The Damned and The Pure Series: Books 1-4 (The Damned and The Pure Series Box Set)

by J. D. Stonebridge

  Gabriel tumbled to the ground, and when she rolled back to her feet, she shouted, "Now!"

  A battle cry tore through the air as Ariel rushed at Lucifer, spear in hand. She rampaged onto the battlefield, thundering towards the weakened archangel like a lion charging at its prey. The attack Gabriel had delivered had caused Lucifer’s vessel to become unstable, and he had little time to recover before Ariel could reach him.

  "He is weaker!" Gabriel shouted, her empty arm dangling as though injured by the last attack. "Now will be our chance!"

  Ariel leaped into the air and aimed the spear at Lucifer. "Now I shall end this!"

  A blast threw Ariel’s descent off, causing her to stumble to the side and skid on the ground, the spear still gripped tight in her hand. Enduring scratches on her skin and face, Ariel climbed back to her feet, but immediately cringed at the pain in her ribs. She watched the dust clear. Michael stood in front of Lucifer, his leg outstretched.

  Gabriel gritted her teeth. She had watched over Michael, whom she’d left chained by Azrael’s feathers during her attacks to make sure he could not assist Lucifer. “But how…?” Her eyes trailed to the object in Michael’s hand which hummed softly. Gabriel’s eyes widened upon recognizing it as one of Daniel’s blades. She quickly scanned the area around them and saw an invisible sword near Lucifer. “Impossible!”

  "Well done, Brother," Lucifer praised, nodding with satisfaction.

  Michael eyed Lucifer with doubt. "What happened? I can feel a weakness in your form, Brother."

  "Mind it not," Lucifer reluctantly said. "It was a welcome sacrifice so I could obtain the souls of that demon."

  Ariel turned her eyes away from the archangels upon hearing a pained moan behind her. She saw Caelum slowly recovering his consciousness and rushed to his side. "Are you alright?" Ariel asked, kneeling beside him.

  The demon muttered something incoherent before clearing his throat. "Yeah, just peachy," he said with a scratchy voice. He forced himself up, his knees wobbling as he did. Ariel reached for his arm to assist him. When Caelum got back up on his feet, his eyes surveyed the scene before them.

  "I feel awful," Caelum mumbled, fazed. "Have I failed so badly that my mind just won't accept it?"

  Ariel was reluctant to answer him, at least not truthfully. If his mind refused to remember the failure of his plan, the angel couldn’t remind him. Instead, the angel chose to keep it from him. "You fought well. What matters is that we never give up."

  Though her words were courageous, Ariel knew they stood little chance. Lucifer had absorbed all those souls while Michael remained the invincible structure. And on their side, Gabriel had injured her arm in her attempt at allowing Ariel an opportunity to give the final blow, Caelum was nearly powerless and dazed from having such an immense power taken from him so abruptly, and only Ariel, a wingless angel who held their ultimate weapon, was fully capable of fighting. She wasn’t as optimistic about their situation as she’d hoped.

  “It will be over soon, then.” Azazel watched the battle from his seat on top of a half-crushed office building. His faithful assistant, the only demon spared from the disaster prior to this final battle aside from Caelum, stood beside him to keep him company in what he assumed to be the remaining minutes of this world.

  "Sir, may I advise we change locations? I don’t believe it will be safe for us here," Baron advised.

  His words fell on deaf ears as Azazel offered no response to him. The Leader of Hell was silent for a few moments, as if thinking deeply. After a few minutes had passed, Azazel let out a sigh and asked him, "Where would we be safe?"

  Azazel had abandoned his couture habits and was reduced to sulking on the edge of a broken building while his kingdom crumbled in Hell. His shoulders slumped in depression, but his thought-lined brows and indifference suggested he had succumbed to defeat and resorted to enjoying what was left of their lives.

  "Sir," Baron sighed. Letting go of his formal air, he approached Azazel with careful steps and sat near his employer. "What should we do?"

  "Please," said Azazel. "I am a king no longer. What need is there for a king if there is no kingdom to rule, right?"

  Baron was at a loss, uncertain of what he would say to comfort the demon he had pledged his loyalty to. The event transpiring below them was hardly helping. Instead, he wondered why Azazel, the King of Hell, who, with both deception and courage, fought to maintain his kingdom now seemed to be careless.

  "Sir— Azazel,” he corrected, finding it odd to call him such for the first time. “You don't seem so disappointed."

  Azazel chuckled at Baron’s use of his name; he had never called him anything but 'Sir'. "Even in the face of death, there is a certain solace in remembering that you have lived your life the way you wanted and have done all you could. That way, death does not seem like a defeat but more like a reminder to take a step back and enjoy what you’ve done.”

  "That sounds like something a mortal would say," Baron remarked.

  Azazel chuckled again. Then he laughed after realizing what he’d said. "It sure does, doesn't it?"

  His laughs ended with a sigh. His thoughts filled with the tasks he had done, the commands he’d delivered over the past centuries. "To think that I had a hand in all of this." There was a sense of achievement in his rather sad tone. Before he knew it, his thoughts pulled him down memory lane.

  "There I was before, a demon with nothing to offer but my way with words. Who could have imagined that I would manage to climb my way up, even over those more powerful than I? And soon, I was ruling over the damned land of Hell. And during my reign, demons were loyal to me. Not out of fear but out of respect. I was the one who kept things in order, making sure all those I ruled understood Hell’s purpose. We weren’t there because we were thrown out of the loop, no! We had an important role in keeping things balanced!"

  "Indeed," Baron agreed. "When it was still the six of you archdemons, Hell was truly the place of chaos. With Lilith on the throne, Hell was recognized only as Lucifer's cage and a cesspool where any and all corruption was thrown."

  "Isn't that the very definition of Hell?" Azazel mused. "Hell is the place where the worst of the worst go. It is the legend that kept the mortals from succumbing to the temptation of sin, was it not? There were even angels who were just as talented as me when it came to the art of honeyed words. If the promise of eternal paradise does not appeal to them, they advertise Hell's endless torment."

  "Yet," Baron added, "it was you that made Hell a place worth mentioning by even angels. When you sat on that throne, you taught the ways of the souls, how Hell purified the souls and how the energy from the purification can be used to create more demons."

  Baron looked up, his thoughts filled with nothing but praise for his sullen king. "You turned Hell into a flourishing domain whose economy of power was recognized by Azrael herself and even made her increase the flow of souls towards us instead of keeping the unpurified souls in Purgatory. You turned Hell into an essential place for the balance of the universe."

  "This is why . . ." Baron puffed with what pride he could muster, "I will forever be loyal to the King of Hell, the Archdemon of Commerce.”

  "Sure," Azazel sighed, but with a smile. "I'm the King Swindler, but I was swindled by Lucifer. Because of that mistake, I lost my seat in Hell."

  "You did get it back," Baron reminded him. "If you had not convinced Caelum to be damned, Hell would have been ruined by Lilith."

  "It didn't matter afterwards," Azazel groaned. "I tried my best to rebuild it, but that damned Michael and his brother laid waste to everything. I'm just glad those archdemons protected me from that call shenanigan. At least I can watch the show end and not be stuck in some pompous angel's body."

  "I am thankful too," Baron nodded. "It would otherwise be boring without your company."

  Azazel felt contempt for himself but concern for the demon who stood by his side. "Baron. I order you to flee."

  "What? Why?" Baron asked.

>   "Find a way to survive or think of something that would help you get on their side."

  Baron eyed him curiously. "But what about you?"

  "I'm done for. I've done everything I could. I'm powerless now. I can't fight even if I wanted to." With a face swathed in anger, Azazel growled. "Go! The King of Hell commands you!"

  The tinge of sadness in Azazel's tone was alienating to him, but Baron sighed and nodded like the loyal servant he was. Without uttering a word, Baron hopped off the building and dove into a disc of darkness. Silence filled the space Azazel sat on, and all he could do was ruminate on this fate.

  "Maybe Lucifer will reincarnate me as a frog," he joked to himself. "Or maybe I'll just vanish painlessly. I think I prefer that over becoming a frog or a worm."

  "Even worms wriggle in an attempt to survive."

  Azazel turned and rolled his eyes. "I told you to flee."

  Baron raised a bottle of red wine and two glasses. "So said the King of Hell," Baron replied. He approached Azazel and handed him a glass as he returned to his empty seat next to Azazel. "And you, Azazel," he chirped, "are no King of Hell. At least, not anymore."

  Azazel tried to hold his chuckle so much that it looked like he was about to hurl when he released it. "Silly me," he said with a haughty face. He proffered his glass to Baron who was pouring wine on his own glass.

  After pouring the blood red wine into Azazel's glass, Baron placed the bottle next to him and raised his glass to propose a toast. "To the once great success of Hell, and the best business partnership I had the opportunity to work with."

  Azazel grinned as the sound of two clinking glasses filled the air.

  "A pleasure doing business with you."

  Chapter Nineteen: I am God

  Fear froze Ariel in place as she stared at the brothers. Lucifer was brimming with power and his face basked in their victory. Though his vessel would break, much like Caelum’s had, Michael stood next to him, the ultimate vessel that could contain such power. The moment they completed their task of becoming the new God would be the end of the battle. Ariel knew she had to strike before that happened, but how she would even get close to Lucifer before they smote her was the question for which she desperately sought an answer to.

  The victory of acquiring millions upon millions of souls was something Lucifer had yearned for. He clenched his fists, relishing in the taste of power. The ability to bend the laws of reality was at his fingertips. He could already feel the most powerful force in the universe: the spark of creation.

  To test the power that coursed through his veins, Lucifer raised his hand. The sight caused Ariel to step back, but a sound behind her attracted her attention. The set of buildings behind them, destroyed by the previous war, were repairing themselves. Glass and concrete blocks lifted and reattached to the structure and each other until the buildings looked as though they had only just been built, sticking out amongst the chaos surrounding it. But when the archangel brought his hand down, the buildings turned grey and in the blink of an eye, turned into sand that spilled on the road.

  "Wonderful," Lucifer praised himself. "If I can undo destruction, think what I am capable of with the ultimate vessel!"

  His moment of triumph ended abruptly. Just when he was considering what to do with their remaining enemies, he felt something he had dreaded, something he knew would happen. Just like the demon who had dared to take the souls, Lucifer felt the burn of the millions of souls inside him, clawing at his chest to be freed.

  Caelum lifted his eyes to the archangel and watched him crumbling because of his consumption of the souls of mortals. He witnessed in that moment the impossibility of the angel’s body to contain mortal souls no matter how much power he held. Caelum himself had suffered in the ordeal and had required the help of the olive crown. Lucifer had no such ornament, nor was his vessel created to hold even one mortal soul in the first place. He needed another vessel, one that was similar to the mortals but stronger in structure.

  He cast his eyes to Michael. The prototype of man. Caelum remembered and smiled, seeing the tempered look on Michael’s face as his brother was tormented by the power he consumed. To think that even he and Lucifer have a sibling rivalry. Perhaps we could work that out to our advantage.

  The change in expression on the demon’s face caught the attention of the angel beside him. She wondered what it was he was seemingly happy about. She followed his gaze and saw Michael, watching calmly as his brother struggled and fell to his knees.

  "Michael," Lucifer exhaled, slowly bowing from the pain. "We must perform the final ritual."

  Michael stared blankly at his brother. "No."

  Lucifer had predicted the answer. "Brother, if this is not performed, the souls will scatter. And even you, in your form, cannot gather them. And—" The pain soured, making him grind his teeth. "And…you will never become greater than our Father!"

  Lucifer stared at his brother’s eyes. After all the centuries they’d spent discreetly making their plans, he had always known it was jealousy that drove his brother. From the moment he’d found him simulating a king's throne, a sight that suggested Michael’s true intention, Lucifer had known.

  Now, as they neared the finale, Michael let his jealousy and pride rule him. "So be it," he dared Lucifer.

  “Brother." Lucifer forced himself to stand. "Now...is not the time for...pettiness. Come the time we turn into the new God, I shall grant you a place of great importance."

  "The only thing you shall do is grant me the souls that are slowly eating you from the inside."

  Lucifer blew out a cough, his body beginning to shake violently. He braced himself and attempted to focus. Michael's words didn't help. "I see. And if I politely refuse?"

  Michael allowed a smirk to mark his face. "Then I will have to take the power myself.”

  With a flash of light, Michael moved and reappeared beside Gabriel. Gabriel quickly jumped back and crouched. She brought a force to push her forward, swinging her scepter to strike Michael. But instead, the scepter was caught in Michael’s hands, his invincible form absorbing her attack. With a twist of his wrist and a tug of his arm, he pulled Gabriel close to him and delivered a knee to her stomach. The scepter was released from her hands, and Gabriel tumbled back with a grunt.

  Lucifer’s eyes fell on the scepter in Michael’s hand and immediately knew what he planned. He bit his lip and forced control over the souls. He extended his hands to Michael. The scene around his brother distorted, but Michael disappeared before he could deliver the attack.

  Lucifer turned to face his treacherous brother, thinking of ways to defend himself from him. But before he could, Michael raised the scepter over his head and said, “You have always been like our Father. A fool.”

  With that word, he brought down the scepter on Lucifer’s chest. The wood from the great Tree in Heaven buried itself in the archangel’s body. Lucifer’s lips parted with a silent scream. Michael’s face was blank as he pushed the scepter further inside his brother’s body. “You and Father are such fools to give your love to them when they have done nothing but commit crimes in your names!”

  Ariel and Caelum had rushed to Gabriel who stared horrified at the scene before them. “He is using the scepter to call Lucifer’s soul,” she told them. “And with it, the rest will follow.”

  As she spoke, light began to crawl from Lucifer’s chest and onto the wooden scepter. The light was like weaving silk that reached up towards Michael’s arm. He relished in the warmth and power as the first light entered from his palm. More of the silky lights crawled out of Lucifer, all climbing into Michael’s hand. His veins illuminated with the light, reaching up to his torso. Michael smiled down at his ashen-faced brother. “You wish for an eternal kingdom where you would rule over man,” he whispered to him. “But my new world will be an eternal Heaven where the pathetic copies you favored so cease to exist!”

  Michael pulled the scepter out of Lucifer’s body. Lucifer remained on his knees for a few moments befo
re collapsing to the ground like a stone. His skin was graying, cracks crawling in all directions. Michael hammered the end of the scepter against Lucifer’s head, and his skull exploded into ashes. His brother’s body followed suit until there was nothing left of the first angel but the dust carried away by the wind.

  Caelum watched in awe as the Michael they had seen mere seconds before transformed into a being that radiated pure power. He permeated a luminescent white glow. His hair waved in golden wisps as his power illuminated the area around him. His eyes were two sockets that spilled bright light, similar to the blazing sun. The space around him morphed as he moved, distorting the part of the city around him.

  The demon prepared himself for an attack by the godly being, but instead, Michael spoke a word he had not expected.

  "Mercy," the omnipotent voice said. Though Michael’s lips did not move, the voice echoed in all directions, as if the universe itself spoke to them. "I will grant you mercy."

  Caelum wondered, "After all that has happened, you wish to simply turn your back on us?"

  Michael raised his head. "Yes, I will. I have other things to attend to. Such as the world that I will build."

  Caelum felt both disappointment and confusion. After all their failed attempts, it felt like a slap in his face to be simply set aside as the enemy enjoyed his victory. His face formed a grimace and looked at Ariel and Gabriel.

  "Are you insane?" Caelum remarked, shaking his head. “After everything, after all we’ve done, you’re just gonna let us go?"

  “Caelum,” Gabriel called to him with her stern voice. Though, when he looked at her, her face bore both fear and anger. She eyed him as if warning him, shaking her head slightly.

  Then, a swirling silky light reached out for Gabriel. She stared at it in horror as it crawled up her injured arm. Her face softened at the realization of the light’s purpose. Soon, she flexed her fingers and twisted her wrist. She lifted her eyes to Michael in disbelief. “It is healed.”