Malcolm (Book 1, The Redemption Series)

by S. J. West

  “Be careful,” he finishes.

  I nod. “I will.”

  I return my attention back to my hellhound. Its marble black eyes glow from the reflection of the flames surrounding its body, making him look even more sinister than the first hellhound Malcolm killed. I get the feeling it's mocking my ability to slay it as it approaches me, like it thinks I'll be easy to kill.

  Malcolm was right. The first hellhound must have been the runt of the liter because the hellhound I'm facing is able to meet my gaze at eye level. After it gets a good look at me, it blinks like it's slightly confused by me, much like the first hellhound did.

  “You don't have to do this,” I tell it, seeing an opening into its dark spirit. “You don't have to be this way.”

  The hellhound tilts its head at me like I'm a curiosity, and it can't quite figure out why I seem to be such a novelty to it. Instead of taking my advice, however, the hellhound bares its teeth at me, lowers its head, and runs straight towards me.

  I stand my ground and wait for it to get so close to me I can feel its breath wash over my face. As it reaches out with its open mouth, filled with razor sharp teeth which seem determined to snap my head off, I spin on my right heel and swing the blade of my sword at a downward angle to slice through its neck cleanly in one stroke.

  The hellhound's headless corpse continues to run for a few more feet before falling to the ground in a motionless heap of white fur.

  I look over at Malcolm and see that the hellhound on the roof must have jumped down while I was confronting my own. It snarls and snaps its teeth at Malcolm.

  “Come on, you big fur ball,” Malcolm taunts, hefting his thin bladed sword in his hand. “What are you waiting for?”

  Nothing apparently. The hellhound charges Malcolm with its head held down like it intends to ram him. Malcolm holds his sword out horizontally so that the tip of the blade is pointed directly at the hellhound’s forehead. The beast does most of the work for Malcolm as it impales its own head onto the sword. Malcolm yanks the blade upward with such force it completely slices its way through the upper portion of the hellhound’s skull and splits it in half. The beast collapses to the ground but is still breathing. Malcolm walks over to it and releases the creature from its pain with one swift motion of his sword through its neck.

  Malcolm turns to me, quickly taking inventory of my physical welfare.

  “It didn't bite you, did it?” He asks worriedly.

  I shake my head. “No, it didn't bite me. I'm fine.”

  I see Malcolm's bare shoulders sag in relief.

  “That wasn't so...” I begin to say before I feel a heavy weight slam into my back, propelling me into the air before I come back down to earth, hitting the ground hard.

  Before I know it, a hellhound is standing over me, preparing to clamp its jaw down on my left shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Malcolm ram his right leg into the creature’s gaping maw just before it bites me. The hellhound clamps its razor sharp teeth down onto Malcolm’s calf just as the force of his kick catapults the creature into the air. Malcolm falls to the ground onto his back like the bite knocked him completely unconscious. I stand to my feet quickly and pick up my sword. Before the hellhound can recover from being stunned by Malcolm’s kick, I slice its head off.

  I turn my back to the falling corpse of the hellhound and rush to Malcolm's side.

  He's lying on the ground, completely motionless. I kneel down beside his leg and rip the bottom half of his right pant leg in two to view the damage of the hellhound's bite. Not only are the fresh wounds oozing a horrible smelling black substance, but the old wounds I saw earlier have popped open and are seeping the same malodorous fluid.

  “There's not much you can do to help him,” I hear a strange male voice say to me.

  I look up and see a man standing near the edge of the woods near the house. The new arrival’s features are obscured by the hooded cloak he’s wearing which billows around him in the cold winter wind.

  There’s something oddly familiar about the man, but I can’t quite place where I know him from. His voice holds a memorable quality. I feel as though I’ve heard it before, but have no real memory of ever meeting him prior to this moment.

  I stand to my feet and hold my blazing sword out in front of me.

  “Who are you?” I demand, thinking anyone who just shows up after a hellhound attack probably isn't someone I can trust.

  “No one to you,” he says, and I instantly know he's lying.

  “Did you lead the hellhounds in the attack against us? Do you work for Levi?”

  The man begins to laugh like what I’ve said is totally absurd.

  “Me work for Levi?” He says in disgust. “Now that's a rich idea. No, I most definitely do not work for Levi.”

  “Then who are you?” I challenge. “Why are you here?”

  The man is silent, and I'm not sure he's going to answer me.

  “I wanted to see you in person,” he finally says, almost too low for me to hear against the howl of the wind. “I wanted to see how much you looked like your mother.”

  “You knew my mother?” I ask, remembering that my mother lived on the surface when she was alive. Could this man actually be a friend of hers? Is that why he seems so familiar to me? But, how on Earth did he find us out in the middle of nowhere?

  “Yes,” he tells me, “I knew her quite well.”

  “Can you help us?” I ask, lowering my sword just a notch because I don't fully trust the man standing in front of me, but I don't want to offend him either if he can help Malcolm.

  “No,” the man says succinctly. “I can't help you.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “Nothing. Like I said...I just wanted to see how much you resembled Amalie.”

  I don't feel any reason to fear the man and lower my sword.

  “If you can't help me, then please leave. I need to take care of my friend.”

  I'm not sure what to do with my sword. So, I hurl it through the door opening of the beach house before reaching down and pulling Malcolm into my arms. I can't imagine what it must look like to the stranger for a person of my stature carrying someone as large as Malcolm in her arms effortlessly.

  To my dismay, Malcolm is unnaturally cold to the touch and shivering. I turn to walk back into the house when the man says something that stops me in my tracks.

  “You might want to seal the wounds with the fire from your sword,” he advises. “That's how they sealed them the first time. If I were you, I would do it while he's still unconscious. Otherwise, you might have to deal with his screams of pain if you wait until he awakens.”

  “Is there anything I can do to heal him completely?”

  “No,” the man says so assuredly that even if I couldn't tell a truth from a lie I would have no doubt it was the truth. “There's nothing you can do. Only the person who created the hellhounds can take the curse away.”

  “Curse?” I ask in alarm. “What kind of curse?”

  “A pain more torturous than any normal person can live with for very long.”

  “Where can I find the person who made the hellhounds?” I ask. “I'll make him cure Malcolm.”

  “He can only be found when he wants to be, Anna. Even if you located him, he wouldn't help Malcolm.”

  “Why wouldn't this man help, Malcolm? Are they enemies?”

  “For almost as long as time has existed. Rest assured, your plea would receive a resounding 'no'.”

  “Since this is the second time he’s been bitten,” I say, “will that make the pain he’s been living with worse?”

  “To an extent,” the stranger admits. “But I’m sure Malcolm is accustomed to living with pain by now. I dare say he's numb to most any pain or pleasure after living with it for this long.”

  “You're just full of good news,” I quip.

  The man chuckles. “Would you rather I lied to you?”

  “No,” I admit with a sigh. “I need to know the truth. And I
need to get him inside.”

  “Then I will leave you to do what you can for him.”

  The man turns his back to me.

  “Wait!” I call out.

  The man turns half-way around to face me again.

  “What's your name?”

  The man doesn't move a muscle, and I can feel the heat of his stare from underneath the hood of his cloak.

  “My name is Lucifer.”

  I know instinctively this isn’t just someone unlucky enough to be named Lucifer at birth. I’m standing in the presence of the devil himself. What’s stranger still is that I feel connected to him for some inexplicable reason.

  “Who are you?” I ask, feeling sure he knows what I'm really asking with my question because the connection between us is undeniable, at least to me.

  Lucifer tilts his head down like he’s looking at the ground, but I have a feeling he's trying to decide whether or not he wants to answer my question.

  Finally, he looks back up at me and says, “I'm the man your mother gave her heart to and who she abandoned just so she could give birth to you.”

  I suddenly can’t seem to take in a breath but manage to ask, “Are you my father?”

  “Like I said before,” Lucifer says, “I’m no one to you, Anna. No one at all.”

  CHAPTER sixteen

  Before I can even process what Lucifer just said to me, he phases. I can see by the phase trail he’s left that wherever he went is completely void of light. I get the feeling that even if I had the time I wouldn’t want to follow him to his location.

  I look down at Malcolm and notice that his breathing has become even shallower. Without having the luxury of time to ponder the revelation that I just met the man who fathered me, even though he refused to admit it, I carry Malcolm into the house. I lay him down in front of the fireplace and rush back to pull my sword out of the floorboards near the front door.

  When I get back, I thrust the blade of the sword into the middle of the pile of wood and will it to ignite. I’m not sure it’s going to work but just a few seconds later, the blade burst into its red-orange flames lighting the wood quickly and chasing away the chill permeating the room.

  As the fire crackles and sputters to life, I look down at Malcolm’s injured leg and remember Lucifer’s words to me.

  With my sword still flaming, I touch the tip of it to each of the open wounds and watch as they seal shut from the cauterization. The scent of burning flesh permeates the air as I continue my ministrations, but I know this has to be done before Malcolm awakens and force myself to finish the task at hand no matter how gruesome I might find it.

  After I’m done, I will the sword to extinguish itself. To my surprise, it does just what I want.

  I walk over to the couch where I left the blanket I woke up underneath earlier and spread it over Malcolm.

  I quickly dispose of the corpse of the first hellhound Malcolm killed. I'm then able to find some more blankets in an adjacent bedroom to put up a makeshift curtain in front of the shattered sliding glass doors. I hang them over an old curtain rod running across the top of the opening. The blankets prove to be heavy enough to not be blown much by the winter wind and stay in place for the most part.

  By this point, Malcolm is shivering almost as badly as I did earlier. So, I crawl underneath the blanket hoping to share some of my warmth with him. Strangely enough, ever since I put on my new leather outfit, the cold hasn’t bothered me. It’s almost like the clothes I’m wearing keep my body at a constant, comfortable temperature.

  Malcolm stirs and wraps his arms around me, apparently feeling my presence even in his unconscious state. I lay my head on top of his chest and listen to the slow, steady rhythm of his beating heart. I close my eyes and will him to get better. I’ve only just found him. I can’t lose him now. I have no way of knowing if he can actually be killed since he’s an angel, but just the thought of having him torn from my life is completely unacceptable.

  “Just live,” I beg him, “Just live and I promise I’ll do everything within my power to bring happiness back into your life. Stay alive for me, Malcolm. Please.”

  He sighs, sounding almost content as his arms continue to hold me close. I hear him say something, but his voice is so weak I can’t make out the word he keeps repeating like a litany. I lean up so my right ear is barely an inch away from his mouth as he whispers once again, “Lilly.”

  His arms squeeze me tighter just as I feel the tear in the corner of my heart, which started when Levi made his offer and I saw Malcolm consider it, rip just a little bit further, manifesting itself into a sting of warm tears burning my eyes.

  I lay my head back on his chest, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. I close my eyes and try to shut out the sound of Malcolm saying Lilly’s name over and over again, like his memories of her are the only things keeping him alive.

  I don’t try to stop myself from crying because there’s no reason to. Who would hear me? Who would care?

  I squeeze my eyes shut and continue to cry until sleep provides me my only escape from the pain in my heart.

  I suddenly find myself on a darkened street standing underneath a streetlamp, but I instantly know that I’m not seeing things through my own eyes but Malcolm’s. I don’t know how, but I have a feeling I’ve entered his dream world by some miracle

  He watches a pretty girl with smooth, pale skin and long dark hair wearing a black dress cross his path only a few yards away. The fragrant smell of her blood from a fresh wound on her foot arouses his senses, causing a jolt to his system that he can’t explain and has never experienced before. The smell of her, the very essence of her being, draws him in, and her effect on him is as unexpected as it is overwhelming. Instead of her newly let blood awakening the darkness within his heart, igniting the craving that has always resided there, he instantly becomes intrigued by her. In that moment, she become a true enigma to him that he must figure out.

  She turns her head and looks over at him from across the street having sensed his presence.

  In that one, brief glance when he fully sees her for the first time, I feel the beat of Malcolm’s heart literally stop inside his chest. He’s seen a lot of beautiful women during his time on Earth but none of them can even remotely compare to the beauty of the girl looking at him now. Her physical beauty is undeniable, but it’s the inner glow she radiates around her that draws him in like a moth to a flame.

  The girl begins to walk in the opposite direction, seeming bent on staying as far away as she can from him. But Malcolm phases over to her and gently grabs her by the elbow. When she turns to face him and he looks into her soft, brown eyes, Malcolm’s heart thunders back to life, beating with a new sense of purpose, a new reason to live. She’s unlike anyone he’s ever met in Heaven or on Earth, and he doubts he will ever meet anyone like her again.

  “Hello, Lilly,” he says to her, confused by what he feels for someone he doesn’t even know, someone he was sent to kill.

  In those few seconds before she speaks back to him, he instantly realizes that he would die for the woman standing in front of him. He’s at a complete loss to explain why he feels the way he does, but in that moment, the reason really doesn’t matter. All he wants to do is protect someone so rare, so utterly matchless in all of time, from all and any harm. He yearns for her to know him better, to see the real him and not the monster he’s become.

  The scene fades and a new one appears.

  Malcolm is lying in a small bed beside Lilly watching her sleep. He’s phased to her room while she slept a few times now. He doesn’t mean her any disrespect by coming to her while she’s in such a vulnerable state, and he rationalizes invading her privacy by thinking he does it to help protect her, but deep down he knows the real reason is because he hates being separated from her. They’ve become friends of sorts by now which is a notion Malcolm never thought possible, especially with someone as pure of heart as Lilly and so beautiful it causes his own, tortured soul to ache inside his chest each
and every time she smiles at him. Why she continues to let him be a part of her life is completely beyond his understanding. If she knew of the terrible things he’s done in his past, he feels sure he would lose her forever.

  He feels unworthy of her trust in him because of the evil deeds littering his past like unwelcome nightmares. But, somehow, through her willingness to be his friend, she’s made him feel like he can rise above his primitive nature, become a better person and possibly find that part of him he thought was lost forever. Perhaps… he isn’t beyond saving.

  Lilly has given him the first glimmer of hope about himself that he’s had since being cursed. And maybe, just maybe, he can find a way to be forgiven for his multitude of sins. So many sins that he feels sure he’s simply forgotten about some of the lesser ones he’s committed since being exiled from Heaven and abandoned by his father.

  He reaches out a hand and gently caresses the side of her exposed cheek, being careful not to wake her.

  “I will always protect you,” he whispers to her slumbering form, feeling his heart swell with an emotion he thought was long dead, irretrievable. “I will be whatever you need me to be, friend, lover…both. From this moment on, my life is yours to do with what you will. I will never forsake you. I will always remain loyal and true to you. I will always… love you, Lilly.”

  The scene changes, but Malcolm is still caressing the side of Lilly’s face. The only difference is that she’s standing and awake now. They’re inside an unfurnished room in a house, and Lilly seems to be blushing about something.

  Malcolm built her the house they’re standing in as a gift to show her how much she truly means to him. Building things is his talent, and in the back of his mind, Malcolm hoped to be able to bring her here and show her proof of his complete and utter devotion and love. He had planned to bring her here before she made a permanent commitment to Brand, but he’s too late. She’s already engaged to be married to Brand, a promise he knows, deep down in his heart, she will never break.