“This is a very interesting way to deliver her to us, Andras.”
The unfamiliar male voice booms through the street, and I look up abruptly to find three figures crossing the space toward us. ‘Figures’ is much too small a word for what they are. Each of them stands at perhaps twelve feet tall, and their bodies are proportioned like Olympian gods.
Their complexion tone isn’t quite on the human spectrum, much closer to light blue with glimmers of greens, reds, and golds passing over their skin.
Slowly, Andras sets me down, but he immediately tugs me behind him, blocking me with his enormous wings. “I’m not delivering her to you, Michael.”
Stepping out from behind Andras’ wing, I say, “No one is delivering me to anyone, and I can speak for myself.”
I’m second guessing my moment of asserting my independence as three sets of glimmering gold eyes land on me. Oh boy, does these guys’ power pack a punch. I stagger back, resisting the urge to grab onto Andras’ wing for support. My first thought is greater demons—but there are definitely no demons named Michael in the Ars Goetia. There’s a Michael in the book of Revelation, though. Archangel Michael, the leader of God’s armies against the rebel angels.
The three approaching beings’ faces are very similar. They each have strong Roman noses on handsome, chiseled faces. Their hair is an inky black, rippling with colors, like a midnight sky with an aurora borealis passing through it.
“Come with us,” the center one says to me in a deep, melodic voice. “The time for judgment is at hand, and you, kleis tou thanatou kai tou adou, are vital for the second coming.”
Steadying myself, I force as fierce a look as I can muster and point it at the archangel. “Maybe you would be so kind as to tell me what the Key to Death and Hades is because everyone else has been a little scant on details about what I’m supposed to do.”
He nods slowly. “When the dead rise for their final judgment, those deemed unworthy for Heaven will pass through you into infernal damnation. You are essential for the last judgment.”
All this time, I thought being the ‘Key to Death and Hades’ meant I was special; turns out I’m pretty much Heaven’s equivalent of a garbage disposal.
Lovely.
“As fun as that sounds, I can’t go with you willingly.” I point to the black kiss mark on my neck. “I owe Andras twenty-four more days in his company, starting today. Maybe we can talk about this in about a month or so?”
“No, we need you to move forward.” The middle angel, presumably Michael, reaches out toward me. “The time is at hand now for the end of days.”
“Yeah . . . I get that, but unfortunately, I have a prior commitment elsewhere.”
Andras unsheathes his glowing blade, holding it out between us. With his other arm, he reaches back toward me. “Come here, Raven.”
For the first time in a long time, I have no objection to jumping into Andras’ arms.
A loud rustling sound accompanies an explosion of multicolored wings. The wings of the two angels on the sides are a rich blue, while the Archangel Michael’s wings are shades of umber and gold.
Andras spins, grabbing me as I grip him. He leaps off the stones, spraying shards of rock in every direction. Gripping around his neck with my arms and waist with my legs again, I hold onto him for dear life as we shoot off like a rocket.
The wind forces my eyes closed, and I bury my head against my arm, but it still feels like the air is trying to peel off my outer layer of skin and hair.
“Hold on, they’re chasing us!” Andras hollers, obviously not realizing I’m gripping him so tightly it hurts my joints.
Through tearing eyes, I look down . . . way down, only to see three blurs of color approaching at speed. Like three giant missiles, they lock onto our position and are coming at us from different directions.
“Where are they?” Andras asks.
I do my best to estimate, calling up, “They’re coming in at four o’clock, six and eight. Six is Michael, I think, and he’s coming in fast.”
He’s shooting at us like a colorful bullet.
“I apologize in advance for how nauseating this is going to be.” Andras glances down, a grim smile on his lips, then he flips and dives straight at Michael.
Chapter Twenty-six
Day One
I have never been a fan of hanging upside down, but flying upside down—shooting straight back Earthward—is so much worse. Nauseating is far too small a word for what’s going on in my stomach right now.
Michael doesn’t seem very capable of slowing or changing trajectory, and he zips right past us. In the moment we pass, Andras slashes out with his blade, slicing the much larger being’s wing in an explosion of golden feathers.
“Good, they’re coming,” Andras mumbles as we continue to plummet.
Looking around wildly, I find the ‘they’ he’s referring to.
A cloud of inky darkness rolls over the Guatemalan countryside as thousands of black wings beat their way toward the three angels and us.
“They better not be heading to Antigua!” I yell at Andras.
“Command them not to.” He pulls back enough to shoot a look and smirk at me, and then he takes a sharp turn, heading directly into the cloud of birds.
Behind us, the three angels have finally managed to change directions, and they’re catching up. But thank all that’s holy, we plunge into the cloud of birds, submerging completely into pitch darkness. We continue on our forward trajectory, barely slowing in our course.
“Don’t attack any humans,” I yell up at them but only hear the whooshing of their wings in response.
“They’re breaking off into hundreds of groups. Some will attack the angels while others lead in different directions. These birds will travel with us.” I can barely hear his voice over the resounding whisper of thousands of wings.
We fly for hours, weaving about, but all the time within the cloud of birds. Without any warning, the cloud of birds breaks apart and disperses up into the night sky.
It’s at that moment I realize I’m still hugging onto Andras’ chest with a death grip around his neck and waist.
“Sorry,” I say as I loosen my grip around him.
“It doesn’t bother me,” he says with a smirk I can just see in the illumination of the rising moon.
Around us, an expanse of night-shadowed trees sway in the wind. A dark river snakes through the expanse. We head toward a white structure, poking out of the jungle.
Andras flaps slowly toward the structure, landing at its very top. I release him, finding my feet on the rough stone.
We stand on top of a platform at the apex of a pyramid that’s probably over two hundred feet tall. Trees grow out of the structure, obscuring parts of it, though most shines out in the light of the moon.
Handrails surround the platform and lead down the side of the pyramid, clearly indicating that modern civilization has discovered this ancient place. But aside from those small additions, I see no sign of humans—no roads or houses.
The delicious wind runs over my skin, but it does little to cool the balmy night. Within seconds, a not-so-fine layer of sweat covers me from head to toe.
“Ruins in Guatemala,” I muse as I peel my sweaty tank top away from my front. When Andras turns to me, I say, “When we were in Sweden two years ago, you said you wanted to do all these adventurous things . . . discover ancient jungle temples in Burma and Cambodia, windsurf in South Africa, grizzly hunt in Canada—which I would never do because I’d never want to hunt animals. And then when we’re fleeing for our lives, you head here . . .” I gesture out to the ruins. “You love adventure.”
“As a demon, I am incapable of . . . doing that for anything.” He raises his eyebrows and smirks in a clear ‘duh’ look.
“Well, maybe not love, but you really like it.” I sit down on the chalky stones.
To my surprise, Andras sits beside me. The feathers in his wings tickle along my back. “I’ve done all these things—bee
n all these places. I was here when this was the capital city of the Mayan civilization. I suggested going on those adventures because I thought you would enjoy them.”
Hugging my knees to my chest, I squeeze closed my eyes. “Well, anyway . . . what are we going to do about the angels? Is our plan to just try to evade them forever?”
“They’re far too powerful to be evaded for that long. Their power of foresight led them to Antigua before we even arrived. We won’t be safe in any position for long.”
“Great.” I rub my hands down my face. “And I will eventually need to eat, drink water, and do all those normal human things.”
Like pee, I don’t say, but the need would be upon me, like, really soon.
“There are pools of drinkable water, and I will find food for you. The jungle is too thick to fly in. We should descend the pyramid on foot,” Andras says as his wings slowly recede into his back. They pull into him, disappearing into smooth skin.
“But you didn’t answer me, what’s the plan to stop the last judgment?” I ask.
Moonlight plays over his features as his bright emerald gaze drills into mine. A deep—something—sits in his eyes, but what it is, I can’t tell. “There isn’t a plan, Raven,” he says. “I made a deal with you that I won’t break the seals of Solomon, and that’s the only way I can see to forestall the conquering force of the armies of God. My legions and birds fall dead by the thousands when their horsemen ride through. If Babylon chooses to meet the armies in battle, even she is not enough. But I do not believe she will ally herself with my forces under any inducement.”
“What about Räum and the Asuras? What about the creatures that live on Earth that aren’t demons?” I ask, all the while knowing I’m trying to help Andras build a demon army to go fight Angels.
Yep, this is it—I am now fully accepting how royally screwed up I am.
“Räum might be persuaded, and I have no doubt the company he keeps will be more than amenable to a fight with other deities. But even with all these allies, our army will not be close to powerful enough to defeat the Armies of God. Even if we release all the armies of Hell, it would just buy us time.”
“Well, I actually don’t want to defeat the Armies of God so much as get them to change their minds about ending human existence on Earth.” I throw up my hands because the words sound so stupid and I don’t know what else to do. “Räum is a trickster crow who can see the future, and you’re a raven demon who breeds dissension—maybe we could do something with that. Babylon is one hell of a distraction. And . . . maybe we have one more ally.”
“I’m listening.”
I feel stupid for even suggesting it, but I take a steadying breath and say, “Leijonskjöld.”
“You’re not joking?” Annoyance and impatience overtake his features. “Their mission for the last five centuries was to kill me permanently.”
. “Their mission for the last five centuries was to protect humanity. Up until recently, you were the primo threat against humanity . . . not so much anymore. Look, I’m not they’re biggest fans at all—they locked me up in a house so they could deliver me to you like a freaking Christmas present.”
“This actually makes me hate them a little less,” he says as his gem eyes twinkle down at me.
“Of course it does.” I roll my eyes. “Anyway, these days they’re getting pretty damn close to taking on the demon motto ‘the ends justify the means’ themselves. They might put their hatred aside until the angels head back home. I mean—they’re going to probably try to double cross you, but you’ll be expecting that anyway, right?”
“Of course,” he says, staring off toward the vast jungle. After a few long seconds of staring, he looks over. “We should probably go down there and get you some food.”
“I’m fine,” I say, and of course my stomach chooses that moment to growl.
After he stands, he holds a hand out to help me up. When I take it, clear confusion plays across his brow, and he stares at our joined hands like they’ve merged to become some creature he’s never seen before.
“I expected you to only be angrier with me today. But for some reason, your animosity toward me seems almost gone. Is it because of the angels?”
Brushing off my backside, I think of a way I could answer that. He’s right, between today and yesterday, my feelings toward him have changed drastically, but I don’t think it has much to do with the angels.
To be honest, it has everything to do with the fact that after finding out what I have to do to destroy him, I can’t clearly think of myself as the good guy and him the bad one. Oh, he’s a bad guy—unforgivable. But now I can’t help considering myself pretty unworthy of forgiveness as well.
“Maybe I just don’t have the energy to keep up the animosity anymore . . . I don’t know,” I say on a sigh as I shake off his hand and turn toward the stone staircase leading down from the pyramid.
The hike down is less daunting than I fear as scaffolding and stairs lead along most of the descent. Andras keeps close behind me, though we don’t say another word to each other. The whole way, my head spins with the impossibility of our fledgling plan.
The stair path veers off the pyramid and into the jungle, and we lose the moonlight’s illumination. We find a place to sit among the ruins as Andras insists we should stay out of the grass until daylight. He slips off as I try to find a way to lie comfortably on ancient ruins. Unfortunately, this isn’t even close to possible, and Andras returns to find me rubbing a sore neck.
“Here you are,” Andras says, handing me a water bottle and backpack.
I take it tentatively. Opening the bag, I look through the contents, beef jerky, energy bars, nuts and other hiking type snacks. Stuffed at the bottom are a lightweight sleeping bag and a few changes of shorts and shirts. “Where did you get this?”
“There are campers about seven miles that way. I took this out of their campsite.”
“Seriously?” I’m mid-opening the bag of jerky, but I pause. What am I thinking? Of course he went and stole it from some unsuspecting hikers. I guess I thought maybe he’d manifested the stuff with some magical powers. I sigh. “We have to give this stuff back.”
“No,” Andras says, settling onto the stones beside me. He turns away, laying his head on his arm as if he’s getting comfortable to go to sleep. “I’m not giving the supplies back. Their campsite has plenty of provisions. That woman will not go thirsty, hungry or be subject to the elements. I will not help you find the campsite either, so you can eat those snacks and drink the water or leave it to waste.”
“Ugh.”
He chuckles.
I try, I really try. But twenty minutes later, I cave. Honestly, if I’m plotting to help demons wage war on the armies of God, what’s a little theft added onto that?
Shimmying into my brand new sleeping bag, I try to scoot as far away from Andras as I can while not falling off the stones onto the grass below.
Sleep finds me reluctantly.
Blonde hair spreads out over my pillow, and I stare forward at Andras. He is the man I recognize from my memories as Elena, with his distinctive crooked nose and gap between his front two teeth.
Once more, I feel wetness on my cheeks and tenderness in my eyes. It feels so real that, distantly, I wonder if I’m again fully immersed in a memory.
Worry rides Andras’ features hard, and he closes the distance between us, taking my face in his hands. “Why are you crying so much? I thought that you’re not unhappy anymore?”
His body presses up the length of mine, and the touch is familiar, comforting and shattering all at the same time. I literally feel my heart breaking in my chest.
He kisses me softly on my salty lips, and all I want to do is grip him to me and never let go.
“If I could, I would dry your tears forever,” Andras whispers onto my lips. “Being with you, Elena, I feel something I can’t even understand—”
“Stop,” I say, wrenching away from him. I hold up my hands between us
before rolling off the bed and backing away from him.
Tears coat my face now as sobs lodge in my throat.
“Stop—don’t say those words to me. Stop, Andras!” Rushing to the door, I hold the handle and force myself to look back at him.
Andras stares at me, sitting up on the bed. His shirt hangs open. As I stand there looking at him, I realize he hasn’t aged at all since I first met him. Wrinkles have formed around my eyes and across my forehead, but not a single line or gray hair mars his youthful features.
“I betrayed you,” I tell him harshly. “Another man came while you were away, a soldier—I betrayed you, Andras. I hope you hate me.”
Before he can say another word, I rush out of the house and run from the man I love.
Lying on stone centuries later, I wake clutching my chest, feeling the echoes of a pain so immense, it could swallow my entire existence.
Elena hadn’t lied to Andras, it had shown so clearly across Andras’ expression, but I know Elena hadn’t betrayed Andras with her body. She meant it though, but at the last minute, she changed her mind. And now fate has forced me back here to finish what she turned away from all those centuries ago.
But yet . . . something in me, something deep in my core feels an unquenchable urge to fix this lie. Even knowing how ludicrous what I’m doing is, I reach forward and touch Andras’ shoulder.
He rolls over slowly, his too-bright emerald eyes meeting mine.
“We got married?” I whisper.
“Yes.”
“Oh. Elena didn’t sleep with that soldier—you should know that,” I say.
An expression I can’t completely read falls over his features, and he swallows heavily. “I know you didn’t.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Day Four
Sitting on a couch with a landline phone to my head, the busy tone of a phone rings into my ear. Each time the phone beeps, the same five words echo in my mind: this is a bad idea.
Across the room, Andras echoes my thoughts completely as he paces by the wide picture window. “I think this is a very bad idea, Raven.”
Waltzing into Damnation (The Deception Dance Book 3) Page 23
