by Kristie Cook
Marcas glanced at me, his gaze intent. The airplane cabin felt way too small with him in it.
“I can’t promise anything,” he murmured.
I knew that. I just felt better knowing someone knew I did care about what little life I had. Even if it was a Demon. I gave him one last sidelong look before leaning my head against the back of my seat. It wasn’t long before exhaustion took me away.
Chapter 23
There are few ways to unbind a Demon from his/her charge. One would be for the Demon to steal the soul of those bound to him. The other way is less known. It has never been attempted.
~Bezaliel~
With sleep came the dream. My father leaned over me again, the scene changed and the rain poured. And again, I fought it. It was the same and yet different. Each time was clearer. And each time I screamed harder for him. And as always, I woke up suddenly. Nausea flooded me, and I bit back a scream. Trembling, I rested my head against the back of the seat in front of me, my breath ragged.
“What do you want?” I whispered.
There had to be some hidden meaning to the nightmare, some message, but I was missing it. Tears burned the back of my eyes, and I beat my forehead against the seat gently.
Damn it, where are you, Dad!
“How long have you had the dream?” Marcas asked.
I squeaked, my mind still groggy from sleep. The dream came at a bad time, my memories assaulted by nightmares, my body on an airplane.
I looked at the Demon, at his casual, reclined position and intent gaze, and my face flooded with heat.
“You don’t sleep?” I whispered.
Speaking louder required breathing, and I wasn’t sure I was capable of pulling that off. I tried sitting up, and my muscles cramped.
Marcas stared, his gaze both penetrating and disconcerting. “How long have you had the dream?” he repeated.
I pushed my fist into my stomach, my eyes roaming the cabin. The lights were still low and the passengers still sleeping.
“Since I was ten."
I didn’t ask him how he knew about it. It was becoming increasingly obvious to me that our bond opened up lines between us I didn’t want to explore.
Marcas made no move to comfort me.
“Did you see it?” I whispered.
“Did you want me to?” he asked.
My eyes were drawn to his profile, to his strong jaw and expressionless face. I envied his lack of emotion. Nondescript behavior was beyond me.
“No,” I answered.
Marcas looked at me. “Then I didn’t see it."
It was that simple. He brushed it away, and I didn’t have to fear discussing something that tore my heart into pieces. I turned away from him and stared out the window. Darkness met me. I was glad I couldn’t see how far up we were, but I could see Marcas’ reflection and that disturbed me almost as much. He was facing forward, his profile toward me. His face was grim.
“What’s a Watcher?” I asked. The dream had me thinking about my father. Marcas’ reflection didn’t move.
“You said my father was an Angel. But you also called him a Watcher. Is that significant?” I persisted.
In the glass, I watched him massage the back of his neck wearily.
“They were Angels sent to Earth to watch over humans,” Marcas answered.
I looked down at my hands. He’d used the past tense.
“Were?”
“It’s a long story, Blainey,” Marcas said.
I glanced up at him. “It’s a long flight, Craig."
Our eyes met and held. Neither one of us looked away. The connection should have felt awkward and uncomfortable but it didn’t.
Marcas sighed. “The Watchers were sent to Earth to watch over humans but they corrupted them instead. They began to lust after human women. Two hundred of them met and made a pact which would ultimately cause them to fall from Heaven. They agreed to lay with mortal women. Nephilim were the result. From there, they continued to sow their seeds and taught humans things that would ultimately lead to their own corruption.”
My heart felt heavy. “They are fallen Angels then." I knew about those. This meant my father had disobeyed God. “And there are more Nephilim like Amber and I?” I asked.
Marcas held my gaze, his jaw tightening perceptibly. “No. There are other Nephilim but you and your sister are the only two on Earth who aren’t monsters.”
I’d known that. I just couldn’t seem to make myself believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. The thought was a lonely one. It was so unlike all the books I’d ever read about Angels or Nephilim. They all made it sound so romantic. It wasn’t romantic at all.
“And my father was one of the two hundred?” I asked.
There was silence, and then Marcas murmured, “He was one of the leaders.”
My eyes went wide. My heart completely crumbled. A leader of fallen Angels? Did that make me any better than the Demons?
No! The memories I had of my dad … it couldn’t be! The memories I had were all too normal for this to be true. He had been a handsome man who liked playing chess and smelled of rain.
I shook my head. “He didn’t seem like an Angel,” I whispered.
Marcas stared at me. “What name did you know your father by?” he asked me.
My blood ran cold. What was he getting at? That my father had an alias? That’s crazy!
I returned his stare, my gaze taking in the intensity in his face. He was serious.
Swallowing hard, I whispered, “Daniel.”
Tears threatened. Marcas leaned forward, his breath fanning my face. His dark blue eyes went black. Fear immobilized me.
“Bezaliel. His name is Bezaliel.”
My world fell away. A single tear escaped.
“Bezaliel,” I repeated dumbly. Even his name had been a lie.
Marcas leaned back and faced forward again. “That’s all you need to know about your father, Blainey. The rest will come with time."
My head was swimming, and I inhaled sharply. I kept forgetting to breathe. My eyes fell closed. My father was a fallen Angel named Bezaliel.
“Can this get any worse?” I mumbled.
I opened my eyes, my gaze going once more to the dark window next to me. What I saw there made me gasp, and I fell against Marcas before pushing away from him. I didn’t want to touch him but I also didn’t want near the window.
I looked again and would have squealed if Marcas hadn’t placed a hand gently over my mouth. A face peered at me from the dark depths. It was a grotesque, monstrous face with a mouth full of pointed teeth and small horns protruding from a bald, dark brown head. Its skin looked like rubber. It was wrinkled and pitted. Its eyes were red, the nose large and bulging. Drool and slime rolled down the window from where the nose and mouth pressed against the glass. It was smiling.
Fear made me panic. I fought against Marcas’ hand, and he let go.
“Don’t move,” Marcas ordered.
His hand moved to my shoulder, and I tensed. Terror gripped me. The fact that I actually obeyed Marcas spoke of how used to the unexpected I was becoming. I wasn’t immune, but I was learning to accept it. Fear ate at me, but I kept still. The thing outside the window sucked on the glass. I had to swallow to keep from getting sick.
“It can’t hurt you,” Marcas whispered.
I begged to differ. The face was only inches away from me and it didn’t appear to be leaving. If it had a body, I couldn’t see it. Its face dominated the window.
“Wh-what is it?” I stuttered.
Marcas growled, and I turned my head just enough to see him flash his fangs at the creature. It quit sucking.
“It’s a type of Demon,” Marcas said, his gaze locked on the monster’s deep red eyes through the glass. His own eyes glowed in return.
“It won’t hurt you as long as I’m here."
There was no immense feeling of comfort. “And you know this because?” I squeaked.
Clearing my throat, I fought not to panic. I w
as determined not to look as afraid as I felt.
Marcas stood and moved into the aisle. He motioned for me to do the same. I stood carefully and he moved past me into the window seat. I took the one on the aisle.
“I rank higher than this particular Demon,” Marcas said.
What did that mean? I looked at the creature’s face again. Its red eyes followed me, and I stuck my tongue out at it. Its nose bulged.
“It’s one of my mother’s minions,” Marcas explained.
He raised his hand and laid it against the glass. The creature screeched soundlessly and suddenly disappeared into the night. My breathing came easier.
I glanced at Marcas, at his still features as he stared out into the night. “Your mother?”
Marcas pulled the shade down over the dark pane before turning to face me. “She’s a Demon, Blainey." As if that explained everything. Well, duh! I knew she was a Demon. What I didn’t understand was why one of her followers would be attached to our airplane window.
"And?"
Marcas’ gaze moved over my face. "A very powerful Demon. She’s not happy with what Damon has done.”
My eyes narrowed. That didn’t sound promising. “What are you trying to say?”
Marcas gaze held mine. “It means she wants you dead.”
My heart stopped. It literally quit beating for several counts before thumping again. Was he serious?
A wave of bitterness swept over me. “Wow. Aren’t I feeling the family love? Gives a whole new meaning to monster-in-law,” I bit out coldly. A thought hit me suddenly and my head shot up. “You aren’t taking me to her, are you?” I asked fearfully.
He met my gaze evenly. “Even I’m not that cruel."
That didn’t make me feel any better. Was she that bad?
I yawned. The fear had me restless and exhausted. It was a miserable feeling.
“Sleep, Blainey,” Marcas whispered. “You’re safe for now.”
My eyes narrowed. Safe was such a pathetic four letter word.
“I don’t think I trust you, Craig,” I said harshly.
His brows rose. “Then you’re smarter than I’ve given you credit for. Trust no one.”
I stared. “And how does that help me?”
“It keeps you alive. Something I intend to help you with until we’re unbound.”
“And after that?”
Marcas didn’t answer. I reached out and touched his arm. He pulled away.
“After that?” I repeated, louder this time.
Marcas faced forward. “Just take it as it comes, Blainey.”
What else could I do? I laid my head back against my seat and fought back unshed tears. Sleep was welcome. I wasn’t going to cry. I wasn’t sure I had it in me.
Chapter 24
I have very little information on Marcas. This worries me. He seems tamer than most, but Demons are an unpredictable breed. They live to steal souls, break hearts, and wreak havoc.
~Bezaliel~
The week had caught up with me. I slept deeply; waking only when Conor shook me gently to inform me it was time to switch flights. We were on our last leg to Italy. The images of the next airport were vague, seen only through sleep drugged eyes as we made it to our gate and boarded the new plane. Monroe wasn’t faring much better. This plane was bigger than the last and the four of us managed to share a row of seats. Monroe sat next to the window followed by Conor, me and Marcas. The plane took off, and I leaned against Conor wearily. Monroe did the same. We were asleep instantly. The rest of the flight was mostly a blank for me. There were vague moments when I’d stir, but it felt like a dream. Conor and Marcas were still awake.
“What do you plan to do in Italy, Demon?” I thought I heard Conor ask. If Marcas answered, I never heard it. There was darkness for a while then voices again.
“I’ve never heard of a Demon getting unbound from a person without taking his soul,” Conor murmured. His chest vibrated against my ear. It was strangely comforting.
“I’d be afraid to take hers. The Angel in her could kill me,” Marcas stated. “But it’s not out of the question.”
Conor’s chest rumbled. I felt the anger move through him. I wanted to tell him I didn’t care, that I knew Marcas would kill me if he could, but I was too tired and too curious to interfere.
“You’d have to kill me first, Demon,” Conor warned.
His bravado was impressive, but it wasn’t the least bit intimidating. Or was it? Was that what Marcas was thinking? Or was it me? Was I feeling Marcas’ reaction to the comment? I hated this feeling of duality!
“Don’t tempt me, gargoyle,” Marcas growled.
Their voices faded out again. I had never felt this tired before
“And you think the ring will work?” I heard Conor ask sometime later.
“It’s an option, Reinhardt. I didn’t say it would be a solution. No one’s ever tried it before.”
“You think the church would relinquish it?”
“I’m not planning to ask.”
“Ha! Well, stealing is what you creatures do best.”
“We murder too, Reinhardt,” Marcas warned. There was a pause. The threat didn’t go unnoticed.
“What kind of danger are we looking at?” Conor asked.
“You want me to make a list, gargoyle?”
“I want you to quit being a smartass and be blunt.
“Then I’d have to ask you what kind of danger are we not looking at,” Marcas answered. “There are groups that want us destroyed. The Demons are in an uproar. Even some
Angels are convinced Dayton should be removed. And then there’s Lilith.”
Lilith’s name made me shiver. And Angels? Really?
“Our most immediate danger?” Conor asked.
“A group called the Swords of Solomon. The SOS.”
“And they are?”
“The people who guard the ring,” Marcas answered.
The ring? I felt like a character in a Tolkien novel. I fought to hear more, but my body was heavy. Was I having to suffer because Marcas was tired?
I dozed off once more.
“I won’t let you hurt her,” Conor’s voice said as I drifted awake once again. He shifted subtly. I lay still, my eyes too heavy to open.
“You don’t have a say in the matter, gargoyle,” Marcas replied.
“My actions speak louder than words, Demon.”
“You’re in love with her then?” Marcas asked.
The question jarred me awake, and I fought hard not to tense up. Conor didn’t reply immediately.
“It’s hard not to be,” he finally murmured.
Conor’s arm fell across me. It was an uncomfortable weight only because I could feel the possessiveness in it. The feeling was both pleasant and frightening all at the same time.
“She’s been hurt enough,” Conor continued.
“And she’ll be hurt more, Reinhardt. You can’t protect her from everything.”
“I can try,” Conor spat. “You didn’t see her face the day her parents were buried. You didn’t watch the next seven years of her life lived in a prison with no affection and only condemnation. You can’t even recognize the fact that her strength comes now from betrayal. What must it feel like to find out you were raised to be sacrificed to a Demon. For what? For an ideal? For a redemption even you think doesn’t exist?”
My heart expanded. He was passionate and protective. The emotions chipped away at the block I’d encased my heart in. But it didn’t last long. Marcas’ presence tended to overwhelm any feeling. I felt the heat coming off of him and I cringed. I’d begun to notice that, while his face was always expressionless, his body grew uncomfortably warm when his mood changed.
“Are you in love with the girl or with the damsel in distress?” Marcas asked.
The question made me feel instantly cold. Did Conor care about me or was it just an innate need to protect those weaker than him? I wasn’t weak. Conor grew silent.
“Some people look weaker on the
outside than they really are. It takes a strong person to endure what you’ve described. It doesn’t seem like she’s the type to fold under pressure. If she was, I would have already possessed her,” Marcas said quietly.
Possessed? As in the Exorcist possessed?
“You wouldn’t dare!” Conor hissed.
Marcas sat up, his back brushing up against mine as he moved in closer to Conor. The heat chased away the cold. Now he was intimidating. My heart rate picked up.
“I’ve already tried, gargoyle. The night she sought me out at Everett’s. Or did you know she did that? Despite her fear. How many people do you know who would seek out a Demon? I could have killed her. And I tried. I did try. Her resolve is stronger than you think, hero. I couldn’t even get inside her head enough to do anything more than cause discomfort,” Marcas said.
I did open my eyes then, just enough that I could see Monroe dozing next to me on Conor’s chest. Our heads were touching. Her breathing was shallow. Something told me she was eavesdropping too.
So that’s what that electric buzz at Everett’s had been about. I had felt Marcas’ presence. He hadn’t come out of the alley when I called for him because he’d been trying to possess and kill me? Jesus! The thought didn’t surprise me, but it did make me angry. God, he was a bastard! Not that Demons are supposed to be anything less than that.
“You would kill her?” Conor asked.
Well, duh. He’d obviously already tried.
Marcas moved away. “Would you expect anything less? I’m not here because I want to be, Reinhardt. I’ve been around a long, long time. Anything good in me was worn out centuries ago.” The tone of his voice made me shiver. “You can quit pretending to sleep, Dayton. Monroe,” Marcas muttered.
Well damn! There’s nothing worse than getting caught spying. I opened my eyes to find Monroe staring back at me sheepishly. I shrugged. She could feel bad about listening in if she wanted to, but I sure as hell didn’t.
“How much longer is the flight?” Monroe asked.
The seat belt light came on, and Marcas glanced over at her. “That answer your question?”
Something told me we were well beyond getting on his nerves. The captain’s voice came over the loud speaker and I sat up. There was light streaming in through the window next to Monroe, but I avoided it like the plague. I had a genuine fear of heights. Strange considering my father was an Angel, but it was true nonetheless. A hand came to rest on my back gently, and I looked up at Conor. His face was clouded.
