Her Black Soul (The Dark Amulet Series Book 3)

by A. J. Norris

  The men frisked him and yanked his torso up. He smelled meat and a whitish substance clung to his chest. It also smelled delicious. His stomach growled.

  “No ID,” one of the men said. “What’s your name, buddy?”

  Why would they want to know that? Berus curled his upper lip.

  “You wanna do this hard way, is that it?”

  Berus hummed, he had a question. “Mmmm, what’s the e-easy way?”

  “What?” the dark-blue clothed man asked, chuckling. “How ‘bout you tell me your name, huh?”

  He shook his head. These humans had no idea what they had put in handcuffs. Berus was capable of killing them where they stood, however, it wasn’t advisable given the number of humans in the area. Too much work. Besides more than likely they were planning on taking him someplace else. And hopefully by car.

  “Not going to tell me your name. All right. You’re gonna take a little ride with us.” Berus had surmised that this was their plan all along. They shoved him forward to the door. Outside, he swung his head away from the bright flashing blue and red lights. The glare stung and he blinked several times.

  One of the men opened the door of a car with revolving lights. “Get in.” The other human pushed Berus’s head down, forcing him to take a seat or land on his face with his hands tied behind his back. He shuffled his ass over on the seat and settled. The metal shackles bit into his wrists while he wrenched the chain links apart. He kept his hands out of sight.

  Several minutes passed before the two blue-clothed men got in the car. A metal grate separated Berus from them. They spoke into a black box that squawked back. He ignored the conversation. The car started moving. The demon would wait until they drove further away from other humans before letting himself out of the car. He stared straight ahead. A gust of wind blew across the backseat.

  Jeremiah appeared next to Berus and the angel jerked himself toward the door. “Deus! What the Netherworld!”

  One of the humans swiveled around. “What the…fuck?” The car let out a squealing noise and stopped. Jeremiah’s hands kept him from hitting the divider. Berus slid forward, smashing his face into the metal partition. With a growl, he bent the wire, stretching the thin steel until a hole formed large enough to grab the front passenger’s throat from behind. The driver yelled and pointed something black at him.

  “He’s got a gun,” Jeremiah said. Berus assumed gun meant a weapon. He continued pressing on the man’s windpipe. The guy pawed at Berus’s hand and tried swallowing; his face turned from red to purple. Much longer and he’d be blue.

  “I’ll shoot!” the driver of the car yelled.

  “You’re gonna kill him,” Jeremiah said. His gray-yellow stare made Berus loosen the grip on the man’s neck.

  “Let him go!” the man with the gun yelled again. Berus shoved his victim at the driver.

  BOOM!

  A flash lit the interior of the car. The human with the gun shouted, “Oh God, no! Roddy!”

  Berus punched the door with his feet. Heat licked at his shoulder, stinging him, and a hole appeared in the glass. He kicked the door again. Metal creaked and snapped. The door flew off the car, smashing onto the ground. Without looking he found the angel’s arm and yanked him out of the car.

  The gun went off again. Jeremiah cried out but stayed linked to Berus. Blood sprayed out of his wing. The angel’s knees weakened, forcing the demon to hold him. He set him on the ground and whipped around. A roar that originated not from within his throat but his soul tore out of him. The sound ricocheted off the buildings.

  Thou shalt not harm this angel.

  The living human jumped out of the car. “You killed my partner!”

  Berus charged over the hood, taking him down to the ground. The man grunted. They fought for control, a battle easily won by Berus. Straddling the officer’s legs, he connected his fists with the guy’s face over and over. Blood splattered with each blow.

  “Stop!” Jeremiah yelled. The demon stilled for half a second. The angel’s eyes drilled him, penetrating and uncovering a tiny part of his brain he didn’t even know existed. A place where penitence lived.

  But he hurt you.

  No sooner had he thought those words than he realized what that meant. He cared what Jeremiah thought of him. Shaking off the feeling, he struck the human again, who moaned then coughed.

  “Look what you’re doing. You don’t have to kill him. I can fix this,” Jeremiah pleaded.

  “H-h-how?” Berus pushed himself away from the human and refused to meet the angel’s gaze.

  “It’s my job. Please…just go.”

  “N-n-n-no.” Berus breathed through his nose and gritted his teeth. He hated that he sounded as if he were stupid. Damn Abaddon.

  “You stutter,” Jeremiah said, looking at him. He nodded. “You haven’t always been able to speak…” the angel paused, “you are a demon. A native of Nether—”

  Sirens in the distance grew louder. More cars with lights and men with guns would arrive soon. Engines revved. They had to leave.

  Jeremiah crouched down and waved a hand over the man on the ground. Berus grabbed the angel from behind in a chokehold. Wings prevented him from using too tight a grip. He counted fifteen seconds then released the angel’s carotid arteries. Berus dragged him down the darkened alley between two buildings. He pressed himself to a wall while a car with blue lights rolled past. He glanced around for someplace to leave the angel. He wasn’t going to let the humans find him but he couldn’t have the male following him either. Next to him was a metal door. Reaching over with one hand and with his back still against the brick, he tested the doorknob. It was locked, although not for long. With a quick turn of the wrist, he twisted the handle until the door popped open.

  Berus scooped the angel into his arms and slipped inside the building. The space he laid him was dark so he sniffed the air. He sensed some type of creature, however, no humans. The scent reminded him of goat-demons except he knew it wasn’t fallen angels he smelled. After ensuring Jeremiah was still breathing, he slinked out the way he came.

  He kept to the shadows and worked his way opposite the humans and their guns. He came up to a ten-foot tall fence. The alley made a sharp turn on the other side of the barrier to the right. A gray feather had been blown down the alley and was now stuck to the fence.

  Jeremiah.

  He placed the plume between his lips and scaled the meshed metal wall.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SIX

  Virgil

  A red circle with the number fifteen indicated Virgil had missed that many phone calls. His heart plummeted. All he’d wanted was a lousy nap. Evie was still asleep in the bedroom. She’d cried so much she finally passed out in his arms from exhaustion. He didn’t even think he was tired until he awoke to his phone vibrating on the coffee table.

  Virgil put his cell up to his ear and listened to the voicemails. Elliott’s deep voice bombarded him. “Hey, ah…Dahlia’s hooked up with a demon. Don’t go back to the apartment, all right. Or, I dunno, leave if you’re already there.”

  Each subsequent message told him with increasing urgency to leave the apartment or not return there. He swore under his breath. What was going through the Warrior’s head? She always had issues, yet this was different. The whole thing smelled like revenge. Over the years he’d seen some crazy from Delilah, but this…this was destructive behavior. He feared she wouldn’t give up until Evie was back in Netherworld. And if Dahlia had been Tainted by Abaddon, she could lose everything, including herself.

  He rushed toward the bedroom. “Evie! Evie!” When Virgil reached for the handle, the door flung open.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, worry lines creasing her forehead. She had changed her clothing. The emerald green chiffon dress flowed to the floor and set off her red hair.

  Virgil nearly forgot about the voicemails from Elliott. “Uh…it might be a good time to find the amulet. And we need to go.”

  “All right. We’ll nee
d a shovel.”

  “You buried it?”

  “Yeah, and it’s deep.”

  “How deep?”

  “Does that really matter right now?”

  “No, not with a demon and Dahlia heading our way.”

  “Then why are we standing here?” Evie shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

  Virgil led the way out down the hallway. At the front door, he peered through the peephole. No one showed in the little round glass so he cracked open the door. He looked right, around the wooden panel, then left.

  “I don’t see anything. Let’s go.” He motioned for Evie to follow him. “Stay close.”

  “Yeah, I got this,” she told him, sounding like she may have been offended by his condescension, although he hadn’t meant it that way. He’d always worry about her even though she didn’t need his protection. Now that they weren’t in Netherworld and she remembered who she was, her confidence had blossomed.

  “Why don’t we just teleport somewhere?” she asked. “Then you don’t have to treat me like fine china.”

  “Where did you bury the amulet?”

  “Well, you know how I said we need a shovel?”

  Virgil sighed, imagining the possibilities. “Where?”

  “I wanted it to be someplace I wouldn’t forget.”

  “Where?”

  She grinned. “Do you remember Uriel?”

  Virgil groaned, knowing where this was going. “Yes. He died a fallen angel…for love, if memory serves.”

  “Yeah, yeah, he passed away weeks before I fell.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “You put it in the coffin?”

  “I might have. That’s why we need a shovel.”

  Virgil glanced at the ceiling. “Where is the grave?”

  “Holy Oak Memorial Park. It’s north of here a wee bit.”

  Virgil sighed. “How far is ‘a wee bit’?”

  “Couple hundred miles or so,” she mumbled.

  Virgil waited for Evie while she teleported. He didn’t know where Holy Oak was exactly and he had a feeling, given her emotions, he would rather not. Angels happened to be immortal. He had to wonder why Evie left him in the ground, where his soul couldn’t escape his humanlike husk. Virgil understood that ordinary humans buried their dead, but Uriel wasn’t normal.

  Virgil closed his eyes and meditated on Evie, thinking on her bright red hair and the dress. Oh, that dress he wanted to rip off from her curvy body. He whisked away, hurtling through black nothingness. When he arrived at the cemetery Evie already had two shovels in her hands. The ground above where the caskets were buried had sagged over the years, making the grass look like rolling waves in a green sea. There were rows of tombstones which seemed to have a definite uniformity and then lots of them haphazardly littering the expanse in no recognizable pattern. Dogwood trees in full bloom lined one side of the iron fence surrounding the graveyard. He walked toward her over the uneven terrain. She tossed a spade at him and he caught it by the handle.

  “I’d say thank you if I didn’t know I’m not going to enjoy this.”

  Evie stood over a headstone lying flat, like someone had beaten it into the ground. A crack had split the stone in half. Below a winged skull relief, the chiseled angel’s human name was barely readable anymore.

  Juri Stevens

  Died September 4, 1842

  Aged 77, 2 months, 5 days

  “This is it. You think he’s still in there?” she asked.

  “Deus, I hope not.” Virgil wasted no time and stabbed the earth. He jumped on the shovel, driving it deeper. The first clump of sod he flung over his shoulder. Evie started opposite him and they made a ring around the depression in front of the grave marker. Next they worked on removing the grass from the center. Despite the cooler night air, Virgil wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Blisters had formed on his palms so he manifested a pair of gloves for himself and Evie, handing her a pair.

  “Here, put these on.”

  “Good idea,” she said, taking the leather work gloves from him.

  An easterly breeze blew at his back. Virgil squinted at the dogwoods. A few flower-heavy branches swayed but nothing else moved. “Did you feel that?”

  “Feel what?”

  “The breeze.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  Virgil resumed excavating the grave, even though an uneasiness settled in his stomach. He hoped it was paranoia.

  They dug in silence for about ten minutes until she stopped and threw her shovel down. “There’s got to an easier way.”

  “I could call someone for help.” Virgil pulled out his phone. Not expecting Raz to be available, he dialed his number. Uriel was a Guardian and he couldn’t think of anyone better to call. No doubt the buried angel would need his aid.

  “Hello, my brethren,” Raz answered on the second ring.

  “I’m in need of your assistance at Holy Oak Memorial—”

  “What kind of assistance?”

  “One involving shovels.”

  “Shovels? Where did you say you were?”

  “Holy Oak.”

  “Shit! Uriel. I’ll be right there and I’m bringing Julia.”

  Virgil ended the call, puzzled by the other angel’s reaction. Why hadn’t anyone dug the fallen up if they knew about the internment? He leaned on the shovel. “I’m afraid he may still be down here.”

  Evie pursed her lips. “Is that what Raz told you?”

  “I believe he implied so.”

  They stared at the dirt then started digging fast. The breeze that accompanied teleportation blew past them and Virgil glanced up. Raz and his black winged female appeared. Raz kept his distance while Julia went right up to Evie, who continued tossing dirt over her shoulder.

  “Why don’t you let Raz take over?” Julia said.

  Virgil stiffened his back; Evie had a determined look on her face. He waited for her to growl at Julia even though she’d been complaining under her breath.

  “Gladly,” she said and handed the spade to him. Raz relieved her of the tool and nodded.

  “Do you really believe he still resides in the coffin?” Virgil asked him.

  “Yep. I don’t know anyone else that would’ve come for the grouchy bastard. Do you?”

  Virgil chuckled. Raz proved he was a better digging partner. Evie had spent most of the time brushing dirt off her dress.

  Julia and Evie stepped around to the other side of the headstone, out of the way of flying soil. They hit something hard about six feet down. They uncovered the long wooden box. Raz wedged the shovel and pried the lid on one side.

  He paused, scrunching his face. “Ready for this?”

  “No. Before we release Uriel, I want to find the amulet Evie hid.”

  Raz put his palm up. “Have at it. The less touching I have to do the better.”

  Virgil agreed, but had no other choice.

  Julia peered into the hole. “How gross is this going to be?” Raz shook his head and climbed out. “Ew, really?”

  Virgil jerked the lid up, the nails giving way easily. Evie took the board from him.

  Julia grunted and turned her head. “Nasty.”

  Raz smirked. “Told you. But it hasn’t gotten nasty yet.”

  Virgil ignored the commentary. The human husk appeared mummified. A blackened crust had replaced the skin. Uriel held the amulet in his hands. Thank Deus, he didn’t have to search around the bottom of the casket. Virgil bent back the fingers and plucked the pendant from him. He shoved it into his pocket then rubbed his hand on his jeans.

  Uriel’s honey-colored eyes snapped open with a crunch. Julia screamed and jumped back, falling over a headstone, still hollering. Raz scooped her up in his arms.

  Evie giggled. “Sorry,” she said, covering her mouth. “I shouldn’t laugh.”

  Virgil expected the crusty angel to awaken. The layer of dried film flaked from Uriel’s fingers, releasing the foulest stench. Worse than Netherworld and a thousand Damned souls from the Void
. Virgil plugged his nose and breathed through his mouth.

  “A little help?” he said to Raz, whose shirt was pulled up to his eyes. Julia was bent over at the waist, gagging. Evie held what must have been a battery-operated fan. Virgil snorted. Evidently, she had listened to Amalya’s crash course in modern technology after all.

  Raz got in the hole and helped clear the angel’s face. Uriel coughed and spoke through wheezing breaths. “Get…me…out…of…here.”

  Virgil clawed at the fallen’s arms and torso. Everything that still cocooned the angel crumbled as he sat upright. A wave of odor blasted him and threatened to knock him out.

  “I see what you mean by nasty now. The smell, oh God,” Julia said.

  “Yeah, you can never…quite…prepare yourself for it,” Evie eked out.

  “I don’t think the fan is having the desired effect.”

  “I think you’re right. It’s not big enough.” Evie manifested a larger fan and tossed the other one aside.

  Uriel kicked and shook his legs until he was free. “Get of my way, you idiots!” he snarled. He sprang out of the coffin then staggered around for a few moments. His wings were still missing; he’d have to ask Deus if he wanted them back.

  “What’s his problem? We got him out, didn’t we?” Julia whispered to Evie.

  “Story is the woman he fell for died shortly after they married. Tragic.”

  “That sucks,” Julia said.

  Uriel glared at the females. “Shut your mouth. I’ve rotted in that hole for I don’t know how long…”

  “Two hundred years, roughly,” Raz said.

  “Oh, is that all?” Uriel’s words dripped with sarcasm.

  “You’re the one who chose to fall,” Julia pointed out.

  “So I deserved to be left inside a decaying human husk?! Who are you?”

  “Julia the Guardian. Who the hell are you?”

  “Who I am is not your—”

  “All right, all right, everyone calm down a minute,” Raz said, tamping the air with his hands. A quiet settled over them.

  “So which one of you sons of bitches is taking me home?” Uriel asked, breaking the silence.