Hell's Redemption- The Complete Series Boxset

by Grace McGinty

  I had to find that damn radio. I moved back around the room toward Sera, my hands sweeping across surfaces.

  “Sera, do you know where the radio is?” I said, sounding out of breath. Fire meant light and warmth and hope. We needed this to work.

  “In the living room. It doesn’t get any other channel or music. Just the same Latin phrases droning on and on, slightly out of tune.” The despair in her voice made my chest hurt. How long had she been here for?

  That was a question for when we were clean and warm in front of a fire. I followed the wall back through the door, toward the sound of the radio. I was pretty sure it was being pumped into all the rooms through speakers, but who listened to a channel in Latin? Who even spoke Latin anymore?

  So many questions but so few answers.

  The voice on the radio got louder and louder. I was heading in the right direction, but was getting hopelessly lost in my desperation. I stopped and took a few deep breaths to slow my racing heart. I hoped I could use Sera as a guide to find my way back. I closed my eyes. Instead of struggling to see, I tilted my head and listened. My hands in front of me, I stepped from the wall and into the inky nothingness in the middle of the room. I followed the odd, discombobulated voice. My feet were sure and steady as I moved around unseen obstacles.

  Finally, my hands settled on an old, wireless radio.

  “Please. Please. Please,” I chanted as my fingers felt around on the back of the radio for a battery compartment. “Please,” I prayed once more, my nails lodging in a groove in the plastic along the back. I held my breath as I pried open the compartment, uncaring of my nails pulling back painfully. I needed this more. A small, nine volt battery popped out of the back and into my hand.

  “YES!” I yelled, hoping Sera could hear me. The radio continued to play. It must have had a secondary power source. I sighed. I would have liked for it to fall silent. It would have been a silver lining.

  “Sera? Can you hear me?”

  The thready reply was barely audible, but I got a general direction. “Did you ever play Marco Polo as a kid? Who knew that would become a valuable life skill. Ready? Marco!” I yelled, straining to hear her whispery, “Polo.”

  We did this a few more times until I was back in the kitchen, the cold flagstone floor beneath my feet. I moved toward Sera, leaning down to touch her forehead. Well, I was aiming for her forehead. I got her in the shoulder and then in the eye. She was sweating, but she was icy cold. She smelled like the sour note of death. I had to hurry.

  Moving back toward where I thought the sink might be, I grabbed the steel wool and all but ran to the spot where the kindling was. I was never going to take central heating for granted ever again.

  Trying to remember how the preppers did it, I rubbed the battery on the steel wool. Nothing. I did it again, only faster. Sparks lit up the darkness and I wanted to cry.

  Tears cooled on my neck. Oh, I was crying.

  I did it again, and this time, the steel wool caught alight. I blew gently, making the flame build, finally able to see my hands, the brightness of the light hurting my eyes. I placed it underneath the little pile of sticks I’d created. “Come on, come on,” I chanted but it still went out. I needed something to act as a fire-lighter. Well, more so than the steel wool. In the bottom of the bucket of wood were tufts of bark. That would have to do.

  This time, my pleas were silent as I struck the battery over the steel wool. Sparking, I placed the fine bark hairs on the wool. And they caught.

  Thank god.

  I slowly added piece by piece, not turning back to Sera, not wanting to take my eyes from the fire in case it went back out, plunging us both back into darkness. Now the tiny flame had spluttered to life, I was terrified that it would go out. Because fire meant hope. Fire meant life. I needed to keep it burning.

  After a few minutes, my eyeballs felt like they had frozen solid, but the fire was now burning on some kindling the size of my wrist and I was reasonable sure that it wouldn’t go out as I transferred it to what I could now see was a fire bucket in a large open hearth.

  I’d burned a huge charred spot into the counter, but I didn’t care. What were they going to do? Keep my deposit?

  I finally got a good look at my surroundings in the weak firelight. The kitchen was a rough stone building, almost medieval in style. If it hadn’t been for the radio, I’d have thought we’d gone back in time. Whatever building we were in was old though. The walls on two sides of the room were rough stone. The other was some kind of roughly assembled plasterboard like they’d rushed to put in walls. The fireplace was one of those big open style ones, a long metal rod running across the top to hold cooking pots above the fire. I focused on the fire until it was blazing, and I was sure it would run for an hour or two without going out if I put one of the big logs on it.

  Then I finally turned to Sera, walking toward her and pulling her towards the struggling heat in front of the hearth. I got a good look at her face, and realized she would probably have been beautiful once. Now her face was completely sallow, a skeleton with skin stretched across the canvas. Her eyes were sunken in her face, surrounded by dark shadows. Her body was scraped with hundreds of tiny sores. The measles? Leprosy?

  No, they were hundreds of little teeth bites. Rats. She’d been feasted on by rats. I was going to throw up.

  In the dim light I could see that the kitchen was pretty well equipped, and I grabbed a large cast iron pot, filling it with water and setting it above the fire. The warmth of the flames made my skin prickle. I couldn’t find any clean clothes, so I took off my shirt which was still reasonably clean, and set it in the water to boil as well.

  Sera’s eyelids fluttered closed, either because she passed out from pain or from sheer exhaustion. Looking at the bites, I wasn’t sure if that wasn’t a blessing. Her breathing was shallow and ragged as I peeled off her clothes, and threw them into another room. I’d deal with that later. Her ankle and wrist were definitely broken, and by the look of it, they’d been broken a while ago. The bruising was green around the edges.

  “How long have you been down here?” I whispered, although she couldn’t answer me. The cut on her leg further up was worse. It was hot with infection and oozing pus. It smelled terrible.

  I searched through the cupboard beside the sink and heaved out a relieved sigh when I found salt. It wasn’t perfect but it would have to do. I tipped half of the container into the boiling water.

  I wasn’t a 18th century medicine woman. Everything I knew about field medicine I got from reruns of M*A*S*H.

  When the water was hot enough, I got out my shirt and used a knife to slice it into strips. I sent a silent apology to Sera, as I bathed the raw, red wound on her leg. I didn’t like the look or smell of it. If we didn’t get rescued soon, she was either going to lose the leg or die.

  I bathed the rest of the wounds on her body, and then tipped the water out and put some fresh water on to heat.

  I had a problem, because I couldn’t put her back in her old clothes. Venturing down the hall, I found the blanket I’d abandoned on the floor. That would keep her a little warm, and preserve some of her modesty, though it was probably too late for that.

  Lying the blanket as close the fire bucket as I could get without her cooking or the blanket catching alight, I rolled her onto it.

  She opened her eyes slightly and sighed at the warmth. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “It’s okay. How did you get here anyway? Do you know where we are?”

  Her eyelids were already drooping, but she shook her head. “Angels. Angels did this. The rats...” The cold terror in her voice iced my veins. But then she fell into a fitful sleep. I placed my hand on her head and tried to settle her pain.

  Uriel.

  I decided in that moment that I was going to make it my life’s mission to make that evil, overgrown turkey pay.

  Luc? I called out into the darkness, glad when I felt the answering relief. I’m not here alone. There's another woman
here. She said an angel brought her down here. They fed her to the rats.

  The words that Luc called Uriel probably shouldn’t be repeated.

  When she wakes, ask her to make a deal with the Devil. I will answer her call.

  Of course. Just because Luc couldn’t find me, didn’t mean he couldn’t find Sera. I felt like an idiot for not thinking of it sooner. I smiled for the first time since this whole ordeal began. Luc would find us and by this time tomorrow, I would be home, snuggled on the couch between the protective bodies of my lovers. Boyfriends. It sounded weird, but I didn’t care.

  Exhaustion overcame me, the adrenaline draining me of any ounce of energy I had left.

  I’m going to sleep while I can. I didn’t want to sleep too long. I couldn't risk the fire going out.

  Luc’s voice held a hint of promise. I will see you when you wake.

  I believed him.

  Maybe I shouldn't have.

  Chapter Thirty

  Whimpering woke me. I felt a smile curl my lips. Maybe Luc had found us while I’d slept. Maybe the whole thing had been a bad dream and the whimpering was just Blue having a nightmare beside me.

  I opened one eye, and then both eyes were open and I was scuttling away. An unfamiliar angel was looking down at me, an unsettling expression on his face. I looked at Sera, who had her hands over her eyes, her body was shaking with terror.

  “Uriel said he had dropped another here. One of Acerezeal’s abominations. And he delivered. Have you come to join the whore in feeding the rats in the dungeon?” A twisted grin curved the slash that he called a mouth. My stomach rolled at the thought. How Sera got those injuries made more sense now. My hand subtly shook, and I hoped the angel didn’t notice.

  His wings were beautiful white, his aura the blinding light of an angel. But he meant me nothing but harm. The knowledge crawled along my skin, like his darkly righteous emotions. He was punishing wrongdoers, upholding the only law that mattered.

  Some primordial instinct told me I did not want to be in his clutches for long. I kept moving backwards on my hands as the angel advanced. My palm landed on the knife I’d used on my shirt last night. I clutched it in my hand, holding it out in front of me.

  The angel laughed. It was a cruel, awful sound. “And what do you intend to do with that, human? I am an immortal.”

  He made a good point, but having a weapon made me feel better. So fuck him.

  I jumped to my feet, circling back around toward Sera. I stared the angel in the eye, like I was way more badass than I was. “I know, but making you bleed would make me feel better.”

  The angel scowled as he walked forward. “You really have descended from Acerezeal; you have her bloodthirsty nature.”

  I was so shocked at his disapproval, I almost dropped the knife. “Says the man who locked a woman in a dungeon filled with rats.”

  The angel looked condescending as he said, “She is a whore, an adulterer. She deserves her punishment. It is law.”

  “I guess you are one of those Old Testament angels. An eye for an eye, eternal punishment for the audacity to love another person,” I said, not even attempting to hide my disgust. I was going to stick my knife in his heart out of principle, even if it was the last thing I ever did.

  He walked around the edge of the room, over to the smoldering fire. “Quite clever of you to create fire. Integral in the evolution of Man, but it won’t help you now. There is no rescue coming for you here, no hope for you to cling to. Only a slow, and eventual death.”

  He rushed me then, and I dodged, but tripped backwards over Sera’s prone body. I thrust out with my hands, grabbing the front of the Angel’s shirt and pulling him down with me. At least if he wasn’t standing over me, he couldn’t squash me like a bug. We landed in a heap, Sera moaning beneath me, the angel’s body crushing my chest, the warm stickiness of blood dripping down my arm.

  Oh no. No, no, no. Who attacked an immortal being while holding a damn knife? I was going to die by my own stupidity.

  I wondered, not for the first time, if I’d even like Heaven. It was meant to be paradise. I thought about the angel who was going to probably choke the life out of me. I’d prefer Hell.

  “Hope?”

  My heart stopped at the voice. A voice so familiar I wanted to cry. Because there was only one reason he would be here. I was about to die. Again. At least it was fairly painless this time.

  “Azriel.”

  Hands gripped the angel’s shoulders, pulling him off me. I looked up into Azriel’s beautiful face. There were worse views to see as I died.

  “What have you done, Hope?”

  My face scrunched up in confusion. Obviously, I’d actually managed to get myself killed with stupidity.

  But he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at the angel with a knife in his chest, a knife that went right through his heart.

  An angel that was an impossibility.

  An immortal that was dead.

  I looked up at Azriel, my eyes wide as I stared at the blood dripping down my arm, and pooling around the body of the angel. It was leaking onto his white wings, turning them pink as the blood soaked into his feathers.

  Angel’s could bleed. And they could die.

  “This is not possible,” Azriel said, echoing my thoughts as he stared at the dead angel near his feet. “None but the creator and the Archangel Michael can kill an angel.”

  “And you,” I whispered, but he was shaking his head.

  “No, not even I. I can take their soul from their body, but eventually, it will be reborn into another angelic body unless it gets artificially transplanted into a human.” That would be a weird statement if you’d never met my parents or Ace. Azriel removed Ace’s soul, for reasons I still didn’t understand, but Luc managed to recapture it, and kept it until he could graft it to my Mom’s soul. It was a whole thing.

  He finally looked back at me, his eyes staring into my soul in a way that was almost uncomfortable. “Dalius’ soul is gone. I heard the call of his death, even though I was confused at why Dalius would be in Purgatory, and now his soul is gone. Hope, do you know what this means?”

  I didn’t know what any of this meant. I shook my head as if I could deny reality. “Hold up, did you say Purgatory? I’m in Purgatory?”

  Azriel nodded, and he was finally shaken from his shock. He reached down, and I grasped his outstretched hand. He pulled me to my feet, and then did something that I would remember forever, even as I tried to block out the whole nightmare of Purgatory. Azriel wrapped me in his arms and hugged me as if his heart had been broken. I buried my face in his chest and sucked in deep, even breaths of his scent, felt the electricity of his touch where his large hands spanned my back. Felt the wash of relief, of horror, of fear… of love. That strange emotion that played around the edges of his feelings, I knew what it was now. The beginnings of love.

  “I was so worried. Memphis and Gusion have turned the world inside out looking for you. Luc and Ace have terrorized the guilty and the innocent alike. I asked Michael…” He trailed off, but his words shocked me.

  He didn’t need to finish his sentence. He went to Michael to ask if he knew where I was. But I was a blank spot even to the Hand of God. Thank Hades. Because if Michael could see this now, this clusterfuck, I would definitely not be leaving Purgatory. I knew this for sure. I killed an angel; one of his Legion.

  “Azriel, I killed an angel.”

  I said it out loud, and sheer terror ran through my veins. I stepped back. Azriel was an angel of the Legion of Heaven. He was a rule follower. He would have to tell. When I was out of arm's reach, I gave him half a smile.

  “Will you take me back first? So I can say goodbye? I know you need to tell Michael about this, but I’d like to hug my Mom one more time.”

  The conflicting feelings that Azriel usually kept buried deep down played across his face. He was torn. Fearful, but resolute.

  “We will go. We will pretend this never happened. I…” He trailed off
again, and I didn’t need my empathic abilities to know that this conflict went to the very depths of his soul. I felt an overwhelming wave of emotion for the angel who was willing to sacrifice everything he believed in to keep me safe.

  He held out a tentative hand, and I took it. I twined my fingers in his and squeezed. I wanted him to know that I knew what his was costing him. That it meant something.

  Sera made an odd keening noise as she looked at the body of the angel. “We can’t leave her, Azriel.”

  Azriel looked incredulous. “She is the only witness to what happened here, Hope. She cannot live.”

  I pulled my hand from his and planted it on my hip. “I will not leave her in this hellhole. No one deserves this, and least of all some innocent pawn in Uriel’s game. She comes with us. I’ll make sure she doesn’t talk.”

  He stared at the stubborn set of my jaw and shook his head. “So be it, Hope. But let's not dally.”

  I bent down, placing a calming hand on the trembling body of Sera. I pulled her to her feet, and she was so insubstantial I was worried she’d float away. Azriel lifted her into his arms.

  “Wait! Can she even sift? Won’t her pieces get all scrambled?”

  Azriel shrugged. “I do not know. But she got here, so unless Raphael brought her, then she must be able to sift. Is it a risk you are willing to take?”

  Who was this woman with the ability to travel as angels do? As I could? But Serendipity was an enigma for another day.

  “She must go somewhere out of the way. Somewhere she isn’t going to come into contact with any of the Archangels. Somewhere she can be forgotten.”

  And protected. I didn’t say this out loud, because Azriel would have scoffed at me wanting to protect my loose end. That meant not with my parents, or the Mulligans.