That was not what happened, though.
The instant I got close, the Demon dematerialized, fading into black smoke and causing me to stumble forwards and nearly trip on the ground. Catching my breath, I spun to view the Demon, watching with a mixture of awe, confusion and horror as darkness twirled and lapped into the Demon’s form.
For the first time, I studied the Demon. There was a deep fire in its eyes, blood red, burning with such hatred I couldn’t imagine. Two curled horns sprouted on its head, its body defined as a man, even though the private area was covered by a black haze.
The hand holding the makeshift stake dropped to my side as the Demon took a few steps closer to me. Its head was cocked, its fiery eyes burning through me as it examined me. Its clawed feet took it around me, circling me like a vulture. It seemed the Demon was as confused to my presence as John and Raphael were.
“What are you?” I measuredly asked.
It returned to my front, less than a foot away. The dark red flames from the candles danced off its grey skin. It lifted a hand, its fingernails more like talons than nails, trying to touch me in a manner similar to the way John might’ve. Only the Demon didn’t drop its hand at the last moment; it cupped my cheek, strangely careful of the way its nails touched me, as if it didn’t want to hurt me.
That was…odd.
“What,” it mimicked my question hesitantly, “are you?” It ran its thumb over my cheek, gentler than I would ever have guessed. “How is this possible?”
Inhaling slowly, I murmured, “That seems to be the question of the day.”
Intent on ignoring my question, the Demon sluggishly withdrew his hand and moved to the broken altar, turning his intense stare upon the cracked figure of Jesus Christ. Small flames burned beneath its feet, lingering where his footsteps were for a few seconds before going out. For minutes it stood in silence, pensive as I watched from afar.
“What are you?” I repeated quietly, not quite sure I wanted it to answer.
“What…” It whispered, turning to face me once more. “…am I?” It took a step away from the altar, saying, “That is a difficult question. Many have tried to explain what I am, and all have failed.” Another step as it tilted its hairless head. “Perhaps the better question is: who am I?”
I took an involuntary step back to match its approach. I didn’t want it touching me again. That’s what I told myself. Whether it was true or not was beside the point.
“All right,” I spoke. “Who are you?”
It sighed. “I have many names. Tell me—” Darkness swirled behind it, gathering in an ebbing, flowing shape I could only describe as wings. Wings that were like living creatures of their own right, covering the walls and ceiling of the cathedral like paint. “—which comes to your mind?”
“Wings,” I whispered, tripping backwards into an unbroken pew. They weren’t angel wings, that’s for sure.
“They were not always black,” it remarked seriously, wanting me to come to the realization myself. “I was not the only one, but I was the first.”
That’s when I knew who this Demon was. How it held power over John and Raphael. Only one thing could hold power over Demons, something that was worse than a Demon. Honestly, with the way this thing made me feel, I should have known sooner.
“The original fallen Angel,” I spoke, “Lucifer.”
“That was my first name. I’ve lived many lives, this is only the newest.” Its maroon gaze was upon me, heavy. Suddenly it was in front of me, kneeling, gazing up at me as if I held all the answers in the universe. Its wings were gone, and we were once more in the eerie candlelight. “This was the one that could’ve changed everything.”
The fact that the freaking Devil was kneeling in front of me, talking in riddles, its eyes burning into my soul…I felt weirdly at peace. Like it was inevitable. Though, now another question rung in my head: why was it so careful with its nails? Why did something as evil as Satan not want to hurt me?
I knew I should be fighting him/it. I was a Purifier, I fought Demons on a daily basis. Fighting the Devil should be the end goal of Purifiers in general. Yet I didn’t want to fight the creature before me. I didn’t want to do my job and purify it—if it was even possible.
I didn’t want to fight the Devil.
God help me.
Chapter Eleven – The Prince
The instant I saw her, I knew I had to have her. It took every ounce of my willpower to hold back, to not take her back with me to my dark realm of time-untime. To Hell. By all the powers that be, I desperately wanted to steal her away. To make her life as long as mine.
But I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
Despite everything that I was, nothing inside of me could do that to her.
When she lunged for me, gave me that look that I knew so well, I knew it was indeed her. I couldn’t say how or why it was her, but it was. A gift. A redo. A do-over. Everything that I wanted to do before, I would do now. I was not a being who housed regrets.
A part of me wanted her to hate me. I wanted her to fear me. Everything that every other being felt toward me, I wanted her to feel. I thought that would make it easier for me, turn my mind from the awful things I dreamt of doing.
I thought that when she realized who I was, she would want to fight me, want to hate me as the two I forced out of here did. Even with a portion of my wings out, she merely fell back into a pew, more amazed than aghast.
I knelt before her, seeking to stare into those eyes I missed. Those wondrously gorgeous, enchantingly beautiful eyes.
“But it didn’t change everything, did it?” she asked, coming to the only conclusion she could. “Don’t tell me this is my fault, too?” Kass smirked. “I must be more important than I think.” She chuckled to herself, fiddling with her hands in her lap.
“You are the most important thing in the world,” I told her, genuinely and honestly believing it. Nothing mattered more than her, and I let her get taken from me. I let her down. This time I would not make the same mistakes again.
Kass pursed her lips, and for a moment, I thought about my past, how I once stole a kiss from those lips. I wished I could’ve taken many more.
“Why?” she questioned, “Why am I so important to the Devil? I’m just a Purifier. I purify your precious Demons all the time. You should want to kill me…torture me, or something like that.”
I interrupt her hastily, bringing my face and leaning it against hers, careful of the two curled horns upon my forehead, “I would never hurt you. Never.” I glanced to her arm, where a bandage sat. “May I?”
Kass squeaked some form of neither affirmative nor negative approval.
With a soft touch, I unwrapped the bandage and saw a stitching job I knew to be Raphael’s. Whatever anger I held for him was watered down by my feelings for the girl before me. I took my hand to her injuries, her arm appearing miniature-sized in my large, grey-skinned hand.
I closed my eyes, focusing my energy. Within seconds, her wounds were gone, and not even a scar lingered.
“Whoa,” Kass whispered. “That was…thanks. I guess.”
Her hesitation made me put more distance between us.
Of course.
She didn’t know me. She didn’t need me or want me. Of course, she didn’t. She only saw what was in front of her. An ancient soul whose destiny lied in death.
I abruptly stood. I had to go.
Within seconds I was at the door, and in the next moment I unfurled my wings and launched myself high into the sky. I was above the tree line instantly, over the city in a minute, and above the clouds by the next. The atmosphere was thin, the air practically nonexistent. But I didn’t need any air. I stared at the moon, letting my wings grow and grow until they covered the globe.
She didn’t know me. She didn’t want me.
Those words took over in my head, and for a while I wrestled with them. I was used to having all the power in my lower realm, and here I had more than everybody and everything…except her. Kass held
the power over me. She had all the power, and I was fine with it. When it came to her, I didn’t need any power.
That was what I thought.
Until now.
Until I realized that I was never going to get what I wanted—her—unless I changed into something she loved and trusted.
I knew exactly what I had to do.
Chapter Twelve – Kass
I sat in the pew for I couldn’t say how long by myself. The doors to the church hung wide open, and the candle light had returned to its normal orange and yellow glow. Anything could waltz right in, and odds were that anything would be bad.
But I was too focused on replaying what had just happened in my head. I met the freaking Devil and he/it seemed to have a thing for me. Not exactly something that happened every day, even in my strange world of Demons and visions.
What was up with this place? This world?
Why was I here?
I buried my head in my hands, sighing deeply.
A gust of wind alerted me to John’s presence, and I broke my moody stance to look up at his worried face. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
“No,” I was slow to say, glancing at my arm, “in fact, he healed me.”
That caught John off-guard. “He…he what?”
Raphael walked out of a blue rift, appearing next to John as he repeated, “He healed you? That is not what I had anticipated him doing. Perhaps—”
John waved his hand through the air, cutting in, “No. Don’t even say it.”
“Say what?” I inquired, desperate for any answer either man could give me.
Raphael looked as if he wanted to explain, but John’s harsh look cut him quiet. “He has done enough,” John hissed, visibly upset. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore.” With a flash, his bow was strung over his shoulder and he stood by the open doors. “I’m going hunting. I’ll be back soon.” With that, he was gone, closing the doors behind him.
I was slow to stand and point behind me, as if the creature was still here. “That was…he, I mean, it—”
Raphael nodded once. “The Prince of Darkness. I am sorry that we could not stay, but…”
My eyes narrowed at him, still not used to him not wearing his typical priest’s garb. “Wait a moment. Does that mean you’re a Demon, too?” His silence, not to mention the way he quickly looked away, sullen, told me all I needed to know. “Wonderful,” I breathed, fists clenching. That explained the rift-walking, I supposed, though I didn’t know what kind of Demon could do that.
The past two days had showed me there was a lot I didn’t know.
“Let me guess,” I continued, “that’s my fault, too.”
Raphael’s cool, calm and collected demeanor returned almost instantly as he came to me, saying softly, “You should not blame yourself, especially for everything that has transpired here. It was not your fault.”
I shook my head, turning away as I muttered, “That’s a little hard to believe.” Biting the inside of my cheek, I remembered the way the creature touched me…the Devil. The Prince of Darkness, as Raphael called him. Satan. It wasn’t wrong. It had many names.
But I didn’t care about its many names; all I could think of was the way it touched me, how it spoke to me and what it said.
“Also, uh,” I suddenly became the same awkward girl who constantly tripped over her words in front of John before the whole Osiris ritual happened, “there’s something else. I think he, it—whatever I’m supposed to call it…I think he has a thing for me.”
Raphael didn’t act shocked. Actually, he looked like I told him something he already knew.
My awkward self dissipated, and I grew annoyed. “Wait. Why aren’t you freaking out and asking me about every single detail? Raphael, what is it?”
“You said he healed you” was his pathetic attempt to explain.
“No. No, there’s something else. I can see it in your eyes. Something you’re not telling me.” I got in his face, stunning him at my closeness and with my anger. This was a stance I often took with my Raphael, back in my world. One I was very used to.
“It’s nothing.” And with that, he rift-walked away from me.
I groaned.
There was something he wasn’t telling me, and by God, I was going to pry it out of him sooner or later.
John returned less than an hour later, a deer slung over his shoulder. He went to work on it quietly, brooding as he skinned it. Raphael kept to himself in one of the church’s back rooms, probably fearing that I’d get whatever secret out of him if he joined us.
Of course, John didn’t do too much talking, either.
I glared at him, wondering how this could possibly be the same John that I knew.
“You weren’t always a Daywalker,” I remarked.
All he did was shoot me a hard look.
“I dreamt it, you know, in my world when you were stalking me and killing everyone. Some curse. It was your fault, and your brother wasn’t too happy about it.”
John let out a rumble from his chest. “Thanks for reminding me. I had totally forgotten.”
I sat with my legs under my butt, digging at the dirt beneath my nails as I ignored the evil look the Daywalker gave me. “Do you think we would’ve dated if none of this happened? Did you really like me, or did you just want to…do stuff with me?” Honestly, I couldn’t say why I asked these questions, but I was curious if I made the whole thing up in my hormonal, teenage head.
When it came to boys, I was as insecure as the next girl, Purifier or not.
There had to be something about me, especially if the Devil had a thing for me. Maybe I was pretty and didn’t see it when I looked into the mirror. Maybe it was my somewhat witty self.
Eh. Who was I trying to kid? As a Purifier, I couldn’t care less about my looks. I bought my clothes on the clearance rack. I did my makeup half-heartedly. And in all reality, I wasn’t half as good at one-liners as Gabriel was. I had nothing going for myself, other than bigger than average musculature for a girl and a shorter predicted lifespan.
I sighed as I thought of Gabriel.
He would be the only thing to make this world tolerable. But no, he couldn’t be here. I had to suffer alone.
“I liked you,” John finally said, shattering my thoughts. “It was impossible not to.” He swallowed, wiping his forehead with a bloodied hand, momentarily pausing his deer-skinning. “There was a lot between us, including…” His deep voice trailed off, and he shrugged it away as if it was nothing.
“Including what?” I questioned from my pew a few feet away.
“Including someone who would’ve killed me if I made a move on you,” John finished under his breath, returning to the deer.
Eyebrows creasing, I was taken aback. “Who?”
The way John’s dark eyes bore into me made me wonder. It was like he believed I should’ve known who he was talking about. But I didn’t; I honestly had no idea.
“Tell me this is some stupid joke on your part,” John hissed sourly.
“Excuse me,” I deadpan, “none of the jokes I make are stupid.”
That got him to smirk, but it was gone instantly as he muttered, “Right.”
“Seriously though,” I tried prying it from him, “who?”
As John finished whatever else he had to do before cooking the deer, he remained silent. He wasn’t going to tell me who would’ve killed him if he made a move on me. Whoever it was must not have liked me back in my world, because John certainly tried making a few moves on me, and no one killed him. He did all the killing himself.
Okay, that might’ve been a stupid one.
To say that dinner made me miss Michael and his home-cooked meals would be the understatement of the year. Deer wasn’t my choice of meat, and to have it cooked on a stick over a fire wasn’t my choice way of cooking something. It all left a chewy, gamey taste in my mouth, but I couldn’t complain.
Well, I could, but that probably wasn’t the best idea.
I
was intent on digesting and listening to John and Raphael swap stories like old war veterans, and I closed my eyes, oddly content for the current moment. However, that contentment vanished the moment when I opened my eyes and I was in a makeshift prison cell.
On my feet in an instant, I noticed the gore-filled walls. Old, dried blood spatters, some in accidental patterns, and others in distinct, purposeful designs, like tics in groups of five. What they counted, I hadn’t an idea, and I didn’t want to know. Whatever it was, was bad. That was all I needed to know.
The sound of chains clinking nearly stopped my heart, and I was measured in turning to view the person chained to the wall. A tall, shirtless man, beaten and bloody. His arms were held to his sides, his head hung low. His hair was caked with dirt, and it was obvious it hadn’t been washed in weeks, maybe even months.
I stepped closer to him, and it dawned on me that I knew this man. I knew him very well.
When I was within an arm’s reach from the chained man, he lifted his head, revealing a cold, grey face. A metal mask sat on the front of his face; attached by some hidden mechanism. It covered his entire face, save for two small holes in the nose and two very small slits for his eyes.
For the life of me, I couldn’t recognize him.
Still, I knew I knew him.
“Who are you?” I whispered, even though I was fairly certain he couldn’t hear me. With these visions, I was usually an invisible bystander, unless that said vision was out to kill me.
The man in the mask snapped to attention. I glanced behind me, wondering if someone had walked by the cell, but no one had. It was only me and the man on the wall. When I turned back to the man, he lunged toward me, as close as he could with his chains holding back his arms.
The coldness from the metal mask was so close to my face that I felt it. It sent chills down my spine, and even though I couldn’t see the man’s eyes, I knew he was staring at me. His breathing was hard inside the mask.
My eyes fell to his chest. There was no cross tattoo. This wasn’t Gabriel.
At least there was that.
Not taking his masked face off me, the man used whatever was left of his strength to pull at the chains. Again and again, a vicious rhythm. With each harsh pull, the chains loosened, bolts slowly coming free. When I realized he was nearly free, I backed up, straight into the wall that kept him caged in this room that, at one point, housed a clerk or a secretary or some other nine-to-five job.
The Nightwalkers Saga: Books 1 - 7 Page 55
