Rapture (Hades Castle Trilogy Book 2)

by C. N. Crawford

  Rapture

  C.N. Crawford

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  Contents

  1. Night of the Harrowing

  2. Lila

  3. Lila

  4. Samael

  5. Lila

  6. Lila

  7. Lila

  8. Lila

  9. Lila

  10. Lila

  11. Lila

  12. Samael

  13. Lila

  14. Lila

  15. Lila

  16. Samael

  17. Lila

  18. Lila

  19. Lila

  20. Lila

  21. Lila

  22. Lila

  23. Samael

  24. Lila

  25. Samael

  26. Lila

  27. Samael

  28. Lila

  29. Lila

  30. Lila

  31. Samael

  32. Lilith

  33. Lilith

  34. Lilith

  35. Lila

  36. Also by C.N. Crawford

  Acknowledgments

  1

  Night of the Harrowing

  Glass had sliced through my skin. Under the night sky, I plummeted through the air. Time stretched out, and I dropped in slow motion. Blood streamed from the cuts, from the gash in my side.

  We were supposed to be married tomorrow, but she was gone now. This was what it meant to fall: it meant losing your reason for existing.

  The drop seemed eternal, all sense of fear dulled under cotton wool. My engagement ring glinted in the night, a little sliver of sunlight in the darkness.

  As I fell closer to the moat, the certainty of death pierced me like a blade. This was the end of everything. Panic bloomed in my mind—the fear of things unfinished and questions unanswered.

  At last, I slammed down hard into the murky moat, my back arching with the pain, bones breaking with the force of the fall. Sharp cracks shot through my legs, my spine. Agony sank into my brain like thorns, robbing me of coherent thought. I thought I needed to swim to the surface, but my body was too broken to move properly. In the dark, I didn’t know up from down.

  Sinking, I drifted under the gloom. Dark water enveloped me, claiming me.

  A flash of gold gleamed in the dark. Under the surface of the water, my ring glinted—a bright spark in the murk. I wanted to pull the cursed thing off, but that was a waste of energy.

  This had happened before. This had all happened before.

  Streaks of crimson mingled with the dark water.

  I was still alive, and that meant I could still find a way out of this. Just as soon as I could figure out up from down, as soon as I could command my broken limbs to move again.

  Air. Air.

  My lungs were ready to explode. I couldn’t breathe, and my throat was starting to spasm. Desperate, I tried to kick my shattered legs.

  Could I drag myself, fingers clawing in the dirt, from the moat before I drowned? No matter what had happened in the past, I’d always found a way out.

  At last, I realized silver rays of light were piercing the surface. That way was up. I could make it if I blocked out the pain in my body. Shockingly, I was still alive.

  But as I swam higher, dread unfurled in my chest. From under the water, I caught a glimpse of pale blond hair over a black shirt. Alice stood above me, flanked by a line of the Free Men.

  How had she managed to get here?

  As soon as I came up for air, they’d drag me out. A world of pain awaited me.

  Lila

  Three weeks earlier

  Sighing, I stared down at the curving moat far below, its surface dark and murky. Beneath the window of my luxurious prison suite in the Iron Fortress, three stories of sleek black rock gleamed in the moonlight. There was no way I could climb out of here—no crevices to stick my fingers into, no footholds to help me escape. I’d been trapped here for months.

  Months ago, I’d been locked up in Castle Saklas, on a cliff off the coast of Albia. That lasted about five days. Then, in the middle of the night, four guards had dragged me out to a boat. They kept cloaks up, hiding their faces. No one spoke to me as we travelled down the Dark River to Dovren, but I wondered if I was going to be executed. Instead, they brought me back to the city and locked me in the Iron Fortress--a place I’d seen from afar, but never wanted to enter.

  But I was brewing a plan.

  I pressed my hands against the cold glass, yearning for the moment I would roam free again, even if it looked bleak as hell out there. Winter had spread its frosty mantle over the world, and a light dusting of snow and ice coated everything. Beyond the moat, a thorny, untended garden rambled over the grounds, stretching out to an iron gate. Tall and gothic, it was known as the Iron Fortress because of the formidable spiked fence around it. Maybe I’d be out there soon.

  It was a different sort of fortress these days. The iron fence lay half in ruins, but angelic magic protected this place from intruders. No one could get in unless someone from the inside allowed them in.

  And as for getting out? I was working on that.

  I’d been staring out this window far too long, in the same nightgown I’d been wearing for months. No one had given me a change of clothes, not even when I’d moved locations. In the past few months, I’d memorized every curve of the serpentine river just beyond the gate. Tonight, a heavy fog rolled off the water, pierced by warm lights from gas lamps. I could just about make out two figures walking along the bank.

  An ache pierced my chest. Maybe I could be with another person soon …

  How amazing that would be. It had been at least two months since I’d seen another person.

  At least, I thought I’d been in here two months. It could just as well have been eleven years. It was hard to track time when loneliness clouded my thoughts like a sickness, making it hard to breathe. Every day, my meals arrived in a little dumbwaiter with a wooden door. It wasn’t large enough for me to fit in, though I’d definitely tried.

  Before I’d been locked in here, Samael’s beautiful face had been the last I’d seen. Since then, I thought he might have forgotten I existed. Once, I’d caught a glimpse of him brooding by the River Walk, his cloak drawn up over his head. I stuck my head out the window, shouting and trying to get his attention. I longed for just a glimpse of those pale gray eyes, but it was like he couldn’t hear me at all. I desperately wanted him to look at me. No such luck.

  But I supposed there were worse things than loneliness. I had, after all, tried to murder him with a bomb. In response, he’d locked me in a luxurious room stacked with books. I’d spent the time practicing reading on my own, sounding out words. Memorizing sounds and letters.

  Another silver lining of my prison: it wasn’t anything like the dungeons of Castle Hades, where traitors had been tortured for thousands of years. I hadn’t lost skin, nor fingernails, nor eyeballs. Both my ears remained attached to my head, and not a single burning rod had been inserted into any of my orifices. I had no broken bones. I hadn’t been dipped in a vat of boiling oil, not even once.

  And that was frankly bloody lucky, because Samael was the closest thing we had to a king, and I’d nearly murdered him. Regicides didn’t normally get a soft bed and three meals a day. They normally had their entrails ripped out before their eyes.

  I should count my lucky stars in here.

  There were, however, two teensy weensy problems with my current situation, which was why I was working on breaking out.

  One, I had some vengeance to wreak, an
d my imprisonment was getting in my way. My former friend and my sister had brutally betrayed me, putting my life at risk. They were the reason I was locked up here.

  And two, I was losing my ever-loving mind in isolation. There was no torture rack or Catherine wheel, but there was endless solitude. The closest thing I had to contact with another person was when I heard the squeaking of the dumbwaiter and knew someone was pulling it from the kitchens below. Three times a day, a delicious meal of meat and vegetables and a sinfully sweet red fruit with seeds that made my mouth water appeared—arranged on the tray by another person.

  I was better fed than ever, but I’d never been alone before. I’d even shared a bed with my mum, since we just had the one.

  At times, I was sure a phantom presence was watching me. A malign spirit seemed to linger in the shadows, waiting. Once, I’d even thought I’d seen a woman out of the corner of my eyes. Her dark hair waved around her head like she was underwater, her arms raised, wrists limp.

  But mostly, I thought I was going mad.

  The hair on the back of my neck rose, and I shuddered as I stared out the window. It was that feeling again, of being watched. It was almost like someone knew I wanted to escape.

  Slowly, I turned, narrowing my eyes to survey the room. In the dead of night, moonlight spilled over the bookshelves, the wooden dresser. The wick on the lantern was nearly burned down, growing dim. For a moment, the shadows seemed to be shifting, darkness flitting from one corner to another.

  But when I scanned the room more carefully, I saw everything as it should be: a four-poster bed; the stark silver and black banners hanging on either side, with the Angelic writing I couldn’t read. The mirror hung over the dresser, by the locked door. The bathroom door was shut, as I’d left it. Nothing amiss.

  Just my lonely mind playing tricks on me again. I exhaled slowly.

  Facing the window again, I turned the crank to open it a little bit. The wind howled inside, the cold sharpening my senses. Keep your wits about you, Lila.

  I stuck my head out the open window and clutched the windowsill. It was just about wide enough to get my head out, so I’d been shoving my face into frigid air a lot. I needed to cool down. At night, dreams of Samael tormented me, and I’d wake up feverish and overheated. I kept dreaming of him tying my hands above my head. While I was tied up, he slowly stripped off my clothes, torturing me with a light touch that made me gasp. He’d brush his mouth over my body, his breath warming me and making me insane with desire. He’d stroke me and tease me, but never satiate me.

  Then I’d wake up again, my body on fire. Unsatisfied. I’d rush over to the window and stick my head into the icy wind.

  I was coming to realize that angels were addictive that way. Samael was a forbidden fruit I never should have tasted. I’d had one night with him, one taste, and now I’d never forget the feel of his lips against mine. No mortal man would ever satisfy me.

  I’d given up thinking I could change his mind. In here, I’d been completely forgotten, with no chance to speak to him. And maybe once I escaped, I could forget him a little better.

  I just needed the raven to show up.

  “Jenny Squawks!” I whispered into the wind. “You are my only friend.”

  Absolute lunatic. I’d given the raven a name, and she was a central part of my escape plan. It had taken a few weeks of practice, but I’d trained her to bring me things. I would show her something metallic, and coax her to bring me other little shiny things: pennies, a little spoon, a butter knife that she tried to drag across the room. Specifically, I was hoping she’d find long, thin bits of metal. Something I could use as a lockpick.

  When she completed her tasks, I always gave her a bite of the delicious red fruit.

  Eventually, she would come back with a shiny thing I could use. At least, I hoped. So far, I had a collection of coins, a screw, two spoons, and a broken monocle.

  As I searched for her in the night, the wind bit at my skin. I moved back into the room, sitting down on the bed.

  This had been the only plan I could come up with.

  “Lila.”

  An unfamiliar, rasping voice spoke from behind me, making my heart pound harder. I gripped the windowsill hard.

  I wasn’t alone here after all.

  3

  Lila

  With a racing pulse, I turned around. A strange voice had just rasped my name, and yet I couldn’t see anyone in here.

  My heart hammered my ribs. The shadows seemed to twist and writhe over the room like smoke. A chill washed over me.

  “I know you’re there,” I whispered. “Whoever you are. Whatever you are. But whatever you’re doing, it’s just not on. I’m not having it.” The most useless threat in the history of threats, perhaps, but I was doing my best.

  Swallowing hard, I took another step to investigate. But as I walked past the mirror, something turned my blood to ice. From the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow behind me.

  One millimeter at a time, I turned my head, hardly daring to look. And when I had a full view of the reflection, I froze.

  There, behind me in the reflection, stood the silhouette of a woman. Wild hair snaked around her head, in front of her face. Her arms were raised in the air, wrists limp, like she was floating under water.

  She was a nightmare come to life.

  I froze in place, staring at her. Was I losing my mind?

  As I gaped at the reflection behind me, I felt water rising up my throat, my esophagus. Rotten water was filling my lungs, coming out of my mouth.

  Panic screamed in my mind, and I fell to my knees hard. Wet leaves filled my mouth. I was choking, suffocating. Flailing, I tried to call out, but my screams were trapped under the sodden leaves in my throat. I reached in, pulling out the muck, but it just filled again, like the earth itself was choking me.

  My lungs were going to explode. I was going to die here, completely alone. Was this Samael’s magic? Was this punishment for what I’d done? My thoughts were starting to go black.

  Then, the illusion simply disappeared. Clutching my throat, I gasped, breathing in as deep as I could. I fell back on the floor, my limbs bruised.

  I took a deep breath, in and out, filling my lungs.

  At last, the pain was gone. Tears streamed down my face, my whole body shaking. I swiped my hand over my mouth, still trying to rid it of phantom leaves. But they were just gone, completely.

  “What is going on?” I whispered.

  For good luck, I touched the little raven tattoo on my bicep. Blessed Raven King, give me strength. Already, I felt myself relaxing.

  Slowly, I stood on shaking legs. Swallowing hard, I turned to the mirror again—and I found the silhouette behind me.

  I whirled this time, ready to attack.

  But there was no one, nothing behind me. Just the bed, the moonlight, and the empty room.

  “What the hell?” I shouted. “I am warning you … I will really make you upset if you don’t stop this!”

  Wonderful. I’d come up with an even more useless threat. But I was being attacked by a ghost, it seemed. How did you threaten something that was already dead?

  I breathed in and out slowly, trying to marshal a sense of calm. Maybe I was going completely barmy. I glanced back in the mirror, relieved to see the apparition was gone.

  A fluttering of wings turned my head, and relief unclenched my chest as my raven friend swooped into the room. Even better, she carried something shiny and metallic in her beak. When she dropped it on the floor, it clanged against the stone.

  Sighing, I rushed forward. “You genius, Jenny Squawks.”

  When I picked her treasure up, I saw it was much more expensive than I’d been expecting. Jenny had brought me a hair clip shaped like a leaf, inset with diamonds. It looked antique and worth a fortune. “This is beautiful, Jenny.”

  But the real question was, why did Samael have something like this? How many rich women lived in this castle?

  Did he have a lover?


  Nothing to do with me if he did, really. We were not speaking. I turned the clip over and examined the thin metal clasp on the back. It was long, and bendable enough that I could actually use it to pick the lock.

  I just needed another one like it.

  I looked up at Jenny, who had cocked her head, waiting for her reward. I reached out to pet her head, and she flapped her wings, squawking loudly.

  "Good job," I said. "You've done very good work here, Jenny. Brilliant."

  But it wasn’t praise she wanted. I crossed to my leftover fruit—fruit pieces that looked like little red glittering beads. I dropped a few pieces before her, and she gobbled them down, then cocked her head again, looking at me expectantly.

  “Don’t you worry, little bird. I have another task for you. I need a second hair clip.” I pointed at it, then pointed at the window, and Jenny was off again, swooping outside.

  While I waited for her, I turned the bejeweled hair clip over in my hand once more. The craftsmanship was exquisite. The diamonds had to be worth tens of thousands of crowns. Was this a relic of the Albian royals who’d once lived here?

  Touching my throat again, I scanned the room for signs of the ghost. My gaze flicked above, where the ceiling rose to sharp peaks—dark stone carved with intricate, thorny engravings. Everything looked normal.

  I glanced in the mirror again, my body rigid with fear.