JEGUDIEL: A Deadly Virtues Novel

by Cole, Tillie

  Another hand across Noa’s face was her reward, then Auguste gripped her chin and pulled her face forward to hover a millimeter before his. “What’s so humorous, witch?”

  “You,” Noa replied, mocking clear in her tone.

  Auguste’s nails dug into her cheeks. Blood sprouted from her splitting skin. “I’m going to break you,” he promised, darkness lacing his graveled voice.

  “You never will.” Noa knew those words were true. Because she knew who she was. And nothing the Brethren could do would ever take that from her.

  But Auguste’s vicious grin promised Noa that he would do his very best to destroy her spirit.

  With a firm nod from Auguste in the direction of the door to Perdition, the twins wrenched Noa forward. She was dragged down to the lower level and delivered into the room that had once held so much trauma for her. The place where Auguste had once tried to beat and torture the witch from her bones. The place where Noa believed he actually had, that he’d made her ashamed of her family’s bloodline.

  But she had been wrong.

  As her body hummed with the specters, the spirits of all the burned and drowned and hanged witches before her, Noa knew that no matter what he did, this time, she would never forget who she was.

  “Tie her to the stake,” Auguste said, undoing the cuffs of his long sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows. He tied back his hair, looking like Sela’s doppelganger. The twins tied Noa to the stake that stood next to the stream that ran below the church.

  Noa closed her eyes and thought of Diel. She focused on his face. On those of her grandmother, her sisters. And she was calm. She had tasted love and had given love. In the end, that was enough.

  “Lower her down,” Father Auguste commanded. In seconds, Noa was lurching forward toward the rushing water, hands tied behind her back. Fear tried to push through as the water came closer, but Noa kept it at bay. Instead, she focused inward. She withdrew into herself. And even as her face met the surface of the stream, as Auguste commanded his men to dunk her further, Noa didn’t thrash. She didn’t fight. She simply surrendered herself to her end, to water, one of the elements she trusted with her whole heart.

  As the cold water enveloped her head, a sense of relief rushed through her, as fast as the current rolling past her face. Beth would have gotten away by now, unseen by Brethren eyes. And soon, Diel would have his sister back. Noa’s lungs began to burn with the absence of air, every part of her body now submerged in the water. And as she felt herself begin to slip into the next phase of existence—sweet, numb death—she knew that, in the end, this was the best way to go …

  For love.

  Chapter 26

  Diel checked the clock again. Noa was late. She was really fucking late, and he wanted her back.

  “So what’s next?” Gabriel asked Dinah. The Fallen and the Coven, bar Noa and Beth, were gathered in the Nave. Diel’s head ticked, over and over again, as he tried to focus on what Dinah was saying. His eyes narrowed on Jo when he saw her check her cell, then frown when whatever she was looking for was clearly not there.

  Noa. Was she waiting for communication from Noa and Beth?

  “D?” Sela said from beside him. But Diel was still watching Jo, watching as she leaned in and whispered something to Candace. He listened closer.

  “They’re not answering. Either of them. I’m worried.”

  Noa. She should have been back by now.

  “We try our next locations,” Dinah said. Diel focused back on Dinah and Gabriel’s conversation, trying to stop his fucking head from spinning. The shadow of his monster starting to slash its tail inside him. Dinah sighed. “Some are pretty fucking dangerous. I’ve been praying that the ledgers aren’t in those places.” Then Dinah lifted her head and checked the clock too, eyebrows pulled down in concern, and Diel’s blood began to cool.

  Diel threw back his chair, about to lose his fucking mind. Then the door to the Nave crashed open. Diel braced himself for an attack, and his brothers jumped to their feet. But then Beth came barreling through, sweat dripping down her face, her eyes rimmed with red.

  Beth’s body sagged and she almost wept with relief when she laid eyes on her sisters. Dinah was on her feet in seconds. “Beth?” Dinah raced toward her. Diel was a fucking statue, waiting for her to speak. Beth pushed a ledger into Dinah’s chest. “Beth, what—”

  “She lied,” Beth pushed out. Diel turned to ice at those words. “Noa …” Beth choked on her words. The minute Noa’s name fell from her lips, Diel found himself racing across the room. It was as though he wasn’t in control of his body again.

  “Where is she?” Diel growled, feeling the stirring of darkness in his heart, his fucking soul.

  Beth’s eyes were huge as she looked up at him. “They have her,” Beth whispered, legs buckling. Dinah held her up before she collapsed. Diel’s brothers came to his side, as did the rest of the Coven. Diel glared at Beth as she tried to fucking speak, mouth opening and closing like she was struggling to find the words.

  “Noa found the ledger. Then Auguste came.” Beth met Diel’s gaze, but the mention of Auguste in the same sentence as Noa had already started a chain reaction in Diel, a fucking dousing in the inky blackness of evil, of rage. “She got me out, then shut herself in with Auguste and the twins. She faced them alone so I could get away.”

  Diel started to shake. His entire body vibrated with rage, such white-hot rage that every muscle tensed, and he let out a deafening bellow, veins cording in his neck.

  Then just as Diel thought it couldn’t get worse, Beth said, “And more came … vans and vans. An entire army.” She shook her head. “Auguste must have called for reinforcements. They are guarding her. They …” Beth’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh my God, Dinah. What will they do to her?”

  But Diel knew. They would kill her. After all these years the Coven had spent on the run from the Brethren, they would finally kill Noa. But not before they tortured her. Not before that cunt would make her pay.

  Dinah was fucking frozen, not speaking. “Dinah?” Beth whispered.

  Dinah’s crushed gaze met Beth’s. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Movement played in the corner of Diel’s eye. Gabriel came to stand beside Dinah.

  “We go and get her,” Gabriel said, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “We go and get our sister back.”

  But Diel had blacked out. He had plunged into that darkness that was closing in on his soul, and he fucking succumbed to it freely.

  Diel could hear Gabriel speaking. He could feel Sela shifting beside him. But he wasn’t listening to a word anyone said. He was a fucking inferno. A cluster of cinders about to collide, melting into a tar-filled river of destruction.

  After weeks and weeks of keeping calm, of feeling whole, of his monster melding with the man, Diel felt the knowing flickers of red-hot rage that the monster had once brought. Something sinister was unraveling in his stomach, shaken wide fucking awake by the thought of Noa being back in Auguste’s arms. His muscles tensed; his teeth gritted together—

  A hand was placed on his arm, and Diel turned, grabbing whoever it was by the throat. He needed to get to Noa. He needed to get his fucking woman back, and no fucker was getting in his way. He wasn’t rational. His monstrous side was taking the lead, and Diel let it through with zero resistance.

  He growled as the person fought to be released. Diel’s eyes were blurred; only Noa’s face hovered in his sight.

  Auguste had her. Diel had to get her back.

  “Brother,” cut through the raging fog in his brain. “Diel …” The voice was raspy and weak. Suddenly an arm wrapped around Diel’s chest and wrenched him back. Diel released whoever he had been holding against the wall and swerved, diving for whoever had dared to fucking touch him.

  But only thin air met him. He saw a flash of long dark hair, then his arms were trapped behind his back, rendering him immobile. Diel fought the hold, but a voice at his ear said, “Calm down. Calm. Down.” But Diel coul
dn’t—wouldn’t—calm the fuck down.

  Auguste had Noa.

  White-hot fear burst through his senses as he thought of what they might be doing to her, as his mind brought up image after fucked-up image of them tying her to a table and fucking her without consent. Of them slicing her open and burning her alive.

  Burning his witch!

  “Calm, brother,” the voice said again, trying to break through the red mist that had descended not only over Diel’s eyes but over his entire body. “Calm, and we can plan. We can figure shit out. Then we’ll go get your woman.” The voice paused. “And you can kill. You can kill as many Brethren as your fucked-up soul will allow.”

  “All of them,” Diel found himself snarling in response. “All of the fuckers. I’ll kill them all.”

  As the words poured from between his thinned lips, the room jerked back into focus. Sweat dripped down Diel’s back, and shallow inhales and exhales scraped from his throat. He blinked and suddenly made out people in front of him … the person behind his back.

  Diel’s brothers were all waiting for him to return to himself. The Coven were watching him closely, all pale cheeks and wide eyes. Gabriel was rubbing his neck, concerned blue eyes fixed on Diel—they were always concerned when they were focused on him.

  And then Diel felt Sela behind him. It was Sela holding him back, telling him to calm. Diel’s body switched from scalding to ice cold in a split second. His head twitched uncontrollably; his eyes blinked as he fought to stay in his body. He fought not to let the monster take over like he had done as a kid. He could feel his monster pacing, ready to jump in front of him to face the pain that was cutting through Diel like a flaming spear. But Diel held it back. He wanted to feel the pain. He needed the agony of losing Noa to fuel what came next.

  He and his monster were one now. Noa had fucking battled to bring Diel back to himself. She had battled to retrieve his lost memories. He wouldn’t fucking rip apart when she needed him most.

  “You good?” Sela asked, and Diel found himself slowly nodding. His rage was a detonated nuclear bomb, only seconds from eviscerating anything in its path. His monster began to pace within him, not to take over this time, but to be Diel’s greatest ally in getting Noa back. Diel closed his eyes, telling the savage beast to remain cool, to remain contained for just a little while longer …

  Then he would release their mutual wrath on anyone who stood between them and their woman.

  He opened his eyes when he heard someone move. Gabriel had taken a step forward. Diel’s angelic brother stared at him and said with utter conviction, “We’re going to get her back.” Gabriel never lied. He had never let Diel down.

  Diel nodded once, and Sela slowly released his arms from around Diel’s chest. But Diel couldn’t stand still. He rocked from side to side, unable to stop the constant twitching of his head and blinking of his eyes. But he listened as Gabriel opened his mouth. Hung off his every fucking word.

  “We’ll go in and get Noa. That is not up for debate,” Gabriel said firmly. He looked at Beth. Diel followed his line of sight. Beth was pale, eyes wide, lips shaking. And she was listlessly rubbing at her neck.

  Diel heard a low, almost silent growl from nearby. Michael was also staring at Beth. His always pale cheeks were red; one of the sharp metal claws on his fingertips pierced his own lip, then he rubbed his blood around his mouth and licked.

  “We’ll go to the church Beth told us Noa was being held in. Hopefully they are still there. I’ll send people there now to make sure,” Gabriel continued. Diel could hear his own breathing in his ears like a train surging by at full speed. He needed to kill. He needed blood coating his hands.

  He needed Noa back in his arms.

  “But we also need to learn from last time, at the meeting. Auguste caught us unprepared. We can’t be in that situation again,” Gabriel said. “Beth has also informed us that more men were arriving—Auguste’s Witch Finder army—as she left.” Gabriel cast a glance at the picture of his grandfather that hung nearby. Then he turned back to his brothers and the Coven. “We are not enough,” Gabriel said. The fire in Diel’s soul reignited. Diel didn’t care if they weren’t enough. He was going to get Noa, and if he died setting her free, he didn’t fucking care.

  “So we will use the Shadows,” Gabriel said, and Diel stilled. Gabriel met his eyes. “They can hold the perimeter, allowing us to get inside and retrieve Noa.”

  Shadows … Diel remembered the Shadows. The men that came for him and his brothers and bust them out of Purgatory, bringing them to this manor, and to Gabriel, who had organized setting them free.

  “Shadows?” Dinah asked. Diel stared at Noa’s sister. He had never seen her look this way. So broken, so unsure.

  “Mercenaries,” Gabriel said. “Paid men for hire.” Gabriel reached into his pocket for the small black book that his grandfather had left him. A book full of contacts that no normal person would ever need.

  But the Fallen were far from normal.

  “You have access to mercenaries?” Jo asked. “Why not use them more, with the Brethren?”

  “Because this is our fight,” Bara said. “This revenge is ours. Not theirs.” He ran his hand through his long red hair. “Brethren blood will be spilled by our hands. Not by men who don’t know what it was like to be fucked and tortured by them.” Bara’s words hovered in the air, bringing a deathly silence. Jo nodded in understanding.

  The Brethren would be destroyed by those they’d tried to “save.”

  “I try to keep outside help to a minimum,” Gabriel said. “That part of the underworld is not a place I want to be in too long. But …” He exhaled deeply. “When it’s a necessity, I know they can be trusted and our secrets will not be shared.” He shrugged. “We, the Fallen, live by a code. My contacts do too.”

  “What he means is we pay them a shit-ton of money to do the job we require, and to keep their mouths shut afterward,” Uriel said.

  Gabriel came to stand in front of Diel. Diel’s body shook with the need to just fucking go already. “I will call the Shadows in immediately.” Gabriel looked at everyone standing in a loose circle around him. “Get ready to go. This time we take more weapons. We must be ready for whatever the Witch Finder army throws at us. Is that all okay with you, Dinah?”

  Dinah had been staring at the ground, lost to her despair. She lifted her head, nodded, then turned to her sisters. “We fight to kill this time,” she said, and one by one—Candace, Jo, Naomi, then Beth—they lifted their chins in silent agreement. “And we bring our sister back home.” Dinah turned back to Gabriel. “How long will all the organizing take?”

  “A couple of hours at most,” Gabriel said. “The Shadows are paid to be on standby by more than just us.”

  Dinah headed toward the tunnel to their home. “We’ll be back in twenty minutes.” She looked at Diel and kept her focus on him. “And we’ll be ready to go too.”

  Diel’s nostrils flared. The Brethren kills were drawing closer—that was the only thing keeping him from tearing from the manor and going to the church himself.

  He didn’t wait for his brothers; he raced up the stairs to his room and headed straight for his closet. He was on autopilot, ripping his fighting clothes from their hangers and throwing them on. When he was done, his feet fumbled as he passed the bed. The sheets were still rumpled from sleep, from where he had fucked Noa the night before. And as Diel lowered himself to what had become Noa’s side of the bed, he could still smell her. The lavender-and-sweet-musk scent of her skin was imprinted on the cotton.

  A feeling akin to a knife being plunged into his gut ripped through him. He choked, clutching the sheets so tightly that the cotton began to tear. But the agonized feeling only increased, as if he was hemorrhaging, bleeding out from a wound that wouldn’t heal.

  He released a deafening roar, clawing in rage at the sheets. His chest tightened, and he felt as though the muscles in his arms and neck would slice apart. But after minutes passed and his voice wea
kened, rasped and raw from the endless scream, Diel panted for breath, looking down at the pile of shredded sheets.

  He swiped a single white piece, folded it and clutched it tightly in his palm. As he stared down at the bed, he saw Noa’s dark eyes looking back at him. He saw her long pink hair splayed on the pillow as she slept. And he saw her on top of him, rocking back and forth as his cock filled her, her lips parted as she came, skin damp and milky, shining like a fucking moon goddess.

  He could see it so plainly, so fucking vividly, that he ached, an ache so deep it threatened to bring him to his knees. Diel backed away from the bed. He was too close to the edge, too close to breaking, to fleeing the manor alone and hunting down Auguste and the fucked-up Witch Finders that held Noa captive. He wanted to give himself over to the evil swirling inside, the dark side of him that only craved one thing: death, and lots of it.

  Diel threw open his bedroom door and raced down the stairs. As he reached the bottom, he brought the shred of sheet to his nose and inhaled. Diel felt his monster flash its elongated fangs and extend his knife-like claws. Noa should be with them both. She was theirs, and no fucker would live to see the next day if they hurt a single hair on her head.

  Diel found himself running to the door, as if he wasn’t even in charge of his own body. But as he reached for the doorknob, he ripped his arm back. The muscles ached at the effort it took not to give in to his murderous nature and fucking go.

  Limbs tense, using all his strength to try and stay in the liberated body Noa had gifted him, Diel staggered back into the foyer. He whipped his head around the empty space, searching for somewhere to go, something to do. He turned and ran. He didn’t know where he was headed, but found himself in the armory. He ripped open the door to the wide, deep closet, and the sight of guns and knives and every fucked-up weapon a person could ever think of smiled back at him. His monster paced in excitement.

  Diel walked up to the weapons and pulled them down, one after the other, arming himself with as much as he could carry and still fight—a handgun, a rifle, knives of all sizes, grenades and knuckledusters.