Wicked Revelations and Brimstone (Legacy of Sins Book 2)

by J. N. Colon

  I met Jayson’s eyes as my heart plummeted to the soles of my boots. “Is that blood?”

  Chapter 23

  Jayson whipped his sword out from nowhere, the blade singing a silvery note. “Stay behind me.” He marched forward, his hand firmly gripping mine. His body was tensed, poised for a fight.

  We finally emerged into a small clearing, and the blood drained from my body, coiling into a tiny pit in the center. The towering oaks and twisting maples spun sickeningly.

  Astaroth stood over an angel with wings as white as snow. Or they used to be. Crimson speckled the feathers as the Fallen continued hacking them off.

  His eyes lifted, the sapphire orbs landing directly on me.

  Ice tattooed my spine. I’d expected them to be that terrifying shade of glowing red. The vivid angelic blue irises didn’t belong on the creature committing such a monstrous act.

  “Get away from him.” Jayson lifted his sword, his muscles trembling.

  The Fallen ignored his command and yanked the knife one more time, pulling the second wing free. The angel sprawled across a bed of leaves, unconscious. Blood stained his silvery white suit.

  I swallowed rapidly to choke back the lump of emotion trying to rise. Only the worst kind of evil could do something so horrific.

  “Oh, little bird, don’t cry.” Astaroth gently placed the wing next to the other detached one. “I never wanted you to see me like this.”

  “Don’t talk to her.” Tremors rippled over Jayson’s body. “Don’t even look at her.” Only a thin string held his control together. The urge to drive his sword into Astaroth’s chest—his mother’s murderer—was stifling. It resonated through my own bones.

  “I didn’t want you to see the necessary evil I have to commit,” Astaroth said, ignoring the massive, snarling Nephilim in front of me. He stood, twirling the knife in the air. It disappeared. “But I do need this particular totem. There’s no way around it.”

  My gaze lingered over the angel. Silver hair haloed around him, drops of blood staining the tips pink. His slender chest rhythmically rose and fell. He was still alive.

  What happened to an angel without their wings? Would God take him back? Would he give him new wings or let the angel wander the Earth forever, broken and damaged?

  “You’re not taking those wings anywhere.” Jayson’s voice vibrated the ground beneath my feet. “I’ll run my sword through you before you get the chance.”

  Shadows crawled around Astaroth’s back, blocking out the faint light penetrating the trees. “You can try, Nephilim.” A broad sword appeared in his hand, gleaming even in the shade.

  Jayson charged, shooting my heart into my throat. The clash of metal rang through the clearing. The sword in Astaroth’s hand blurred as he swung, blocking each of Jayson’s hits.

  Numbness spilled through my limbs. I stood frozen. Helpless. Anger pulsated from Jayson, dark and thick like a cloud smothering him. He was fighting his mother’s killer, the same monster that was trying to steal me. He would do anything to tear the fallen angel apart.

  But what would he lose in the process?

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Jayson,” Astaroth gritted out as he dodged another strike. He wasn’t throwing any blows. He was only defending himself. For now anyway.

  “Too bad,” Jayson growled, lunging forward.

  A moan slipped from the injured angel.

  I ran toward him, slamming to my knees. White feathers floated around us like snow. “Are you okay?”

  “My wings.” Pain slashed his soft, lyrical voice. “They’re gone, aren’t they?”

  “He cut them off.” My hands trembled over the wounds leaking blood from his back. I had no idea what to do.

  “If I hurt you, I hurt my little bird.” The Fallen’s words yanked my attention back to the fight. A tinge of crimson spilled through the vivid blue of his irises.

  My breath caught. Astaroth was a full angel—fallen or not. And Jayson was only half.

  “I won’t give you the chance.” Jayson thrust his sword toward the Fallen’s chest.

  Astaroth swiveled his body, the blade slicing the jacket of his suit. Perfect, alabaster flesh peeked through. Darkness spilled over his face, his luminescent gaze eerily prominent. “I’ve had enough of your insolence.”

  Icy claws sank through my heart, squeezing. “Don’t hurt him.”

  Astaroth ignored me. Massive, ebony wings unfolded from his shoulders, cloaking even more sunlight. He whipped them back and used the wind to knock Jayson down, his sword falling from his hand.

  Jayson cursed and scrambled up as Astaroth took flight.

  “My fallen brother has tumbled so far from the light.” The angel shifted into a sitting position, his caramel skin beginning to lose color. “I fear he will even surpass Lucifer himself. “

  Frosty tremors scuttled over my body. His words didn’t leave me with the warm and fuzzies.

  A pair of silver eyes the same color as his hair landed on me. He blinked, a line forming between his brows. “I know you.”

  I shook my head. “We’ve never met.”

  The angel’s eyes were far too wise for his youthful appearance. “Such a tragedy. He was so sad.”

  I put my hand on his shoulder as he swayed, holding him up. Was he referring to my mother’s death? That was the only tragedy I was linked to.

  I glanced at Jayson. So far anyway. Astaroth seemed determined not to hurt my soul mate even though he could.

  As if he felt my lingering stare, Jayson’s gaze swiveled toward me for a brief moment. Anger seared them, but something else shown through the dark shadows.

  Goose bumps popped along my arms as his intentions began to sink in. Was he distracting Astaroth so I could help the angel?

  A sudden wind blew, tossing my hair into my face. When the strands cleared, a tall figure loomed next to me.

  “Holy hotness.” A hot blush flooded my cheeks. Fracken flying fairies. I really needed to learn to think before speaking.

  Gold glittered in the newcomer’s penetrating brown eyes as they searched over me, his brow arching.

  “She is funny.” The wounded angel chuckled and winced, taking a ragged breath.

  “Zophiel, you shouldn’t have listened to his call.” The other angel marched toward the detached wings and kneeled, carefully running his hand over the feathers. Sharp muscles coiled in his arms and a gleaming breastplate of armor swathed his broad chest. “You know Astaroth has been lost.”

  “I will always hope he can be redeemed.” Zophiel’s stared in my direction for a second and then shifted to the Fallen. “Return me home, Hanal.”

  Hanal, the armored angel, scooped up Zophiel’s wings with the greatest of care.

  “Wait!” My hand darted out, catching his thick, solid wrist. “Can’t you help Jayson?” He was still battling with Astaroth. The Fallen might not be so kind once he realized he’d been tricked and his angelic totem was stolen.

  “Archangels cannot intervene in battles we were not ordered to.” The harsh lines in his face softened as he studied me. “Things will become clearer, Lena Raven.” He pried my fingers off, gently squeezing them. “You will find your place in this war as Jayson will find his.”

  Astaroth’s head whipped in our direction, his glare searing into the other angel’s. His wings folded, and he dropped to the ground. “Going so soon, Hanal? No pleasantries?”

  “I pity you, brother.” Hanal gripped Zophiel’s arm and pulled him up. “I wouldn’t wish your life on anyone.”

  Both angels of light disappeared in a warm gust of wind.

  I scrambled to my feet, my pulse quaking. Jayson was a few feet away breathing heavily. I took a step toward him, but Astaroth blocked my path.

  “Get out of my way.” Tremors rippled through my voice.

  “Don’t fear me, little bird. I’d never harm you.” A charming smile crossed his lips. He didn’t seem to care the angel wings had been stolen right from under him. “I saved you from those dwellers,
didn’t I?”

  “What dwellers?” Jayson hissed.

  Frack. That dirty jackhole had to go and say that, didn’t he?

  I chewed on my lip. “I may have left a few things out that night at the library. And then there was this one time in town when Shannon Russel…”

  A shadow spilled over Jayson’s face, deepening the recesses. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His gaze bounced between Astaroth and me, the gold burning darker. “What else is going on?”

  My jaw dropped at his suspicions.

  “Oh, come now, Jayson.” Astaroth’s voice was silky smooth. Too smooth.

  My nape prickled. This conversation was heading down a treacherous path.

  “She’s not the only one keeping secrets, is she?” Astaroth waved his hand, and his sword disappeared. “Shall I tell her or would you like to do the honors?”

  Color drained from Jayson’s face, leaving his cheeks a sickly pallid color.

  My hackles rose. Jayson admitted he was keeping secrets from me. As much as I wanted to smack him for thinking something was going on between this old as dirt fallen angel and me, I wouldn’t play into Astaroth’s wicked game.

  He wanted to divide us. He wanted me vulnerable.

  I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter, Astaroth. I really see it now—the evil inside of you. I know what you are.”

  His chuckle sent shivers down every vertebra. “And what is that, little bird?”

  “You’re a fallen angel,” I spat. “You’re a monster.”

  His eerie, resonant laugh bounced off the thick tree trunks. “I’m evil because I’m a Fallen?”

  “Yes,” I spat. “You’re worse than all the demons in Hell. At least they don’t pretend to be something they’re not.”

  “It’s funny that you mention people pretending to be what they aren’t.” Astaroth jerked his chin toward Jayson as an ominous smile twisted his lips. “You’re standing next to the son of an evil fallen angel.”

  Chapter 24

  Thick, choking silence spilled through the forest. Astaroth’s words were shards of glass slicing open my chest. Jayson’s shoulders pinched. He wouldn’t look at me.

  Nithael was a Fallen.

  The archangel with golden hair and kind eyes had deserted his place in Heaven and with God?

  My time in Hell rose to the surface. The fallen angel that yanked me out of my daze before eating the nefa had never shown himself. I’d only heard his thunderous voice.

  Had that been Nithael?

  “Is it true?” All the times the other Nephilim acted strange when they brought up Jayson’s dad in front of me began to make sense. They said our bond was different. I’d assumed it had to do with Nithael being an archangel.

  He was a fallen archangel.

  “Jayson,” I pleaded. “Look at me.” Astaroth had said Jayson was no angel. Was he even a Nephilim?

  Jayson’s head lifted, his eyes still shielded by strands of blond hair. “It’s true.”

  I sucked in a ragged breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He felt so guilty over the visions because he thought they stemmed from his father being a Fallen.

  “Nithael’s not like the others.” His gaze landed on Astaroth, his lips thinning. “Not like him.”

  The ability to leave Hell was the only thing those two Fallen had in common. Jayson’s dad was nothing like the monster pretending to be a charming gentleman.

  “Of course he’s not like us,” Astaroth said, striding past me to where Zophiel had lain. He kicked his foot through the mound of leaves. Downy white feathers floated up.

  “The archangel Nithael fell from grace for a woman.” Astaroth’s tone was mocking.

  And what did he fall for? Greed? Pride?

  Astaroth bent and plucked a stick from the underbrush. “Nithael was sent to Earth to protect the seer Selena.”

  Fine tremors rippled through Jayson’s shoulders. Selena must have been his mother. He never told me her name.

  I closed the gap between us, my fingers gently brushing the back of his hand. Jayson kept something monumental from me, but my instinct was still to comfort him.

  “Nithael protected her for a long time before he confessed his love,” Astaroth continued, drawing shapes in the spot he cleared on the forest floor. “And when the Creator called him back, he refused. Nithael fell.”

  Maybe all Fallen weren’t bad. How could choosing love over responsibility make you evil?

  “A Nephilim was not ordered to be created, but here he is.” Astaroth flicked his hand toward Jayson, his other still moving the stick through the damp soil. “Technically, he’s a Shadow Nephil.”

  Shadow Nephil? Did more half-angels created from the Fallen exist?

  Jayson’s muscles stiffened as his gaze lowered to the ground at Astaroth’s feet. “What are you doing?”

  Cold sank through my limbs. The sigils he drew resembled the ones marring the walls of the barn where Moloch tried to kill me.

  Astaroth ignored Jayson’s question. “Nithael is a Fallen, but his nature is still good. He made a deal with the Creator. If he stayed away from Selena and the child and repented, He would have his offspring treated as any other Nephilim—an archangel Nephilim at that.”

  “What?” Jayson’s sword lowered, the tip brushing across the leaves, scattering them.

  Nithael wasn’t there to save Selena from Astaroth because of his deal with God.

  A line formed between my brows. If Nithael was sent to protect Selena, why would God force him away? Or in the very least, why didn’t he send another angel to watch over her?

  “I guess Nithael didn’t fill you in on why he wasn’t around much.” The Fallen shook his head, tossing midnight strands around his alabaster face. “What a pity. You spent so many years blaming your father for nothing.” Those sapphire eyes swiveled toward me, piercing my insides like twin daggers.

  I choked back a lump of trepidation. Something terrible shimmered in those deceptively beautiful depths.

  “Jayson isn’t a regular Nephilim, Lena,” Astaroth said. “He may be of the light, but he has a dark side. He could turn at any moment.”

  My blood cooled to subzero temperatures. I’d seen it, Jayson’s darkness. Little hints of it speckled my latest memories. A sign here and there. The time he broke the dweller’s hand was still sharp in my mind. The loud cracks of him ripping the horns right off a demon resonated in my ears.

  “That will never happen.” Jayson’s fingers curled around my wrist, drawing me closer. “I’d never be on the side of evil, Lena. Nothing would make me turn from the light.”

  “I know.” Could he detect the lie in my voice? Could he feel it through the link we shared? I was afraid for him. Evil surrounded him everyday. Would a line be crossed, one he couldn’t come back from?

  Astaroth produced a knife, slicing it across his palm. Blood dripped on the symbols he’d drawn, and smoke sizzled up.

  Jayson cursed. “You bastard. How many of them did you summon?”

  “Just enough. And then some.” A menacing smile split Astaroth’s mouth.

  Knots fisted in my gut. Something in the air stirred. Heat and hunger. “Them? What them?”

  “I’m sorry, little bird. Things are going to get messy.” The knife disappeared. “But you really left me no choice. You did steal my totem after all. I have every right to be angry.”

  Anger didn’t flash behind Astaroth’s burning blue gaze. Satisfaction did.

  Had we played right into his hands?

  The stench of rotten eggs and death drifted through the clearing. A cold line of sweat dripped down my neck. Only one thing had that smell.

  A figure emerged through the dense oak branches dipping behind Astaroth. Putrid green scales shifted as the creature moved. Horns curled from the sides of his massive forehead.

  A demon.

  Jayson’s nostrils flared, and he raised the sword higher. “Get behind me, Lena.” His other arm pushed me back.

  My fingers snagged in his shir
t to keep from falling. A shiver skittered down my spine. I glanced over my shoulder, and my heart took a flying leap to the ground. “More!”

  Jayson whipped around as an entire line of demons surged forward.

  “There’s too many,” I screeched. Scaly, clawed beasts were closing around us on all sides. Astaroth had vanished.

  That dirty, fallen A-hole. Why would he be so careful not to hurt Jayson earlier just to send a horde of demons after him? They certainly weren’t here for me, Astaroth’s pet avis.

  “I’ll get us out of this, Lena.” Jayson’s body swelled and poised for the attack.

  Jayson was a badass warrior. He could take on anything.

  I swallowed, trying to force moisture through my dry mouth. But could he kill a dozen demons by himself?

  The monsters continued their approach, thick, slimy saliva dripping from their sharp teeth. Anticipation thickened the air. They looked forward to tearing through Jayson’s flesh.

  The ones on the far left suddenly faltered. A howl tore out of a wide, grayish-blue one. He whipped around, swiping his claws. He wasn’t fast enough. A sword plunged into his chest. He collapsed into a thick heap.

  Brenna stepped forward, her eyes two luminescent gold orbs in her porcelain face.

  My brows shot up my forehead. Holy crapola. She looked like a ballerina welding a long, lethal sword. Seth fought next to her, slashing out at the demons.

  Jayson spun me. “When I tell you to run, I want you to head for your car as fast as you can.”

  I shook my head, my limbs going numb again. “I’m not leaving you.” What if he got hurt?

  “I can’t protect you and fight them at the same time.” His hand cupped the side of my face. “I don’t trust they won’t hurt you even if Astaroth told them to steer clear.” The unexpected quiver in his voice had my resolve faltering. “The others are on their way. I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay,” I muttered, my chest caving in on my heart.

  “And please watch where you’re going,” he warned before pressing a hard kiss to my lips. He pulled away and cut down a demon behind us. And then another, creating a path for me. “Go now!”