Revelation (Redemption series Book 4)

by R. K. Ryals

  I wanted to reach for her, but other than my thoughts—the things I thought I was feeling, I couldn’t actually feel my body. It was a strange, unsettling place to be.

  “In and out,” I whispered, making my breath deep and loud, so that where ever she was, she could hear it. “Breathe with me. In and out.”

  For a long moment, there was only the sounds of our breath, mingling in a world of darkness, and then Dayton gasped.

  “Oh, my God, Marcas!” she cried. “I see something.”

  I strained, but there was nothing. Nothing except darkness.

  “I don’t—” I began.

  “It’s a light,” she exhaled. “A very bright white light.” She paused, her breathing loud and excited in the dark world. “Marcas,” she said, “it’s calling to me. I hear my name, and it sounds like my mother.”

  If there’d been anything left of me except darkness, my world would have fallen away. Instead, I simply inhaled, my heart filling with gratitude for the Father. The angels had continued to shed my blood on the altar even after they realized I was still bound to Dayton.

  Now, He was giving her a way out.

  “Go,” I said suddenly. “Go toward the light, Blainey.”

  “Marcas,” she stuttered. “No …”

  “Go,” my voice rising, the old frustration and irritation I’d once unleashed on her filling it. “Go … for me.”

  “I—”

  “Dayton,” I interrupted. “You’re lost when you’re with me. Go, let yourself be found. Go, and find happiness.”

  A sob escaped her. “It hurts,” she cried. “The thought of leaving you hurts too much.”

  My pulse had quickened, and I inhaled loudly. In this place of darkness, we were residing on a world of sighs. “Don’t let the light go, Blainey,” I begged. “Please.”

  She started to say something again, and I stopped her.

  “Listen to me,” I demanded. “The light can mean only good things for you. You understand me. If you don’t go, you could be stuck with me here for an eternity in a world of nothing.”

  “But you saved your people,” she protested. “They couldn’t do that to you.”

  “Yes,” I broke in, “they can. Please, Blainey. Go to the light! For me. Go!”

  We fell into silence, the world of sighs returning before she suddenly said, “I love you.”

  “I know,” I answered her. “Go, Blainey.”

  Then … there was nothing.

  Blackness …

  Breathe in … breathe out …

  Breathe in … breathe out …

  Breathe in … breathe out …

  “Marcas?”

  I inhaled, the sharp sound full of desperation. “Damn it, Blainey!” I yelled, my voice filled with a mountain of emotions; relief, fear, despair, and joy.

  She waited for me to finish yelling. She waited for me to exhaust all of my anger, not at her, but at the situation. She’d stayed. She’d stayed behind in the darkness with me.

  “I kind of …” she stumbled, her words coming low and rushed when she said, “You bleed, I bleed, remember?”

  “This isn’t bleeding, Blainey. This is nothing.”

  She laughed. “Then you dream, I dream.”

  I should have said something after that, anything, but I suddenly found myself laughing instead, my chuckles rising to join hers.

  “I dream, you dream.”

  Those words were barely out of my mouth when I suddenly began to fall, literally fall. It was strange because I couldn’t feel my body, couldn’t see anything but the black veil, but somehow I knew I was falling.

  “Marcas!” Dayton screamed.

  “Are you falling, too?” I called.

  “Yes! Oh, my God.”

  I inhaled. “Hold on, Blainey!” I yelled. “Just hold on!”

  Chapter 31

  I was an arrogant son of a bitch, and I’d played the Judas with Dayton at S.O.S. headquarters, but I was becoming tired of the world of men, the world controlled by demons and angels. I wanted to separate Hell from Heaven, to keep that divide for an eternity, even if it meant suffering more danger to get it. I wanted power, I wanted to help my brother, and I wanted to make Monroe a queen. This was the reason, I slipped on the Seal of Solomon, walked up to Lucifer’s throne in the very bowels of Hell, held up my hand, and used the ring of God to trap Lucifer in the Seal. Because in the end, no one wants to mess with a King.

  ~Luther, the Demon of Lust~

  Dayton

  We fell into a world of glass.

  Light suddenly exploded around us, trapping me, and I shaded my eyes as I fell, my gaze dropping to the world below. My body had returned, my legs covered in the same blue jeans I’d been wearing when Marcas had been sacrificed for the children of Cain. A red tank top was pulled over my torso, and it was covered in blood, the color hiding the stains.

  Marcas fell beside me, his chest still bare, the black sweatpants the only thing covering his legs. He wore no shoes. I’d been wearing flip-flops in Italy before our death, but now my feet were as bare as his.

  Below was an ocean of broken glass as far as the eyes could see. One glance, and I was screaming, pulling desperately on my power to keep from slamming into the nasty looking shards. Surprisingly, my power responded, slowing my descent.

  Beside me, Marcas did the same, his dark gaze traveling over the sparkling world. It was beauty, and it was evil.

  “It’s like the tests with Satan.” I whispered.

  Marcas reached for me. We were hovering now above the glass, and he tugged me into his embrace, his face going into my hair.

  Inhaling deeply, he breathed, “No, this isn’t like the tests.”

  I clutched him. The air around us was nothing but white light, beauty and peace, shining down on the glass and turning it into a multitude of brilliant colors; blues, greens, and yellows.

  “Dayton—” Marcas began.

  He never got to finish his sentence.

  We fell the rest of the way to the ground, our powers stripped from us. Marcas clutched me, turning so that when we hit the glass, his body took the blunt of the impact. It didn’t matter. Whatever happened to him always happened to me, too.

  I screamed, my back splitting open, small gashes marring my flesh. The shards of glass weren’t big, but somehow that was worse. They were splinters, a room full of them, and we were afraid to move.

  “Damn it!” Marcas yelled, his gaze going to the white sky. “I am so sick and tired of bleeding!”

  He embraced me, my blood covering his hands, my chest against his chest.

  “You should sit up,” I whispered, afraid that if I spoke louder, this world would eat us alive.

  “You should have gone into the light, Blainey,” Marcas murmured.

  Despite the pain, despite the tight, stinging discomfort in my back, I smiled up at him. “We’re sick people, Craig. You know, we really aren’t healthy. But I don’t think there’s a cure for what we are.”

  Marcas attempted to sit up, and I yelped as fire bit into my legs and backside, more small gashes opening where the glass was biting into Marcas’ flesh.

  His hand suddenly cupped my cheek, his gaze roaming over my face. “I guess it’s better to be lost together than found apart.”

  I stared at him. There was blood on his fingers, but as terrible as it sounded, I rarely noticed blood anymore. It had become such a constant in my life, as normal as water.

  “Even angels have their demons,” I whispered.

  He smiled, his forehead coming to rest against mine. “This would be so much better,” he added, “if I didn’t have an ass full of glass.”

  A surprised laugh escaped me. “I’m a good influence on you, Craig. I’ve given you a sense of humor.” Pulling back, I glanced over the gleaming shards. “So beautiful to be so painful.”

  Marcas’ gaze remained frozen on my face. “Like love,” he added. “So beautiful, but no matter how easy it seems on the outside, it hurts like hell on th
e inside.”

  My gaze was sliding back to his, my lips parting when I saw the door.

  “Um … was that there before?” I asked.

  Marcas’ gaze followed mine, and he exhaled. There, across the expanse of glass, was a white entryway.

  “How much you want to bet that’s our way out?” I added.

  Marcas swore, his gaze darting from the glass to our bare feet.

  A look passed over his face, and I scoffed. “Don’t even think about it, Craig. Even if you carry me, my feet will still be shredded by the time we make it there.

  His brows rose, his eyes finding my tank top. “I think,” he murmured, “that this is going to be one of the few times you’re going to hear me tell you ‘take it off’ and not expect to get f—”

  Rather than letting him finish the sentence, I grabbed the hem of my tank top and yanked it off, my cheeks heating. Gripping it between my hands, I began ripping the material. With four feet to cover, it wasn’t going to be much protection, but it would have to do.

  Marcas’ gaze fell to my chest, to the pink bra I’d been wearing under my tank. “You make the worst situations always seem brighter.”

  I threw him a look. “You are definitely not a breast man. If you were, you’d have found someone else by now.”

  He chuckled, the humor taking our minds off of the pain as we leaned over in the glass to tie pieces of my tank top around our feet. My feet were more covered than Marcas’.

  “The longer we wait,” he said.

  “The worse it will be,” I finished.

  Together, we stood, a small gasp escaping as I placed my feet on the glass.

  “This is going to hurt,” I winced, tears springing to my eyes despite blinking them away. That was the thing about pain. Even a stubbed toe, no matter how many times I tried clenching my jaw and biting my tongue to keep from feeling it, tended to make me cry.

  A stubbed toe had nothing on the glass.

  “God,” I breathed.

  We took a step forward, pain shooting from my the bottom of my feet into my body, the wounds on mine doubled by the extra wounds from Marcas’.

  Another step forward.

  It was too much. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I didn’t even attempt to wipe them away.

  “Come on,” I urged. “If we go slow, I won’t be able to keep going.”

  Marcas’ hand fell next to mine, his fingers lacing with my fingers.

  Together, we walked forward, our gaze on the door. That door was our salvation, our white flag of freedom.

  One step, and then another.

  I sobbed, and Marcas’ fingers tightened around mine. He didn’t ask me to stop, he didn’t try to carry me, and he didn’t ask me if I was okay. He simply let me cry.

  Tears are a relief. They let you release pain as you feel it, and I let them flow.

  One step, and then another.

  “Almost there,” Marcas soothed.

  I glanced at him. “Don’t stop,” I hissed through clenched teeth.

  One step, and then another.

  “If we weren’t walking on a sea of glass, I’d take your telling me to keep going as a compliment.”

  A laugh escaped me, the sound mingling with the tears and the pain. His teasing was enough. It was just enough to get me the rest of the way to the door.

  It wasn’t enough to chase away the horror on the other side.

  Chapter 32

  In the bowels of Hell, things are changing. The ring on my finger calls to me, but I am strong enough to ignore it. It calls to me because Lucifer is trapped inside, and he wants out. My gaze passes over the kingdom I’ve stolen, my eyes rising to meet the blonde woman who joins me. She smiles, her eyes full of understanding. She knows I need this. I am Luther, and I am now the King of Hell.

  ~Luther Craig, the Demon of Lust~

  Marcas

  We stumbled into the exit, my palm pressing against the wood.

  There was no time to think, no time to do anything except move forward, to shove past the pain we’d left behind.

  Gripping the knob, I threw open the door.

  Dayton gasped behind me, the sound the last thing I heard before we were propelled forward through open air and into a sea of tepid water, our bodies splashing into the placid surface. Sounds were muted, gurgling water filling my ears. Wounds that had only smarted before suddenly caught on fire.

  I broke the surface, gasping for air.

  “Salt water,” Dayton wheezed as she broke the surface next to me. “Oh, my God!”

  My body felt like liquid fire, and I treaded water, my lips pinched against the burn.

  “What is this?” Dayton asked, her gaze sweeping the sea.

  “An ocean,” I answered drily.

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re such a brilliant observer.” She glanced over my shoulder, but I knew she wouldn’t see anything except water.

  “What kind of test is this?”

  Suspicions that had started to niggle at me in the room of glass bloomed into fruition

  “My tribulation,” I said. “It’s not a test. It’s a suffering, an ordeal, and if I’m not missing my guess, it’s because you and I are still bound.”

  Dayton drew closer to me, her red hair plastered to her head. It made her look younger somehow.

  “I don’t understand.”

  My gaze met hers. “I shed my blood for the children of Cain, and we died on the altar in Italy. This tribulation is to resurrect us.”

  She stared, horrified. “We’re dead?”

  “If I’m not missing my guess. Since you never wore the Seal to purge our blood, I still have the blood of three races in my veins. Three is a very powerful number in Heaven. I’d planned to die on that altar, but with your blood still in my veins, with a trinity of powers, we must have been expelled to the tribulation. I didn’t expect you to die with me.”

  Her gaze fell to our reflections in the waves. “Even though you knew that with my blood your chance of survival was higher?”

  I reached for her, my hand finding her chin in the water, my fingers lifting her face. “Because I didn’t want you to suffer if I failed.”

  For a moment, she watched me, a war of emotions crossing her features before she swam so close, her chest pressed against mine. Her arms circled my waist. “Maybe we just needed a reminder,” she murmured. “To remember that no matter the pain, we really are stronger together.”

  Leaning forward, she brushed a kiss against my chest, the same spot—a small scar still remaining—that the dagger had been pulled from years before.

  Her kiss was like a spark. The feel of her against me ignited a fire in my veins, my muscles clenching. With a growl, I dragged her up my body, my fingers sinking into her wet hair. My free arm wrapped around her hips. She tucked her legs around my waist, her warm center pressing against my crotch. Treading water for both of us, my lips crashed down on hers.

  “We can’t … not here,” she gasped, her body rubbing against mine.

  I didn’t care what we could or couldn’t do, I just wanted her. My tongue tangled with hers, tasting and feasting.

  “God,” I breathed.

  She pulled away, her chest heaving. “Tell me something,” she gasped. “How do you know this is a tribulation based on our blood?”

  I groaned, my eyes burning. “When we get out of here, I’m going to make sure you forget every question you’ve ever had.

  She smiled. “Humor me.”

  “The number three represents different things in Heaven. When we fell into the room of glass after you refused the light in the darkness, I started getting suspicious, but when I saw the water, I was sure.” I stared down at her. “Spirit … blood … water. The three bear witness, and if we survive the ordeal intact with all three bloodlines running through my veins, we will be resurrected.”

  “You know,” she teased, her head shaking in disbelief, “you’re a very difficult man to love.”

  “It certainly takes a Herculean effort,”
I admitted, my eyes darkening.

  Dayton’s gaze studied my face. “You can’t keep blaming yourself for your relationships. We chose you, you know. Sophia is not your fault. And as for me,” she grinned. “It’s probably good I’m not entirely human.”

  I pulled her tighter against me. “We’ll figure this out,” I said. “We’re always going to doubt each other, I think. Not about love, but about what being what we are does to the other. I’ll never feel good about seeing you in pain.”

  With a wry look, Dayton ran her fingers up and down my spine—sending liquid fire to my waist—before wrapping her arms around my neck. “Ditto, Craig. I’ll never get used to you hurting.”

  I stared at her, my eyes searching hers. “There’s a lot of pain there for both of us. Maybe in the long run, there’s no one else who could handle our nightmares.”

  She leaned toward me, a sad smile in her eyes, her movements suddenly stopped short when the water around us lit up, a light glowing beneath the waves.

  Dayton recoiled, “What—”

  The question barely left her mouth before the stench hit us, a rotten odor so foul breathing was almost impossible.

  My eyes widened, horror crashing over me.

  “Are your powers working?” I asked Dayton frantically.

  She lifted her hand, a ball of light appearing in her palms. I didn’t have to test mine. I could feel the fire zipping through my veins, and I grabbed Dayton by the arms.

  “Fight! Do you hear me? And if possible, stay in the air!”

  She gaped at me, her gaze filling with terror. “What is it Marcas?”

  Picking her up, I threw her into the air, watching as she used her powers to catch herself. I joined her, my gaze on the sea below.

  “There’s only one creature with that kind of smell.” I glanced at her. “It’s called a Leviathan. Forget what you’ve ever heard about sea monsters, and for God’s sake, try to stay in the air.”

  It was the only warning I had time to give.

  Below us, the water began to churn, and I rose, cursing when an invisible barrier kept me from rising safely out of reach.