Mark of the Fallen: A Fallen Novel

by Jones, Tanisha

  She wore all white, today a white cotton bustier and crisp white shorts that reach her mid-thigh. Her shoes were plain white pumps, her snowy hair in a neat bun at her nape. Celeste stared at her, her mouth open but no words would form.

  The infamous Queen of the Dark Fae came toward her, arms open wide in greeting. "You're here. You're finally here." The Queen embraced her, and Celeste stiffened, not sure what to do or feel. Her arms hung limp at her sides, her body tense from the contact. Behind them, she could hear the guards gathering themselves, trying to regain their composure.

  "You're dismissed. Go get patched up," the Queen said without looking at them. She was too busy staring at Celeste. She gingerly held Celeste's sore shoulders and took a good long look at her.

  "Let me look at you," she said, touching the silky dark hair and smooth caramel colored skin. She ran her hands down Celeste's arms. "Wow, you are absolutely gorgeous," she gushed. "But then I knew you would be. How could you not be? Lilith said you were stunning, but my gosh you look so much like your father." She tucked a strand of hair behind Celeste's ear, before tucking Celeste's arm in hers and walking her towards the house. Celeste went with her, too numb to object, too stunned to speak. She stared dazedly at the Queen.

  “I can't stop looking at you. You are really here. Finally after all this time, you are really here."

  Celeste finally gathered herself and stepped back, moving from the Queen's embrace, not wanting the woman to touch her. Finally, she was able to speak through a throat that had closed the moment she'd seen the Queen's face. The words came out hard and clipped through tightly clenched teeth and a bit of a snarl.

  "Hello ....mother."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Nicky sputtered and choked his chest stinging and his eyes burning. He felt as if he were going to throw up or pass out, so he leaned against the wall to support himself. When he finally regained his composure, he looked back at Atropos who seemed no worse for wear. He looked around and saw that they were in the hallway of what he assumed to be a rather expensive hotel.

  "So this is the Collective?" he wheezed, putting his hands on his hips while trying to catch his breath and shrugged. "I thought it would be more...magic-y." He waggled his fingers in the air. Atropos just gave him that twitchy smile and pointed to the door behind them.

  "This is Celeste's suite; you can stay here until everything is okay. You can ride out the storm here as well. You will be safe, "Atropos said opening the door and Nicky peered inside, smiling at the apartment beyond.

  "Storm?" he said.

  "Arbor is dying, Nicholas. The storm is going to be massive, dangerous and many will die. You cannot release an elemental, especially one as old and powerful as our Arbor, to nature without some major damage. Here, you will be safe, protected. Now go, rest well," she said. Nicky stared at her, confused and a little jet lagged from the trip. She touched his cheek, and smiled serenely. He could see the divinity in her then, that ethereal quality that always surrounded Celeste.

  "You are very special, Nicholas. You burn so bright, it's blinding. You are so much more than you realize. You are destined for more than this world," she said. He was lost in the swirling color of her eyes, then snorted and shook his head.

  "You're just messing with me right?" he asked and saw the twinkle in her eye.

  "Perhaps." Then just as quickly as she had come, she was gone. Shrugging this off as yet another oddity of being "adopted" by a family of mythological creatures, Nicky made his way into the apartment, kicking the door closed behind him.

  He dropped his bags at the door and looked around the living room with interest. It was a bright airy room, even with no windows. He strolled across the living room, running a finger over the hardwood top of the bar. The decor, though lacking color was obviously expensive, from the metal artwork on the walls to the rugs on the floor and television, everything was state of the art, top of the line. He stared at a hole in a bare wall behind the bar and noticed a painting on the floor. He stared at the painting and wondered if it had fallen or if it hadn't yet been hung. The hole would suggest the former, either way he found it odd. He looked at it for a minute, then turned his attention to the bar and found it odd that the liquor had been secured behind a locked door. Odder still, he thought, but then what did he know. He marveled at how neat everything was, especially since Celeste was known to leave things around her apartment. There were books and papers everywhere in that place, but here everything was orderly, not one thing out of place. Whoever cleaned this place did a great job, better than many of the five star hotels he'd stayed in, and this one even had a kitchen.

  He went to look in the fridge to see if there was anything exotic and otherworldly in there. What he found was a well-stocked fridge of fresh, everyday mundane foods. It was better stocked than Celeste ever kept her the pantries of her apartment. He found it odd that there were no glasses or silverware; all of the dishes were plastic. Weird, he thought, with all of this luxury that they would skimp on the dinnerware. Strange, but then again he'd been surrounded by the strange for the last six years.

  He looked down at his cell phone, the clock flashing different times, as if he were crossing time zones even though he hadn't moved. He dialed the number of a member of his band and the line immediately connected, so at least that worked. What was he supposed to do in this place? And how long would he have to stay? He wanted to get out of here, but he wasn't even sure where here was. Was he even on Earth or were they on another plane? He needed to feel useful, not like a damsel locked in a tower. If he couldn't help find Celeste, maybe he could track down Remy. He just needed to find a place to start. He'd known, from conversation with Celeste about this mysterious floating fortress that Remy's apartment was across the hall from hers. He would start the search there. Right after he had a shower.

  ***

  Remy could tell that someone had entered the suite and for a moment believed it wasn't Lilith. He thought it was Nicky but that just couldn't be. He'd had that dream before where Nicky would find him, or Celeste or Gaston and even Briar, but they had always just been dreams, prayers that his nightmare would end. He no longer prayed for rescue, and now, as he lay on the bathroom floor, tears stinging his eyes he prayed for death. He was naked, his body bruised, broken and bloody and he wanted to stay that way. He wanted to die.

  And his mother was dying. She was dying and he was trapped in this hell by that spiteful troll. He heard the door slam closed and his body tensed in anticipation of her beckoning. He held his breath, praying that the gods would take his life before she reached him, then he would be there to greet Arbor in the heavens.

  Lilith had taken everything from him, including his ability to shift, but she had never been able to tap into that place to control his mind, she had his body and sometimes could control his voice, but never his thoughts. She'd become furious when he'd laughed at her when she could no longer force his exhausted body to perform for her. He had taunted her, calling her weak and lacking because even with all the power she possessed, she couldn't get him to do as she pleased.

  "With all your magic, you can't even force me to want you anymore. You evil used slag. You've tried so hard to be Celeste, dressing like her, living in her suite, but it didn't work. No one fell at your feet as the second coming, because you are a sad, pitiable imitation of her." He laughed. "You are disgusting and no man worth anything will want you. You are so wretched, that you had to poison my mother because even your own parents don't want you." He laughed, and he could see the fury in her eyes.

  "I'm warning you, Remy –" She growled and he laughed harder.

  "You can't be her. Even at her worst, Celeste has never had to force a man to be with her. Never had to manipulate or trick someone into loving her. Even your own parents are obsessed with her. That's why they sent you here, isn't it. So you can find out every single detail of her life, to report everything about her, what she eats, who she loves because she is the ideal. She is what you have always wanted to
be and you can't. You will always live in the shadow of her perfection. I mean I didn't even want you and I've fucked everyone!" He sneered and it had been too much.

  She had taken his voice and even when she began to hurt him, he silently laughed through the pain, knowing that she was losing control. Her anger had pushed her to the verge of insanity and she had sent for Briar.

  Briar. The thought of him made him hurt even more. What she'd done to him, the way she'd forced him to watch as she had the skin sliced from his broad muscled back and thighs had broken him. He could only stare, forced to watch as Briar howled in agony. He'd begged her to stop, pleading for Briar to forgive him with each slice into his smooth tawny skin.

  "There is nothing to forgive," Briar had croaked, his lips dry and cracked, his eyes filled with tears. She had allowed Remy to kneel beside Briar, to speak to him, but he could not touch him. "This," Briar had said in his beautiful, floral Gaelic, "is not your doing, álainn. This is not your fault."

  When he thought of all of the pain he'd caused with his weakness, his betrayal, the people he loved most were being hurt and dying. He had found a way out, a way that she hadn't seen in her obsession to become something and someone she would never be.

  He lay completely still squeezing his eyes closed when he heard someone approaching the bedroom. He exhaled and turned his head when he heard singing, low and off key, coming toward him. He knew that voice instantly, and turned his head just as Nicky froze in the doorway.

  "Holy fuck," Nicky screeched sliding across the floor to cradle Remy's head in his lap. Tears streamed down his cheeks, blinding him as Nicky searched for a towel to staunch the blood that poured from Remy's wrists and throat.

  "Remy, sweet Jesus, what did you do?" Nicky screamed, tying towels around Remy's wounds to staunch the bleeding. "Why aren't you healing? What did you do?" He looked around the room, trying to find whatever had been used to work so much damage. Remy weakly lifted his hand, to show Nicky a long, thick, blood slicked nail, the one, Nicky guessed, had been holding up the painting he'd seen on the floor.

  "Dumb slag forgot about that." He choked smiling up at Nicky with blood covered teeth.

  Nicky couldn't figure out what to do other than reach for the cell that was still in his back pocket. He flipped the phone open with one hand and stared at the screen. He couldn't call 911, it's not like he could call an ambulance to this place. He didn't even know where this place was; let alone how to get inside. He scrolled through the address book and stopped at the first name that made any sense to him.

  He pushed talk, holding the phone to his ear as he continued to apply pressure to the cut at Remy's throat. He coughed, blood splattering across his face and Nicky's bare chest.

  "Nicky," Gaston began but was immediately interrupted by Nicky who was near hysterics.

  "I have Remy, he's bleeding to death. Come to Celeste's suite in the Collective. Something is wrong, I don't know how to stop the blood. He's not healing. What do I do? Shit. What do I do? He's all bruised and I don't know what to do. There's blood everywhere." He hadn't even taken a breath when he heard the clatter as the door burst open and voices calling to them. It sounded as if an army had entered all speaking at once; languages he didn't understand came from voices he didn't recognize.

  "Here! We're here!" Nicky called as several faces appeared in the bathroom door. Gaston still had the phone in his hand and Nicky could hear his own voice echoing from the receiver. Gaston went pale beneath his tan skin, his eyes wide and red rimmed.

  "Chers dieux dans le ciel, Remy qu'avez-vous fait?" Gaston cried and fell to his knees beside his brother. Remy smiled and touched Gaston's shirt with a blood drenched hand. Nicky wasn't fluid in French but that he understood because had asked the same thing.

  "Dear gods in heaven, Remy what did you do?" Gaston repeated over and over, kissing his little brother's forehead, tears streaming down his cheeks.

  "She can't use me anymore. That fucking mongrel bitch can't use me to hurt anyone ever again. I win." He began to cough and choke. Nicky and Gaston shared a look, before Gaston asked the question.

  "Who Remy? Who can't use you anymore?" he asked in a low even voice, even though he knew the answer. He was trying his best to tamp his fury, because he could feel Lisette just about vibrating with rage behind him.

  "Lilith. I beat that bitch," he said, and closed his eyes, waiting for the sweet embrace of death.

  ***

  Karim closed the door and turned to face her, his expression stony. She smiled, letting her robe drop from her shoulders exposing silky white skin. Karim blinked and walked toward her with a sexy hip swinging swagger. She smiled and dropped the robe a little more, showing just a hint of cleavage. With large, surprisingly warm hands, he cupped her cheek and looked at her with those pale green eyes and smiled, showing just a hint of fang.

  "Stop fucking around and tell me where she is." He moved closer, his breath tickling her lips.

  "Fucking around is exactly what I want. I'll tell you what," she licked her lips in anticipation of a kiss and smiled. "If you're a good boy, I'll tell you anything," She ran her hands up his chest and he caught her wrists, pushing her away.

  "I would rather have my manhood removed with rusty pruning shears than to have to have sex with you. It would be much more enjoyable than being pummeled by you, you tired, worn out piece of overused demon ass." He slammed her body against the window, the glass cracking and his arm beginning to smolder as the late afternoon sunlight seared his skin. He didn't feel the pain or even care that his skin was smoking.

  "Tell me where she is or by the gods I will reach down your throat and rip that stone you call a heart from your chest. I know that cretin is your mother, Nyx told me everything. So now you'll tell me everything and I may not throw you out the fucking window." He pressed harder and she could feel the heat from the still air against her skin. Glass pierced her skin like tiny needles, smearing her blood on the glass, the smell of burning flesh choking her.

  "Speak," he growled, and she heard a piece of glass fall to the ground. When she didn't say anything, he pulled back and slammed her harder against the glass and she cursed that she had one of the only rooms in this mausoleum without a patio. There was a straight drop of at least 50 feet to the stone patio below. It wouldn't kill her, she didn't think, but it would definitely hurt like a son of a bitch. He slammed her body again, and more chunks of glass fell and shattered, some cutting deeper into her back and panic filled her. One more shove and the entire window would give; she couldn't breathe and he was staring at her with an intensity that made her heart beat faster.

  "I don't know!" she screamed, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I don't know! I never knew! I don't know where she is!!! She howled and there was a sudden quiet stillness in the room. The pressure at her neck relented, but he didn't release her. She could hear him breathing, the hand at her throat a raw red mess of exposed muscle and bone, but Karim felt none of it.

  "I have never enjoyed killing any one more than this; I think I'll savor it a little longer," he whispered against her ear before biting a chunk of flesh from her neck. She tried to scream but only managed a strangled gurgle. Karim chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that made her chest vibrant and her body twitched from utter terror.

  "You have nothing to say, Lilith? No witty comebacks?" He pressed harder, and she raked at his hands, trying to loosen his grip on her throat and push away the hand on her chest.

  The bedroom door blew opened and the room was filled with soldiers, Lisette leading the way.

  "Karim, by order of The Grey, I demand that you release her. We have what we need." He looked over his shoulder at Lisette. She met his gaze, her tone even and stern.

  "Let her go. We have what we need,” she repeated and something in her expression made him comply. He stepped back, the smoking flesh of his arm beginning to heal when he stepped out of the sunlight, taking a position behind Lisette in the safety of the shadows.

  "Thank the gods you're
here. He was going to kill me. He was going to rape me!" Lisette's brow shot up, and then she turned to look at Karim. His sardonic expression was more than Lisette needed to assure her that Lilith had just lied.

  “Is that the story you're going with?" Lisette laughed. "Gentlemen, take Ms. Prince into custody." Lilith sputtered, unable to speak as two rather large guards in complete battle armor grasped her arms. "We found Remy, you dumb fuck. You are being charged with kidnapping, false imprisonment, torture, coercion, treason, sexual assault, rape, and if Arbor dies …” She moved closer, her deep brown eyes flashing with barely restrained fury, her jaw clenched, “murder."

  The guards half dragged Lilith from the room as she uselessly fought against them. They didn't even struggle with her, easily lifting her off of her feet to half carry, half drag her along like a petulant child.

  "We will find her,” Lisette said, taking Karim’s hand in hers. He nodded, squeezing her fingers. "Just between us, you should have ripped her heart out." She winked and left the room, her voice carrying over Lilith's shrieks of protest.

  "Also, you're being charged with being an unbearable canker on my ass, an annoying twat and a god-awful lay."

  ***

  Celeste stood at the opposite end of the room from her mother, her eyes scanning her surroundings with slight interest. Everything was either black or white and gave Celeste a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Like her beaming mother, this was all a facade, masking the sinister truth. Nemesis had taken extra care in making everything around her look perfect, but beneath the pretty decor was the smell of sulfur and evil. Celeste felt ill at ease, but she remained stoic.

  She noted Blueman standing silently in the corner, looking at her with unadulterated hatred. His face was battered and his shirt torn, his eyes narrowed to the point of non-existence. She smiled at him and gave him the finger, before returning her gaze to her mother.

  "Lilith did not do you justice. Just look at you. Come, sit." She patted the sofa cushion beside her, but Celeste remained rooted in place, her arms folded across her chest. She had no intention of sitting beside this woman, nor would she drink the tea or coffee that were continually being offered. Pursing her lips in frustration, Nemesis pressed on.