Before her, the very air seemed to come alive. Whispers and echoes of the past shone like little stars on every object in the room. She felt the chair below her, the sparkling echo of memory trying to gain hold, but the light shining from her skin prevented it. So she reached for it, allowing it entry into her mind. The scene unfolded like a pop-up book, no pain but pure clarity as if she were a third party in the room, watching the scene. A kitchen, old, maybe forty years ago—the décor told the tale. Same house but with a round kitchen table this time. As if pulled from the mist, two forms took shape. One, a young girl on this chair. The second, her mother, Sandra Marshall.
The memories came. The girl had sat on this chair many times. She had hair like her mother’s, but her face was so much softer, she had a kind soul. She had been so full of joy once, when her father had been around, but not this time. Her mother got angry so easily since Dad had died. Sasha knew she would be punished if it looked like she was going to sin in any way. We mustn’t sin, her mother said. Sin was bad.
But she’d sinned, she had taken something without asking. Now before her stood her mother, hands on her hips, the belt on the table. That terrible belt with the big buckle that left bruises on her skin. Her father’s old belt. Even now, when she was ten years old, it scared her, but only because her mother had made her scared of it.
“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” That voice struck such deep terror in the heart of the girl that she almost wet herself.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to.”
“You didn’t mean to? How can you take your father’s hairbrush without meaning to? Answer me that, Sasha.”
“I just wanted something of Dad’s, that’s all. You keep everything. I deserve to have something to remind me of him!”
“Don’t you raise your voice to me, ungrateful child. So full of sin it sickens me. The preacher says that you need to learn to respect for your mother. Gods says, ‘Honor thy Mother and Father.’ You have done no such thing!”
“Honor, how can I honor someone who doesn’t act like a mother?!” She closed her mouth, but not quickly enough to prevent the words from escaping.
“I’m your mother! But for the sin against God, I might have got rid of you. That man was so desperate for a child. I did my duty, and God punished me with you. Hands on the table, Sasha.”
The girl shook her head and pushed away from the table. “No! I won’t let you beat me anymore!”
The wild look that filled her mother’s face terrified her. Her mother grabbed Sasha by the hair and held her down. Wide eyes watched as those perfectly manicured hands picked up the worn leather belt, the red polish catching the light. Then the pain slashed across her face over and over and over. She cried out, begging her mother to stop. It was as if she were in another world and her cries went unheard. Soon the table was covered with red, just like the polished nails that were now marred by blood and chipped from the force of the blows.
Sasha felt lightheaded. She could feel herself floating as the weight lifted from her. The pain began to fade, but she knew her head was hurt. The blood was rolling into her eyes. There was a gasp from her mother and a sudden cry, hands lifting her from the table.
“Sasha! Oh God, dear God, what have I done? Sasha!”
The voice faded into nothing, only warmth remained. She would see her father soon, she knew it. She would leave this painful place and go to his arms. Willingly she embraced the darkness, anything to be away from that monster.
Sera opened her eyes, the memories washing over her but not sticking as they had done so many times before. She lifted her head. It felt like hours had passed, but Sandra was just now on the third verse of that damned hymn. The woman had killed her own child in her zealotry. The poor girl’s body was buried in the yard under her prize roses. Sera saw it all, the threads that followed one memory on to the next. She could reach out and touch one glittering line, the next memory playing before her as if the very air held the memory just waiting for someone to see.
Sandra had told everyone that Sasha had gone off to boarding school, that she loved it so much she remained there over the holidays. So many lies, so many untruths, until she finally told the town her daughter had died in a car crash coming home for Christmas. She got all the attention and pity she needed from that one lie. She remarried, lived the life of the perfect woman, perfect wife, with no one knowing her gravest sin.
Sera focused on the evil before her. The darkness didn’t even bother her. She could see, as if it were daylight, the sleeping forms of the four children against one wall of the basement and her mad jailer kneeling beside them as she hummed, stroking their hair. Almost as if she cared.
“You think you can kill a god with a bullet? Don’t make me laugh. To think that you believe you’re special, that you’re chosen? I am chosen. I am a Seer. I hold within me the blood of ages, powers you will never comprehend. I have seen your sins, Sandra Marshall. I saw the blood on the table and the screams of a child desperate for the pain to stop.” The humming stopped and the woman stood. Her face twisted in pain, anger, and hate. She stalked toward Sera, her outer shell finally revealing the creature within.
“Shut your mouth! You lie, filthy demon whore! Lies and deceit!” she screeched.
“Did you think burying her in your garden would absolve you of the gravest of sins? Killing your own child? Did you think you were clean of that heinous evil?” Sera winced at the vicious slap across her face. It burned hot, but she didn’t stop.
“Poor Sasha. She wanted so badly to have you love her. You killed her for no greater sin than wanting something of her father’s. You are soiled, sinful. You will never be forgiven.”
Another slap. This one sent her and the chair toppling to the hard concrete floor, and her cheek burned from the force behind it. Sera wouldn’t be surprised if the bitch fractured her own hand with that one. She lifted her head to find that Sandra had started to pull her hair from the perfect bun on her head.
“You think Michael will allow a murderer into his new Eden? ‘Thou Shalt Not Kill,’ Sandra.” The woman’s eyes snapped, and she screamed, falling upon Sera and beating her with her fists. Sera gritted her teeth against the pain from the blows, each one striking her head, her neck, or her shoulders.
“Lies! He promised me, he swore!” Sera could see this woman had been broken long before Michael got ahold of her.
“Go ask him! Ask for the truth from your Archangel. Sinners are not allowed in Eden!” Sera cried out as the sharp nails raked across her face. With a scream of pure insanity, the woman leaped to her feet and rushed from the room.
Seed planted, Sera didn’t know how long she had before Crazy Bitch came back, but she needed to get her hands free. Thanks to Sandra, the chair was now broken, and that gave Sera just enough wiggle room to try and free her hands. Ignoring the plastic cutting into her wrists, she began moving her hands back and forth, the blood making her skin slick.
Ze roared as one of the brainwashed humans shot him in the shoulder. The fight had gone from four against three, to more like ten against three. With a sweep of his clawed hands, he ripped through the human like he was nothing, blood spilling across the road, black in the darkness. Cries from humans and supernaturals alike filled the night.
His eyes sought out Mammon, who fought like a beast possessed, with Isabelle always kept behind him. He wouldn’t allow a single shot to land on his female. He took every bullet or strike. One human ran at him, holding his shotgun above his head like a club. Mammon was distracted for a moment, exposing Isabelle as he faced the attacker. Two humans rushed to aim their weapons at her.
Isabelle lifted her hands, and the wind rushed up around them. She splayed her fingers wide, and the two men fell to their knees, grabbing their heads and crying out. She glowed as she forced the humans to feel their fear on a soul-destroying level. The men fell dead in seconds, their hearts giving out in sheer terror. God, she was terrifying when she used that newly acquired gift of hers.
Ze barely dodged being shot point-blank by a shotgun as he saw Isabelle collapse out of the corner of his eye.
“Get her out of here, Mammon!” Odin shouted, his voice strong, but he was faltering. His previously healed wounds were reappearing on his body as he tried to fight, but his god power was waning by the second. He took the butt of a gun to the head and fell to the road.
The human leveled the gun on the old god but never got the chance to fire, as out of the darkness surged two deadly hellhounds who took him down in a second. His cries of pain were drowned out by the sound of his own blood gurgling in his throat.
“Vile creatures! Be gone!” The preacher who, up until now, had been too much of a coward to get fully involved, lifted his cross and threw holy water at the hounds. It hissed and smoked as it hit their skin. With a yelp of pain, the hounds scattered into the darkness. They were, after all, demons, and blessed objects like holy water could do severe damage to a demon.
Ze panted and stared down the last two attackers. Mammon had taken Isabelle to safety. Odin was still out cold on the pavement. Ze was covered in semi-healed wounds of his own, dark red blood marring his white skin. He flicked his wings and focused his attention on the preacher.
“Think your God will protect you from my wrath, human puppet? I see all the sins of envy. You have allowed your own sin to eat you alive. I see it flowing from you. The irony is you covet something…” Ze paused as if listening. The sin rolled from the preacher, fog-like it sank to the ground, attracted to the Sin of Envy. Ze embraced it, accepting it into himself, reading the sin and seeing the darkest needs of the man before him.
“You crave another man’s wife. You want her so badly you stalk her, watch her. You touch yourself thinking about taking her. You go out at night, paying women who look like her to suck you off so you can fantasize about her mouth around your cock. Fate does indeed like her games, but to have that woman’s husband standing beside you now? Well, that is indeed fortuitous.”
“Lies! Your words are poison!” The preacher’s panic was more than obvious. The puppet beside him shook his head, staring at the man in disbelief.
“Is this true, Malcolm? You’re the one who’s been stalking Erica?” The human took a step backward, his eyes now on the preacher and not the demon.
“No! Jakob, he lies. He is a foul creature from Hell. He only speaks in lies!” The preacher was shaking now, but the other man just shook his head again. His hazel eyes began to clear of the madness. Maybe this one could be saved, just maybe his soul was strong enough to fight off Michael’s influence.
“She told me! She said you had touched her at church. That you tried to kiss her. She asked you to leave her alone. I didn’t believe her. I said you would never do something so terrible. I said she must have misinterpreted or misunderstood. Oh God, Erica. I made her cry. You touched my wife, you sonofabitch!” Ze could see it, the insanity receding from this human. His mind was fighting back, trying to salvage the man from the monster.
The preacher was shaking now. He just needed a little push, and Ze provided it. Reaching for the power granted to him by his father, he called on the sin of jealousy that raged in this man’s heart, making him live it. The sin reached for him like a siren’s song, one he had long ago learned to ignore, the tendrils of darkness curling around his ankles.
“So what if I did? She was supposed to marry me! The only reason I joined the church was because you took her from me. You always took things from me! In school, you did it—my girlfriends, my place on the swim team. It pissed me off back then, but I forgave you. Then you took Erica. She was mine. Mine! You, who had everything handed to him, took what should have belonged to me!” The preacher ran at Jakob, grabbing him by the throat, taking him to the ground.
The darkest part of the demon wanted to watch as they killed each other, but Jakob, the one man strong enough to fight the puppeteer’s control was worth saving. Ze strode forward and lifted the kicking, screaming preacher from the man on the ground. He held the man in the air, his clawed hand around his throat. The preacher struggled, pulling at the demon’s arm, kicking with his legs.
“Your sin has taken your soul. No wonder so many fell to Michael like dominos. You have Blighted the very people you sought to guide and nurture. I am the Sin of Envy, and you will be purified.”
Hunger for the sin stirred in his stomach. Ze pulled the man’s gaping mouth close to his, breathing in deeply as the sin surged around him, boiling from its intensity, fighting back against the demon’s pull. Malcolm struggled even more, but it was to no avail. The smoke-like darkness rushed over his body, filling Ze’s mouth as he took the sin down into himself. It burned like a fine whiskey, sweet on his tongue, almost as addictive as heroin. The preacher stopped struggling as his soul—a pulsing ball of black light, corrupted and dark—was pulled from his body and entered Ze’s mouth.
He immediately began to glow, his white skin coming alive with the markings of his demon bloodline. His tattoo writhed and blazed like a star against the night, as the preacher’s soul underwent purification so that in the Underworld he might be reborn to try again, if judged worthy. But with this one, Ze seriously doubted it.
Dropping the empty body, he turned, his blazing silver eyes seeking the remaining human, who stared at him with fear and awe. Sanity had returned to him, finally. One out of ten had the strength to resist the madness. Poor odds for most, but for this one, it was the lottery win.
“Are you going to kill me? You sucked his soul out, didn’t you? I saw it, it was black, like tar. That’s not right, is it?” For a second Ze thought about killing the human, but anyone with the power to fight back like that deserved his chance. He pushed Envy back—the Sin had his fun, now it was time for cooler heads. Facing the mortal, he remained in demon form as he spoke.
“He was tainted. His soul was purified through me, and thus he may be reborn into a new life, to try again. It is what we do. And you, human, what will you do? You asked if I was going to kill you. I won’t unless you wish it. So few of your species have the strength to fight what Michael did to your mind. I don’t wish to see that strength gone from the world.”
The man looked down at himself, then at the bodies strewn around the street like fallen dolls. He stared at his own hands and shook his head, then lifted his eyes to the demon.
“It felt like someone was in my head. They lifted the darkness from my eyes to show me what was truly there, and I couldn’t fight back against the fear. None of us could. Oh God, how many have died tonight?”
“Too many, Jakob, my lad,” the withered voice of Odin came from behind the demon. Ze turned, letting the old god use him for stability.
“You’re not human. None of you are, are you? How come I don’t feel that fear anymore?” The man rubbed his hands against his shirt, trying to rid himself of what he had done.
“I’m the god Odin, or I was once. You’re a rare man, Jakob. One that can fight back from the brink. Do not belittle that strength, my boy, for this town will need you after tonight.”
“Phillip?” The man didn’t understand, but Ze knew the god was leaving the town in this man’s hands because he wouldn’t be staying.
“I think you know what I’m saying, Jakob. So few that were touched by Michael will have survived this night. Those that do will be like you, stronger for it, but different. You will never be able to look at the world the same way again. Rebuild this town, and love one another as it should be. Go find who you can. We will save those innocent children from Michael.”
The young man nodded, still confused, but having his eyes opened to the true world around him had given him a deeper strength. Ze hadn’t expected to see any mortal capable of fighting back, and he was pleased to be proven wrong. He watched the mortal walk off into the darkness, then break into a run. No doubt he was off to apologize to his wife for doubting her, if she survived. Odin let out a breath, the fight leaving him all at once as his body gave out. Ze wouldn’t allow him to fall. He helped the old
man over to a tree, where he lowered him to the ground.
“Listen, Ze, look after Sera. She is the light. You must stop Michael. Not just tonight, but stop his plan to destroy this world.” Aching tiredness was etched on the old man’s face. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes.
“Hey, you old bastard, don’t you go dying on me right now. Sera would never forgive me. Look, we’ll found a retirement home for decrepit old gods or something. Just stick around, okay?”
The god snorted out a laugh. “Only you would talk to the All-Father in such a way, Sin of Envy. Go, I’m not going anywhere yet. I need to see you make an honest woman of that girl first.”
Ze laughed softly then let out a long breath, pulling his demon form back under his skin, slowly melting away. His wings seemed to evaporate into the air, his body screaming through the wounds. His face smoothed out, talons receding into his fingers and finally, he returned to his human form.
He found Mammon sheltered behind a car. Isabelle curled up in his arms.
“I’m going after Michael. Get her somewhere safe, brother.”
“You can’t go alone.”
He knew his brother was torn. Mammon wanted a piece of Michael as badly as he did, but Isabelle needed him more right now, and that took priority.
From the shadows around them emerged the two hellhounds, a few healing wounds from holy water marred their shadow-like flesh. Eyes of blood red glowed within their forms, their blood-chilling growls filling the darkness. They moved to stand beside Ze, coming to just below his hip. Ze smiled and clapped Mammon on the shoulder.
“I won’t be alone. Call Lucifer, tell him where I’m going. Get Odin and Isabelle somewhere safe. Michael will pay for what he has done to this town. I promise you that.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The Archangel Michael, flanked by Gabriel and Raphael, emerged from the ether into the living room of the human woman that he had been manipulating. Her hoarse cries to come had near split his head open. Evidently, she had been letting that bitch of a Seer get into her head. He would see to that soon enough. Chamuel and Zadkiel were not far behind. They had the knife and herbs to complete the ritual that would make new angelic blessed blades. Raphael held the four newly forged swords, wrapped in a cloth. They would soon contain the souls of the four chosen children.
Envy's Kindness (Seven Deadly Sins Book 2) Page 23
