by Cole, Tillie
JEGUDIEL
A Deadly Virtues Novel
TILLIE COLE
Contents
Jegudiel
Copyright
Epigraph
Author’s Note
The Ten Commandments of the Fallen
Glossary
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
The End
Playlist
Acknowledgments
Author Biography
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Jegudiel
A Deadly Virtues Novel
Tillie Cole
Copyright© Tillie Cole 2021 All rights reserved
Copyedited by Kia Thomas Editing
Formatted by Stephen Jones
Cover Design by Hang Le
Ebook Edition
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This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, actual events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters and names are products of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
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“In each of us, two natures are at war— the good and the evil.”
- Dr. Henry Jekyll
Author’s Note
The Deadly Virtues series is a dark romance series based on the concept of the Seven Deadly Sins and the Seven Heavenly Virtues, drawing on the contrarian model, which states that each virtue acts as a “cure” or “remedy” to one of the sins.
Humility will cure Pride.
Kindness will cure Envy.
Temperance will cure Gluttony.
Chastity will cure Lust.
Patience will cure Wrath.
Charity will cure Greed.
Diligence will cure Sloth.
Jegudiel (Deadly Virtues: Book Two) will explore the notion of Charity curing Greed.
The Ten Commandments of the Fallen
Thou shalt not kill an innocent
Thou shalt not stray from the Fallen’s righteous path
Thou shalt not bring prey back to Eden Manor
Thou shalt not kill in Eden Manor
Thou shalt not betray, injure, or kill a brother of the Fallen
Thou shalt kill only the Chosen
Thou shalt not put any other above the Fallen
Thou shalt not kill another brother’s prey
Thou shalt only kill within the realms of one’s desire
Thou shalt practice self-restraint
Glossary
The Fallen: Comprises Gabriel, Raphael, Selaphiel, Barachiel, Jegudiel, Uriel, Michael. Seven men from Holy Innocents; later, Purgatory. Named by the Brethren after the archangels of the Catholic faith in hope that their holy names would inspire redemption. They became the Fallen in reference to their archangel names and their rebellious natures.
The Brethren: Sect born from the Catholic Church in Boston, Massachusetts. Exorcises boys of their innate evil, their thirst to kill, through invasive sexual and medieval torture techniques carried on from the Spanish Inquisition.
Holy Innocents Home for Children: Orphanage for boys near Boston. Named in tribute to the boys killed during Herod’s search for Jesus.
Purgatory: Secret home on the Holy Innocents grounds. Run by the secret Catholic sect the Brethren. Boys viewed as innately evil are brought there to be “exorcised” of their demons.
Eden Manor: The manor house on the outskirts of Boston inherited by Gabriel from his grandfather, billionaire/serial killer Jack Murphy. A secret location, protected by the government. Home to the Fallen.
The Tomb: Basement room in Eden where “Revelations” are conducted.
The Nave: Room where the Fallen gather for meals. Dinner each night is mandatory to strengthen the social bonds of the brotherhood. It is a way for Gabriel to assess his brothers and ensure they keep a grip on their humanity.
Revelation: Ritual of the Fallen. Ceremony where Gabriel tasks one of the Fallen with a “mission” to kill. The Fallen wear ceremonial robes.
The Fallen’s Oath: Taken in the Tomb. Each brother of the Fallen signs a contract in blood with the sacrificial quill, committing themselves to the life of a Fallen and to the Ten Commandments that must be adhered to. Performed by Gabriel. Breakable only by death.
Chapter 1
Diel opened his eyes, his hazy gaze traveling down the damp gray stone wall around him. His cheek was cold as it pressed against the freezing floor. His neck ached, the throbbing ghost of numbness snaking over his bare shoulders and the top of his spine. His head twitched, and he flitted his eyes to the iron bars that trapped him inside the cage.
The cage he knew all too well.
The monster within him rippled under his skin, waking from the forced sleep it had been plunged into. A spear of anger soared through Diel’s veins, overriding the aches and numbness and the lethargy of his muscles. Again. They had grounded him again. Lamed his monster again.
Jaw clenched and hands fisted, Diel used his waning strength to lift his torso off the slick ground and sat up. His pulse thudded faster and faster at the fact that he was in the fucking cage. But his pulse had no sooner started to race than the metal collar around his neck crackled against his already scarred and scalded skin. The electricity sizzled its warning, a sharp-fanged serpent, ready to strike the minute he lost control of his senses.
Diel breathed deeply and forced his body to still, the darkness within him to rest. Every inch of him became a statue, and the hiss of the collar lessened to a low-grade hum.
He fucking hated the collar. It was the bane of his existence. But it was a necessity.
Diel closed his eyes and thought back to how he’d got to the cage in the first place—a dream. Another fucking dream that had ripped him from sleep and had seen him racing through the manor looking for someone to tear apart, to sate the bloodlust of the monster living inside him.
No. Not just someone. His monster yearned for some very specific someones.
The Brethren. The motherfucking Brethren that he and his brothers had recently destroyed after they’d captured Maria, Raphael’s woman. The Fallen had headed to Holy Innocents, the school that had robbed them of their childhoods and fucked with their bodies and minds. They had descended, for the final time, to Purgatory, the place where they had been held as kids.
And they had burned it to hell.
>
The flames may have destroyed Diel’s childhood tormentors, but the rage following the inferno remained. The monster that lived inside him, seeking blood and pain and death, only grew stronger, thirstier, more intolerant of the collar that wrapped around his neck like a leash, denying both of them what they craved—death. Such beautiful, sadistic deaths by their hands.
Diel heard the sound of a pencil scratching on paper and turned his head to see Sela sitting on a chair at the side of the Tomb. He was sketching on a pad of paper, eyes fixed on whatever he was creating.
“Upper hallway, left wing,” Sela said, without taking his eyes off the pad. His long dark hair curtained his face as he concentrated on whatever picture he was purging from his creative brain onto the page. “Gabriel had us bring you down here until you awoke.”
The tendons in Diel’s neck corded. The darkness inside was more than pissed at being handled in such a pathetic way. He ground his jaw so hard that the sound of teeth on teeth made Sela lift his eyes and meet his stare.
Sela’s pencil stilled. “Third time this week.”
Diel inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled slowly. He mentally wrestled the monster back until its presence was a dull ache at the back of his head, throbbing like the very worst of migraines. Diel sat back on his ass and laid his arms over his bent knees. His head twitched as he fought the everlasting battle to keep his anger in check.
“The Brethren,” Diel said, voice raspy with exhaustion. Sela twirled the pencil in his fingers as he listened to his best friend, the stick of wood and charcoal practically an extension of his artistic hand.
Diel’s eyes lost focus as he bathed in the memory of his collar being turned off in Purgatory. Anger had filled his veins, and Diel and the monster he kept at arm’s length had become one, united in violence and death, twin dark souls synced and, for once in their lives, calm and at peace as they plunged their twenty-inch blades into the men that had destroyed their childhoods.
Destroyed every single part of them.
“D?” Sela said, pulling Diel from his stupor.
His temples throbbed, his ever-present migraine pounding like iron bars being slammed into his brain over and over again. His migraines had always been bad, the monster never sleeping long enough to grant a reprieve. It was constantly pacing at the back of his mind, desperate to finally be freed of the collar’s stringent control.
Diel rubbed the back of his neck. “I keep replaying that night in Purgatory.” Memories of killing the Brethren flashed like a highlight reel in his mind. “When the collar was off and we finally got to end them …” His cock stirred as he recalled the feel of his blades slicing into flesh, of hitting bone when they plunged too deep. But his excitement misted away to vapor when he remembered the familiar buzz of the collar being reignited and his monster being lashed and gagged once again. “And then Gabe switched it back on.” It had been like a junkie getting his fix, the most hedonistic drug cocktail of his life, only to be abruptly forced to go cold turkey afterward.
Diel’s head twitched again as his pulse began to race at just the memory of smelling the Brethren’s blood on his skin—the sweetest perfume. His hands flexed as he felt the phantom necks that had snapped under his fingers.
The collar buzzed and sent warning volts soaring through his body. His muscles tensed as he absorbed the pain, as it hissed at the monster inside to retreat. To get the fuck back. Sweat beaded on his forehead; a single drop ran down his spine.
Gasping for air, Diel submitted to the monster’s sudden surge of power to snarl, “I want this fucking collar off. I want to be who I was fucking born to be without the restraints.” Diel tensed and threw the monster back from taking control. The monster retreated, but its anger-tipped words echoed around Diel’s head like they were being blasted through speakers. Diel’s stomach turned and a fissure of panic slithered across his fractured soul at that thought. The thought off actually being free from the collar … of what that would look like, feel like …
Diel knew his monster could never be freed. He knew the collar could never come off. It would consume Diel. It would eradicate every part of who he was.
“D?” Sela asked, concern in his voice.
Diel couldn’t tell him that his monster was gaining power. Flooding Diel’s brain daily with thoughts of death and freedom and never having to obey electrical currents again.
“I want the Brethren gone,” Diel said. He had to throw Sela off the scent of his fear. “Every one of them. I could give a shit about any other murderous fucker Gabe sends us to kill. I want the Brethren. Only the fucking Brethren.” The words may have been a cover for Diel’s battle with his monster, but it made them no less true.
That night in Purgatory had done something irreparable to Diel. For years the Fallen had evaded the Brethren, stayed hidden so as not to draw their attention to the boys who had evaded the final exorcisms. Gabriel had made it that way, made them ghosts to anyone outside of Eden Manor, for their own protection. But Gabe wasn’t like Diel or his brothers. His blood didn’t sing to exact revenge on the men that had tortured them. He didn’t yearn to kill every single one of the secret sect until none of them remained. Until nothing was left of them but bloodstains and bones.
It was all Diel thought of. Day and night. Every minute of every day. It was his obsession.
Sela nodded, then, with his paper in hand, approached the bars of the cell. He kneeled down, his dark eyes fixed on Diel, and turned the piece of paper he had been drawing on. Diel’s blue gaze fell on the intricate sketch—every detail was perfect, as if created by Michelangelo himself.
It was the Brethren.
The Brethren dead on the floor, seven cloaked and hooded men around them. The Fallen, looking down on the sect of priests that had plagued them for too many years to count. Diel reached out and ran his fingers over the slain and broken bodies. His skin bumped in excitement. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
“If you think the rest of us don’t think of destroying them too, all the fucking time, you’re dead wrong.” Sela turned the page to face himself and drank in the picture, his cheeks bursting with red. “It’s consuming.” Sela’s brown eyes darkened as something clearly crossed his mind. Diel knew what it would be. His best friend would be thinking of the member of the Brethren that Sela would one day bring down. The one who haunted him the most, the one who’d betrayed him beyond anything the rest of the brothers had experienced. The one who should have protected him, but instead threw him to the wolves.
The sound of footsteps on the stone staircase to the Tomb echoed off the old manor’s walls, ripping the two best friends from their mutual bloodlust. The light in the Tomb was low, but Diel saw Gabriel’s golden hair despite the darkness. It was like a damn halo, bright blond curls that framed his face and fell over his forehead. Gabriel was dressed as always in his priest’s attire, even down to the white dog collar. His blue eyes fell on Diel. Blue eyes that were always haunted, teetering on the brink of showing how badly he was breaking. Sela got to his feet and moved back to his chair, pencil back on the paper once again.
“Diel,” Gabe said, approaching the cell. “You okay?”
“Let me out, Gabe.” Diel got to his feet, wiped his hands on his pajama pants and wrapped his hands around the metal bars of the cage. Gabriel sighed, but, clearly happy that it was Jegudiel he was speaking to and not the monster inside of him, he reached for the key on his waistband and unlocked the door.
As it swung wide and Diel stepped out, Gabriel said, “We’re in the gym.” Diel felt the remnants of last night’s dream clinging to his skin like starving leeches, biting into his tight muscles, refusing to let go. But he nodded and followed Gabriel up the stairs, through the manor and out to the large gym Gabriel had had built in the vast gardens. The frigid air slapped at his skin, a heavy mist hovering over the landscaped grass like a sleeping spirit. The sky was overcast and gray, and drizzling rain sank into Diel’s dark hair with every step. Sela followed
, his newest picture tucked into his pocket.
The rest of Diel’s brothers were already in the gym, shirts off, track pants on, and sweat dripping from their skin.
They looked up at the sound of the door being opened. “Here he is.” Bara approached Diel and Sela, his long red hair like a raging flame in the still-dark morning.
Silently, Gabriel moved to the changing room, leaving Diel with the rest of the Fallen. Bara stopped in front of Diel, his skin flushed from exercise and his usual disturbing smirk on his lips. Uriel came beside Bara, resting his arm on his best friend’s shoulder. His heavily tattooed skin was drenched in sweat, and messy blond hair stuck to his damp cheeks.
Diel’s head twitched under their attention, his monster pacing back and forth with excitement that Diel was about to train, to blow off some steam. His eyes searched the gym. They landed on the blades on the walls. His hands itched to hold them. They yearned to use them.
Raphael and Michael approached too. Raphael flicked his chin at Diel in greeting. Something inside of Raphael had calmed since he’d met Maria. Since he’d had the chance to kill her but, instead, saved her life, keeping her by his side as one of them. Michael stared across the gym, his eyes displaying their usual blankness as he clutched the vial of blood around his neck.
