by ML Guida
“I don’t know. Let’s find out.” He glanced at the lodge a couple of lights were on, but more should have been on. The gray clouds and pounding rain would have darkened the lodge. A foreboding ran through him. This wasn’t good. Not good at all.
Neither Ringmaster nor Poison acknowledged him as he strolled over. He blinked at the pelting rain.
“About time you got here,” Ringmaster said, as he stared straight ahead.
Blade nodded at the house. “So, are you going to tell me why you’re both standing out here in the rain?”
Poison blinked as the rain pelted on her face. “We’re waiting for you and Abigail. Raphael said not to go in until you two arrived.”
Abigail came over, still holding the umbrella. “So, are we going inside or what?”
Poison gripped Abigail’s arm. “You must be prepared.”
Abigail’s face paled. “Prepared? Prepared for what?”
“Your brother has been using the board.”
Blade’s gut tightened. “Has he killed anyone yet?”
Abigail glared. “He’d never kill anyone, abomination.”
Ringmaster raised his eyebrow. “Abomination?”
“Don’t ask,” Blade growled.
Abigail punched Blade in the shoulder. “No, pray tell, abomination.”
Anguish dripped from her voice.
Poison clasped Abigail’s arm. “So, you know what Blade did?”
Abigail shook her head. “So, you’re telling me that you knew this bastard killed my sister?”
“Yes, I did,” Poison said. Her eyes softened. “I don’t condone what he did. But for you to move forward, forgiveness is the key.”
Abigail rolled her eyes. “You’re kidding me? This is a little different than him borrowing my car and wrecking it. He killed my sister.”
Blade winced. This was going nowhere. She would never forgive him. Now, he was being judged just as he had judged Scythe, Raphael, and Michael. He swallowed hard. Acid rolled in his stomach. Revenge had once tasted sweet, but now it tasted bitter sour. “Let’s go inside.”
“Fine.” Abigail headed for the center, but Ringmaster grabbed her arm. She stopped and glared. “Release my arm.”
“Brayden will not be as you remember him,” Ringmaster warned. “The board is gripping him, controlling him. Balthazar is set upon seizing his soul.”
“Why?”
Blade shook his head. Ringmaster unwound his ironclad hold, but Blade blocked her path and endured her look of hatred. “He wants your brother’s soul because of me. He knows I care for you and seeks his revenge for me leaving his ranks.”
“But you didn’t leave. Raphael stripped you of your demonic powers,” Abigail said. “You wanted to remain a demon.”
“Yes, I did,” he said. “Until now.”
Suspicion slowly flooded her eyes. “What do you mean until now?”
“You’ve changed me, Red.” She opened her mouth. He immediately held up his hand. “I meant Abigail. My desires have changed. And I promise you this—no matter what, I will not let Balthazar drag your brother’s soul to Hell.”
“Coming from a lying abomination, I find that hard to believe.” She sidestepped around him and walked toward the center.
Thunder crashed overhead. Blade glanced up at the angry, black sky. Lightning flashed again. Not good. Balthazar was coming.
Ringmaster shook his head. “She’s brave but foolish.”
“She loves her brother, Ringmaster,” Poison said. “She won’t let him die.”
“Neither will I,” Blade said. He sprinted passed Abigail, ignoring her angry gasp. Ringmaster was right. Abigail had never seen a demon and Balthazar was powerful, evil. He only lived in fear of Satan or the Archangels. Raphael expected him to solve this. Michael, well if Michael arrived, they were all screwed.
Blade opened the door and stepped inside. An immediate chill rushed over him, but not from the wind and rain. This went clear down to his bones. His breath came out in white puffs of smoke. Not good. Something was here.
The gas log fireplace was off. No one was at the front desk. A blue glare from the computer lit up the empty space.
Abigail came up beside him. The aroma of rain drenched mimosa nearly drove him crazy and he wanted to bury himself in her wet hair.
She scanned the living room and the front desk. “Where is everyone?”
“Hiding.”
Ringmaster and Poison walked in behind them and closed the door. Poison tossed her short, blond curls. Water droplets flicked onto her shoulders. “I think we have another problem.”
Abigail frowned. “What?”
“Michael is coming.”
“No,” Blade said. “Balthazar—”
“You’re wrong, Blade,” Ringmaster said. “Michael wants the board. He’s coming here now.”
The lights flickered. Cold air rushed into the room, but the front door was closed. The gas fireplace fluttered on by itself. Flames shot up high, higher than it was supposed to. It emitted a dark red glow, casting shadows on the couch and recliner.
Blade glanced at Ringmaster. “You were saying?”
“Shit,” Ringmaster mumbled.
Blade stepped in front of them to lead. If anyone was going to get hurt, he wanted it to be him.
“Michael the Archangel is coming?” Abigail whispered. “What will he do?”
“He will strike down anything he feels is….an abomination,” Poison said. “Including your brother.”
“My brother hasn’t done anything wrong,” Abigail insisted.
“Yet,” Ringmaster countered. “He’s not rational. He’s insane. Hungry.”
Abigail flicked her gaze over him. “Because you invented the damn board.”
“Yes, I did. I was a demon then, I’m not now.” He held up his palm. “Don’t even start calling me an abomination.”
“This is unbelievable. What did my family do to bring this curse upon us?”
The fire burned higher, but failed to offer any warmth. The temperature dropped further. The lights flickered again. A light bulb exploded on a lamp in the living room.
“Balthazar’s almost here,” Poison said.
Blade knew Balthazar. The demon didn’t like to lose. “Balthazar is just going to step aside and let Michael have the board?”
“Not exactly,” Poison said. She and Ringmaster glanced at each other.
“What?” Blade demanded. The skin on the back of his neck tingled. The hair on his arms stood up. Lightning flashed outside. White light flashed inside the living room. Michael was indeed coming.
Ringmaster stared at Abigail. “Balthazar wants a trade.”
“Shit,” Blade growled.
Abigail scanned their faces. “What? What aren’t you telling me?”
He wouldn’t lie to her, not again. “Balthazar wants Brayden’s soul, Red.”
Abigail took a step backward. “No, no, it’s not true. Brayden?” She turned and ran toward the stairs. Her voice turned shrill. “Brayden, Brayden, where are you?”
“Red!” Blade raced after her and grabbed her arm. She had no idea what she was dealing with. If Michael had struck a deal with Balthazar, this was bad, real bad.
Abigail closed her fist and pounded his chest. “No, let go of me.” She twisted her arm. “I’m not going to let my brother die.”
“Red, you’ve—”
She slammed her fist into his chest. “My name is Abigail.” She glared. “It’s your fault this is happening. You killed my sister. Now, you’re after my brother. I hate you.”
Blade released her arm, and she raced up the stairs. His chest ached where she had punched him, but her words cut through his heart. What did he expect? He had destroyed her family. This was his fault. He glanced over his shoulder at Poison and Ringmaster. “Check it out down here.”
“Just go after her.” Ringmaster nodded. “You don’t want her facing her brother alone.”
Blade nodded and trailed behind Abigail, refusing to
let her venture through the house alone, whether or not she wanted his help. His gut twisted.
Abigail grabbed Brayden’s door and thrust it open. “Brayden? Oh, my God.”
Blade darted into the room behind her. Splatters of blood were scattered on the walls and on the twin bed mattress in the corner of the room. Dark stains colored the brown carpet and the lumpy navy comforter on a twin bed.
Abigail flung back the comforter, revealing a pink stained pillow. “Brayden, Brayden, where are you?”
“Abigail.” Blade tried to keep his voice calm to keep her from going into hysterics.
Abigail ignored him and ran to the closet. She opened the doors. Shirts, sweat shirts, and pants hung in the closet, and scattered shoes covered the floor. She slammed the doors shut. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know. But we will find him.”
“I’m right here.”
Blade stiffened. He turned around, and his stomach somersaulted. Brayden’s eyes glowed gold, blood stained his lips, and his arms hung loose at his sides. Red scratches were on the side of his right cheek and hands. His fingernails were stained pink. Dark splotches marred his black sweat shirt and navy jeans.
Abigail darted next to Blade. Her face paled, her lips trembled. “Brayden.”
Brayden’s face darkened; his eyes blazed with hatred. “Bitch.”
Chapter Twelve
Abigail couldn’t breathe. The scorn emitting from Brayden’s gold eyes sucked the air out of her lungs. Without thinking, she edged closer to Blade. “What happened to you?”
Brayden laughed and clapped his hands together. “Obviously, I used the board.”
“Who did you kill?” Blade demanded.
“I haven’t killed anyone yet, asshole,” Brayden said.
“Then whose blood is that?”
“Mr. Tibbs.” Hamilton appeared out of the shadows. He held his arm. He had a fat lip, and blood trickled down his chin. “Brayden killed the cat. I couldn’t stop him. Mr. Tibbs screeched and hissed. I tried. I tried to stop him.” Tears welled in his eyes. He fell onto his knees. “He ripped out the cat’s throat.” He shook his head. “Then he attacked me.” He lifted his blood soaked hand and revealed his torn shirt.
“Shut up.” Brayden turned his head. “I’ve only just begun. You tasted good.” He licked his lips.
“Where are the other kids?” Blade asked.
“Gone,” Hamilton panted. He nodded at Brayden. “He was acting strange, so I ordered the staff to take the kids on an outward bound trip. I wanted them out. They'll be back in a few days.”
Ringmaster frowned, “Outward bound?”
“It’s a camping trip,” Abigail said. “We were scheduled to go next week anyway.”
“I don’t feel so good,” Hamilton murmured. His face turned pale and his eyes rolled back into his head. His knees collapsed, and he fell over face down.
“Hamilton!” Abigail cried. “Oh my God, is he dead?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Blade said.
“No, not yet.” A sick smile spread across Brayden’s face. Hunger filled his wild eyes.
Abigail stared at Brayden. He killed Mr. Tibbs, the sweetest cat in the world. How could he do such a thing? But the kid standing in front of her wasn’t Brayden. The Brayden she knew had loved animals and would never hurt them. He had found a baby robin that had fallen out of its nest, and after the mother rejected it, he insisted on taking it to the vet. At least, he had loved animals until he took his first hit of meth.
She bit back tears. She couldn’t believe it. Killing and torturing animals led to killing people. “Brayden,” she whispered.
Brayden stretched out his arms and tilted his head back. “What, sis? You don’t like the new me.” He lifted his head. “I’ve never felt such power.”
“You’re insane,” Blade warned.
“No, I’m not. The board—”
“You fool,” Blade said. “The board is evil.”
“Yeah, so?”
Lightning flashed again. The lights went out.
Brayden laughed a maniacal crazy one that sent chills down her back. A strong hand grabbed Abigail’s arm. “He’s here.”
Thumps echoed in the dark. Hamilton yelled. “Get off me.” Slapping flesh came from across the room.
The lights flashed on. Brayden lay stretched out on the floor face down. Hamilton sat in the corner, blood dripping down his neck. Abigail wanted to race over to Brayden, afraid he was dead, but the tallest man Abigail had ever seen stood in the hallway. He dwarfed Blade. His muscles bulged against his tight black shirt and jeans. He gripped a gleaming white sword. Black hair hung down in waves to his shoulders. It contrasted with his silver eyes. He glanced at her before he turned to the corner. “Your brother is not dead, Abigail.”
Blade sucked in his breath, and he trembled next to her. Was this Balthazar?
The man scanned the room. “My, my, my, what do we have here?”
“Michael.” Blade’s quiet voice came over her shoulder, startling Abigail to turn away from the terrifying man.
Blade’s face was tightly drawn except for the tremor in his cheek. He was afraid, and if he was, then they were all in mortal danger.
Michael pointed his sword. “I would not speak if I were you.”
Ringmaster and Poison rushed down the hall and stopped.
“Ah, yes. The traitor and her demonic husband.”
“He’s not a demon, Michael,” Poison tilted her chin as she stood in front of Ringmaster.
“Once a demon, always a demon,” Michael said, as he flicked his gaze over Ringmaster. “But don’t worry I’m not here for him…yet.”
The light bulbs burned brighter. Abigail shielded her eyes. She squinted. Blade pulled her closer and whispered into her ear, “It’s going to be a show down.”
Amusement glittered in Michael’s eyes. “A show down. Not even close.”
Cold air blew over Abigail as if the temperature dropped a hundred degrees and she could see her own breath. Her teeth chattered and she shivered uncontrollably. Despite standing next to Blade’s warm body, she was frozen to the core.
“I wouldn’t say that,” a smooth male voice answered.
Another long-haired, black man appeared, but his eyes glowed red. Abigail swallowed pure fear. His long, black hair hung around his face like a shroud. Shirtless, his muscles gleamed from the bright light shining down on him. With his black leather pants hugging his legs tucked into his long boots, he had to be hell’s meanest rock star. Abigail stared into those mesmerizing red eyes and she had an uneasy sensation of being coaxed onto ice too thin to support her weight. She couldn’t move.
Michael sneered. “Here to collect already, demon scum?”
Balthazar tapered his eyes. “You’re not going to go back on our deal?”
“Don’t tempt me,” Michael said. “All I want is the board.”
“Michael, he’s just a boy,” Blade said.
Refusing to allow another one of her siblings die, Abigail broke free of Blade’s grasp.
“Abigail, no!” Blade reached for her, but she ducked and he missed. She dashed over to Brayden and hugged his unconscious body. Swallowing her fear, she tilted her chin at Michael. “He’s just a boy.”
Michael raised his eyebrow. “Yes. The boy attacked your boss and killed a cat.”
“When have you ever cared about a cat?” Blade stood behind her, his presence giving her strength.
Michael lowered his voice. “Are you challenging me…human?”
The promise of death echoed in those words.
Abigail clutched Brayden’s slender shoulders, fighting down her fear. Her heart pounded. How could she save her brother? He’d done something extremely stupid. Now, his soul was at stake. Should she pray? Would Michael show mercy?
Blade knelt next to Abigail and wrapped his strong arms around her. “Balthazar, why are you letting Michael have the board?”
His voice rumbled as she leaned against him. Earli
er she wanted to kill him, hated him, but now, she needed him. He was the only one protecting her and Brayden from the two titans.
“He doesn’t have much choice,” Michael interrupted. “Does he, Ringmaster?”
“No, he doesn’t,” Ringmaster agreed.
Blade tightened his grip on her. “Why?”
“Because he’s losing control of the board. It’s forming a mind of its own.”
“But it is no match for me,” Michael said. His sword glowed a brilliant white. “Call the board, Balthazar. Now.”
“We have a deal?” Balthazar rubbed his palms together.
Michael cast him a deadly gaze. “I. Don’t. Lie.” With each word, thunder crashed outside.
Balthazar bowed slightly. “Your wish is my command.” He snapped his fingers.
A foul stench filled the air. A white card board, the size of a Monopoly game, appeared on the floor. Black alphabet letters were on one line A through M and below it was the letters L through Z, but it was the odd symbols strategically placed in each corner that caught Abigail’s attention. Usually a Ouija board has the words yes and no in each corner, but this board had four strange symbols in each corner. The symbols could have been Egyptian hieroglyphics or Chinese letters, but instinctively she knew different. She shuddered. Something wasn’t right about those symbols. Was the language from Hell?
The pentagram shaped planchette shook. It slid across the board and stopped at the southeast corner then pointed toward Brayden. The symbol glowed and changed shape and color. Red flames glowed and pitch forks danced around the flames. Yellow eyes peered through the flames and stared at Brayden.
Abigail clutched Brayden tighter. She wanted to hide behind Blade and away from those leering eyes, but she remained frozen where she sat.
Frightened. Helpless. Small.
“Ah, yes, the board has spoken,” Balthazar said. “His soul is ready.”
Michael walked toward the board. “This will be the last soul the Zombie Board corrupts.”
The board yelped and skid across the floor. Each time Michael gestured or moved toward it, the glowing board glided out of his reach.
“The board wants to disappear,” Ringmaster said. “It senses you want to destroy it.”
