Raise the Dead

by Briana Michaels

  “The fuck you talking about, Lucy?”

  “I have great envy, brother. You… I envy most of all.”

  “We’re equal in one way then.”

  The room grew silent again. He couldn’t stand the stillness. “I never really thanked you for all those times you saved my ass and had my back when I was helpless.”

  “You’ve never been helpless.”

  “Yeah,” he glared at Gabriel, “I have…”

  “Bring that beast to the racking boards!”

  666 bit down on the gag in his mouth and felt a tooth crack. Even if he had the capability, he wouldn’t beg Michael for mercy. That bastard didn’t know the meaning of the word.

  With heavy chains weighing down his wings, the hefty iron collar around his neck, and the shackles on his wrists and ankles, 666 could only move as far as Michael would allow him and the Angel barely gave an inch. 666 lost his balance and slammed onto his side, cracking his temple on the stone floor.

  “Do not help him up,” Michael warned Gabriel. “Let him slither to his fate should he be too weak to crawl or walk.”

  666 did just that. When his leash was yanked, cutting his air supply and forcing the spikes inside his collar to dig into his neck, 666 slithered across that piss-coated floor.

  The racking boards were just ahead, arranged in a strange position with the scent of old blood and misery wafting into the air. Sweat trickled down his temples. His black hair fell in front of his eyes. The stones cut and bruised his knees and elbows as he tried to keep up. Michael jerked the chains and tipped 666 forward, causing him to lose balance again. “I love watching you fall.”

  Hadn’t he fallen enough? Why the fuck had he been made if this was his fate? The stark number on his arm felt like a punishment. An ill-omen all of Divinity could see. What was the point of going on if all he was made for was to endure torture like this?

  “Get him up and positioned.”

  Gabriel didn’t budge from the door.

  “Do as I say or Uriel will suffer the consequences of your disobedience. He’s barely only recovered from the last disappointment you gave me.”

  Gabriel’s head dropped and he walked over to the boards.

  “Up.” Michael jerked the leash again.

  Lungs heaving, muscles burning, skin sizzling, 666 groaned with the effort it took to climb onto the racking boards. He didn’t know what they were for. Wasn’t sure he could handle much else. Parts of him were so broken, he didn’t know if he’d be able to repair himself later.

  And all this time, he’d kept his beast-side silent. Locked deep down with all of his rage and hate. The beast was what Michael wanted. And the beast wasn’t something he’d fucking get. 666 hated that part of himself with every ounce of divinity he possessed. To be made a monster. To allow someone to reduce him to a fucking animal incapable of anything but destruction. Not. Gonna. Happen. He might kill Michael in that state, but he’d also kill everyone else.

  They didn’t deserve that.

  666 smashed his chin on the boards trying to crawl up the damned thing. The gag in his mouth crunched against his teeth. His nostrils flared. A chill swept down his spine.

  “Turn over.”

  666 flopped over willingly. That was the first cut of shame to slice him today. He obeyed. But something in his gut said if he didn’t play nice, something far more terrifying than punishment would be delivered. 666 couldn’t handle much more. The sooner they got this over with, the sooner he’d be left alone.

  His nostrils flared again when he caught the scent of something… Gabriel. That’s what he smelled. The scent was earthy, spicy, and laced with anxiety. Their gazes held for a fraction of a second. Gabriel looked away first and began unlocking the shackles on 666’s wrists. His skin was raw and shredded. Cool air hit the open wounds the shackles made and he hissed around his gag.

  Clanking metal caught 666’s attention next. Michael came towards him with a box of rusty, blood coated, poisoned-infused spikes. Each one was as long as his forearm and thick as his thumb.

  Panic jerked 666 to attention. His immediate instinct was to run. Whatever was in those boxes, whatever Michael planned to do with them, 666 didn’t want to endure it.

  Helpless, he howled around the ball gag. His instincts were already turning animalistic. Like a pack of wild beasts could come rescue his sorry ass if he howled loud enough, 666 inhaled through his nose and howled around his gag until his voice cracked and broke.

  Gabriel whispered something to him but he’d missed what it was. His heart thumped too loud in his ears to hear a damned thing other than his panic. 666 jerked away when Michael grabbed his arm. It earned him a hit in the jaw that knocked out a tooth he was forced to then swallow.

  Blood filled his mouth, threatening to drown him. His jaw ached so much, he wanted to rip it off.

  “Hold his arm still,” Michael grabbed a spike and a large hammer. 666 fought against it the only way he knew how – depleted, scared, and in agony, 666 cast a pleading look to Gabriel. Please, he screamed with his eyes, Please, don’t let him do this!

  Ping! The pain was sharp. The crack of the hammer slammed the spike into 666’s hand. The vibration ripped through every cell in his body. Ping! Michael cracked the spike again, driving it deeper into 666’s flesh and through the board beneath him.

  666 used Gabriel as a focal point and breathed through the worst of the pain. Michael ended up using every spike in the box – seven in each arm, clean up to the shoulders. Seven in each wing. And twelve in each leg.

  666 never uttered a single groan. The pain receded as his head went into a strange space. He felt like he was floating. Buzzing. Not numb, but not alive.

  He kept his gaze locked on Gabriel. Not once did he draw strength from the Angel. And not once did Gabriel look back at him again.

  When it was over, 666 had been reduced to the dark monster Michael wanted. Only he was helpless, nailed down, and bound. Too weak to rip free. Too shocked to try. 666 continued to stare at Gabriel with an animal’s eyes.

  Michael laughed triumphantly, “See, Gabriel? Hurt anything bad enough, their true form shows.” Michael’s pride made his white wings glow bright. “Just look at him. Magnificent.” Michael ran a finger down the middle of 666’s face. “Now that I know your weakness, we’ll be better friends.”

  Michael wiped his hands off on his pants and turned away. “You can take him down now, and come see me when you’re done putting him in his cage. Bring the boards and spikes with you when you come to me. And clean this place up, it smells like animal shit.”

  “Yes sire.”

  666 watched Michael leave the room, and even the air current hurt his skin. What pain had been numbed, was returning tenfold. The door slammed and a deafening silence followed.

  “Eyes on me,” Gabriel said.

  666 blinked slowly. A tear fell down his filthy face. His breathing was shallow. The pain started to ebb again. He watched Gabriel pull the spikes out with a special tool and saw how sweaty and pale the Angel warrior was. His hands shook as he pulled out another spike, “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  Gabriel moved around to the other side of the racking boards and pulled those spikes out too. He tossed each one back into the wooden box and started working on 666’s legs. “I’ll switch shifts as Cager with Constantine tonight,” he whispered. Sadly, the words were too fuzzy for 666 to hear clearly. “My curse will fade the second I leave. It’s going to fucking hurt like a bitch, okay? Just… stay strong. Con will come.”

  666 blinked slowly. Gabriel was talking too fast for him to catch each word. Curse? Fade? Con? What?

  He barked around the gag when Gabriel slid him off the boards. Crumpling to the floor, he heaved with an empty stomach.

  “Come on,” Gabriel hoisted the beast up and practically carried him back to his cage.

  Once there, 666 laid on his side and curled into a ball.

  “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

  The beast
wrapped his aching wings around him protectively.

  Gabriel shut the cage door and left. The moment Gabriel was out of sight, 666’s body seized up and a wave of pain crashed down upon him. He screamed until he lost breath and consciousness.

  When he woke, Constantine was hovering over him, healing him.

  666 jerked back with panic. Crawling across the floor, he put his arms in front of his face and flapped his wings.

  “Easy, brother,” Con squatted down and continued to close too many wounds to count. 666 hadn’t been able to heal himself yet. His head was too fucking scrambled for it.

  A scream echoed from outside. The beast’s skin pricked with fear. He turned his gaze to the tiny hole in his cage that let the moonlight in. Another roar ripped through the air.

  “Gabriel,” Constantine said, looking out the window too. His wings snapped and his cheeks turned red.

  Gabriel was on the racking board under the Apple Tree. The last thing 666 heard before losing his senses was Michael yelling, “Curse that beast again to show mercy, and I’ll put Constantine on this rack next.”

  Lucifer lifted himself from that painful memory and looked over at Gabriel. “What curse did you put on me that day with the racking boards?”

  Gabriel’s brow furrowed. “Doesn’t matter. It was temporary.”

  “What was it?”

  “I forced you to be the animal,” he said in low tones. “The more you gave into the monster, the less pain you’d feel.” He counterbalanced humiliation with numbness. A small kindness, some might say.

  A big sacrifice Lucifer would say. “And you were punished for it.”

  “A risk I was willing to take.”

  “Because Constantine could heal you.”

  “Because you didn’t deserve to suffer anymore.”

  Lucifer scrubbed his face. “I fear the monster in me will be what is ultimately Michael’s undoing.”

  “Good. He needs undoing.”

  “It’ll be the world’s undoing too.” Lucifer let those words sink in. “I’m losing control of myself. And the monster inside me is hungry.”

  Gabriel’s jaw clenched. “I understand.”

  Did he really? Lucifer wouldn’t bet on it. Hungry dogs are never loyal, Con’s words echoed in his head. “If I go too far…”

  “You’ll take us out too.”

  Exactly. “Don’t let me. Destroy me before I get a chance to destroy you.”

  “No, take us out with you when the time comes,” Gabriel rolled over. “We’ve gone too long without each other. I’m not suffering another night without my…. pack.”

  Lucifer couldn’t swallow the lump in his throat. God… damn….

  Gabriel’s blue eyes burned into Lucifer’s when he said, “All of us, or none of us, Lucy. That’s our rule.”

  Chapter 25

  Uriel crossed into the realm some called Heaven. The gates were locked, as usual. The guards stood stoic and impassive. “Hey,” he said as they waved their hands over the locks and opened the door for him. They didn’t respond like normal. “You guys all good?” Again, they didn’t say a word. “Good talk, assholes.”

  Uriel pushed open the gates and strolled in. After he was done here, he needed to go back to Lazarus and then back to Hell to see what they were going to plan next.

  This waiting game shit was torture. He’d rather fight and be done with it. Win or lose, at least it would finally be over with. As cold as that sounded, it was necessary for Uriel to remain in that headspace. If he started freaking the fuck out about his brothers’ survival… or Eve’s…. he’d trip up and make a mess of things. So, cold and detached was how he’d remain.

  If they survived and the world was a wasteland, he’d be happy with that.

  If they died and the world died with them, at least he could go to his final resting place knowing he tried his best and did all he could.

  The air up here always smelled a little weird. Like bad, but kinda good, so you wanted to sniff it again. Lazarus once said that it smelled different to every soul brought there. It smelled like home to them. Clearly Heaven wasn’t Uriel’s home.

  Go fucking figure.

  Hell was his safe space. He didn’t stay there nearly as long as he always wanted to because Uriel didn’t want to impose. He knew Lucifer always desired being left alone. And Uriel was an Angel who, when he was given something good, he kept it close and cherished it. Same would happen if he stayed too long in Hell. Give him a night in a warm bed, he’d likely wake you up with pancakes, fresh brewed wakey-juice and start talking about paint colors and shit.

  Up ahead, he saw Anthony. That motherfucker was a helluva good poker player. “Where’s Lilith?”

  “Detained.”

  “I need to speak with her.”

  “You can speak with me. I’m sure I can help.” As Lilith’s right-hand man, Anthony was in a good power position here.

  Uriel rubbed the back of his neck. “You guys okay up here?”

  “Yes, of course.” Anthony crossed his arms and frowned.

  “I heard about Sari,” Uriel gripped Anthony’s shoulder and squeezed, “I’m sorry, brother.”

  Anthony bristled, “Paradise is in mourning for him. Lilith has not dealt well with the sacrifice she had to make to keep us from getting infected.”

  A sacrifice… was that what they were calling Sari now? Uriel switched subjects. “There was a red sky in the human world.”

  “I’m sure with Hell’s ruler now walking freely among the humans, the world would have reacted in some fashion.” Anthony clasped his hands behind his back. “Walk with me. Fill me in on what’s happening.”

  They headed into the temple used by the Angels for guardianship. A large basin of water glowed silver on a pedestal. Where Lucifer used a mirror method to communicate swiftly with his Hounds, Lilith had a similar system with her fleet of guardian Angels by using silvered waters.

  Uriel looked around the room and over to the large table with plans and scrolls scattered across most of it. An empty goblet laid on the floor like it had been thrown and discarded. A pitcher, half-filled with water and lemons, looked murky and old. “You’ve been busy.”

  “Haven’t we all?” the Angel motioned for Uriel to have a seat. “Fill me in.”

  “I’d rather wait for Lilith to join us.”

  “Suit yourself,” Anthony started going over scrolls. “I’d think you’d want to hurry the fuck up, Uriel. With Michael out, shouldn’t you be preparing?”

  “We are,” he fake-smiled. “Are you?”

  Anthony waved a handful of papers at him. “We’ve been spending day and night going over these scrolls, looking for a way to stop Michael. Lilith hasn’t slept in days.”

  “Hmph,” he looked around some more. “You think we should go pull her away from whatever is keeping her?”

  “No. Like I said, you can just tell me. She’s not in a good headspace for discussing war right now.” Anthony busied himself by turning a couple pages of an opened book. Uriel recognized the handwriting; it was one of Constantine’s old tomes. “So,” the Angel said, “What does Lucifer plan to do?”

  “Whatever it takes.”

  “Is he drained?”

  “You actually think that’s possible?” Uriel tapped his fingers against the marble table. Something wasn’t right. Anthony’s vibes were off, big time. Uriel didn’t trust him. “You still have your guardians posted in their normal spots?” When Anthony nodded, Uriel grinned. “Good. We’ll be in touch.” He shoved away from the table and stood.

  Anthony looked up at him, confused. “You’re leaving already?”

  “Yeah, no sense in staying if the boss lady isn’t here. I’ve told you all I know. The sky was red. Now it’s not. Lucifer is out. Michael is out. Infections are spreading. The world is ending. I’m not wasting anymore of your time. You know all this already. There’s a lot to do and Michael is way ahead of us, unfortunately.” He held his hand out to shake with Anthony, “I’m just glad you and
I are on the same side of this war.”

  Anthony’s smile was slow and controlled. “Indeed.”

  Uriel left Paradise and made his way back down to Hell, skipping his visit to Lazarus and Eve.

  Constantine strolled into Hell feeling better. Unfucking oneself does wonders for their health. Con was now prepared to take the next step in his role on this earth and wanted to make sure he was fully charged.

  With the taste of Eve on his tongue and his dick still coated in her pleasure, he hoped it would be enough. Walking past the throne room, he noticed Sara sitting in the Devil’s chair with her baby. He couldn’t help but detour in there and speak with her. “How’s our little Hound doing?”

  “She finally stopped crying,” Sara whisper-sighed.

  “You look exhausted. Where’s your pack?”

  “Out doing pack business. Jack called an alpha meeting at our house to speak on Lucifer’s behalf. They came up with a list of things that need to be done and prepared.”

  Con scratched the stubble on his jaw. He needed desperately to shave. “You’ve done well with Lucifer’s soul. Has he called upon you anymore?”

  “No,” she said. “I felt a pull to him once. Gabe and him were arguing in Purgatory. Other than that, he’s been calm I suppose. I can’t really tell.”

  Of course not, Con thought. The poor woman was balancing being a new mother and the Devil’s Darling. “You’ve been magnificent. And whether my brothers say it or not, we’re glad he’s had you all this time.”

  “Can I ask you a favor?”

  “Anything.”

  “Can you take me to see Eve?”

  Okay, he hadn’t been prepared for that request. “Of course.”

  “I mean, now.”

  Shit. Shit, shit, shit. “Of course.” He held his hand out and Sara took it. With the baby still wrapped in Eli’s shirt, Con asked, “Why not a blanket?” Surely that would be more suitable, right?