Alice's Sacrifice (Alice Clark Series)

by Andrea DiGiglio

  “Yes,” she managed to say through the wrath she felt, wanting to kill this bounty hunter and everyone like him. She had come to save Cole and she wanted to protect and save her Fallen. Sadly, this was where she was and there was nothing she could do without risking the ones she loved.

  “Load up! We are changing locations.”

  “Wait, what?” she asked worriedly.

  “You didn’t think we’d stay here, you foolish half-breed? Oh, you did! How human of you.”

  “Funny, I thought it was the Fallen part of me…” Purah’s rage bashed into the side of her face with a flying fist. She held in the groan from the impact, looking back at him defiantly. “How long till D-day, anyway?”

  He sighed quietly. “Could be months, could be years, could even be decades. Get comfortable,” Purah said, waving to his men to take her away.

  Cole could hear chatter off in the distance but his eyes were too heavy to open. Every part of his body screamed in twisted agony, all while reaching out for Alice. Alice. “Alice!” Cole’s eyes snapped open and he launched off of the couch. “Alice!” he called out again. Looking around, he finally saw the room of Fallen surrounding him.

  “Son?” Kokabiel asked with desperation in his voice.

  “Yeah, Dad,” Cole said. “I must have been dreaming or something.

  “Or someone,” Jake threw in.

  Cole’s eyes fully adjusted, narrowed at Jake, “You!”

  “Here we go.”

  “You swore you would let no harm come to her!”

  “I also swore to protect her and that means protecting you!” Jake screamed into his face. “She was dying here without you!”

  “She’s as good as dead there!”

  “No. There is much worse than death,” Paul said, entering the room. “I do not doubt he will torture her much like he did you, for nothing more than sport.” He cringed at the image the thought projected. “I’m glad you are safe, Cole, just not the way we acquired your safety.”

  “Has anyone spoken to her? When do we head back to save her?” Cole barely steadied himself on the arm of the couch, awkwardly.

  “No one has heard from her and you aren’t going until you are healed. If they recaptured you, all this would have been for nothing,” Sariel answered.

  “This was for nothing,” Cole said.

  A growl erupted from Kokabiel as he grabbed hold of Cole by handfuls of his shirt. “She sacrificed everything for you, do not call that nothing! You have no idea what this means for us all!”

  “Brother,” Paul said with a hand on Kokabiel’s shoulder. “You have been deeply bothered by your son’s absence. Do not forget your compassion,” Kokabiel let go of his son with shame in his eyes.

  “I apologize for my behavior,” Kokabiel said, excusing himself from the room with Sariel following right behind him into the kitchen and on out into the yard.

  “A lot has happened in your absence. Alice has a way of making you feel emotions you didn’t think you had. Your father is dealing with some of those emotions. We all are,” Paul said to console the wounded Cole. “Now let’s get you cleaned up and fixed up the best we can,” he said, reaching out toward Cole.

  “Yeah, alright,” Cole said. He took the hand and anchored himself against Paul with a controlled groan. Every part of him ached and if he stepped wrong, a shooting pain would run from his foot all the way into the back of his skull. He was sure at that point that it was Alice keeping their connection broken. He wasn’t sure for how long, but his own strength was gone and he took the small victory that her strength wasn’t.

  Sulfur and the stench of death crawled into Alice’s nose. She lay, half awake, crumpled in the corner of a room that resembled a cave. The concrete was cold and harsh on her skin. An eerie silence filled the walls but she did not dare to escape; she knew they were there. There was a crack in the wall where a stream of brilliant white light showed through, illuminating a cage or harness. Fully awake, she stared at the piece across from her, in complete awe. It’s not possible, my painting was…

  “A premonition. Yes, I heard you had those in a sense. Strange Nephilim, indeed,” Purah said, stepping from the darkness. Alice recoiled into the corner like an animal. “I haven’t done anything yet, well, except that black eye,” he pointed, “but you asked for it.”

  “Isn’t that what all the men say?”

  “I’m no man,” Purah said with disgust.

  “That’s obvious. You’re everything a man could never be, pure evil and hatred, a hatred your God could never love.” Just as the words rolled off of her tongue she felt the fire inside of him ignite and he lunged at her, grabbing her by her throat, smearing her against the sulfur coated walls. All she could do was gasp for air beneath him.

  “You will learn not to test me! I might not kill you but what I will do will be far worse.” His hand felt hot on her skin in comparison to the sulfur wall digging into her back. He let go, suddenly dropping her to the concrete below with a thud. She roughly sucked in the air, begging for the will to survive, glancing up at Purah as he drifted out of the room with a smirk of joy plastered on his evil face.

  Once she gathered herself together, she sat back against the chilled wall. She only knew one way to ensure the privacy she felt entitled to. She took a deep breath, stilling everything in her surroundings, concentrating on the ocean scent that had captivated her at a time that now felt several lifetimes ago. Cole? She reached out for him in a way that only her soul could show her how to do. She felt his anger for what she had done well before she reached the piece of him he still extended out for her to find. I know you’re angry.

  Are you alright? Cole’s panic laced voice asked, surprising her.

  “For now, yes. I’m so glad you made it home. She said, with tears streaming down her face.

  It’s not home without you, love. His voice shook from his own tears but she felt him trying to steady it for her.

  Take care of our family while I’m gone. She was running out of time, losing her air slowly. I do not have much time, I love you and we will find a way to get me out of here, wherever here is.

  What do you mean? Did they move you?

  Yes, out of time, I will contact you soon. She said quietly as if whispering would give her more time.

  Do you know where you are? Cole’s voice screamed through the strange connection they had, and shook her slightly, just as if his hands were on her shoulders.

  My painting… Was all she managed before the connection broke and the last breath of air escaped her cracked lips. She gasped and scratched at her throat hoping she would regain normal breathing.

  Kokabiel stood in the middle of the front yard facing the woods ahead, concentrating intently. He could sense Sariel standing near him, quietly and patient. He felt as if a piece of him that had been dormant was finally awakened, and it terrified him in a way he dare not discuss. “It’s been a trying few days.”

  “That it has, but if you remember two things, remember these two things. We have a purpose and a role in the events to come,” Sariel said.

  “The other?”

  “Family is the only truth worth protecting to the death.”

  Kokabiel nodded his head in agreement. “He makes me unpredictable.”

  “He makes you stronger. Now go do the same thing for him.”

  He could have argued but Sariel would not have allowed that. With long strides, he crossed the grass quickly and entered the house. Jake and Paul were woven tightly around Cole.

  “She contacted him,” Jake whispered.

  “She said they moved her,” Cole said, his black and purple eyes glazed with salty tears. Kokabiel cleared the distance quickly and wrapped his arms around his only son. “We have no idea where she is or how to get her back.”

  “We will find her and save her as we all swore to do,” he said, staring into his brother’s eyes in a silent promise to them both. “Did she give you any clues?”

  “She said, ‘my painting’. She
hasn’t created a piece in months and nothing like before, to my knowledge anyway.”

  “I’ll call Dean Vassago and have him check her work at school,” he said. He gave a weak smile as he pulled out his phone and stepped into the kitchen.

  “Hello?” Vassago said on the other end of the phone.

  “It’s Kokabiel.”

  “Yes, I expected your call but had hoped not to hear from you, old friend.”

  “She said she drew a picture of the place she’s being held.”

  “That is more troublesome than anything. I’ll bring it to you; send me the address.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet, brother.”

  Kokabiel ended the call with defeat in his heart. This would be an uphill battle through hell. He had to hope the angels wouldn’t come down to finish her off and add to their troubles. Shaking off the anguish, he entered the living room. “Vassago is on his way with a painting he feels is the one she could be referring to.”

  “Penemue, do you have anything that may help me heal faster?” Cole asked, hopeful.

  “Not any faster than these items already do. Don’t worry, we’ll get you back to your full strength quickly. We will give everything we have to save her, she’s everything to this family,” Paul answered warmly. It made Kokabiel’s heart glow watching his once cold brother embrace his son as if he were his own.

  “Why don’t you rest, son, and I will wake you when he arrives,” Kokabiel offered. His son was in shambles physically and emotionally. All he could see was his face covered in shades of black and purples. His skin was covered in those shades too along with yellow and greens. He had watched Penemue re-set Cole’s shoulder and could swear he almost felt the pain himself, as his son shrieked, rocking the entire house. He was glad to have him back safely, but the price paid left him with terrible guilt. He knew what tortures Purah was capable of and he was certain Purah would test many of them on Alice, if for no other reason than boredom, and his son was bound to feel more of it than he could handle.

  Alice struggled against the two bounty hunters holding her as Purah attached what he called the Heretic’s Forks to her throat. They were two medieval forks resting on each other, attached to a large steel collar. Alice screamed as the forks dug into the flesh under her chin and below her throat. She could feel the warmth of her blood as it oozed around the tines.

  “We are only getting started,” Purah whispered into her ear.

  Gritting her teeth trying to block out the pain, “I’m thrilled.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll consider taking it off before we try the next one. I haven’t had someone strong enough to survive them in centuries,” Purah said with an almost maniacal laugh.

  “How generous,” Alice spat, cringing at the shift from the forks. She felt as if she was being gagged from the outside, the movement of which only forced the forks to dig deeper. “I can see why you deserve salvation,” she said, thick with sarcasm.

  Purah wrapped his long crooked fingers around the forks and pulled Alice closer by them. “I am trying to not kill you, but I wouldn’t push if I were you. I’m liable to kill your little Nephilim.”

  Alice choked on the blood that trickled down her throat as her body panicked under the distress. She wanted to argue but tears were the only thing that poured from her in a steady stream of anguish. She had half expected to be rescued but the sinking feeling that this was her new destiny, clawed at her like tiny flesh-eating spiders. She was terrified and Purah inhaled her fear like it was candy. He let her go, leaving her crumpled on the cold floor. She could feel her wings attempting to release themselves from her back. She fought the urge, knowing the damage they would sustain if she broke. She forced herself to think of Cole’s lips, his touch on her skin. Even with the constant pain ripping through her, Cole’s face warmed her and fed her the strength she needed to get through one more day.

  Cole looked out, off the back porch with cold sadness in his eyes and a five o’clock shadow on his face. He heard his father step out behind him but couldn’t move. He just stared, waiting for the Dean to show up with Alice’s painting. His heart felt weak knowing he should be in her place, or maybe it was her soul breaking that he felt.

  “We will save her,” Kokabiel said.

  “I hope so, Dad, I really do.” Cole ran his hands through his hair and down his neck. “We need a better plan.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “I think we should contact those we oppose.”

  “The bounty hunters?” he asked, shocked.

  “The other ones,” Cole couldn’t believe his own words. “Angels.”

  “That’s ridiculous! They’d kill her the second they retrieved her!”

  “Maybe not,” Cole said calmly. He looked up to see a slick black Mercedes pull into the driveway. He eyed the driver carefully as he exited the car and walked towards them.

  “Vassago,” Kokabiel said while offering a hand.

  “Kokabiel, I wish this were under better circumstances,” he nodded to the painting and glanced at Cole. “They bonded?” Shock coated his voice.

  “Very long story, but first the painting.” Kokabiel showed Vassago into the house and into the living room.

  “First, I do not know where Ms. Clark is. I know at one point I was a tracker of sorts, but wherever she is is secluded and most likely underground.” With that, he revealed the painting to the room full of Fallen. Gasps fell from Fallen mouths and a worry, thick as fog, crawled up the walls. The image was a large, filthy cement room that could have been centuries old. It was covered with black soot and only a slight drop of light entered the room, illuminating a metal cage.

  “What is that thing?” Cole said, breaking the silence.

  “It’s an old tool angels used to confine Fallen, thick as steal but stronger than any metal found here. It wraps over the shoulders, connecting in a point on the chest, slightly pushing into the flesh. The back trails the spine, wrapping large coils around each wing, confining them. It finishes its trail down the spine breaking into a belt around the waist secured with a padlock to make it impossible to remove. Why or how the bounty hunters got this piece is something we do need to be worried about,” Vassago answered.

  “Dad?” Cole asked hopeful.

  “We can contact them but, son, they do not want to help us.”

  “Contact who?” Jake asked confused.

  Kokabiel looked up, “Them.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Jake snorted.

  Without regard to his audience, Cole slammed Jake into the wall, growling through gritted teeth. “On my side or against it?”

  “I’m with you, Cole; that doesn’t change that this is crazy. We need a better plan.”

  “We all agree?” Paul asked.

  The room of Fallen reluctantly nodded, returning their gaze to the painting. It was beautifully dark, as was all her work. He just wished it had more clues as to where she was.

  It felt as if a few weeks had passed since Alice traded herself for Cole. On more than one occasion she had felt Cole’s presence through strange dreams that felt as if they were his memories. There was one with him standing outside the Field of the Damned, pacing the pathway of the road, taking himself in and out by crossing the golden field and entering the darkness. She could feel his angst as if she were the one in his skin, standing there. It was strange to share a memory with him. It seemed wrong to her and she wondered if the same thing happened to him. The idea was terrifying to her, with her past always trailing so close behind her. She had lost all hope of being saved; knowing that if they could save her they would have by now. She desperately wanted to speak with Cole but was afraid she couldn’t block everyone else out, and worse, continue to block the pain from him. She turned her head away from Purah’s cold dead eyes and refocused on the dirt-smeared cement below her. Her mouth was dry and the blood on her throat stopped dripping down her neck. "Go ahead and break me. I don't even know what it feels like to feel
whole." It was a dare and he knew it. He also knew she truly didn't give a damn what happened to her at that point, and that was far more aggravating to him. She ignored him as he approached, removing the forks from her flesh and throwing the pieces on the floor.

  “I think we’ve had enough of that one,” Purah’s voice rang soft for the first time since she had met him. She knew it was for a reason; he always had a purpose to each move he made.

  She coughed from the release of her airway while grabbing the back of her sore neck for support. She was sore from being in the position the forks had forced her to stay in. Of all things, she was worried by his shift in mood.

  “Alice, our meeting with God’s chosen angels is coming up. I need proof you are what you are, so this can go one of two ways. You can release the wings we both know you have or I can break you down until you do.” His tone seethed with wrath as he stared back at her. “It will make this thing seem like a cake walk.”

  “Fuck you,” was all she needed to say.

  Purah grabbed her by the arm and dragged her toward her guard. “Put her in the chair!”

  “Sir, are you positive?” The grotesque leather skin Fallen bounty hunter asked.

  Purah hit the bounty hunter’s face into the cement wall beside him. “Do not challenge me again.”

  The guard grabbed Alice and dragged her down a thin hallway that reeked of the sulfur that was taking up permanent residency in her nose. “Whatever you did, it’s too late now.”

  “What?” her dry throat squeaked.

  “He only uses the chair when he doesn’t care if they stay alive.” He pointed to the chair sitting in an empty cell. It was a large chair, similar to a throne, but this chair was covered in spikes with a few leather straps. “They call it the Judas Chair. It was his favorite to use on humans during the medieval era. As our savior, I am sorry; this punishment is unjust.”