Blood Sworn

by Lauryn Evans

  We. Adela liked the sound of that. She would have been smiling, if not for the severity of the situation at hand.

  “Can you do it?” Adela asked with a silent plea in her eyes. “Can you find her?”

  “I don’t know,” Clarissa’s gaze fell to the ground, before meeting hers. “But that won’t stop me from trying.”

  Adela threw her arms around Clarissa’s lean body. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Clarissa declared, breaking away from the hug. “I need three candles,” she announced. “Anything with a wick.”

  “I have some scented candles,” Adelaide chimed in.

  Clarissa pursed her lips. “That’ll work.”

  “I will go with you,” Alice said, and the two dashed inside the house.

  “Help me find a stick,” Clarissa ordered. “Something I can use to draw in the dirt.”

  Wyatt, Mariel, Heather, and Veronica scoured the property for sticks. Their search ended when Mariel raised one into the air above her head and exclaimed, “Found one!”

  She handed the stick to Clarissa, who immediately began sketching symbols into the dirt, tearing through the grass.

  Adelaide emerged with the candles and Alice some matches, handing them to Clarissa.

  Clarissa took the matches, lighting each candle before placing them around the symbols she’d drawn. “Now, I need a map, a knife, and something of Renata’s that’s important to her—something personal.”

  Veronica zipped into the house at her full speed, emerging with an old road map a second later. Edwin and Jackson followed her, his speed varying, uncontrolled.

  “Her copy of Great Expectations,” Jackson said, handing Clarissa the old book.

  Clarissa pulled a gold ring out of her pocket, the band weary, and worn with age.

  “What’s that?” Veronica asked, handing Clarissa the map.

  “A magical artifact,” she answered, busy preparing the ritual.

  Adelaide shot a skeptical look at the trinket. “What’s it for?”

  “It contains magic,” Clarissa said, placing the ring down between the candles. “Magic, I can channel into the ritual.” She dropped to her knees, placing the map and Renata’s copy of Great Expectations in front of her, and held out her hand. “Knife?”

  “Right here,” Edwin said, placing a Swiss army knife into her palm.

  Taking the knife, Clarissa chanted foreign words Adela couldn’t understand. She and the others anxiously watched Clarissa work, putting their faith in her spell.

  Adela hoped to god the ritual worked. If they could find out where Renata was, they could get to her before anything happened to her.

  Clarissa slit her palm with the Swiss army knife as the incantation flowed from her soft lips.

  Adela immediately looked for Jackson, relieved to see Edwin already holding him back while Clarissa squeezed her hand, her dark red blood dripping onto the map.

  The blood would show them where Renata was.

  The droplets of blood dribbled onto the map but refused to budge. Clarissa’s frustration bled through her voice, and she chanted louder and louder, the flames on each candle flickering as they climbed higher and higher. The droplets of blood fizzed as Clarissa chanted louder, the gold ring visibly trembling. Then the drops of blood wavered, fizzing until a hiss of smoke dissolved them, and the candles blew out, leaving them in darkness and disappointment.

  “Dammit!” Clarissa yelled, kicking the map. “No!”

  “What’s wrong?” Jackson asked. His panic returned full force. “What happened?”

  “She’s not here.” Clarissa ran her uninjured hand through her hair.

  “What do you mean she’s not here?” Wyatt asked, dumbfounded.

  “She’s not here. She’s not anywhere,” Clarissa said, exasperated. “It’s like she doesn’t exist.”

  Jackson’s breathing slowed dangerously. “What are you saying?”

  Clarissa bit her lower lip. “I’m saying, wherever she is, it’s not in this realm. That’s all I can do.” Her eyes locked with Adela’s. “I’m sorry.”

  Adela wrapped her arms around Clarissa. “Don’t be. You did all you could. Thank you.” She freed Clarissa from her embrace. “You don’t have to stay.”

  Clarissa took her hand in hers. “I want to stay here with you.”

  Adela gave Clarissa’s hand a light squeeze, her eyes conveying her thanks. Clarissa squeezed her hand back as if she was telling her everything would be alright.

  She really hoped so.

  Jackson paced about, running his hands through his hair, his eyes filled with worry.

  Adela sympathized with him. If the woman she loved were in the hands of a demon… She didn’t know what she’d do.

  “Wyatt, Edwin.” Adela beckoned to them. “Take Jackson for a run in the woods. He needs to clear his head.” Her brother and Edwin nodded before fulfilling her command, the three men disappearing into the tree line behind them.

  “Is there anything we can do to help her?” Adela asked Clarissa, her hope running low.

  “No, not from here.” Clarissa shook her head, with a melancholy expression. “But, she’d want us to stay strong.” She intertwined her fingers with Adela’s. “So, that’s what we’ll do.”

  Clarissa was right—Renata would want them to keep going. They could do that. She could do that. She could hold down the fort until the Mistress of the Newport House returned.

  Alice approached Clarissa with outstretched arms. “Let me look at that cut.”

  “Oh,” Clarissa said, clearly caught off guard. She looked back at Adela as if to ask, is that okay?

  Adela nodded, giving Clarissa the reassurance she needed. Alice was an old vampire, and she had the most control out of all the vampires at the house.

  Clarissa turned back to Alice, smiling at her as they went inside.

  Adela lingered by the circle as Heather and Veronica cleaned up. She knelt down, picking up Renata’s copy of Great Expectations.

  Part of her was afraid the Mistress wouldn’t return.

  Don’t think like that, Adela chided herself. Renata was coming back.

  Adela ushered the other House members back inside the house, clinging onto the last bit of hope she had left.

  13

  One minute she was outside screaming like a madwoman, and the next, she was somewhere else, the surrounding air a familiar misty white.

  Azazel stood beside her and cocked his head, his massive ebony wings unfurled. His voice echoed in the empty space around them. “You know where we are.”

  Renata nodded. “The spirit realm.”

  “You’ve been here before?” he murmured, amused. “What an interesting turn of events.”

  Renata turned away from him, wrapping her arms around herself.

  Azazel held out his hand. “I have something to show you.”

  Renata stared at his outstretched hand for a moment before taking it. Maybe now she’d finally get some answers.

  The surrounding space shifted, morphing into an oddly familiar scene. Visions and memories flooded her consciousness, overwhelming her.

  The air was oddly still, unmoved by wind or any earthly forces. A man—no, an angel—approached her, his feathery, pure white wings outstretched to their full glory. The angel wore golden armor and a white cloth hood. He had no face. Beneath his hood lay shadows of nothingness, and a divine, pale yellow light poured out from within him.

  Feathery white wings sprouted from her back. Golden armor donned her chest, her angelic blade sheathed at her side. Like all the other angels, she was faceless, timeless. This form, her true form, was ancient.

  “Come with me, Lelahel.” The angel’s voice was familiar. He was her friend, her brother.

  Curious, Lelahel asked, “Where to?”

  “We must go to Earth.”

  “You know that we are forbidden from going there unless on a mission. What business do you have?”

  “I have a mission.” Her brother ass
ured her, motioning for her to follow. “You must come with me. This mission is yours as well.”

  “Very well,” Lelahel surrendered, although she felt like something was not right.

  Still, she took up Lux, her broadsword, ready to depart. She had no reason to distrust him. Perhaps her suspicion was misplaced.

  “Come,” her brother beckoned to her again, his wings outstretched.

  Lelahel followed suit. She took flight, her stately wings propelling her upwards.

  They soared through the heavens, a massive fortress of white and gold, down to the green Earth, where humanity roamed free, oblivious to their presence.

  “What is our mission?” Lelahel asked as they landed.

  Her friend materialized, allowing the humans to see him, who gawked and stared in awe. They had never seen an angel before.

  “Stop this,” Lelahel hissed. “What are you doing? Revealing ourselves is forbidden!”

  Her brother ignored her and picked up two rocks, clanging them together until sparks flew and caught a small pile of hay.

  “Stop!” she screamed, pulling Lux from its sheath. “Azazel, stop this madness!”

  Azazel ignored her and continued to teach the humans how to light a fire. In doing so, he shared a heavenly secret with them, which was strictly forbidden.

  “I’m sorry, brother.” Lelahel charged, Lux in hand. “I will take no part in your treachery.”

  Michael's sword, Praesidio, the Protector, met her blade.

  “Michael,” she stammered, shocked. Then she said firmly, “I have no part in this.”

  The leader of the archangels said nothing, stone cold. “You will face your judgment.”

  “No,” Lelahel protested. “No, Michael, you must believe me. I am innocent. I have no part in this!”

  Michael turned his head away, like he couldn’t stand the sight of her. His disgust tore apart her insides.

  “Please, Michael. I beg of you,” Lelahel pleaded. “I am innocent!”

  But Michael didn’t believe her.

  “Please!”

  Renata’s mind whirled. “You,” she stammered, shaking her head. “What did you do?”

  More images flashed before her eyes.

  Her judgment had come.

  Lelahel was falling.

  Her wings darkened to black as she fell, and she screamed, a mortal face etching itself into her. Her angelic core buried beneath mortal flesh, blood pumping through her new veins.

  Lelahel had been banished. Azazel, her once good friend, had tricked her. It never occurred to her he might have lied. She couldn’t have known that he was so far gone he could even tell a lie.

  Lelahel believed him. And he betrayed her.

  She’d been too blind in her devotion to see that he’d turned away from his purpose. That he’d turned away from their Creator.

  Now, both of them had been punished. Forever cast out of heaven for a crime Lelahel did not commit.

  She would pay for this.

  Despite her innocence, she would pay the price of Azazel’s betrayal.

  The vision faded, her surroundings coming back into view.

  “I don’t…” Renata shook her head. “I don’t understand. This can’t be real. It can’t—”

  “It is,” Azazel told her. “You know it is, Lelahel.”

  “Why don’t I remember?”

  “The Creator pitied you. When his new favorite archangel fell, sentenced to an eternity of banishment,” Azazel said, jealousy poisoning his words, “he gave her a mortal body and took away her memory of heaven.”

  “You can’t expect me to believe I’ve been here for all these years,” Renata scoffed. “I was born in 1929.”

  “Oh, Lelahel,” Azazel chuckled. “You forget who you once were.”

  She knew about Aurora Courtenay. Her soul was split in two when she was Aurora, but half survived, and she’d been reincarnated, living on as Renata.

  “What are you saying?”

  Azazel kept silent, frivolously attending to his wings.

  He was suggesting that she had been reincarnated multiple times. And that since her fall, she’d lived thousands of lives, her time as Aurora Courtenay being only one of them.

  No.

  No, that couldn’t be right. Renata couldn’t—no, refused—to believe it. She refused to believe she was a fallen angel, a fallen archangel, sentenced to live out countless mortal lives upon the earth.

  “No,” she said vehemently. “You’re wrong.”

  “Am I?” Azazel asked, toying with her. “You know the truth. Deep down, you know that it’s true.”

  No.

  Renata shook her head. “No, that’s not possible.”

  “Your magic is pure, angelic in origin. Why do you think it was unaffected by me,” Azazel gestured to himself, “while the witches’ magic faded? Your angelic core is the source of your power. Why else do you think it stays with you, life after life? It does not come from the witch ancestors, nor can it be given to them.”

  If what Azazel said was true, Renata was a pure immortal, just like him.

  “While you lived and died, I became something else.” Azazel looked bitterly at his black wings—wings that had once gleamed white. “A demon, as the humans call me.”

  He gently touched his pale face. “My fall gave me a mortal face—a constant reminder of my judgment. But together,” he promised, “we will earn back our place amongst the angels.”

  “What?” Renata asked. “How do you plan to do that?”

  “It’s quite simple,” he said, waving a hand. “By righting our wrongs.”

  “Your wrongs, not mine. You,” Renata jabbed his chest with her pointed finger. “You tricked me!”

  Azazel brushed her off. “No matter. You’re still here, on Earth, are you not?”

  Her mind spun. Right our wrongs? Earn back our place amongst the angels?

  How dare he think he could fix this? That he could somehow undo what he’d done? He taught Evander to hate and kill vampires and urged him to form the Order. He taught the humans heavenly secrets, betraying his brethren. How could he undo that?

  The only way he could even close would be to…

  To wipe the slate clean.

  Good lord.

  “You mean to destroy mankind?”

  “Smart girl,” Azazel smirked. “With mankind gone, how can they know heavenly secrets?”

  “You’ll never be able to undo what you’ve done, destroying mankind or not.”

  “Alas, this is true. But perhaps a clean slate will be enough to persuade him.” Azazel turned to face her. “Help me, Lelahel. Help me and win back your rightful place in heaven.”

  “I’ll never help you,” Renata spat. “The Creator will never let you back in. No matter what you do.”

  “Mankind is the reason we were banished,” Azazel bellowed. “Mankind is our enemy, and we will make low of them. We were once archangels, great, holy warriors at the right hand of the Creator.” He continued, his yellow eyes ablaze, “Man’s fall will be our salvation. Why do you defend them?

  “No!” Renata yelled. “I won’t let you!”

  Anger and disappointment flashed in Azazel’s eyes. “So be it.”

  Renata took a calculated step backward. This was going to get ugly.

  “You have made your choice,” Azazel said, his voice dangerously low. Without warning, he thrust his power at her, knocking her back.

  Renata leaped to her feet, her fangs unsheathed. She whipped a gust of her power at him.

  He easily deflected it with a wave of his hand.

  “My, my.” He taunted, “You’ve lost your touch, haven’t you, Lelahel?”

  Renata threw herself at him, giving everything she had into her assault. Azazel effortlessly averted her attack, sending back bursts of power twice as strong as Renata’s.

  “Give up,” Azazel snarled. “Submit.”

  “Never!” Renata yelled, baring her fangs. She launched herself at him and sank her fangs
into his neck, the foul taste of him filling Renata’s mouth.

  Azazel let out a hoarse growl, throwing Renata to the ground.

  Renata picked herself up and then collapsed. Again and again, she tried to pick herself up.

  Get up, Renata urged herself. Get up. GET UP.

  A woman’s gentle voice rang through her ears.

  “Only you have the power to face him.”

  Renata mustered the strength to lift her head. Rowena was kneeling beside her.

  “Rowena?”

  “Take up your sword archangel,” Rowena’s dark eyes bore into hers. “You must accept who you are. Only then can you defeat Azazel.”

  “What?” Renata asked. “What sword?”

  Azazel’s laugh sent chills down her spine. He picked her up by her hair, pain searing through her scalp. “Goodbye, old friend. I’m sorry it came to this.”

  “Accept who you are, Lelahel, the Light Bringer,” Rowena said, fading away into the white mist.

  Renata searched her mind, forcing herself to concentrate through the pain. Deep down, she knew it was true. She finally stopped resisting, allowing her heavenly origins to fill her and give her strength.

  Renata’s muscles contracted as her bones gave way, black, feathery wings emerging from her back. Power surged through her, strength filling her bones. She grabbed Azazel’s wrist.

  He writhed under her grip.

  A gust of her power sent Azazel reeling backward, onto the ground. She was her true self again.

  With ease, she dodged Azazel’s attacks, sending them back to him two-fold. “You tricked me.” Lux was sheathed at her hip. “I was a fool to believe you.”

  Azazel’s eyes fell onto her blade. “How can this be? How can you wield your sword?”

  She drew Lux, her angelic broadsword, and lunged. Azazel, using his power to create a shield, met her blade. The energy shield was clear, pulsing with magic, its surface a protective barrier.

  Azazel’s eyes widened. “How is this possible? We lost our swords when we fell. How can this be?”

  Renata charged at him, again and again, weakening his power shield with each blow.

  Renata clanged Lux against Azazel’s power shield, sinking her blade through it until it cracked. She pushed it deeper, fighting his advances until his shield finally shattered.