The Legion sentenced you to death, said the demon as it moved closer, its shadow falling over Alexa. Accept your defeat. Accept death.
Alexa, sprawled defenseless on the ground, could only stare in terror as the demon’s suction cup maw slowly opened and reached out for her—
But the bite never came.
The demon wailed, a terrible sound so loud Alexa could feel it in every bone. It backed away from her, thrashing madly as it tried to pull out the two sharp objects that perforated its chest.
“Alexa!”
Milo stood above her. His hair and clothes were dripping in black water.
“What took you so long?” she said as she scrambled to her feet. She tried to smile but the pain in her chest made her grimace.
“An army of the undead?” he answered and then his features twisted. “You look bad.”
Alexa frowned. “Thanks.” She fought a wave of nausea. “How do we kill this thing?”
Milo shrugged. “Never seen this kind of demon before, and I lost what I was using as weapons. We need—”
A white arm shut out and wrapped itself around Milo’s chest while another looped around his neck. His eyes widened, and then he was pulled back against the white demon. It lifted him off the ground, and Milo kicked out with his legs but never made contact.
“Milo!”
Two champions, said the demon. The Legion always loves to break the rules. But I will have both.
Milo thrashed but he couldn’t get free. He couldn’t escape the jaws that latched on to his chest and neck. White essence dripped down his neck. He didn’t stand a chance as the demon closed its jaws around his neck.
It was all happening too fast. Milo had one last thrash, one final attempt to pry himself free, and then his body went limp. His eyes rolled back in the back of his head.
“Let him go!” Alexa threw herself against the creature. Her hands slipped on the demon’s oily skin as she tried to pry its arms from Milo’s neck. The arm loosened—
The demon struck her with immortal speed. She took a blow to the stomach, soared in the air and hit the ground hard. Her face slammed into the ground, inches from the flames of a small fire.
She blinked, black spots forming in front of her face. The pain was everywhere. The world shifted, and for a moment she didn’t move. But the poison was churning in her veins, burning up. Each pulse of pain in her body made it worse.
She looked around. The white demon still had Milo in its grasp, and he was silent and still like a corpse.
She had failed.
The hellwings had all but disappeared. Alexa could barely make out their tiny forms up in the cloud-covered sky. And when she looked across the lake, the dead army stood at the shores. They didn’t follow Milo to this shore. It was as though they too were afraid to go near the water. But maybe it was something else.
Alexa’s mind raced. Somehow, she knew she had to defeat this creature. The Legion wouldn’t have designed three trials if the first one was impossible. Their weapons had been removed on purpose, which meant the Legion expected them to use something here, in this place, to kill it. What else was there apart from miles of rock and ash and fire.
Fire.
And then Alexa was up on her feet, tearing off her jacket. She tossed it in the fire, and just as she feared she’d been wrong, the fire blazed higher as it consumed part of her jacket.
She grabbed a fistful, ran around the demon, and tossed the flaming jacket onto its back.
The demon’s back blazed in white flames as though she’d just doused it in gasoline.
It dropped Milo and thrashed wildly, trying to put out the flames. But the fire grew, devouring the creature like a hungry beast.
The demon yelled in a strange, guttural demon language. It roared, cursing at Alexa, beating its hands against the flames. Still the fire grew, taller and wider, until the white flames consumed the demon completely.
And then just as fast as the flames took to the creature, the fire flickered and went out.
The demon’s flesh cracked. He crumpled and fell apart, even his bones flaking away to soggy ash until all that was left of the white beast was a pile of white ash on the ground.
“How did you know fire would work?” rasped Milo. His voice trembled as he stood on shaky legs.
Alexa looked up from the ashes. “I wasn’t sure it would work,” she answered, feeling her nausea disappear, as though the demise of the demon took away its poison. “But I took a chance. The Legion took away our weapons, so I figured they had to assume we’d find something here to fight with.”
Milo squeezed his fingers under his collar and rubbed his neck. “Well, I’m sure glad you did. That thing nearly did me in.”
Part of Alexa wanted to reach out and press her fingers against his neck, and she wondered what his skin would feel like under her touch…
Alexa moved her gaze across the lake. “The dead are gone,” she said and looked to the sky. “So are the hellwings. Do you think this means we’ve passed the first test?”
But she never heard Milo’s answer as the world shifted and everything went black. She couldn’t see anything. There was only darkness and a constant pressure as though iron bands were tightening around her chest. And then darkness consumed her.
CHAPTER 23
WHEN ALEXA CAME TO, she stood on a dirt road surrounded by open fields of tall grasses, rolling hills, and rivers. Just beyond, the hills flattened to a rolling plain that stretched as far as she could see. Farms and houses dotted the landscape, and farther off, she could see the bustle of a small town south along the main road. Here and there water dully glittered where icy streams descended from the hills to cut across the plains. She saw men drilling with steel in the yards and women tending their vegetables in their gardens.
Atop the hill, staring down at her like a great stone beast, was a castle.
A gray stone labyrinth of walls, pointed towers and keeps spread in all directions. It loomed over the city and farmland below.
Alexa prickled with the feeling something was missing, as though she’d forgotten something important—
Milo.
She turned on the spot. “Milo?” she called. Then with more conviction, “Milo! MILO!”
A strange cold panic gripped her as she stared down the dirt road in both directions.
A man with a long gray beard and dirt-covered clothes, who’d been shambling along the road heaving a large bag on his shoulders, stopped and turned, his eyes lost in a frown. But there was no sign of the tall warrior angel she’d grown so accustomed to being with.
How can he not be here? They had entered the Inferno Trials together, two champions. Was this another scheme from the Legion? Had they been separated on purpose?
At that precise moment she heard the screaming—a long wail of a person being tortured, and it was coming from somewhere inside that castle.
She saw the old man hurry his step down the road. His bones cracked as he hobbled away from the castle.
The castle.
She knew this was the second trial. Somewhere inside that castle, where the screams and shouts were coming from, she would find Milo—or at the very least, the second trial. Her jacket had mysteriously reappeared, and when she moved her hands to her waist, her weapons were there.
Why would the Inferno Trials give her back her weapons? If she was right, and the second trial would be harder than the first, why give back her blades? The thought that she might not have the need of weapons for the second challenge was disconcerting.
But the reappearance of her weapons frightened Alexa much less than the disappearance of Milo.
A gray mist coiled upwards, twining around the path, and disappeared through the castle gates like a silent invitation.
Making up her mind, Alexa walked up the dirt road that led to the castle. She hurried her pace, her legs a little stiff, almost like when she’d first found herself in a new M-suit. Still, she felt weakened, every step had become a monumental effort.<
br />
Was her collar doing this? Or was this decline part of what the archangel Sabrielle had warned them about. Their angel bodies couldn’t stay in purgatory indefinitely.
Alexa brushed the thoughts from her mind and kept moving. She would worry about that later.
The village was alive with the sounds of wagons and merchants going about their business. She did her best to ignore the strange looks the locals gave her. A middle-aged woman screeched at the sight of Alexa and spat on the floor, doing some strange sign with her hands.
The mortals all shared the same haggard look, as though they’d been starving for weeks. Fear lingered in their eyes, and the air smelled of moist earth, decay, and unwashed bodies.
As she walked, the mortals kept throwing her suspicious looks, their eyes rolling over her clothes from her boots to the daggers across her waist, but the fear in their eyes was more alarming. Men pulling carts bent somberly to their tasks and gave her a wide berth as she walked past, as though she might strike out at them.
Alexa couldn’t get over how real the village, the people, this place felt. It wasn’t at all like the first trial, where everything still looked and felt like purgatory, complete with death, suffering, and despair.
This place was nothing like that. The setting felt like she’d gone back in time—jumped into a time machine and popped out somewhere in the fifteenth century.
The sight would have upset the average angel, yet Alexa was calm. The only way she knew she was still in purgatory was because the world still lacked color, shifting between blacks, whites and grays.
Alexa sent out her angel senses and felt the familiar warmth and light, the energy all angels recognized as mortals. Not demon. No supernatural entities. No death. Nothing. She scanned for the cold, empty feeling of death and the smell of sulfur. But even though her angel senses were acute, she felt nothing out of the ordinary.
If these mortals weren’t demons disguised as humans… could they be real?
Alexa shook her head. None of this made any sense. Part of her knew this was just a portion of the trials, created to play mind games with her, yet the other part wasn’t so sure.
Alexa shivered slightly and kept going. The closer she got to the castle, the smaller and more insignificant she felt. She kept her right hand on her weapons belt and hurried her step.
Her stomach knotted as she tried to control her nerves. She felt strangely alone without Milo by her side. She’d grown accustomed to the insufferable and proud angel, and now she missed him terribly.
A protective warrior angel could be quite a comfort. The fear of being alone in a strange and dangerous land, even if it was her own fault they’d come here, was only just below the level of her excitement. It wouldn’t take much for the fear to rise over it.
What if something terrible had happened to him? Or maybe Milo wasn’t part of the second trial and she had to face it alone?
Her mind raced. Putrid fumes rose from the moat that surrounded the castle as she crossed the drawbridge. No mortals challenged her as she moved past the outbuildings. No one came forth to bar her way.
The closer she got to the castle, the fewer mortals she saw until there was just her dashing towards the great stone beast. Flags with the symbol of a snake flapped in a crisp wind atop the highest tower. Alexa met no one as she passed the moor and walked through the castle gates.
She could hear the screaming more clearly now. The voice was definitely male. Quickening her pace until she was almost running, she dashed through a gatehouse and under a giant metal portcullis that looked like the mouth of a snake. Finally, she stormed into a large courtyard choked with broken stone and crumbling walls.
Even before she looked, Alexa felt the presence of death. She felt some small life snuffed out. At the same time, she also felt the tug of human death and something else, something cold and dark.
Carefully, Alexa drew her soul blade and moved into the courtyard. Mortal bodies lay on the ground covered in their own blood—women and men with multiple arrows puncturing their chests and faces. Crows picked at a pile of charred corpses, and Alexa felt both sick and furious.
A band of five males, tall and broad-shouldered, stood in the courtyard. Their faces were harsh and grim. They all wore high boots, trousers, and ruffled white shirts buttoned up over dark vests with heavy black capes hanging almost to the ground. Besides the impeccably polished armor, their swords, knives, and lances glinted in the dim light.
They looked like lords of this castle, and yet, Alexa knew at once these weren’t mortals. She felt the familiar swirl of energy that was angel, but there was something else—a sense of something dark, an ultimate cold that pulsed in them.
And among them was Milo.
Her spirits stumbled a beat. He stood next to the men, a vague, dreamlike expression on his face. He looked just like the last time she’d seen him, and his green collar glowed dimly. Although there was a resemblance with these men, Milo stood out among them. He was all light and handsome, whereas they were dark and brutish, almost ogre-like.
As she moved even closer, she could see them more clearly now. Her eyes moved to their necks, and they all had the same snake sigil she’d seen on Milo.
They were his brothers. They were Nephilim.
Three mortal men were huddled before them. Their ragged clothes drooped loosely on their bodies, their faces were beaten and tear stricken, and their bodies were bent and broken. Iron chains dangled from their wrists.
“…dance,” one of the Nephilim was saying as he nocked an arrow and pointed it at the nearest mortal man. “Dance or I’ll rip your tongue out like I did to your friend.” He motioned to the bloody body on the ground next to the small man.
The man moved his body in an awkward motion, hopping on one leg. Alexa noticed that his right leg was limp and hung uselessly at his side. Beads of sweat ran down the man’s temples as a small whimper escaped from his lips. The Nephilim began to laugh.
All but Milo, who was staring at the scene with horror contorting his face, his fists clenched.
The other two mortals had stepped back as far as they could, trying to hide in the open space.
“Faster!” commanded the same Nephilim. His smile was terrifying and feral.
The mortal was red faced and tears ran down his face, but he didn’t stop. There was fear in his eyes. He knew he was about to die.
“Faster!”
The mortal flailed his limbs in the air and above his head, shaking his hands in an attempt at a dance, and then collapsed on the ground, whimpering. He raised his trembling hands and said, “Please, my lords, don’t kill me. I beg you. I have a family. They need me—”
Dark liquid spurted out of his mouth and spilled down his chin over the arrow that impaled his neck. He slumped to the ground just as a brilliant bright sphere hovered over the body for a moment and then disappeared.
The Nephilim laughed harder.
Alexa felt a flame of hatred ignite inside her chest. Her fury achieved new depths as she squeezed her soul blade and crossed the courtyard. They had not seen her enter yet, and she quickened her pace.
The largest of the Nephilim moved forward and pointed to the two remaining men. “You there, come here,” he said to the one nearest him. “We haven’t finished playing. Come.”
The mortal gave a squeal but didn’t move, the whites of his eyes showing.
“I think you’re scaring it, Baruk,” said the Nephilim who had just killed the other mortal in a bored kind of voice. “You must try to be nice with the game. Otherwise, you’ll spoil it. And where’s the fun in that? They must obey of their own will, our little pets.” He laughed as the other brothers joined him.
“I don’t need you to tell me how to play with my pets, Anagar,” said Baruk. There was a smile on his lips but none in those dark eyes. He turned back to the chained mortals and closed the distance between them. “You had promised your daughters,” he said. “They were not beautiful or gentile, but thy were still a promised g
ift to your lords, your gods. But the women have vanished into thin air as though they never were. You wound me, sending my gifts away like this. Have you grown tired of my hospitality so soon?”
“No—no—my lord,” wept the man, tears glimmering in his eyes. “I will get them back! I swear it!”
Baruk smiled a wet-lipped smile. “I don’t believe you. No daughters. No gift. No life.”
With immortal speed, Baruk lashed out, grabbed the weeping man’s head, and snapped it like a twig. He collapsed to the floor as another sphere of brilliant light twinkled and went out. The Nephilim snickered as he turned towards the next man—
“Stop!” Alexa moved cautiously towards them, her eyes flickering from the big Baruk to the other Nephilim and finally to Milo, who had a look of mild surprise at the sight of her.
It wasn’t the greeting she was expecting. He was looking at her with a sort of blank indifference like he’d never seen her before.
“My blade will be the last thing you see before you touch him,” said Alexa, trying not to let Milo’s cold indifference throw her off. Still her soul blade trembled in her hand.
She stepped before the mortal man and whispered in his ear, “Run!” She waited until he’d shuffled away and placed herself in a fighting stance before the Nephilim.
“What’s this?” said Anagar, laughing softly, his eyes rolling over every inch of her. “A female in our midst… and a pretty one at that. A gift sent from Father?”
The Nephilim’s attention homed in on her, watching her with an unnatural hunger in their eyes. She felt like a bunny who’d accidently stepped into a wolf’s pack. A chill crept down Alexa’s spine as she realized what she saw in those eyes.
She scowled and flipped her blade in her wrist. “Lucifer didn’t send me, Nephilim.”
The Nephilim glowered at the mention of their father’s name—all but Milo who continued to look at Alexa with a confounded expression, his mouth hanging open. His lips moved as though he were chewing the words he was holding back.
“You dare speak our father’s name?” said Baruk, soft light glittering off his metal armor. When he frowned, his heavy black brows joined together above his deep-set eyes.
The City of Flame and Shadow Page 17
