The Holy Dark

by Kyoko M

  Then Michael switched the gun to his left hand and punched the archdemon in the lower abdomen. Hard.

  Belial wheezed and sprang back to life as if he’d never been unconscious at all. He clutched the spot where my husband hit him and coughed several times, his unnatural eyes darting back and forth to detect his assailant.

  “W-What was that for?” he rasped, glaring at the archangel beside him.

  Michael stared back at him with an unnervingly calm look. “Like I needed a reason.”

  Belial sucked in another breath or two and then shrugged. “P-Point taken.”

  The archdemon’s gaze wandered over to me and relief flooded his features. “You’re alive. Good girl.”

  “You’re welcome,” I groused, leaning the rifle against the ash-smeared wall and then hobbling over to the two men. Belial stood up on unsteady feet and reached out to help, but Michael slapped his hand away.

  “Don’t touch her,” the archangel growled—a sound so low that it made the hairs on the back of my neck do the Worm. To my complete and utter surprise, he holstered the Beretta and scooped me up in his arms bridal style. He carried me up the staircase to the master bathroom and didn’t set me down again until he reached the massive marble tub.

  He sat me on the rim and turned on the water while I took off the body armor, my sock, and my shoe. I rolled up the ripped leg of my jeans to have a look at the wound.

  The bullet had only grazed me, but the laceration was long, jagged, and crooked. It stretched from the swell of my calf down towards my ankle. The entire pants leg was soaked red with blood. I’d lost enough to make a blood circle, after all. Not pretty.

  The warm water stung as I rinsed off the injury and picked bits of dirt and bark out of it. It wasn’t easy. My fingers shook with tremors from the sheer intensity of the pain. I sucked in air through my clenched teeth and tried not to cry out.

  Michael returned with gauze once I cleaned off as much as I could. The rushing water eliminated the silence, but his lack of expression said everything for him. He kept pressure on the wound until the bleeding slowed and then closed his eyes in concentration. That familiar cool tingle tickled across my leg and seeped into my bare skin. Little by little, the throbbing pain subsided and the wound faded from view until there was just a light brown scar in its place.

  “Thank you,” I murmured, standing up on my own. I tested my leg, putting some weight on it, and found that I could walk without much of a limp. I made my way over to the sink on the opposite side of the room and washed the blood off my hands with soap.

  Mere seconds after I dried them, Michael grabbed my upper arm in his crushing grip, spun me around, and shoved me against the counter with brutal force. He slapped both palms down on either side of me, hard enough to make the mirror behind us shiver, his body hunched over mine. His eyes—usually the warm hue of the Caribbean ocean—were the color of jade and as hard as the gemstone as he glared down at me.

  “Don’t. Ever. Do. That. Again.” He spat every single word into my face in a deadly whisper. His tone made my bones thrum like he’d run an electric current through me. I knew every inch of the man standing in front of me, and yet my instincts told me to flee, to hide, because there was a predator loose.

  “I’m not some delicate flower,” he continued. “I’m the highest authority in this world, second only to the Holy Trinity. You will respect me whether you like it or not, Seer.”

  I licked my dry lips, not daring to move an inch while he was this angry. “I was trying to protect you.”

  “I don’t need your protection. I don’t know what it is that makes you think it’s permissible to make decisions for me.”

  “I thought that—”

  “No, you didn’t think anything. You just acted on impulse. You still acted as if you were alone, despite the fact that we’ve been together for almost three years. You aren’t. You have people who care about you, and they deserve your consideration before you do something that can get you killed. If you ever pull something like this again, we’re done. End of story. Are we clear?”

  I hooked my fingers around the rim of the counter so he couldn’t see them trembling. “Crystal. I apologize for leaving you there. It was reckless. I was wrong. I see that now.”

  His posture relaxed just a smidgeon. I took a deep breath and continued. “But let me ask you something, Commander. Are you mad at me because you hate me or because you love me?”

  His jaw twitched. “I don’t have to answer that.”

  “True. But you’ve been playing this game with me ever since we met. You and Michael are the same man. You’re just a different shade. Can you honestly look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t care? That all this anger is just a reaction to being put on the sidelines?”

  “You are trying to change the subject.”

  “No, I’m trying to clear the air. I’ve been a horrible wife. That’s no secret. I might not make it out of this next scrape. I want everything out in the open. I love you. All of you. I’m just awful at expressing myself. You know that. So stop being such a hard ass for a few seconds and tell me the truth.”

  I laid my hand on his cheek. “Do you still love me or not?”

  He didn’t speak for several agonizing seconds. Then his voice softened. “You are a stubborn, irritating, closed-off, headstrong, indecisive woman. My life would be infinitely less complicated if you were not in it. But I would be lying if I said that I am not drawn to you regardless. You frustrate me to no end. You challenge me. You make me want more than what I have settled for over the centuries. Yes, you uncompromising chore, I love you.”

  A tear slipped down one of my cheeks. “Thank God.”

  “I already have,” he whispered, brushing a lock of hair out of the way so he could kiss me. I nearly melted. Three years. That was how long it took for the angel in him to truly accept me, and it was only because I pissed him off. Go figure.

  The kiss didn’t stop at just one. Two, three, four, five, and then his large hands gripped my hips to lift me. He plopped me on the counter and grabbed my knees, wrapping them around his narrow hips. Part of my brain yelled at me about making out with my husband in another man’s bathroom, but I couldn’t hear its voice very well. Michael’s touch made me feel safe. He made me feel like maybe I wasn’t the worst person in the world. He made me want to be more than who I was. I loved him. I would always love him.

  He broke from my lips enough to kiss my neck. My head tipped back and my eyes started to flutter closed, shutting out the rest of the bathroom and the sight of Belial leaning against the door. Wait, what?

  My eyes popped open. The demon, now fully healed and without burn scars, stood just inside the bathroom watching the both of us with the most casual smirk.

  I pushed on Michael’s shoulders until he stood at full height, frowning that I’d stopped him until he saw the reflection of the demon.

  “Do you mind?” I sputtered at Belial, half-angry, half-startled that he’d gotten into the room without either of us noticing.

  His eyes made a lazy path from my face to my chest. “Not at all.”

  It was then I realized that my borrowed sweater hung off my arms, and his shirt was gone entirely. I blushed harder than I can remember in recent history.

  I tugged the sweater back on to hide my cleavage and then bestowed a loathsome glare on the archdemon. “You don’t strike me as the type that likes to watch.”

  His smirk stretched into a grin. “An adept observation.”

  Belial disappeared from my view for a couple seconds and then reappeared next to Michael. He extended a finger and trailed it down Michael’s spine, which made the angel shiver on impulse alone.

  Michael batted the demon’s hand away, his voice tight. “Touch me again and I’ll rip your arm off and sodomize you with it.”

  Belial glanced at me then, still grinning. “I like where this is going.”

  Michael made a move towards him, but I tightened my legs around him so he couldn’t qu
ite reach. He couldn’t keep going without dragging me off the counter so he stopped, chest heaving as he tried to control himself.

  “Look, we’re not interested, alright?” I snapped at the demon. “Please tell me you didn’t come in here just to perv on us.”

  Belial clucked his tongue. “It’s rude not to offer the host something in return for his hospitality. No matter. I just thought you should get going soon. Or would you rather continue your little tryst first?”

  “Just…five more minutes, okay?” I said.

  Belial arched an eyebrow. I rolled my eyes. “Not for that reason.”

  I lowered my legs from around Michael’s waist to prove my point. “We need to talk. Dumb married people stuff. We won’t be long.”

  “Very well. But if you do get in the mood—”

  “Out!” We both shouted. He laughed before gliding out the door.

  Michael sighed and retrieved his shirt, wrestling back into it while I watched with a copious amount of regret. My IQ always seemed to plummet whenever he was shirtless, so it was probably for the best. Couldn’t solve every problem with sex. Not for lack of trying.

  “How’d you find us?” I asked.

  He shot me a “D’uh” look. “I have been doing this since the dawn of time. You pick up on certain things after a while.”

  “Sorry. Stupid question. Guess you want to know what I found out.”

  He crossed his arms. “Which was?”

  “Moloch is heading for the Garden of Eden. He’s going to burn it down.”

  Michael paled. “You’re serious.”

  I nodded. “Deadly. We’ve got to get there and stop him.”

  “No, not we. Me. You have to protect the rest of the coins.”

  “You want us to split up? Isn’t that what we should avoid—the old divide and conquer?”

  “Not this time. I need you at the safe house. They will come for the coins and we can’t let anyone else die. We’ve lost enough.”

  I winced, rubbing my arms to comfort myself at the mournful tone in his voice. “Yes, we have.”

  “But before that happens…” He touched my chin, tilting my face towards his. “We’re going to get something straight. No more lying. No more secrets. You’re going to sit here and listen to me for once. Is that clear?”

  His words rooted me in the spot. I swallowed with some difficulty and nodded again. He took a deep breath, as if trying to firm his resolve on some internal matter. Then he spoke.

  “You’re a walking contradiction, Jordan. I know everything and nothing about you. I know what your favorite kind of food is. I know what kind of music you like. I know your favorite poets and authors. I know which parts of you are ticklish. And yet, there are things about you that you refuse to show me, even though I’ve practically begged you to, and I have never begged a day in my life until I met you. Still, that dark corner of your soul that you refuse to let me see is only part of the problem. The real problem is that you don’t know what love means.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up his hand. “I’m not finished. You love me. I know you love me. But I also know that I’m the first man you’ve ever loved and so you don’t seem to truly understand what it means. It means that we are connected on a level that goes beyond the physical. When you agreed to marry me, it tied our souls together for what was supposed to be all eternity. It goes both ways. You are mine and I am yours. But that isn’t what happened. I gave you all that I had, and you couldn’t do the same because you were still scared of what that meant. You seem to think love is pretty and perfect and symmetrical and easy. It’s not. Love is rough and malformed sometimes. It’s atypical. It’s all consuming. It can’t be rationed out in sections. Either you love with all your heart or you don’t. You can’t have one foot out the door when it comes to love. I can’t take you back until you understand that concept in every sense of what it means. If part of you is evil and cannot be redeemed, then so be it. I’ll come to terms with it on my own time. But you have to do the same. Otherwise, this isn’t going to work.”

  I wrapped my arms around my stomach—an unconscious habit I had been trying to kick. Raphael once told me it meant I was literally trying to shield myself from him, like how cats only expose their bellies to those they trust. Three years and I still couldn’t bring myself to fully trust him. “I don’t know how to fix this, Michael. I don’t. It’s not like I consciously wanted to put a wall between us. I just didn’t know how to knock it down.”

  “Yes, you did,” he said softly. “You were just afraid to let me help you.”

  I frowned, avoiding his gaze. “I’m not afraid.”

  “You are. That doesn’t make you any less of who you are, Jordan. Fear is natural.”

  He stepped forward, turning my face towards him again. “Self-hatred, however, is not.”

  I swallowed again. My voice wavered. “I never said it was.”

  “You didn’t have to. It’s in your actions. You could have fought to make me stay. You could have killed Belial ages ago and made it clear that you will never choose to be with him. But you didn’t because deep down you think that you deserve to be miserable. You won’t admit it to yourself because it’s something your Aunt Carmen instilled in you. All of those years of physical and verbal abuse have made you afraid of your own potential and of who you’re meant to be, so you hide it and suppress it and self-deprecate. You attribute any iota of success to dumb luck when you in fact are the reason why I’m alive and not wandering the earth as a poltergeist. You’re the reason the false angel didn’t wipe out a small city in New Jersey. You’re the reason the Leviathan didn’t bring about the end of the world. That was you, Jordan. I’m not saying you’re the savior of the known universe. I’m simply saying that you have the power to do great and terrible things, and that is how it should be.”

  I shifted my legs a bit. “I thought you said you knew nothing about me.”

  He exhaled—a harsh sound. “Fine. If you don’t want to listen to me, then I’m done.”

  His hand was on the doorknob when I spoke. “I hate pickles.”

  He stopped. “What?”

  “They’re sour and gross. My aunt used to put them on my burgers and I hated them. Used to give me stomach aches all the time.”

  He didn’t leave. He stood there, trying to figure out what I was getting at.

  I kept going, not waiting for his response. “When I was a kid, I didn’t have any friends. Partially because of Aunt Carmen’s abuse and partially because I was just a quiet sort of person back then. I used to sit in the corner with my notepad and draw my mother’s face over and over again. I was desperate to remember it. I felt like I’d let her down if I forgot what she looked like. Never had enough talent to be an artist, though.”

  He faced me, his expression passive and unreadable. I stared at the wall opposite the mirror as I kept going.

  “My first crush happened in fourth grade. It was the boy who always wore a red watch with Optimus Prime on it. Can’t remember his name. He never talked to me. I didn’t have a favorite Disney princess. I preferred Anastasia because she was scrappy. Never had a pet. Never wanted one. I still dream about Terrell sometimes. I’ve had a crush on Harry Dresden since I first read Storm Front. I’m scared of sharks, not because of their teeth, but because of those big nasty black eyes. I put Nutella on a slice of pepperoni pizza once and it was the most delicious thing I ever ate. And the night we broke up, I went home, watched Meet Joe Black, and cried myself to sleep.”

  My eyes finally wandered over to meet Michael’s heavy gaze. “And that’s who I am. Sorry it took me so long.”

  “That doesn’t fix everything.” He offered me a small smile. “But it’s a good start.”

  My shoulders relaxed a little. “Thank you.”

  “Though, seriously, you put Nutella on pizza?”

  “If you like it, then you should have put a ring on it, but if you love it, then you should have put Nutella on it.”

  He sh
ook his head. “Maybe I don’t need to know the real Jordan.”

  “Shut up, you love me.”

  He crossed the room in a couple of steps, cradling the side of my cheek in his hand. He leaned down to my height and kissed me gently. I sighed against his lips when he pulled away.

  He smiled. “That I do. Against my better judgment, I truly do.”

  “I don’t suppose apologizing a hundred-thousand times would help.”

  “Maybe later. In the meantime, we’ve got work to do, Amador.” He helped me down off the counter and we left the bathroom.

  Downstairs, Belial stood next to Balrog’s corpse, examining it with faint interest. He smoothed his hand through his wet, disheveled locks and then nudged the demon’s body with his foot. “I actually knew this one. Good bounty hunter. Talked too much, though.”

  “Now if that ain’t the pot calling the kettle black,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

  Belial rolled his eyes. “I suppose you told your husband about the Garden.”

  “Yes,” I said. “We need to get moving. What are you going to do? You told me you’re on your own side. What does that mean for us?”

  “Leave me out of it. The angels won’t accept my help at the safe house, and if I appear at the Garden, it will create unrest and accusations of disloyalty. The price on my head is terribly hefty as it is and it will only get worse if I show up appearing to be on your side.”

  “You’re not getting out of this that easily,” Michael said. “I saved your life. You owe me.”

  Belial scowled. “And what exactly do I owe you, archangel?”

  “I underestimated Moloch. I need to know as much as you know about him.”

  The archdemon tucked his hands inside his pockets. “Very well. You know that Moloch is a warlord first and foremost. He exists only for devastation. His rules of warfare are effective, but they also hold a pattern. As I understand it, he has already accomplished the first three goals in a successful war: one, identify your biggest threats and put them off balance; two, rattle their troops by creating doubt; three, deliver a crushing blow to their morale. Next, he will go for inciting the battle itself. He believes it will be successful now that he has your sword because he can bottleneck the angels arriving through the portal it creates when they descend from Heaven.”