Wickedly They Come (The Wickedly Series Book 1)

by Cathrina Constantine

  Lucifer appeared pompously pleased with the drama.

  “I used the one person who would weaken Markus. You.” Asa slid a hand into his jacket and withdrew a shiny dagger, and Jordan shook like a windblown leaf. “And my remuneration shall be great when the warrior’s spirit becomes one with my lord. My dear, you’ve made me exceptionally jubilant. I honor Lucifer, in person, with your consecration.”

  “I will not be consecrated!” Jordan announced full of vigor. “I will never fight for Lucifer. I rebuke Satan. I rebuke you!” No longer petrified, she glared at him.

  “Your spirit is rightly mine,” Lucifer said, eyes flaming.

  Memories of her mom, dad, grandparents, and Markus raced through her mind. She refused to cry, refused to plead for mercy from the devil, refused the consecration altogether. Clamping her eyelids, she waited for the plunging blade.

  The room rattled and her eyes popped open. The last time she’d felt such a quake, Markus had died.

  Pure illumination flooded over them, she gazed in awe at the splendorous shimmering. Veronka screamed and fled, freeing her arms. Asa scampered across the floor and hid behind Lucifer.

  “Markiel!” roared the devil, growing in stature until he towered over them.

  “That’s not Mark,” Ronan said, her voice unraveling like a fine thread “It’s Rafe.”

  Jordan stood her ground as gleaming wings enclosed her like a protective shield. She heard Markus’s strong voice, similar to pealing thunder, “Go back to hell where you belong.”

  “Asa, you’ve failed me!” Lucifer breathed fire, morphing into the behemoth horned beast.

  Asa squirmed, changing from dictatorial hitman to a cowering worm. “I swear, he was human when I stabbed him.”

  She followed Ronan’s tearful gaze to the looming angel and squinted against the dazzling brightness. In a face of sculptured granite, velvety sapphire eyes beamed into hers. “Markus?” she spoke his name in wonder.

  A smile played at the corners of his mouth. He’s alive! Totally reenergized, she felt like fighting the devil.

  “We have also been biding our time, awaiting your arrival, Lucifer,” Markus’s voice boomed. “Your minions are scattered, and the leaders of your army have been defeated. Your pride would not let a mere mortal, a girl, stand in your way.”

  “This girl is no mere mortal. Your Father has seen to that. Be warned, I will be victor in this world.” Lucifer’s cadence crackled.

  “You are not God,” Markus said. “Your iniquity bleeds into mankind, and I take pleasure in destroying your breed.”

  Lucifer’s horned skull twisted sideways. “My breed!” He snorted fire, and aimed his horns at the angel. “Markiel, my brother, you cannot win this fight. You cannot abide in my realm, your power ebbs as we speak. And once you become human, I will smite you.”

  From Jordan’s vantage point, she detected purplish tendons stemming from Markus’s neck. Clenching his jaw, veins pulsed in his temple. And the muscles in his arms flexed while his spirit continued to exude superlative power.

  “I am new and improved, thanks to my Father,” Markus said.

  “Father!” Lucifer raged. “I am the father. The father of this world.”

  Movement caught her eye, Ronan sprinting up the stairwell. Asa had retreated, sneaking out the door, and Veronka was either dead or gone. Ronan’s up to no good. I have to stop her.

  As if Markus could read her thoughts, he said, “Go home, now.”

  Jordan foolishly left his protective wings and ran to the stairs.

  “No!” Markus yelled after her.

  Heat singed her back. She dodged behind the handrail for cover. Markus sheltered her with his body. His muscles convulsed, deflecting Lucifer’s fire. In a tidal wave of fury, the devil targeted him. Their clash resonated like an atomic bomb, rocking the house’s foundation, splintering wood and shattering glass.

  Jordan groped for the railing, and then scrambled to the second floor. Pumping adrenaline forced her heart into high gear. I don’t have time for this. Where is she? The suffocating hallway filled with dive-bombing inky creatures. She slugged and swatted through nebulous entities and ducked into a room.

  She’d found Ronan.

  Standing before her makeshift altar, holding a knife, Ronan slit her palm and dripped blood into a crucible. Chanting incantations, she added herbs to the magic brew. A flickering candle sputtered, and then an oscillating bluish-orange flame evolved into a fiery chain.

  “Ronan, stop!”

  Jordan advanced, overturning paraphernalia. The lit candle toppled onto the bed. Whoosh. Launching herself at Ronan, she sealed her in a headlock. I could snap her neck. Instead, she slammed the girl’s head against the floor.

  The room filled with smoke making it tough to breathe. Gathering Ronan around the waist, Jordan hauled the girl over her shoulder. The smoke thickened, and Ronan came to with a vengeance—kicking and throwing air punches. One blow caught Jordan behind the ear. She dropped her load, and Ronan whisked into a cloud of smoldering grayness.

  Squatting on her hands and knees, Jordan crawled for the door. She mopped her stinging eyes and peered through the sheeting gray residue to Ronan’s bed. The flames were confined. The dense smoke issued from downstairs. Her lungs ached, and every breath acted like a chokehold.

  “Markus. Markus,” she managed to say, and fumbled in the opaque fog. From above, arms circled her waist, and she literally flew away from the fire.

  “You’re okay. You’re safe now.”

  Jordan woke to Ezekiel’s voice. She blinked and scrubbed her smarting eyeballs. She was braced against the trunk of a tree. “Where are we?” Sounding gruff, she coughed up gooey dregs and spit, feeling better.

  Ezekiel, in customary black, looked irritated and incredulous. “You blacked out. I brought you to Emery forest. I need to get back. Markus was right about Lucifer, though. I know it’s a trap. It’s always a trap.”

  “I want to help. I can’t lose Markus a second time.”

  “Go home!” His voice detonated, and squawking birds took flight. “That’s the best way you can help. Listen for a change. Do as I say.”

  “Mom’s car is at Ronan’s.”

  “Don’t even attempt to go near her house. Seeley will understand.” Pointing south, he waved his hand. “Go straight. You’ll be walking for about a mile. Rafe will be here soon to make sure you stay on your route.”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  Ezekiel exhaled, his chest deflating. “When it comes to someone you love, not in the least.”

  “Something’s terribly wrong,” her words rushed out in one breath. “Markus isn’t planning on coming back, is he?” Grappling against the tree trunk, Jordan fought her way to a standing position.

  A stellar wingspan expanded, and a restless Ezekiel said, “There’s little time.” The angel took flight, shooting past tree limbs.

  YOUR BREATH GIVES ME NEW LIFE

  SHADOWS PLAYED HIDE and seek, as moaning branches bowed to the blood moon. Voyaging in the woods amid foreign night noises, Jordan twitched at the sound of a hooting owl. I’m not scared. I’m supposed to be a warrior, act like one. Squaring her shoulders, she picked up the pace and travelled into the unwieldy woodland.

  Where the heck did Ronan go?

  The embodiment of Lucifer was astronomical and petrifying. His eyes would forever be ingrained in her brain. It seemed inconceivable that the Beast had personally involved himself in the conflict.

  Up ahead, a human figure lurked in the shadows. Frozen in time, she waited until the man came into view. She gasped realizing that she’d been holding her breath.

  “Rafe.”

  “Ezekiel said you’d be expecting me. I didn’t mean to scare you.

  “I have the heebie-geebies. Meandering through the woods at night isn’t the smartest move. Let’s head to the road.” She started in the opposite direction, back to the street.

  Rafe seized her arm. “I’m here now, and the road will take y
ou twice as long to get home. Besides, they’ll be hunting for you on the streets.”

  “Great. Demons are hunting me down like a piece of meat.” She wiped sweat and creosote from her neck. “Will they ever give up?”

  “Lucifer rarely intervenes.” Rafe nudged her gently forward, looking skyward as if expecting an answer from above. “His legions get plenty of immoral results without their deity’s help.”

  Jordan walked, scuffing pine needles and sticks with her sneakers. “Rafe, you were my father’s guardian angel. Why couldn’t you help him?” Giving him a cursory glimpse, she saw his brow furrowed over saddened eyes.

  “Jack was entrenched in a bleak world at a young age. I spoke to his heart, but he buried my words deep within, and I watched and waited. Asa’s influence changed Jack to such a degree that I had to flee from his side entirely.

  “Then on the day you were born, Seeley nearly died. Jack prayed for the first time, creating a miraculous chink in his blackened heart—a space for light to cultivate. Grace fractured evil, making it possible for me to return.” He smiled, though, sorrowful. “Jack fought a brave battle, never involving you or your mother. His disloyalty incensed Asa, who’d promised Lucifer a warrior’s spirit—”

  Jordan nodded. “I think I know the rest of the story.” Weighing his words during a temporary interval, she asked, “Why does my heart ache so much for Markus?”

  “My Father bestows a guardian to every soul, a strong, lasting bond, where two spirits become one.”

  She wished he’d elaborate, but sensing Rafe’s trepidation, he’d commenced into a slow trot. “I guess we’re in a hurry.”

  “Yes.”

  The heels of Rafe’s shoes troweled the dirt, stopping suddenly. A visible shudder pitched him backward, both hands gripping his head. “They need me. I don’t know if I should leave you alone.” Troubled eyes pierced Jordan.

  “Go.” She didn’t see what was holding him up. “Go now. Help Markus.”

  “Go straight home,” Rafe growled. In a whoosh of remarkable wings, he pushed off with his feet and a distinct whir swelled the air.

  Alone again, Jordan noticed every spooky creak. She made a beeline for home, jogging and swerving among trees, bushes, and fallen trunks.

  She took a break, resting with her hands stacked on her knees. Swallowing deep breaths, she rubbed the stitch in her side. Grime and sweat pearled her neck, arms and back. After unwinding a noose of hair from her throat, she plucked at her clinging shirt. Rucking her shirttail, she scrubbed her clammy face.

  Jordan smelled smoke and heard splintering wood. Her head swiveled to the right. Someone was there. He resembled her algebra teacher. Short and squatty with grubby brown hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and a white button-down shirt, complete with a pen protector.

  It was her teacher, Mr. Basinski.

  When he spotted Jordan, he ran faster than she expected, given his rotund bulk. She sidestepped just in the nick of time. Sweat streaming down Mr. Basinski’s pudgy face, he charged a second time. Hawking a phlegm ball, she spat in his red-ringed demon eye. She jerked her knee, colliding with his groin. Grunting, she punted her sneaker into the teacher’s chin, knocking him unconscious.

  Leaves rustled and two more demons emerged with hacking blades. Ducking behind a trunk, Jordan called, “Markus!”

  A demon popped around the tree trunk, clinching his fingers on her arm. He frothed at the mouth and chortled, claiming his prize. She distracted the demon with a fist to his unprotected throat. He slumped, choking. She took off, skirting brambles, trying to lose his buddy.

  “Markus, I need you,” she panted through a raw throat, and spotting a rock, she needed to concentrate. The rock shook. She firmed her mental grip and chucked it at her aggressor. Yes!

  He dodged, yet the rock’s notched edge grazed his forehead, splicing a gaping gash.

  Her senses heightened, and she heard the phlit of a flying object. She bobbed to the left just as the tip of the blade stabbed the tree. She took off again, with the demon in hot pursuit.

  Their ragged breathing mingled with ghostly night noises as they ran, trampling twigs and breaking off branches. The demon lurched, his arms snagging her legs. She tripped and sprawled into a pile of brushwood, with the wind knocked from her lungs. The demon leapt, straddling her body.

  “Thought you’d get away, missy?” His breath reeked, as he gawked wildly with eyes ringed with red. The tip of the knife bit her neck as he pressed harder, breaking skin.

  Her blood trickled along her throat, but she remained still, expecting a chance to kill the beast.

  “Wait!” a battered Mr. Basinski shouted. “Trebane’s waiting. You don’t want to get him mad.”

  “I jus’ wanna little taste.” The demented demon perched on her chest drew closer.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, her nostrils filled with his noxious stench.

  The demon spooled off her chest when Mr. Basinski booted him with his penny loafer. The demon cussed as her teacher kicked the demon again and again. Frantic, she struggled to get to her feet, only to be accosted by a third fiend standing nearby and then Mr. Basinski. They wrestled with her thrashing legs and arms.

  Unable to budge from their fiendish hold, Jordan saw a wink of moonlight on silver. The ousted, demented demon reared forward and stabbed her arm. The knife flashed a second time, piercing her upper chest. A fist clipped Jordan in the temple, and all went black.

  Roused by burning pain and the sounds of a crackling bonfire, Jordan suppressed a groan. Before opening her eyes, she prayed. “I need help.”

  Chanting droned in the background as she opened her eyes a slit, confirming what she felt. Rope twined from her shoulders, across her chest and under her arms, tying her firmly to what she assumed was a wooden beam.

  Cowled figures threw bespelled ingredients into the pit, and flames sputtered in response. Spellbound worshippers swayed in rhythm to the chanting. Ronan! Is she hidden under one of those cloaks, conjuring her black magic?

  Off to one side, her three demon attackers stood guard, the only ones in street clothes.

  “Come on, Trebane,” Mr. Basinski said. “Let’s get on with it.”

  The nefarious gray-haired man stooped low, clutching a wooden staff. Apparently, Asa had sprained an ankle on his swift jaunt through the forest. Jordan hoped it hurt like a hellhound gnawing on his bones.

  His black robe swished as he moved surprisingly fast. Standing above her, his skin drooped in folds, and his eyes reflected his black heart.

  “Hello, Jordan. We meet again, for the last time. Now, I have the advantage.” His voice grated like metal on glass. “I believe it’s past time for your consecration.” Asa’s jowls quivered, sprinkling spittle on her face. “However, I’d consider sparing you for a while if you conform to The Order.”

  “Never, you piece of slime.”

  “My, my, what language. Such an impertinent child,” he expressed in an acerbic cluck. “Your mother lacks in teaching you manners.” His black eyes studied her face. “You look a lot like her, what a waste. Speaking of your mother, how is luscious Seeley?”

  Animosity oozed out of her pores. “Damn you to hell!”

  “I have no doubt. But all in good time, Jordan, all in good time.”

  He turned and approached the hooded men and women parading around the pit. He halted them with a peremptory hand. Not a sound stirred in the forest. “Disciples of Lucifer, we sacrifice a most worthy offering to our lord. You come here to witness the consecration of the Warrior.”

  Jordan craned her neck to see heads bowing and hands clasped in expectation. Mr. Basinski came into view, dropping to his knees and tugging on her legs. Never one to give up, she kicked toward his face, just barely shearing his jaw before he secured both ankles.

  Circulation cut off, Jordan’s extremities numbed. She pinched her eyelids, holding back threatening tears. Ezekiel’s words went through her head. It’s always a trap. Right now, the angels battled Lucifer and his cohorts, l
eaving Asa to perform his dirty work.

  “Tonight, the prophecy will be fulfilled. Preeminent Lucifer, in this vigil, we seek world dominance. May you reign on Earth, achieving our victory of wealth and supremacy. We submit ourselves to your authority by this sacrificial consecration.” His voice amplified. “Lucifer. Bind the warrior’s spirit. Create a powerful demon to win souls for your gain!”

  With numb hands, no sensation below her knees, and hoping for a miracle, Jordan mumbled, “Markus…Markus…”

  Asa spun, sneering. “Did you call Markus? The Great One detains your Markus as we speak.” He bent low, penetrating Jordan with his malicious gaze. “You and your father will have a lot to talk about, both dying in the same manner.”

  Horrorstruck, she thought, He’s going to crucify me!

  Two demons yanked her arms, knelt on her extended wrists, and waited for the signal. The cadence of hellish chanting built—its rhythm hypnotic.

  The ultimate predator, Asa raised his arm for deathly quiet.

  Scared out of her mind, she gritted her teeth. Every quaking bone in her body had been stretched to the limit. She never imagined the consecration would actually take place. A distant threat, never a reality. Her mom’s face haunted her. Poor Mom.

  Asa slashed his arm through the air.

  Jordan felt a prick in each palm then the clang of metal on metal.

  Her spine tingling screams echoed loud and long through the forest. Excruciating agony exploded her brain into a million pieces. On the brink of unconsciousness, she wished for nothingness. Her body rose as demons heaved the wooden beam upright. It thumped into a prepared hole, jarring her aching body.

  In sheer anguish, she shrieked again. Above their heads, Jordan hung on the cross between heaven and earth. I’m going to die, just like my father.

  “God,” she wheezed.

  “He isn’t here, Jordan. He can’t, or won’t, help you,” Asa belittled. “You poor child, you are abandoned. The good shepherd has given his flock free will, and the sheep have scattered. You are the little lamb led to the slaughter. How poetic. Your mission is fulfilled.”