He waits, and I wait, terrified beyond anything I’ve felt before. The pressure increases the most miniscule amount and stars burst into my vision. I moan, trying to beg or snap him out of it or something. Anything.
I need Josh. I can’t help myself: I pray for Josh to come and save me. Just like he did with Cam. Even though I know this is different, even though I know he can’t and shouldn’t intervene, I need someone—
The door to the bedroom slams open. Could it be him? My heart leaps just as Corbin jumps off of me, taking the knife with him. I open my eyes and lift my head enough to see who’s come to save me.
Keira?
“You sick bastard,” she says, sauntering toward Corbin with only a sideways glance at me. He’s covered in my blood, too, a byproduct of lying over me while he cut. He wanted the intimacy of my pain. I shudder.
“Another bitch. But you aren’t my type.” He flicks the bloody knife backward and forward as she reaches him. “Still, I can have fun with you, too. Put you all out of your misery. But I set a trap to prevent unwanted visitors. How’d you get past my little contraption?”
Keira shrugs off the leather jacket she’s wearing. I now recognize it as Noah’s. Her halter-top is slashed open on the side and some blood trickles down her bare midriff. “I deflected most of the blades. But this is going to cost you.”
She reaches for his wrist and cranks it backward. I hear the snap, and the weapon drops to the ground. Corbin screams, and I can’t help but take pleasure in his pain.
He falls to his knees before her, and she tosses him to the side of the room where he lies whimpering and cradling his hand.
Keira comes over to me, cringes in distaste, and snaps open the bonds holding my wrists and ankles together. She pulls the makeshift gag out of my mouth.
“Look out!” I yell.
She lifts one hand without so much as a backward glance and hits Corbin in the nose, sending him back to the ground.
“Ugh. You need to get cleaned up. You look like a bottle of ketchup threw up on you.”
I throw my arms around her and hug her, crying into her shoulder. She stiffens beneath my touch and then raises her hands to my back, where she pats me awkwardly.
“Thank you,” I gasp between sobs.
“Come on, let’s get you out of here.” Keira helps me to my feet, supporting me with her shoulder, and we turn toward the door—
Only to find Lucifer standing there, silhouetted against the doorframe. Smoke curls from the cigar in his mouth, and I cringe painfully, clinging desperately to Keira. But she’s shaking now, too.
“So. Keira, what do you think you’re doing?” Lucifer removes the cigar from his lips and flicks some ash onto the carpet before moving forward.
“I came back to…to see how Grace was doing with Randy and found her here like this. You didn’t want her to be here, did you, Boss? I can put her back.” She drops me back on the edge of the bed where I can do no more than curl up. It hurts everywhere when I move.
“Oh, I think you know very well what I intended. Keira, Keira, Keira. I thought I was getting through to you.”
He’s right in front of her now and lifts a hand to caress her face. I’ve never seen her look so afraid.
“You’ve really fucked this all up, haven’t you?” he asks. “You will pay for that. I had such high hopes for your future. So sad. But not everyone is cut out to be a Demon. Our friend here had the right idea,” he says, indicating the unconscious monster on the floor. “Let’s take our time before the final blow. Shall we?”
He snaps his fingers, and both Keira and I are each bound with our wrists and ankles tied together, lying helpless on the bed. Corbin stands over us with his knife. Only now it’s a bigger knife, new, shiny, and clean. He’s supernaturally frozen in place, staring at Keira. Lucifer strides behind him and whispers in his ear, considering Keira as she struggles on the bed next to me.
“You captured the intruder. You can teach them both a lesson now. Do your worst.”
He turns on his heels.
“Wait,” I say, weak but finally able to speak. “Leave me. Keira didn’t do anything. She really didn’t know, Lucifer. She couldn’t have.”
Without a word, Lucifer flicks his cigar so that the ashes fall on my stomach and sticks it in Corbin’s free hand.
“I’ll see you both in Hell.” Lucifer blows us a kiss as he leaves the room.
Chapter 23
Keira
I’ve ruined everything, and all for Grace. I have to get out of here.
Struggling against my bonds does no good. Lucifer removed my powers. He clearly did the same to Grace. She doesn’t look so good, all pale and cut up.
The killer comes to life the minute Lucifer disappears. He examines the cigar, and his face lights up. He runs a hand down my leg, and I jerk it away. If I want to be tied up with a guy then I’ll be the one to decide that, thank you very much.
Grace is crying, which doesn’t help the situation. But it does draw his attention, and he moves back over to her side, puffing on the cigar and examining the knife. “You brought a friend, Scarlet. That was thoughtful of you. But now I have a dilemma. Do I finish with you? Or do I take care of your friend first?”
He looks back and forth between us, and I hold my breath. I’ve met serial killers in Hell before. Lucifer likes to show off the worst wackos, and this guy definitely fits the bill. They get off on the struggle their victims put up. Grace is a textbook case over there, reduced to a pile of blood and tears. Poor kid. I admit, I feel kind of bad for her. She’s probably never been tortured before. Not like this.
But this is nothing compared to the Pit.
“Go ahead and kill me,” Grace cries. “Just leave Keira alone.”
Oh, brother. She’s still being noble. Doesn’t she get that he’s planning on killing us both anyway?
Dickhead smiles and licks his lips. “I’m not leaving either of you alone, Scarlet.” He moves close to her, puts his face right in hers, and strokes her hair back from her face tenderly. Grace trembles and cries in response.
I wiggle my wrists, trying to get my hands through the rope or at least find something to work against and cut through the damn things. But Lucifer wouldn’t leave me any such hope.
Psycho holds the cigar over Graces face, the smoldering end twisting and turning as he lowers it toward her eye. She tries to move away, but he holds her face firm with his hand. Damn it! I’m running out of time.
I roll to the right, swing my legs over, and kick him with every bit of strength in my little human body. Lucky that Lucifer didn’t leave me with my ankles tied to the bedframe. Guess he thought tying them together was enough. The cigar falls on the pillow next to Grace’s head, and Psycho hits the floor.
No time to waste. I swing my legs back over to the other side of the bed and wiggle my way to standing. I’m ready to hop over to the door, but Norman Bates is up again, clutching his stomach and blocking my path with murder in his eyes.
I think I made him mad.
Damn, I wish I had my Demon powers. I’d let my eyes burn for him, and I bet it’d screw him up real bad. He’s obviously obsessed with eyes, judging by the cigar and all those pictures he left behind.
“If I were you, I’d get the fuck out of my way,” I say. It’s important to stay calm and in control. He can sense fear. He feeds on it.
He laughs. “You’re just like her. You think you can just dismiss what I want and do whatever the Hell you want. Well, you can’t. I’ll make sure of that.” He brandishes the knife, and my mind works overtime as I search the surroundings for anything that could help.
“Such a big strong guy you are. You have to tie up your victims to handle them? Even a little girl like me? Hell, I knocked you on your ass already, and I’m tied up. You are weak, aren’t you?”
Yeah, I definitely made him angry. He grabs the rope around my wrists and yanks me forward off my feet, holding the knife up to my face. He doesn’t hesitate this time. He presses the tip into my cheek
and draws a quick line up toward my eye.
A sudden, terrifying thought hits me. What if Lucifer makes me keep whatever scars he gives me? What if I lose my eyes? My beautiful face?
I scream and pull my head as far away as I can.
“Not so brave now, are you?” he asks, examining the blood on the knife.
“Let’s see how brave you are. Let me loose and try that again.”
We stare each other down, waiting for the other to break.
“I don’t have to prove anything to you,” he says, lowering the knife. “But I will make you sorry you challenged me.”
Crap. That backfired.
I plant myself as best I can and wait. He walks slowly this time, swishing the knife through the air as he goes. He’s trying to make me jump and topple over again. I stay put.
Wait for it, Keira.
He gets close enough to strike. I’m ready when he swings, and I block his arm with my own. The knife scrapes my arm, and I wince but keep my focus. I use my head to butt against his chin, hard. He stumbles, but unfortunately so do I.
I regain my balance by sheer force of will. I have to get that knife. I grab onto his hand with both of mine and squeeze. It was so easy the first time to snap his wrist, but thanks to Lucifer, he’s all better and I’m at quite the disadvantage.
I use my long nails to dig into his flesh, and he drops the weapon, but he recovers quickly and yanks me back by a handful of hair with his other hand. I fall backward onto the ground, and he kicks out, catching me in the ribs.
I try to roll while he turns to retrieve his weapon and find Grace standing over me, free of her bonds.
She’s holding what’s left of the singed rope. Her wrists are blistered and red with burns. She must have used the cigar to burn through her bonds. Impressive.
She kneels down and works the ropes on my wrists loose. I shake my head vehemently, trying to signal for her to go after Psycho instead. She’ll take too long. But she keeps going, intent on freeing me, and manages to loosen my bonds only a fraction before he’s back. She steps in front of me protectively, and I get awkwardly to my feet behind her. My hands are still tied.
Psycho twists the knife in the air and pokes it toward Grace, who cringes and jumps back.
“You got loose, Scarlet.”
“Yes, I did. It’s over now, Corbin.”
“How do you know my real name?” he demands, a smile playing at his lips. He thinks this is all part of some game.
“Put the knife away, and we can all walk out of here,” Grace says.
“I can’t let you go. I’m not done yet.” He moves closer again.
Grace grabs for the knife. They struggle and land back on the bed, him on top of her.
“Run!” Grace screams at me. “It’s okay. Just go.”
I hesitate. Maybe I could help. If we work together… I move toward her.
“Get Noah.” She yells while he pins her across the neck with one arm. He’s straddling her. There’s nothing she can do.
I’m torn. She wants me to go. If I can get word to Noah, then maybe he can help. I only have human strength and my cellphone seems more helpful than my bare—and bound—hands. Yet I’m still standing here. Damn it all! Only an idiot would stay. But clearly that’s what I am, because I rush toward the bastard as he draws the knife across her throat.
I stop and scream as the blood spills out and Grace makes gurgling sounds. I waited too long. I should have attacked him sooner. I should have done something.
He stands and moves toward me.
Grace is still twitching on the bed. She’ll “die” and then be reborn in Hell. That’s how it works. I’ve had it happen once or twice.
But what a way to go.
“You’re a dead man,” I say, and this time something in my voice stops him in his tracks.
Grace stops moving. The cuts on my cheek and arm sting. My body feels like one giant bruise, and the skin around my wrists is rubbed raw. But my hatred for this human is stronger than any of it.
I step toward him and everything turns black. Then bright lights nearly blind me as I stagger forward into a new place. A male figure stands before me. I lift my hands up to block some of the light, ready to attack, until I see who it is. All of the adrenaline drains from my body, and I start to fall.
Right into Noah’s arms.
Chapter 24
Josh
“You look like bloody Hell.” Shona drops the book on the sofa and comes over to where I sit on the other side stroking TT, who sits in my lap. She kneels beside me and tentatively touches the skin on my face.
“Ow.” I wince. “Please don’t touch that. And thanks for the news flash. I don’t feel much better than I look.”
“What happened? You’re an Angel. You’re in Heaven. Why hasn’t it healed?” she asks, alarmed. I can tell she’s worried because her glasses have slid to the tip of her nose and she hasn’t bothered to push them back up.
“Believe it or not, it has improved a bit. Don’t worry, the other guy looks worse.” I smirk and wince again from the pain it causes. I conjure another ice pack and press it against my face.
“Fill me in,” she demands, moving over to the couch and drawing the dog away to pet. I tell her the whole story, from my attempt to save Grace, to Keira’s intervention, to my encounter with Noah at the parade. Admitting my intense rage toward the boy we’re trying to save is difficult, but I know it’s important. I watch Shona, waiting for her to cringe away from such un-Angel-like behavior, but instead her eyes fill with understanding and sadness as she nods.
When I finish, Shona leans forward and brushes a finger over my bruised cheek.
“Well, now we know the One can certainly touch you.”
I bristle at her touch. “Like I said, he got the worst of it.”
“And you left Keira with Grace?” she asks softly, sitting back on the broken sofa.
I swallow hard. “I went back to the hotel where she was being tortured immediately. There was so much blood, but no Grace. So I came back here and searched on the screen. She’s nowhere to be found, which means she’s probably in Hell. I was too late. I should have never left her with Keira. And all for nothing. I should have killed Noah. I’m an Angel, but we’re talking about the Antichrist here. I should have followed through and killed him when I had the chance.”
Shona purses her lips and nods again, thinking. “Should you? It’s still a life we’re talking about. And not just any life. He’s Grace’s brother.”
“I wish Mr. Griffith were here,” I say, my throat thick with emotion. “He always knows what to say—or at least he used to know what to say. I wish he’d try to do something. Anything is better than just giving up.”
A deep voice answers from the doorway. “You’re absolutely right, Joshua. It appears I owe you an apology.”
I look up to find Mr. Griffith standing there.
He strides forward and places a hand on my head. I prepare for pain when he touches my injuries, but instead half of my head is surrounded in warmth. When he takes his hand away, I touch my face to find my wounds gone.
“You were getting there. I just helped speed it along. It’s the least I can do.” He looks over at Shona, who must suddenly realize that the book she stole from him is within sight. She reaches to throw a pillow over it, but it’s way too late.
“I’m so sorry, sir.” She blushes.
“I knew you took it.” Mr. Griffith smiles, but I do see an uncustomary crease in his forehead. “I thought perhaps when you saw the words for yourself—the actual memory of the prophecy recorded—that then you would understand. What’s done is done.”
I stand, unwilling to listen to any more. “Well, it didn’t work that way. I’m never going to give up. I gave my word to Grace.”
Mr. Griffith turns his sad obsidian eyes on me. “I know. I saw what happened—to Grace, to you, to Noah. That’s why I came here.” He sits on the couch, which finally fixes itself beneath him, broken springs recoiling a
nd ripped cushions stitching themselves together around him as though in rewind. “You see, I expected a very different outcome from what I’ve witnessed. It reminded me that, while I see probabilities, sometimes the impossible happens when it comes to those who were once human.”
Shona comes around to sit beside him on the couch. “Sir? What are you saying?”
Mr. Griffith takes a deep breath. “I’m saying that I believe in the word of The Man Upstairs. However, somehow Josh here was able to completely contradict His word, which has caused me to question, well, everything. It is a rather…uncomfortable feeling.”
I stare, unable to form words. I used to see Mr. Griffith as the one who knew exactly what to do and how to fix things. And then he betrayed my trust when he banished Grace. But now? Now he seems as lost as I am.
“So what? You’re saying that you were wrong? That Grace shouldn’t be a Demon?” I try to hold back my anger. If he’s willing to bring her back…
Mr. Griffith grimaces like he’s in pain and puts his face in his hands. “No—yes—I’m not certain, but…” He thinks silently for a moment, staring into the distance, concentrating heavily on something unseen. Finally, he speaks again. “I’m sorry, Josh. It can’t be undone. Not by me.”
The anger I feel toward Mr. Griffith turns to sadness at his admission. It’s not just that he won’t do anything—it’s that he can’t. It’s what I was afraid of.
“Then what are you saying?” I ask, sitting on the other side of him.
Mr. Griffith forces a smile and places a hand on the ripped shoulder of my T-shirt, which is still covered with dirt and Noah’s blood. I hear a sizzling sound, and Mr. Griffith snatches his hand away, clutching it like it’s on fire, horror in his eyes.
Shona jumps up and conjures a pitcher of water, which she pours over his blistering hand until he sighs with relief.
“What the Hell?” I ask, standing and examining my own shoulder.
“Noah’s blood, I suspect,” Shona says, gently examining Mr. Griffith’s palm. I’m shocked to see unhealed, blistered skin.
“I’m saying, Josh,” starts Mr. Griffith, “that you shouldn’t have been able to touch Noah. Look what just happened to me. But you did. Obviously he still had an unusually negative effect because your bruising was healing very slowly, but you didn’t die or burn. In fact, you very nearly eliminated the Antichrist.”
Soul Conquered Page 14
