was he even talking about? “Redeem myself? For what?”

  “For corrupting your body with him. Defiling yourself and betraying your own kind. For enjoying the luxuries in there like a whore, and letting him use you.” Another shudder.

  “Is that what you think too, Finn?” I asked.

  “Did you do it?” was Finn’s only response. “For your country? For Albia?”

  “Shut the fuck up, Finn. Where is Alice?” I hissed. “I know she’s alive.”

  He frowned at me, but I could see the surprise in his expression. “Dead. I showed you the photograph.”

  “Have you lot been murdering those women?” I asked. “The ones with their lungs carved out? You’ve been blaming it on the angels. Was it you lot?”

  “A storm is coming,” said the stranger, his eyes cold as ice. “And we mean to cleanse our land of their kind, and those who consort with them. And I know some of our methods seem brutal. But the angels are capable of terrible things, and they must be purged. Sometimes, brutality must be met with brutality. The mortal women who breed with Sourial and Armaros and the others, they are making monstrous offspring. These degenerate women are breeding the nephilim. This is war, and no one wins a war without shedding blood, do they? We all do what is best for our country.”

  I’d had enough of this horseshit. “Sounds like a fucking confession to me.” I took a step closer and slammed my fist hard into Finn’s jaw. The blow was so sharp that he fell back, unconscious on the cobbles. Then I brought my elbow up into the stranger’s face, the force so intense I was certain I’d shattered his jaw.

  I broke into a sprint, nearly at the castle again. I would run until my feet bled if that was what it took. I’d run into the blast of the bomb itself if I had to in order to fix this, because I’d fucked up.

  And that was where I needed to make amends—with Samael.

  As I ran, the pieces started to slide together in my mind. Finn had told me the writing on the wall said “Time’s up,” signed by Samael. But what if it wasn’t signed by Samael? What if it was a warning to him: “Time’s up, Samael.”

  And meanwhile, the Free Men were framing the angels, stirring up rage in the city.

  The night the Clovian guards had tried to murder me outside the Tower of Bones, they called me Lila. They knew my real name.

  And Finn was there. He called for me, breaking my attention. How had the soldiers known I was there to begin with? Finn had told them where to find me. Finn broke my concentration, putting me in danger.

  Not because he was worried about me.

  No, because he was trying to prove himself to the Free Men. He was going to help them kill one of the defiled women, who was sinfully enjoying the luxuries of the enemies’ castle.

  When that failed, he must have tried another way to prove himself with the Free Men. He knew what would push me over the edge. He knew the one thing that could get me to do something terrible and dangerous to serve his needs.

  And the worst thing of all—Alice had helped him do it.

  The betrayal sliced right through me. I wanted to kill Finn myself.

  The balloon kept drifting overhead, littering the gruesome images over the city of Dovren. “It’s not real!” I shouted again, not sure who was listening. I needed them to understand this was a lie.

  As I ran, arms pumping, there was something at the recesses of my mind, nearly too terrible to contemplate.

  If Alice had survived the attack on the servants, if she were working with the Free Men …

  Had she helped the Free Men kill the servants? Was it punishment for consorting with the enemy?

  I couldn’t untangle this now. I just had to run as fast as I could.

  No wonder Samael had been killing the Free Men so ruthlessly. Oh God. The Free Men were bloody serial killers. And Finn had turned me into their pawn. If I hadn’t discovered that loose floorboard, I might never have got the chance to fix this.

  Now I had to redeem myself, and not because I was defiled. Because I’d planted a fucking bomb in the drawer of someone who didn’t deserve it.

  When I got to the castle gate, I’d hoped to scream that at the guards. Get word to Samael! Save his life!

  Except the guards outside the gate were lying flat, chests rising and falling slowly. Hit by the nightshade, unconscious.

  Maybe that wasn’t a bad sign. Maybe the nightshade had put Samael into a gentle slumber, and he’d forgone his nightly tea.

  The gate stood closed, so I’d be scaling the walls again. My pure panic completely burned away the tiredness in my limbs.

  Raven King, give me speed.

  In no time, I was rushing up the walls, one stone after another. Desperate to get to him.

  I felt a sort of magic working within me again, that power flowing through the stones, coursing through my veins. Apparently this magic had nothing to do with being on the right path, because without a doubt, I’d been on the wrong path before.

  No one was guiding me to do the right thing. I had to figure it out for myself.

  As I scaled the wall, the wind rushed over me, thick with the scent of the Dark River. The stars and moonlight beamed above me, and I breathed in the earthy, bitter scent of nightshade.

  And along with it, I smelled brine, the moss on the stones. I didn’t smell smoke. That was a good sign.

  When I reached the top and hoisted myself over the wall, I saw a field of soldiers still lying in the courtyard grasses. It looked like the most horrific battle had occurred here, and yet no blood had been spilled.

  I glanced up at the castle itself. No signs of smoke, no walls blown out.

  “Samael!” I screamed, but I could tell my voice was lost in the rushing wind, and I was too far away.

  47

  Samael

  I leaned against the mantel, my mind churning. Everything was falling apart. I wanted Zahra here with me—or whatever her name was.

  Despite my dreams, she seemed destined to betray me.

  When I closed my eyes, I thought of the way her lips had felt against mine, and a shudder of pleasure rippled through me. She’d enchanted me. I should not be thinking of her large, dark eyes, or her beautiful mouth. I should be thinking about the fact that she’d escaped, and that my entire army was lying face-down in the grass. And that perhaps it was her doing that they were unconscious.

  I could not calm my roiling mind, the storm within my skull. I couldn’t think clearly. I turned, and my gaze flicked to the sofa, where she’d slept. Without her here, I felt as if something were missing.

  I needed tea before I could make any decisions.

  I pivoted. Maybe I shouldn’t have run off after our night together.

  Whatever the case, I was further away from becoming High King than ever. Lord Armaros probably already knew that I’d lost control of the castle. I imagined he’d spread the word already.

  A legion of Clovian soldiers lay sleeping in the courtyard, and I didn’t even know how it had happened. I’d been swooping over the riverbank, searching for Zahra, and I returned to find a fortress of sleeping people.

  I’d been sure she was mortal. She smelled mortal. What had she done?

  She could be allied with the Free Men. They had the Mysterium Liber in their possession, and that contained magic. Perhaps they’d learned to use the spells within it, and they’d summoned a demon.

  But if she were allied with the Free Men, it didn’t explain why they’d tried to kill her in my castle. Because the night I saved her from falling, she’d been attacked by them.

  I turned back to the mantel, resting my head on my arm over the stone. I watched the flames move back and forth over the floor.
I was losing control, and I wanted to know who I needed to kill.

  Darkness billowed in my mind. What if my dream had been wrong?

  I thought I needed her as my bride to become High King. I wanted it to be true. She was strangely intoxicating to me, and I wanted her by my side.

  I needed to calm my mind. I straightened and grabbed the tea kettle off the hook, hanging it over the fire.

  When I heard the door open, I turned, hopeful that I’d see Zahra.

  Instead, it was Sourial striding into the room, a velvet robe draped casually around him. “Did our little mortal take out the army or what?”

  “Either she did, or she has a very powerful ally.” I stared into the fire, my mind aflame. “And yet it confirms what the dreams told me. She’s important somehow. If she took down a legion of soldiers, she’s powerful, even if she’s a mortal.”

  “If. We weren’t there, were we? And she’s not exactly helping you become High King of the Fallen.” Sourial glared at me. “Perhaps you should keep her locked up until you’ve got better control of her.”

  For a moment, I imagined her locked in my real home, as my captive. I’d keep her in Castle Saklas—far away from here, away from the Free Men. “I don’t understand women at all.”

  “Maybe your dreams lied.” Sourial rubbed his eyes. “Do you need my help hunting her down?”

  I hated admitting that I needed help. “Yes. Tea first. Then hunting.”

  48

  Lila

  I scuttled down the wall again, fingers in cracks.

  I’m coming for you, Samael.

  When I was only ten feet above the ground, I let go of the wall and jumped. I sprinted across the courtyard, fast as lightning, leaping and dodging over the bodies. No secret passages for me now. I’d take the main door, and I’d run through the castle screaming until I got someone’s attention—anyone who could stop Samael from pulling that drawer open.

  I found the castle empty—because everyone had been patrolling the courtyard, now poisoned with nightshade. I shouted his name, but I felt it was being swallowed by the castle.

  By the time I reached his room, I was completely out of breath, gasping.

  I flung the door open and started to run through the library.

  “Samael!” I shouted. Sourial was there, too.

  Samael stood before the little table where I’d planted the bomb, pulling open the drawer. I stared in horror.

  I had only a moment of looking into his eyes, those beautiful gray eyes—just long enough to see surprise, relief even.

  “Don’t!” I screamed.

  But the word was drowned out by the searing heat that scorched my body, and the force of the blast that threw me back against the stone walls.

  For a blinding moment, pain ripped my body apart, and then darkness pulled me under.

  I woke to the feel of silk beneath me.

  Confusion whirled in my mind. Something terrible had happened, but I couldn’t remember what it was. I blinked into the slanting light.

  To my right, rays of honeyed light pierced two gothic, diamond-paned windows. They cast a golden wash over wooden stacks of books, from the floor to the ceiling. Vaguely, I remembered a much larger library, one three stories tall. I was in a smaller room, cozy. I liked it in here.

  But a dark shadow was sliding over my thoughts. Something terrible had happened in the large library. A castle library. I felt like my mind had trapped a terrible memory beneath a murky surface, but when I shed light on it, it hurt. Pain pressed sharply against my skull. A pressure in my head. I licked my lips, finding them dry.

  I had no bloody idea where I was, or how I’d got here. When I moved my head, pain shot through my temples. Ow. When I pushed myself up on my elbows, pain cracked my bones. Ow. When I moved my skin in the sheets, I felt like I was burning.

  A dark memory pushed at the recesses of my mind. My body had been burning, charred flesh …

  Nausea rose in my stomach. Had I been on fire?

  I ripped off the sheets, staring down at myself. I was wearing a short, white nightgown—not mine. But I didn't see any burn marks. A light reddish hue, maybe, and a strange, faint shimmer. But nothing that looked serious.

  I blinked and surveyed the room. Besides the windows, there were two oak doors, one bolted shut, the other leading to what looked like a bathroom. On a bedside table, someone had set out a glass of water. My throat felt like sandpaper, and I took a long sip.

  My body felt weak, shaky. After I slaked my thirst, I slowly slid my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet touching a cold stone floor.

  Who had dressed me in the nightgown if it wasn’t mine?

  My legs buckled at first when I tried to stand, but then I steadied myself.

  When I crossed to the window, I stared out at an iron-gray river, entranced. I didn’t think I’d been here before. Was this the east? The west?

  I had no idea where I was, only that I was on a cliff high above the rushing river, and the sunlight was breaking through periwinkle gray clouds. I pressed my palms against the glass, my breath fogging it as I stared out. With a high whistle, a draft rushed through a tiny gap in the side of the window.

  The coldness of the glass against my hands sharpened my senses, until memories started to break free from where I’d trapped them.

  I’d been in a different castle before this, and something terrible had happened there. The pressure in my skull was growing sharper, more painful, and I had to let something out.

  “Samael.” As I said the name out loud, the full force of the memory came slamming back into me again.

  My heart began to slam against my ribs.

  Oh, God.

  I’d planted a fucking bomb. Finn had betrayed me—utterly and completely. My sister, too.

  And I’d left a bomb in the tea drawer, and Samael and Sourial had been there. Had I killed them?

  Guilt was cracking my ribs open. I’d gone there to kill Samael, because I thought he’d slaughtered Alice. Only it turned out, I’d been tricked.

  I didn't get to them in time, did I?

  I pushed through the crushing grief to rush to the bolted door, trying to open it.

  I started to bang on the door, screaming for Samael.

  Why was I here? If I had actually killed these two powerful fallen angels, why had the soldiers let me live? I shouldn’t be in a comfortable bed, with a glass of water and a view of the river.

  I wanted to break free and hunt down Finn. I didn’t know what I’d do when I caught him, but I just wanted him to hurt like I did.

  And then I needed a word with Alice. She’d betrayed me, too.

  Problem was, I seemed to be locked in this room.

  I slammed my fist against the door. “Hello? Anyone!”

  At last, the door opened and I found myself staring up at a pair of storm-gray eyes.

  My chest squeezed. Samael looked like perfection, not a scratch on him. On the downside, he was looking at me with an expression that suggested he was considering murdering me.

  "You're okay," I stammered. “You're not dead.”

  “Not for lack of trying on your part.” His deep voice sent a shiver of fear up my spine.

  “What about Sourial?” I asked, catching my breath.

  “I’m sorry to inform you that you also failed to kill him.” Flames blazed in his eyes. “Sourial nearly died, but he has been recovering. I was directly in the blast, and I would not have recovered, if it weren’t for the fact that your seduction did not go far enough.” He stepped closer, then leaned down next to me, his breath warming my ear. “If you intended to kill me, you really should have done a more thorough job of fucking me. Better luck next time.”

  My cheeks burned red. “I was given bad information.”

  He looked into my eyes, his piercing gaze taking me apart. “Is that right?”

  “I tried to stop you. I ran in there to stop you from opening the drawer.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You tried to stop m
e from setting off the bomb that you planted to kill me? How very noble of you. Be sure to remind me that I owe you my undying gratitude.”

  He shut the door behind him, and fear skittered over my skin. It was just me and an angel of death, alone in a castle room. And I’d recently tried to blow him up.

  I took a step back. “You need to give me a chance to explain.”

  He cupped the side of my face, gently—but his eyes were searing me. A sheen of gold swept over his cheekbone, like he was about to lose control again. “The Free Men convinced you to try to murder me.”

  “That’s not inaccurate.”

  The pressure was building up higher in my head, ready to explode—until I understood what I needed to do. I needed to just tell him everything. Everything.

  “My name isn’t Zahra. It’s Lila. I was never a courtesan. I'm a thief. Rumor used to be that my sister worked in Castle Hades. All anyone knew was she went missing. I suspected your soldiers killed her. Or you personally. I thought you were killing those women in the street. Finn told me you signed your name to the murders. And I trusted Finn.”

  He cocked his head, but the rest of his body was unnervingly still, his hand still on my cheek. “Interesting. Who the fuck is Finn?”

  “An absolute prick, as it turns out. Used to be my best friend, but now he’s one of the Free Men. He said you were killing women, ripping out their lungs. He said you signed your name. And then I found Alice’s locket in the Tower of Bones. I knew she worked there. I had my doubts, still. Maybe you weren’t what you seemed. But then Finn showed me a photograph. It was proof.”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. “A photograph.”

  “It was you. You had a bloody sword in one hand, and my sister’s severed head in the other.”

  “I don’t remember killing someone called Alice.”

  “You didn’t. She’s still alive, somewhere. The photograph was faked. Double exposures, and painted by a great artist. So yes, I did try to assassinate you, but I'd been given bad information. That's why I ran back to you, to try to stop it when I realized I’d been tricked. I’d wanted revenge. You can understand wanting revenge, can’t you?”