Angel of Darkness Books 1-5

by Mackenzie Morris

  Shaved? Why would he shave? "No, Milady."

  "There will be no beards here, Jaylen. You are a slave and the only slaves with beards are those who have won their right to do so. Reya, have you not seen this prickly hair here? It is your job to keep your scribe manicured and proper."

  Jaylen reached up to touch his face. He hadn't noticed that before. Sure enough, there were a few thin patches of coarse short hair near his sideburns and his chin. When had he started growing facial hair? He had been convinced that it wouldn't happen.

  Reya bowed meekly. "I will ensure that Master Jaylen is properly groomed tomorrow. I will go find him some proper shoes immediately. Master Jaylen, do you have any personal orders for me as well?"

  When Jaylen hesitated, Zirla slapped him across the thigh with her thin leather strap. "Your servant asked you a question, boy. Do not think of yourself so highly that you would deny her an answer."

  Rubbing the stinging welt, Jaylen turned to Reya. "Do what you will, Reya." Jaylen jumped as the strap sliced into his leg again. "Ouch! What was that for?"

  "Tell her an exact order. Do not give her free reign of her time."

  "Fine. Reya, after you find my boots, I want you to make me dinner, something sweet. Cinnamon buns. I want cinnamon buns."

  "As you wish, Master." Reya smiled warmly as she bowed and left through the tall dark wooden doors.

  Zirla stepped behind a desk and pulled the drawer open. "Since you have only one hand, you will be using this to carry books." She shoved a canvas messenger bag into his arms. "Today, you will be taking the books that have already been added to the catalogue to the storage shelves up on the second floor balcony right up there. See the older shelves? There is a staircase to the left. Then you will bring the scrolls from the balcony that have been marked with a black star down here so you can copy the information from them into books which are more secure and will last longer. Then you will catalogue the new books. Each book has an associated card that has all of the details recorded and filed away in the file cabinet over here in the windowed alcove. One more thing. You had better have decently readable penmanship. I don't want to have to break your fingers and make you relearn how to write correctly."

  "Yes, Milady."

  "Good. Now that we understand each other, get to work." Zirla placed a stack of dusty books into the messenger bag before helping to place it over Jaylen's shoulder. "Oh, I forgot to tell you about the penalties. If you rip a page, you get five lashes and have to recopy the entire book. If you spill any ink, you will get five lashes and have to clean every surface in the library, regardless if ink was anywhere near them. If you misplace a book, scroll, or book card, you will receive ten lashes and no dinner."

  "Yes, Milady."

  "We cannot have lazy scribes. Disorganization is the worst possible outcome. Every word, book, and record has its place. It is your duty to ensure that our history and culture are preserved and rest securely in their assigned places. You will make mistakes and you will be whipped. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you will stop scurrying around like a dog with its tail between its legs and learn to open up to your training, no matter how painful it may be at first. But it is all necessary to teach you the level of respect and reverence you must have for the written word. Everything in our universe eventually comes back to language, literature, and history. Yes, even your magic. Why do you think that even elves speak our same language now? Because we are a world unified by one common language so we are more apt to work together as one. You look like you want to ask me a question. Go ahead."

  "My magic is governed by language?" Jaylen asked.

  "Of course. I don't know how much experience you have in using it yet, but your magic is influenced by the thoughts you think and the words you speak when you are casting it. If you are screaming for help, thinking that you are going to die, then your magic will shift and change to be the most beneficial it can be in order to get you out of that situation. If you are confronting an evil creature and call out to Sola for strength to smite your enemy, then your magic will take on a lethal form that will more quickly be able to kill anything that stands against you. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Milady."

  "But that is all in the past for you now, my Tainted slave. Not only is your light magic gone, but you will never be able to cast anything again, due to your lack of a hand. So forget about it and get to work. I want all these put in their places before noon, or you work without lunch. Now, go."

  Jaylen took the bag of books up the carpeted stairs to the second floor and quickly noticed the true expansiveness of this library. From below, he couldn't see the bookcases on this floor. Rows and rows of bookcases. He sighed as he took out the first book and read the number on the spine. Trying to not become overwhelmed by it all, he steadily started to search for the matching row to place the book on. Just as he turned down an aisle, something sent a chill down his spine.

  Footsteps echoed on the glossy floor as a deep voice reverberated against the stained glass panels. "Hello, Jaylen."

  He spun around to see the elderly angle with golden wings. "Carvael."

  "Are you enjoying your time here so far?"

  Jaylen nervously stepped away from him. "Um, not really."

  "This is your first day? Oh, you will enjoy it. If you think this is fun, just wait for the slave games."

  He swallowed hard. "The slave games?"

  "Oh, yes. All the male slaves are required to participate in the games once a year. The unfortunate losers are stripped of their positions in the city then cast out into the wilderness to die. Isn't that fun? Oh, and what a shame. It will be difficult for you to compete with only one hand. But I'm sure Zeriel would love to be there to watch you fail. It is a pity about him."

  "What about Zeriel?"

  "You didn't know?" Carvael asked with a dark grin spreading across his lips. "Oh. Well, this is certainly awkward. You should be thanking Sola that you broke your bond with him, or you would be dead as well."

  Jaylen's legs buckled. He grabbed onto one of the bookshelves to steady himself. "Zeriel is dead?"

  "Oh, yes."

  "How?" He managed to squeak out.

  "He was out searching for you, but he got caught in a terrible storm over the Onyx Sea. He was struck by lightning and died instantly. This is your one and only life now, Jaylen. The librarian, Zirla, works for me. She follows my orders when dealing with you word for word. You will be trained, dehumanized, and broken. Then I will mold you into the slave I need you to be. Then if you lose in the slave games, I will move my attention to a more capable slave. If you want to live at least a decent life here in the city, then you will try your hardest to obey me and Zirla. Is that understood?"

  Jaylen glared at the archangel. "Go to Hell. Why are you doing this to me? I lost my hand because you threw me on that filthy ship! I could have starved to death, or the infection could have spread and killed me. What have I done to you?"

  Carvael lunged at him and grabbed his throat tightly. He pressed the boy against the bookshelf. "You think this is about me? Oh, no, Jaylen. No. You have brought this all on yourself. You chose your path, now you will walk down it alone. No one is going to save you. No one is going to baby you. This is your life now until you compete and lose in the slave games. And yes, you will lose. When you do, I will be right there to spit in your face and banish you into the Crypt."

  "The Crypt?" Jaylen writhed against the wood as he gasped for breath between his words. "Is that supposed to scare me?"

  "The Crypt is the name of the forest that surrounds this city. Every year, ten boys go in, but none ever come out. If you lose in the slave games, you die." Carvael pushed Jaylen into a table where he hit the corner and yelped as he dropped to his knees, holding his side. "Get up and be a man, or I will call Zirla over here to give you a proper beating."

  Zirla's angry shouting echoed in the main room of the library. "Jaylen! Get your skinny ass down here before I whip it so hard you won't be able to s
it down for a week. You have to catalogue these new entries."

  Jaylen hurriedly piled the books into the messenger bag and stood to leave. "I have to go."

  Carvael chuckled. "Run along, little slave. If you're too bad, I might visit you in your room tonight to give you some . . . personal discipline."

  Chapter 16

  After an exhaustingly long day of running up and down the stairs with a load of books or scrolls in his bag, Jaylen stumbled into his room and fell back onto the bed. Reya hadn't returned yet, and for that he was grateful. There was something he had to deal with before anyone else tried to talk to him. Jaylen stared up at the stone ceiling where the light from the lantern casted thin shadows in the cobweb-veiled corners. Through the open window, crickets chirped in the warm evening air and a sparrow landed on the windowsill before flying away again.

  Jaylen's hand moved absentmindedly into the top of his yellow tunic. His fingers traced the lines of the sun sigil that he knew so well as his eyes stung with the first tears of the night. He knew there would be more to come . . . because he was a failure. Zeriel was dead because of Jaylen's inability to remain calm and be the man that Zeriel needed him to be. Looking back at it all, Jaylen hated himself for being so quick to anger. If he had only stopped to listen to what Zeriel was trying to tell him, his angel wouldn't have left and he would be safe and warm in his bed in Ilyan by now. He could have had everything back. He could have had his hand back. He could have had his life back. But not now. Now he was trapped on an island as a slave for at least twenty years with no hope of Oviel or Axaniel coming to rescue him. Would they even still care?

  "Master Jaylen, would you prefer it if I brought your dinner at a later time?"

  Jaylen rolled over to see Reya in the doorway with her silver platter in her arms. He wiped the tears from his eyes and sat up. "It's fine. Thank you. Thank you for all you do for me."

  "I've never had a scribe thank me for my service." She set the tray down on the bed. "Now that I think about it, I've never seen one of them cry, either."

  "I'm not crying."

  "Oh." Reya smiled playfully as she retied the laces on Jaylen's tunic. "So you pee through your eyes?"

  Jaylen couldn't help but laugh at her. "You're crazy. But really . . . thank you."

  "It's my job. I made you what you asked for."

  "You did? I don't remember what I asked for, actually. Sorry if I was mean earlier in the library. Zirla just really scares me, so I said the first thing that came to mind." He lifted the lid and the sweet scent of cream cheese frosting and cinnamon hit his nose. The smell he always associated with the memories of his mother calmed his nerves. "Oh, this is perfect. Thank you. Thank you, thank you."

  "Did I do them right?"

  Jaylen picked up one of the warm cinnamon buns and took a bite. "Perfect. Oh, Reya . . . are you sure you're not a baking goddess?"

  She giggled and tucked her brown curly bangs behind her ears. "I'm glad you like them. So, if you don't mind me asking . . . why were you crying? What happened? Did Zirla beat you?"

  "It's not that."

  "I need to know so I can tend to your wounds."

  "She gave me five lashes for spilling ink."

  "It happens to every new scribe. Tunic off, please."

  Jaylen wiped his mouth on his arm then pulled his shirt off and lied down on his stomach. He winced as her fingers moved across the welts. "Ah!"

  "Sorry. Oh, I see your brand. It looks painful. I have some herbal serum that will heal those new welts right up."

  He sighed as the cool serum was spread over the hot throbbing wounds.

  "Feel good?"

  "Very. Don't stop."

  "Shh . . . stay quiet and let me work."

  Jaylen became lost in her hands and the soothing scent of the mint and lavender of the serum. He had just drifted to sleep when he jerked awake as Reya pulled down his pants. "What are you doing?"

  "Stop." She removed them and finished taking off his shirt. "You need to learn to trust me. If you are hurting, I need to get to every part of your body so I can massage it and make you feel better."

  At that point, Jaylen was too tired to fight her about it. So he relaxed as much as he could and didn't even protest when she removed his underwear. Completely naked and vulnerable, Jaylen let her continue. Why? He had no idea, but he liked it.

  Her hands moved lower until she stopped. "You have some welts a little lower. Do you mind?"

  "I told you not to stop. That's an order."

  "Yes, Master." She turned him over on his back and straddled his hips as she removed her dress.

  "What are you doing?" Jaylen asked.

  "You told me not to stop."

  Jaylen's defenses slowly crumbled as his eyes scanned her body in the lantern light. "I don't know what to do."

  "Let it happen. Just let it happen." Reya leaned down and kissed his forehead as her fingernails delicately trailed up his arms. "This will help you get your mind off of things. I know you will enjoy it if you just give it a chance."

  He closed his eyes as her hands touched the most intimate parts of him, causing an electricity to spread across his body and awaken the inner depths of his mind that he had closed off for so long. Jaylen moaned as she continued, but the pleasure was soon changed into soul-crushing guilt. "Stop."

  "What? Why?"

  "Just stop. I can't do this." Jaylen pushed her off of him and pulled his pants back on. "You're beautiful, and I'm sure that any other man would bed you in a heartbeat, but I can't. I'm a paladin."

  "Not anymore. You're a scribe."

  "Then I will be the holiest scribe in all of Cilona. I will keep my vows, even if it kills me."

  * * *

  Zeriel sat on the edge of a cliff overlooking the choppy water of the storm-battered harbor outside of Tivareshen next to Gavin, who was busy mimicking the calls of the seagulls with surprising accuracy. He tried to ignore the crazy incubus as he finished writing the note on the paper that he hoped would reach its intended recipient. Zeriel rolled it up and slid it into the empty wine bottle before sealing it with a cork as best as he could.

  Gavin stopped squawking and took the bottle from him. "What is this? You can't drink paper, silly angel."

  "I know that. It's a message in a bottle."

  "Oh! Like in the stories. So you're going to toss it into the water and hope that some mystical force will magically take it to the shore where it will wash up at the feet of some long-lost lover?"

  "Jaylen."

  Gavin spun the bottle in his hand. "A message to the paladin you abandoned? Sweet. Touching. Absolutely ridiculous."

  "It's my decision, not yours. I've tried everything else I can think of. If there is any chance, no matter how small that is, I will take it. Who knows? Maybe whoever finds this will know where Jaylen is. Then . . . then . . ." Zeriel choked back tears. "Then maybe I will have my son back in my arms. That's the only way I can think of him now. He's so much a son to me. I can't even imagine what his life has become as Carvael's slave. Where is Sola? Doesn't she see what her archangel is doing?"

  "Perhaps Sola has turned her back on humanity."

  "You've met Sola before. You are one of the only beings to be intimate with her. What is she like?" Zeriel asked.

  "I've been sworn to secrecy."

  "Please don't play any of your demonic mind games with me. I'm not in the mood."

  "So you agree that there is a certain mood where demonic mind games are entertaining?" Gavin asked teasingly.

  "You know what I mean."

  "Yes, yes. The truth is, I only remember the very vague details. Everything else has been wiped from my memory. I only remember that Sola is essentially formless because I've been told that so many times. Honestly, if I was to see Sola somewhere, I wouldn't know her from anyone or anything else. I'm being perfectly serious now. Zeriel, I know how Carvael is. You do too. I know where Jaylen is."

  Zeriel jumped up and turned to him. "You know where he is?"
<
br />   "Calm down and listen to every word I say. I know where Jaylen is, but we have no way of finding out where that place actually is. It is encased in a magical barrier that Carvael put in place to keep out angels and any demonic forces that he feels are not beneficial to his cause. There is another thing I know about Carvael's little island of slavery. None of the boys who go there ever come out. They stay there until they die."

  "Just stop talking, Gavin." Zeriel ripped the bottle away from the incubus and stood on the very edge of the cliff. "You said that angels and demons couldn't find the place, right?"

  "Yes."

  "Then maybe this simple glass bottle will. You don't understand at all. Today was his sixteenth birthday. He was becoming such a wonderful man. It is killing me to know that he is growing up without me."

  "I understand more than you think. I am a father, remember?" Gavin asked as he joined Zeriel's side. "Liaxa is older now, but I hate being away from her. I know you are hurting. I can help you, if you will only listen to me."

  "Where is Liaxa?"

  He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. She's been missing the entire time Jaylen has been gone."

  "They're both missing? Why haven't you said anything before now?"

  "Stephan."

  "You're going to have to explain that more."

  Gavin sighed as he rubbed his bare arms. "Stephan always tells me to not worry about anything, that everything will work out in the end. I don't think Stephan wants my daughter to live with me anymore. He's been so happy about being able to do whatever he wanted while she has been gone this past month."

  "Maybe I should talk to this Stephan guy."

  "Oh, no. Stephan doesn't like strangers. He doesn't talk much, either."

  "So, what is Stephan? Human? Elf?" Zeriel asked.

  "Incubus."

  "Two incubi together. That's certainly not something that happens very often. Does Stephan wear a mask like you do all the time?"