Rapture (Hades Castle Trilogy Book 2)

by C. N. Crawford

  “I know, it’s terrible. But there are nice festivals in Dovren, too. There’s a day they give cakes to widows”—I swallowed—“whose husbands were executed for stealing food. You know what? Let’s stay focused. On Wolfshunt Day, people dress in their best gowns and suits, and wear masks of wolves or other forest animals. Some people dress head to toe in straw and dance around. The crowd pretends to hunt a wolf, and we choose a Winter King. It’s… tomorrow, I think. It would be easy enough for us to go in disguise. I can keep an eye out for Finn or Alice. We can take Finn captive for more information. Then we can find out more about the plan to summon the Harrower.”

  “I have an entire army at my disposal. We could capture everyone there.”

  I shook my head. “They won’t all be Free Men. Some of them will be children, on their happiest night of the year. They get apples, candy. A chance to run wild. I’ve been nearly every year. The Free Men are using innocent people as cover.”

  He studied me carefully. “You’ve been every year?”

  I nodded. “I’d never miss it—” A feeling of unease stopped me from finishing my sentence. The hair stood up on my nape, and I felt a malign presence spilling through the room. “Samael.”

  He was already at the window, peering outside. “They’re here.” His voice was a low rumble that slid through my bones.

  “Demons?” I whispered.

  “Yes.”

  A chill rippled up my neck, and I turned to look out into the darkness. The breath left my lungs. The demon seemed to come from the night itself, a woman with midnight hair and pearly white skin, lips red as blood. The most terrifying thing about her was her eyes—black as jet, no irises. Gleaming and empty.

  Soulless.

  Ice slid down to my bones as I stared into the face of pure evil.

  Then, three more appeared behind her, just like her. My heart slammed against my ribs as I took in the bows they carried, arrows aimed at us.

  They’d found us already.

  15

  Lila

  Samael slammed me hard against the ground, the full force of his weight pressing down on me, his heavy sword resting against one of my legs. The breath had left my lungs with the force of the blow. I stared up into the face of death, golden tattoos sweeping over his cheekbones, celestial fire burning in his irises. Something was jutting into my ribs below my breast.

  My breath shuddered, and I wondered why he wasn’t getting off me. I touched his back and felt blood, and a wooden shaft.

  That was when I realized what was jabbing into my chest—the tip of an arrowhead. It had slammed clean through Samael’s body, protruding through his ribs and into mine.

  Bloody hell. “Are you okay?” I whispered.

  He clenched his jaw and pushed himself off me. Sitting on the floor, he turned his back to me. “Rip it out. I can’t reach it.”

  Another arrow slammed into the wood, splintering it. I didn’t love the idea of pulling a bolt of wood out of another living person, but there wasn’t much time to mess around here. So, I pressed my feet against him for leverage, gritted my teeth, and pulled.

  The arrowhead seemed stuck on a rib or something, and I tried to block out the horror of the situation. The noise the bolt made as I pulled it out was something I hoped to forget as soon as possible, and blood poured from his back. As soon as the bolt was out, he rose and stormed out the door. He leapt into the air, wings erupting behind him.

  I watched as he soared, then arced away. A menacing magic floated on the wind, making goosebumps raise on my arms.

  My heart hammered, and I crouched down beneath the window. I closed my eyes. Raven King, give me strength.

  I should stay out of range. As an immortal, Samael could look after himself.

  But I had to see what was happening out there, so I stole a glance over the top of the windowsill.

  Samael moved with such stunning speed I could hardly track him—just the silver blur of his sword as it cut through a demon’s head. Her body plunged to the ground, and inky blood spilled out over the soil. And yet … her body continued to twitch, her eyes fluttering.

  As he flew for another demon, an arrow slammed into Samael’s shoulder from the front. Blood streamed, making me wince. My heart skipped a beat. There were more of them coming for us now. One of them had lifted her arrow to me. I ducked down again.

  But I didn’t feel much safer in here. A chill rippled over my body. A second later, a demon whipped past the open doorway, searching for me but not yet seeing me, her dark magic spilling into the room.

  Raven King, give me strength.

  It was almost as though I heard his answer in the hollows of my mind; a low, knelling voice: Buried life lay under this city.

  I could harness it. I had before, hadn’t I? I just had no idea how.

  The demon swept past again, circling the small shack. I had the disturbing sense that Samael could be in trouble, that I had to get to him. He couldn’t be killed, but the Free Men would love to torture him into insanity.

  My breath was ragged in my throat, and I whirled, trying to track her. She whipped around again, pausing before the doorway, finally seeing me. Her black eyes sent ice through my veins. I gripped my knife, not willing to throw it yet. Power moved through the wood, into my legs.

  The demon raised her bow and loosed the arrow. I shifted just in time, and it skimmed my thigh, pinning my dress against the wall.

  Lightning fast, she unleashed another arrow that grazed my other thigh. It pierced the other side of my dress, drawing blood. Panic started to crackle through my body.

  I was trapped.

  An unearthly demon cry keened behind me, eerily like a victory whoop.

  Panic surged now—for Samael, for myself. I was starting to get the sense they wanted to take us alive. And considering they carved out people’s lungs, I didn’t want to know what they’d do with us.

  As the demon nocked another arrow, time seemed to slow down. Anger and a need to protect Samael overwhelmed me. And along with it, something far darker. Ancient.

  Power thrummed up my legs, vibrating through my body. Time had slowed to a crawl. The demon’s midnight blue hair undulated around her head in the night wind; her leathery black wings stroked the air slowly.

  As the demon aimed at me, a voice rose from the depths of my mind—something uncannily familiar. I am not the weak mortal you think I am.

  Dark power surged from the ground up, from the train tracks, into the stilts, into the floor beneath my feet. My power. A strange, primal music swelled in me. The life buried beneath the stones of this city was singing, and I could harness its energy. I called to the tree roots and the spirits of the dead under the soil.

  The trees fed off the earth that was once my home. I could call the poplar tree. My child.

  Down by the river, the Tower of Bones

  If you’re lost, Dovren is home.

  My eyes went wide, and my body ignited with power. As it did, I called to the tree.

  A sharp poplar branch shot up from the ground and impaled the demon through her chest, right through where her heart would be.

  She slumped forward, dropping the bow and arrow. As I stared, her body turned dark gray, and cracks opened in her skin. She desiccated, then turned into dust that floated away on the night wind. Only the tree remained.

  I looked down at myself, at how she’d pinned me to the wall.

  I understood why they wanted Samael. But why me? Maybe Alice wasn’t finished with me.

  I started tearing at my dress, ripping it to free myself. Then, I whirled to look out the broken windows. A handful of dead demons lay on the ground.

  I sucked in a deep breath, my body trembling. Samael flew above the grassy, moonlit park. Arrows protruded from his body. His flight was jagged now, and he looked like he was struggling to stay in the air.

  Only one demon remained, nocking her final arrow. But before she could unleash it, Samael swooped forward and slashed his blade through her throat. Her bo
dy—and head—fell to the ground.

  I loosed a long breath and turned to the doorway. The spiked poplar branch still jutted into the sky before me.

  Pain burned on my wrist, and when I looked down, a silver tattoo gleamed on my skin—a crescent moon with thorny vines wrapped around it. Then, as quickly as it had arrived, the tattoo disappeared. I gaped at where it had been.

  I’d seen that exact symbol in the locked room.

  Was this the ghost’s power?

  16

  Samael

  Pain shot through my wings and shoulder where the demons’ arrows had pierced me, and I was no longer flying straight. But still—I had to cut out the demons’ hearts before they would be truly dead. It was the only way to make sure they wouldn’t come soaring after me again in a few minutes.

  I careened toward the earth, where my enemies lay twitching. I could capture one of these demons, but it would do no good. Soulless down to her marrow, she’d be impervious to pain, to threats. She’d never give up information.

  Gritting my teeth, I landed hard on the earth, stumbling. The pain of an injured wing was indescribable. It was the sort of pain that robbed you of thought, that narrowed the world down entirely to agony in the one spot where it was wounded. It wasn’t just a physical pain, but a disturbing sense of being fundamentally broken.

  From the gathered shadows, a demon lurched up from the ground, her severed body already healing. She let out a blood-curdling shriek, and I pivoted to see her aiming another arrow at me. Her hair streamed behind her, sleek and blue. Her eyes were pools of darkness—empty, gleaming.

  Death was the only way to deal with a demon.

  She let the arrow fly. Gritting my teeth, I managed to deflect it with my sword, but she was already nocking another. Nearby, another demon started to rise from the dirt. The pure thrill of battle vibrated down my limbs, skimming my wings until they no longer hurt. I lunged for the demons, losing myself in the glory of war.

  With each demon I killed, I was able to forget, just a little more, that one word knelling in my brain. Mediocre.

  Why did I care so much what the mortal woman thought? It was absurd.

  I didn’t care what anyone thought of me.

  Asmodai split through the demon’s bow, then I brought it back around through her neck.

  Ordinary. I was nothing of the sort.

  I arced around sharply, swooping to attack another demon. With each strike of my sword, I began to push the word mediocre further into the depths of my thoughts, until it no longer had meaning. Until, at last, there was nothing left but the dark beauty of death, and I felt like a god again.

  I began to cut out the demons’ hearts.

  No pain, no doubts, only a distant memory of that little mortal in the house above the tracks.

  My thoughts dimmed as I worked, the dust of their desiccated bodies floating on the wind. Only when I destroyed a demon’s heart would her body turn to dust, destroying her for good. My mind flickered with long-forgotten memories—my life before the fall, my sword gleaming with blood. Light all around me.

  I knelt over the body of a demon, staring into her dark eyes. As my blade carved out her heart, she turned to ash beneath me.

  But out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed movement. Another demon was rising from the ground, wings spread out behind her.

  Except she wasn’t flying toward me. She was flying for Lila.

  My blood pounded hard, and I gripped Asmodai.

  I hardly felt any pain at all as I rushed toward Lila.

  17

  Lila

  Another demon swept into the shack. Her head was bent at an odd angle, blood dripping from a deep gash in her neck. Her mouth was strained into an unnatural grimace.

  My fingers twitched, ready to call forth another tree branch. When the demon raised her bow, I felt the power moving up from my feet into my thighs again. Earthy magic filled me.

  But before I could strike, I felt another dark force moving closer—Samael. He appeared behind her, wings spread out against the night sky, and his sword pierced her back, protruding from her chest. For a moment, she hung limp. Then, she crumbled into dust.

  Samael sheathed his sword, and his wings disappeared as he reached the doorway. Celestial fire blazed in his eyes. My gaze trailed down his body, and I winced at what I saw—he was still riddled with broken arrow shafts.

  Sucking in a breath, I opened his cloak. He'd already snapped off and pulled some of the arrows from his flesh, but fragments of wood still pierced him, and blood poured from the wounds.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. “We need to get those arrows out of you.”

  But he didn’t seem to notice or care about his own injuries. His voice was a sharp blade as he said, “Which of the Fallen taught you magic?”

  “None of them.” I looked up at his face, frowning. Shimmering gold shone from his cheekbones and flaming chains encircled his enormous chest. This was Samael shifting into his purest form: sublime and dreadful.

  And very, very interested in me. His gaze swept down my bare legs, where I’d ripped the hem of my skirt.

  “I don’t believe you.” He took a step closer and pressed his palms against the wood on either side of my head. “If no one taught you, then how do you know magic? You’re not a demon. You’re not a nephilim. Someone taught you.”

  My breath quickened. “Nope.”

  “You little liar.” His voice had taken on a velvety tone. “How is it possible for you to have this magic at your fingertips and not know?”

  “Why don’t you tell me why you’re all weird about that room you keep locked up?”

  “No.”

  “I guess we’re at another impasse.” I didn’t have any idea where my magic came from. It unnerved me, because the magic itself felt dark. What if I had my own evil magic buried inside me? What would I be like when it came out?

  I shivered, wondering if demons could have children. If I were half-demon, would Samael want me dead like the others?

  I bit my lip. “I don’t know that the magic even came from me. It probably came from one of the other demons. But we can ponder this mystery later. If those demons found us here, more could find us. I don’t want to find out what the Free Men have in store for us.”

  But he wasn’t moving. His gaze was searing me, taking me apart like he was penetrating my very soul. Then, his eyes roved down my body once more, and he moved his hand to my waist.

  “I don’t think you’re telling me the truth,” he murmured, his voice sliding into a seductive tone. He lowered his face to mine, breath warming the side of my face. “How do I make you more honest?”

  My pulse raced as I felt the heat pouring off his body, and the dark thrum of his magic. “You could start by admitting the truth yourself. You find me more interesting than any other woman strutting around half naked.”

  “You first,” he whispered.

  But he didn’t give me a chance to answer, sliding his lips over mine. For just a moment, the kiss seemed tentative, like he had no idea what was happening. He kissed me as if he were testing out something dangerous. But even this light brush of his lips against mine made me melt into him, my knees going weak. Pleasure vibrated through my body, and his fingers flexed hard on my waist.

  But he was holding back. It wasn’t enough. Any touch from an angel was dangerous. An angel’s kiss was fuel to a sexual flame that, once lit, could never be put out. His magic skimmed over my body, stroking me with heat. Ecstasy rippled through me, and I arched into him, wrapping my arms tight around his neck.

  As my pulse started to race out of control, his lips parted against mine. The kiss became more intense, slow and possessive. He was growing hungrier, his desire deeper and more dangerous, tongue sweeping against mine. I wrapped my legs around him, and he lifted me up, pressing me against the wall. As his hands swept under my bum, an aching heat built in my core.

  Then, with a nip to my lower lip, he pulled away from the kiss.

  He h
ad kissed me. Victorious, I arched an eyebrow at him.

  As if he knew what I was thinking, he said, “It was the ripped dress and my primal state.”

  Anger flared. “Of course. Showing off my wares again. And just so you know, I kissed you back out of sheer loneliness and desperation, my most ordinary and banal companion.”

  He winced, and for a moment, I thought it was because of my stinging retort. Then, I saw him touch his chest where one of the arrows had pierced him.

  “You feel it now, don’t you? The arrows weren’t hurting you before, but now I can see it. How many times were you hit?”

  “Six,” he said huskily. “My wing will take a while to heal. I think I can still fly, though. I can get us back.”

  “Hang on.” I opened his cloak again. “Just let me pull some of the broken arrows from you.”

  I winced at the fragments of wood and the blood pouring from him. Carefully, I began to pull wood splinters from one of the wounds in his chest, using my fingertips. He inhaled sharply.

  “How did the demons find us?” I asked, hoping to distract him.

  All his muscles had gone completely tense, which was making this harder. “They were trackers. They hunt by scent.”

  “Did any of them make it away?”

  “No, which means they can’t report back to the Free Men that we were here.” He grimaced, covering the wound in his abdomen. “That's enough, Lila. Thank you. Emma has tools at home she can use.”

  Brooking no argument, Samael swept me up into his arms, pulling me against his chest. As he took to the air, my mind kept jolting back to the feel of that magic I’d used.

  I wanted to see Mum. I wanted to ask her if she could tell me more about what I was. Her story was that I’d arrived in a basket on her doorstep. But that wasn’t a very likely story, was it? I wanted to know the truth.

  I wrapped my arms around Samael’s neck as he flew, the wind whipping over us. “Samael. I want to see my mum tomorrow.”