We slipped through the Void, the temperature dropping markedly. Gray shapes blurred past, then nothing but black surrounded us, the air thinning, seconds before we snapped onto solid ground. At once, my VS pulsed a warning. I guess so. We were in the most dangerous place a Flamma of Light could possibly be. And I recognized it.
Dead trees with naked limbs sprouted in a misty forest. I reached out and touched a nearby branch, and the tip crumbled into ash. No sky above us, only infinite black, an endless abyss. Unlike the last time I’d been here, the mist didn’t curl around me seductively, controlled by some unseen force—Danté. He was still suffering in the bowels of Cocytus, thankfully.
“I know this place. I’ve been here before.” My voice vibrated with a strange echo. A slight breeze brushed my cheek as if welcoming an old friend. But my memory of this place was one of horror and dread.
I glanced around, wondering how close we were to Danté’s castle, the place where I’d almost become an imprisoned slave for eternity.
“This dark forest extends throughout the underworld. Nothing lives here. But we shouldn’t delay. This way.”
He led us along a path with no markings of any kind, only the same desolate gray as the woods surrounding us. He came to a stop between two oak-like trees. They were not the beautiful oaks of the living world, but giant, dead guardians of this place, drooping arms linking in an arch over the path. An unnatural wind creaked through naked limbs. Beyond this unnatural arch, a ghostly blue glow illumined a clearing ahead. I could see part of the clearing beyond a bend in the path.
“I cannot go any farther. The wards prevent angels from passing this point.”
“Then how do you know it’s here? And why won’t it keep me out?”
“I know. Just trust me.” He implored with his gentle gaze and a squeeze of my hand enveloped in his. I hadn’t even noticed he’d taken it. “And you’re born of earth, not the heavens. You also have your Vessel Power, which is a natural shield against the Dark. You’ll be fine.”
I inhaled a deep breath, then blew it back out, mist curling in the stagnant air. “Okay. Wish me luck.”
He brushed a kiss along the back of my hand. “You won’t need it.”
With a deep breath, I stepped under the branched archway into the blue haze, my VS lighting me up like a firefly. I felt nothing different, no encroaching danger, no demon spawn about to jump out at me. I walked on, rounding the bend in the path to a circular opening, reminding me of the one from the dream I had of Thomas, but this one was covered in dusky ash, not snow. Dead center of the clearing was a black stone monolith jutting up at least ten feet. My stomach dropped. Not because of the prophecy I could see even from here, the yellowed parchment pinned to the obsidian stone, but because of the person I saw standing there staring at it.
Jude.
I walked closer, unsure whether my eyes were deceiving me, the unnatural glow casting him in blue light. He spun, unsheathing and raising his sword, ready to strike. His fierce expression melted into one of shock and fear the second he laid eyes on me.
“Genevieve. What are you doing here?” He sheathed his sword and marched toward me.
“What are you doing here? How did you know—”
“No time!” He barreled the last few feet toward me, grabbing me by the arms. The electric sensation I sensed before a sift tingled over my skin, but nothing happened. “Fuck. Why’d you come here? Who brought you here?” His voice echoed with a violent vibration, bouncing within the clearing.
“Jude. What’s happening?”
The air shifted. The mist stilled, blue radiance growing brighter. A vacuum began sucking the sound from all around us.
“Oh no,” I murmured as the forewarning of a soul collector rippled over my senses.
Still holding on to me, Jude glanced wildly around, searching for an escape. Without the power to sift, there was none. And there was no outrunning a soul eater. Ever.
“She’ll want her toll,” he whispered, fixing me with a desperate look. Sheer terror marked his face, his eyes sparking amber-gold, like a living flame.
“What do you mean?” Before he could answer, I knew I’d made a mistake.
“No Flamma of Light can come here without paying a toll. I summoned Styx and fed her. That’s how I got here.” I’d watched Jude feed the river of hate once before, the black residue of dark souls he carried within him. Payment for services rendered.
“But I have nothing to pay her.”
“Yes, you do.” His voice had dropped low and terrifying.
“My soul,” I whispered, the words vanishing into ether as they left my lips.
The echo had lapsed away. No sound traveled at all now, as if muffled through water. When whichever soul collector appeared in the wake of this sound vacuum, I’d hear nothing at all.
“How do we get out of here?” I asked, panic gripping me in its cold talons.
Jude cradled my face between his palms, his expression softening to one of sheer adoration. So strange. Now was not the time to get romantic or sentimental, yet there he was with that look that had melted my bones time and time again, as if he had forever to stand and gaze his fill.
“I knew I could never keep you. When I’m gone”—his voice became more and more distant with every word—“don’t stay here for a second. Leave immediately. Go to our home. Tell George what has happened.”
“What do you mean gone?”
A ghastly moan rippled across the clearing, wiping out all sound but the haunting wail chilling my blood. Over Jude’s shoulder, the collector floated out of the obsidian monolith as if she’d been hiding there all along. An old hag, her gown a tattered black cloak, her papery skin pale and loose, hanging from fleshless bones. Lethe. The River of Forgetfulness. My underlight pulsed bright, defending me against her aura of oblivion. She opened her arms as if she held the balm to all pain and woes within her bosom. And perhaps she did for lost souls who yearned to forget.
Jude didn’t look. He knew who was there, hovering like a spectre. I said his name but made no sound. His mouth ticked up on one side right before he pressed his lips to mine, sealing me with every passionate emotion he felt for me in one, warm kiss.
He drew back, hesitating only a second, and mouthed the words I love you. He’d never said them before now. I could hear his voice in my mind, even if the soul eater had robbed me of the velvet-deep sound that made me feel cherished and protected. Truly and deeply loved.
No, I tried to scream, unable to hear the anguished yell tearing from my throat, finally realizing his plan. Too late.
He shoved something in my jeans pocket, pressed a firm, violent kiss to my lips, then turned, took three giant steps and leapt into Lethe’s arms, vanishing into her ratty cloak.
I screamed, still void of any sound in her vacuum. As if in rewind, she sucked herself back into the stone, her threadbare cloak billowing, her sorrowful moan dying away as she disappeared with my love. My husband.
I stood there, stupefied in agonizing loss, remembering his last words. Leave immediately.
I jerked my head around, scanning the clearing, refusing to let my anguish flow in this dark, unforgiving place.
I sifted, closing my eyes and focusing hard to propel myself from the black forest in hell that had stolen what I loved most in the world. There was only one place to go. I landed on wobbly feet. The soothing sound of ocean waves and blustery, salty wind washed over me. I opened my eyes to such an achingly beautiful sight, my heart splintered. The whitewashed cottage glowed under the moonlight, waiting for me. The fresh kindling Jude had chopped a few days ago was still stacked near the entrance.
I stumbled toward the door and shoved it open, then sank onto the rug before the cold hearth. Only then did I plunge into the well of grief waiting to drown me in its endless embrace. I curled into a tight ball, remembering the look on Jude’s face as he said good-bye, knowing it was for the last time. He’d held me with love, not regret, sacrificing himself without a moment’s h
esitation. The second I saw him standing there, I knew he was no longer the man who murdered with revenge and hate in his heart. I’d forgiven him in an instant. I’d even pitied the broken man he had once been.
Why had Thomas shown me that?
The answer was clear. He thought the vision would drive me into his arms. And it nearly had. I trusted him, and he’d lied to me. He sent me into that circle in hell, where he knew I’d have to pay the ultimate toll for crossing through the demons’ wards. But it wasn’t my soul he was out to destroy. Jude hadn’t told me how he knew the prophecy was there, but I could guess the information came from a certain green-eyed angel who served only himself, no longer serving the Light as he once had. I purged the hatred wanting to take root in my heart. I had no room for it.
Jude.
Jude.
Jude.
My VS throbbed with stinging pulses rocketing under my skin, vibrating to my marrow, filling my entire being with shattering grief.
“Jude,” I whispered. The only word, the only mantra swelling from deep inside, yearning to cross my lips over and over.
I let the bone-crushing heartbreak take over, let myself slip into a surreal place of crippling despair.
My VS called to me, trying to pull me from dark oblivion where I longed to go and never return. I wanted to lose myself entirely, but my VS wouldn’t let me go. A new pulse thumped low in my belly, a warm burn slowly building, feeding off my grief, my love, my longing, my heartache. The beating pulsed through my veins, a heartbeat that was not my own, swelling up into my chest. A soothing balm melted through my bones, even as the throbbing grew stronger, hazing my senses till all I felt was the overwhelming thump-thump spilling up around my heart. It was foreign, yet a part of me. New, yet older than time. Mine, yet solitary with a will of its own.
I uncurled from the floor and sat up, staring down at my chest where the brightest white light I’d ever seen pulsed around my heart. Blinding and burning, the glow emanating from within my bosom crossed the layer of flesh and bone, right through my skin, stardust exploding across my mind. An amorphous casing, pulsing with life and light, floated to the carpet. Mouth agape, I watched as the light slowly dimmed. The pain within my chest evaporated as the being that had just come out of me took shape, transforming from a gelatinous orb into something that fluttered and flapped. Its small oblong body popped upright onto two spindly legs with sharp talons. Its head twisted left, then right, shaking off the remnants of the casing from its sharp beak. Finally, it turned its fiery-orange gaze on me, opening its white wings to full breadth, then closing the plumage tight against its back.
A white hawk. Utterly shocked, I stared at the spawn of Light I didn’t know I could create. An ethereal glow shimmered on its feathers. A fey glint shone from otherworldly eyes.
My leg was crooked, my knee upright. She popped up onto my knee, waiting for something. I reached out, unsure, petting from the top of her head down her back. She closed her eyes to slits, a look of pleasure. And that was all it took to make our connection complete. She was mine, an unearthly child to help me on my path. And there was only one path I meant to take.
Epilogue
Standing on the cliff’s edge, I watched the sky, waiting for Mira’s return.
My mother used to tell me a story of a fairy named Mira, made entirely of gold and silver light. Every dark force she’d encountered in her fairy world, she’d surrounded with magical dust, shaking her essence of glittery gold and silver till the evil villain vanished from her realm of good. Mira meant light. And so it was the perfect name for my white hawk, who’d come to help me on my path against the darkness before me.
I’d mourned for three days, cutting myself off from the rest of the world. My emotions swirled from sorrow to bitterness to anger to revenge. I stood now with nothing but steadfast determination coursing through my frame. I’d sent Mira to seek George and bring him here. She understood whatever command I gave her, almost as if she had a direct link to my mind. Fascinating, this creature of my own making.
A pulse of energy crackled next to me. George appeared with Mira perched on his arm. Wide-eyed and statue-stiff, he stared from me to my white hawk. She lifted off and soared away over the coastline, her favorite haunt of the evenings. Lots of little crabs and mussels to find along the beach.
“Genevieve.” He said my name with such urgency and wonder combined, I thought he’d lost his ability to speak.
“Yes.” I answered his question before he asked. “She’s my spawn, a creature of Light.”
“I’ve never seen one. I’ve never seen anything like her. Angels cannot generate spawn. And no Vessel—”
“I know. No Vessel has been able to, because they’ve all fallen to the Dark. Well, I’m not one of them.” I couldn’t keep the ire from penetrating my words. I had a mission in mind and was determined to follow it no matter where George stood on the matter.
“Where’s Jude? I’ve lost contact with him. I thought he might’ve been—”
“He was taken by Lethe.”
“The soul eater. But…how? For what purpose?”
“To save me when I entered hell to find this.” I pulled Jude’s phone from my jacket. When Jude had been swallowed by Lethe, I didn’t give a shit about the prophecy anymore, didn’t even care what he’d thrust in my pocket. All I knew was my own grief. Before I’d arrived, Jude had taken a photograph of the prophecy.
“Is this…”
“Yes.”
George took his time reading through to the end, scrolling down to the bottom, his brow pursed in deep concentration.
I waited till he was finished, the bitter cold skating against my skin. I’d come to love this place, even its icy climate. Everything here was sacred to me. “I’m going after Jude.”
He tucked the phone in his pocket, joining me in staring out at the rolling waves, crashing against the craggy shore in the distance.
“Genevieve, I cannot tell you how much it grieves me that Jude is lost.” His voice broke with the emotion he held in check. Grief I knew too well, better than him. “But there is no going into a soul collector and coming out.”
“You of all people shouldn’t be telling me that. You know what it’s like to dive into hell for someone you love.”
The shattered expression that broke across his face told me the truth. He not only once loved Kat, he still loved her. Deeply. “But the prophecy. You are the Vessel it speaks of. We need you here when the time comes. The world needs you—”
Attempting to rein in my temper, fury wanting to burst from my lungs, I spoke with shaking words of steely absolution. “I don’t care if the world burns. With or without your help, I am going to save my husband.”
And the father of my unborn child.
After Mira had arrived, the warmth deep in my belly remained. I thought perhaps I was coming down with a fever from being distraught and hopeless, or having an aftershock of creating spawn. I obviously had no one to question on the subject. I’d also heard how depression can affect people physically, causing them to fall into illness. Then my VS whispered along that star-bright line, not in words, but through a knowing, an intuition that Mira came from a deep place of creation, the place where my womb now nurtured the child Jude had planted there.
Silence stretched between us for a long moment before George finally dipped his chin, a movement reminding me so much of Jude.
Jude.
Jude.
Jude.
“Very well.” George snapped me back from that haunted place. “I’ll help, of course. How could I not?”
I glanced up at the sky. Mira made her way back home, soaring high, blending with the billowy white clouds promising more snow. Her high-pitched screech echoed over the sound of the rolling sea below, guiding my spirit higher, refusing to let me sink too far. I had to keep my head high and my mind clear if I was ever going to see Jude again and drag him from the pit of hell he was in.
“Good. I have an idea where to start.”
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About the Author
Juliette calls lush, moss-laden Louisiana home, where the landscape curls into her imagination, creating mystical settings for her stories. Her love of mythology, legends and art serve as constant inspiration for her works. From the moment she read Jane Eyre as a teenager, she fell in love with Gothic romance—brooding characters, mysterious settings, persevering heroines, and dark, sexy heroes. Even then, she not only longed to read more novels set in Gothic worlds, she wanted to create her own. Forged in Fire is the beginning of her tale of Genevieve and Jude.
Website: www.juliettecross.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/juliettecrossauthor
Twitter: www.twitter.com/Juliette__Cross
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/author/show/7795664.Juliette_Cross
Look for these titles by Juliette Cross
Now Available:
The Vessel Trilogy
Forged in Fire
Sealed in Sin
Coming Soon:
Bound in Black
She never knew this demon world existed. Now she just wants to survive it.
Forged in Fire
© 2015 Juliette Cross
The Vessel Trilogy, Book 1
Genevieve Drake never needed a man to come to her rescue. Not until the night of her twentieth birthday, when some dude nearly chokes her to death in an alley behind a New Orleans Goth club. And a hot stranger splits the guy in half, rips a monster from inside, and incinerates it into ash.
The hunky rescuer? Jude Delacroix—Dominus Daemonum, Master of Demons, now her guardian, whether she likes it or not. But she’s seriously beginning to like it.
Her would-be murderer turns out to be only the first of many minions of the demon prince, Danté, who has all kinds of lascivious and sadistic plans. Which means when the formidably beautiful Jude offers his protection, Genevieve has no problem accepting it.
Sealed in Sin Page 27
