The Seal_An Urban Fantasy Romance

by Elise Marion

  Anger filled her in a rush so potent, she couldn’t fight it off. Her chest heaved and contracted as her breath raced in and out, each one seeming to fan the flames licking in her belly. Micah’s upper lip curled and his fingers tightened just as his eyes flamed red, sparking and filling the room with an ominous glow.

  “Micah?” she croaked, trying to gaze into the blazing eyes and find the person inside.

  She’d known something felt wrong from the beginning. Whatever it was had brought her here. It had also possessed Micah to choke the life out of her.

  Clawing at his hands, she struggled in his hold.

  “Micah,” she rasped, tears filling her eyes as it became increasingly hard to draw breath. “Please.”

  Throwing her down onto the mattress, he came back over her, using both hands now to strangle her. Closing her eyes, she called on the fear and rage always just one thought away. It would be impossible to find the light at a moment like this, so she relied on what she knew.

  When she opened her eyes, her vision had gone dark around the edges, and she knew the irises and whites had turned black. Slamming both hands against his chest, she dislodged his hold and sent him flying across the room.

  He fell up against his bedroom door. The wood splintered and then cracked as the panel broke in half and he tumbled out into the hallway. Struggling up to her knees on the bed, she peered out at his prone form. He lay motionless on the carpet, his back turned to her.

  Reaching for her discarded shirt, she left the bed, tiptoeing toward him.

  “Micah? Are you okay?”

  Kneeling at his side, she reached out to touch his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. He didn’t respond, though his breaths came slow and steady. Biting her lower lip, she sat there, trying to decide what to do. Calling Reniel seemed like a good idea. The angel would know how to proceed.

  But then, Derek’s voice came back to her in that moment.

  The jester … blurring the line between vision and reality.

  Coming to her feet, she backed away from Micah’s unconscious body. A demon lurked in the apartment—one who liked to play practical jokes and screw with people’s dreams.

  Reaching down into the shirt, she took hold of the ring hanging around her neck. Clasping it tight, she stared at Micah’s body and remembered what Derek had taught her about using the ring to summon demons.

  Snatching the chain from around her neck, she slid the jewel onto the middle finger of her right hand. It began to glow, just as it had when Mammon had come near her.

  Narrowing her eyes, she extended her hand, pointing the ring at Micah.

  “Nybbas,” she hissed. “I know you’re in there. Come into the light, you sadistic bastard.”

  A black mist rose up from Micah, seeming to seep through his pores. It gathered and formed a solid mass, which rose to stand between them. Red eyes appeared in the haze, then an open mouth with jagged teeth. The odor of sulfur filled the room, and she had to fight the urge to gag while the smoke materialized into a solid form.

  An imp-like creature stood before her, with onyx skin covered in gleaming scales. Horns similar to a ram’s protruded from its head, and sharp, curving claws jutted from its hands and feet. It had long, spindly, skeletal limbs and a potbelly. Pointed, yellow teeth dripped saliva as he opened his mouth and began to laugh, a harsh, grating sound that filled the room.

  “Was that fun for you?” she scoffed, nostrils curling at his offensive odor. “Messing around with people’s heads?”

  Stepping toward her, he inclined his head, still chuckling. “Oh, I found it vastly entertaining. Funny what can happen when you poke around a person’s subconscious and lower their inhibitions. You’re a naughty girl, Addison Monroe.”

  His voice slid up and down her spine like an unwanted caress, causing her to shudder.

  “Is that how you fight?” she taunted, coming toward him with her hand extended, the ring gleaming in his face. “Is it because you don’t know any other way, you punk-ass bitch?”

  He cringed away from the ring. “I’d heard you had a smart mouth.”

  “And I’d heard you were a glorified clown,” she said, shrugging one shoulder. “People talk.”

  “Let’s see who’s laughing when your friend here breaks you in half,” he retorted,

  Waving one scaled, clawed hand toward Micah, he took a step back. Rubbing his hands together with glee and hopping from foot to foot like a kid who had to pee, Nybbas stood back as Micah rose from the floor. His eyes shot open, still gleaming the ominous red color.

  Backing away, the very real terror that accompanied the realization that she might just have to kill Micah in order to survive slithered through her. He was too big, too strong, and Nybbas had somehow taken control of him. Her roommate had just become a killing machine.

  He lunged for her, arms outstretched, his bare feet heavy on the wooden floor. As she stumbled away from him, the backs of her knees hit the bed, causing her to lose her footing. Scrambling backward, she came up against the headboard.

  “Micah, I know you’re in there,” she said. “I need you to fight this.”

  Growling like a rabid dog, he dove for her, his heavy body causing her to bounce on the mattress. She leaped away from him, but not quickly enough. His hand closed around her ankle and he yanked her toward him with a rough jerk. Reacting without thinking, she cocked her opposite foot back and let it fly, kicking him square in the nose. Blood spurted from his nostrils, but he hardly seemed to have felt the blow, and despite losing his hold on her ankle, kept coming.

  “Micah, you have to stop!” she cried, rolling off the bed and onto the floor, crawling away from his pursuit. “If you don’t, I’m going to have to hurt you and I don’t want to do that. If there’s anything in you that’s strong enough to fight this, you have to try.”

  The floor shook as he leapt from the bed, lumbering toward her with the same murderous intent. In the corner of the bedroom, Nybbas jumped and giggled like a schoolgirl, seeming to enjoy watching her struggle over how to handle this impossible situation.

  Before Micah could get his hands on her again, she threw one hand up, using her telekinetic ability to hurl him away from her. He slammed into the dresser, causing several drawers to crack and rattling the contents resting on top of it.

  Standing, she reached for the two broken halves of the door, wrenching them free of the hinges. As he came barreling toward her, she threw one of them in front of her like a shield. It hit him, causing him to spin away from her. Without hesitation, she threw the other half, clocking him on the back of the head and knocking him out cold. He slammed to the floor like a felled tree, making the walls tremble.

  He lay still at her feet, though his back still moved up and down as he breathed. Turning to Nybbas, she curled one hand into a fist. Advancing on him, she couldn’t help the primal satisfaction that came from seeing him tremble.

  Reaching out, she weaved an invisible thread between them, using it to reel him in. He floated across the room toward her, trying to resist her power. She was too strong, though, and far too pissed off about the way he’d used Micah against her.

  Closing her eyes, she pulled on the bright, white light burning inside of her. It flared to life, melting away the blackness and flooding her soul with a sense of rightness. Curling the hand bearing the ring into a fist, she shoved it into his chest. The metal made contact with a sizzle, causing Nybbas to squeal and thrash in her hold.

  “From the pit you came…” she said, opening her eyes and allowing the white light emanating from her eyes to wash over him. “…there you return. Back to Hell, you piece of shit.”

  A bright flash sparked from the ring, sending Nybbas up in white flames. Screaming in agony, he writhed and clawed the floor as she released him. Within seconds, he had vanished, leaving behind a pile of black ash and a rolled scroll. Kneeling, she picked it up and examined it.

  The ancient-looking paper looked identical to the scroll she’d discovered near Mammo
n’s remains just after she’d killed him, too. On it had been etched the spell that created Nybbas’ forbidden portal from Hell into Earth. Each of the ten had one—and they needed to be destroyed to keep them from coming back. Crossing the room, she searched the rattled contents of Micah’s dresser. Quickly locating a lighter, she sparked a flame and set it against the dry paper. She used her power to hold it in midair as the fire roared to life, hungrily devouring the paper. What remained of it fell to the floorboards beside Nybbas’ ashes, curling into dry, gray flakes as the embers burned out.

  Satisfied, she turned and made her way to Micah, who hadn’t left his place on the floor. Cringing, she leaned over him, studying him for injuries.

  A humongous bruise had started forming across his left side and lower back from where she’d whacked him with the door. He had a few smaller contusions along his limbs, but nothing seemed broken. Running her hands through his curls, she cringed to find a lump protruding where she’d whacked him in the head.

  “Sorry about that,” she murmured, “but it was either knock you out or kill you.”

  Standing again, she extended both hands and transported him back to the bed. Ensuring that he was in a comfortable position, she covered him with the comforter.

  Striding back across the hall to her room, she unhooked her cell phone from its charger. Standing in his doorway, she quickly dialed Reniel’s number. When he answered, his voice even and clear, Addison idly wondered if the angel ever needed to sleep. He certainly didn’t sound as if she’d woken him.

  “Addison? Is everything all right?”

  Running a hand through her hair, she leaned against the door frame and sighed. “You’d better get over here. We’ve had one hell of a night.”

  “Jack? Jack, are you ready to continue?”

  Glancing up from the floor, he met Tracy’s gaze. She stood just where she had been, eyes wide and boring into his questioningly.

  What did she want from him? He stood on the outskirts of Heaven, where he’d just admitted to being angry with God. Surely, that had earned him some sort of punishment—lightning strikes, a hole that would open up and swallow him … something. Yet, there remained only the two of them in the white space.

  “What else is there to say?” he replied. “I just admitted that I was angry. That’s why I’m here. Because it’s been decided that I need some kind of eternal time-out to cool my heels.”

  Sympathy edged her expression when she inclined her head at him. “You’re angry at me.”

  He clenched his jaw and shook his head. They both knew it to be a lie.

  “Come on, Jack. I’m dead. You can’t hurt my feelings and you can’t change what happened to me. Let’s get it out in the open. You’re not just angry with God. You’re angry at me, too.”

  “Why couldn’t you just tell me what was going on?”

  The question exploded from him without preamble, coming out far harsher than he’d intended. The fact of the matter remained, he’d been tortured by knowing that her own actions had played a role in her own murder.

  “Do you think I would be alive today if I had?” she asked.

  “Yes!” he insisted. “Because there isn’t anything Micah and I wouldn’t have done to protect you. What was so important that you just had to go out on your own and put yourself in danger? You thought you had something to prove, but that was never true.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “I will admit to being a bit immature and letting jealousy get to me. You and Micah got to be part of the elite, and I … well, no one takes a chameleon seriously. A person who can blend in with her surroundings is good at hiding, not fighting. I always wanted what you two had—real assignments, a purpose.”

  “Being one of the elite isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, believe me.”

  She nodded. “I get that now, in hindsight. At the time, I was on to somethin’. Yes, I felt I had somethin’ to prove. I thought if I figured it all out, I could tell you and Micah what I had discovered, and you’d have to give me credit for finally having done something on my own.”

  His nostrils flared as he fought for composure. As things stood, he felt like throttling the woman—the desire was as strong as the urge to kiss her.

  “Was it worth losing your life for?”

  She cocked one eyebrow. “I don’t know, Jack. Does the fact that Eligos has been breeding Naphils in order to build his own army seem important to you?”

  His mind reeled at the implications, his heart leaping against his sternum. “What?”

  “I never got to tell you, because one of his sons killed me. I followed him to one of the meetings they have, when he sniffed me out. I tried to run, of course, but he hunted me down. They couldn’t let anyone know what they’d been up to.”

  He sank back onto his chair, resting his elbows against his knees. Putting his head in his hands, he fought to force his mind past this stage of shock.

  “An army of Naphils,” he murmured. “For what? What does Eligos hope to gain?”

  “Hell,” she replied. “The Great Duke plans to overthrow Lucifer. He could never have done it before, but now … he’s spent centuries breedin’ Naphils. His children have begun to outnumber even Lilith’s.”

  Thinking of Addison, he experienced a very real terror. It gripped his chest and constricted, making it hard to breathe.

  “How can he be sure they’ll take his side? Naphils have free will, just like any other being.”

  “I don’t know Addison,” she replied, “but I’ve learned enough from watching her with you to know that Eligos has been torturin’ her for years.”

  He nodded, confirming her statement. “Dark thoughts and impulses, mostly. His voice in her head telling her that she’s worthless, that she’s not worthy of love. She’s been fighting it her entire life.”

  “It’s how he treats them all,” she said. “If he can drive them insane with the thoughts, it gives him the perfect opening. Most of them have had horrible lives, so if he can offer them something …”

  “Like power, riches, and a position of influence in Hell,” he finished for her. “They fall in line like good little soldiers. How many are there? Do you know?”

  “There could be more now,” she replied. “But the one I snuck up on—Jason—he told his half-brother that they’d managed to track down ten thousand. He’s been sendin’ the ones he’s already gotten on his side out to recruit the others.”

  He whistled, shaking his head. “Someone’s been busy. But I don’t understand something. Why should we care if Eligos takes Hell from Lucifer? Hell is Hell; demons are demons. In the end, we are still who we are. They can’t win.”

  “It matters,” she insisted. “Think about it, Jack. Lucifer is a snake in the grass, but he’s always followed the rules. He sticks to his turf and never influences free will. Eligos, on the other hand …”

  “We all know what a stickler for the rules he is. He’s Satan’s pit bull, and everyone knows it.” He paused, laughing out loud. “Does Lucifer even know what’s coming? Imagine how pissed off he’ll be when his dog turns on him and rips his throat out.”

  “There’s the matter of Eligos’ Naphil children, too,” she added. “So many of them have chosen his side because they’ve been manipulated into it. There is still hope for them. They can still be saved. Not all of them, of course. A few have sold their souls, but the others are just searching for acceptance. Eligos is playin’ on their brokenness and their dark natures. He’s offerin’ them something they’ve never had before.”

  “Family,” he whispered, thinking of Addison. She’d been so overwhelmed at the prospect of being accepted by his own family, because she’d never really had one. Her siblings had likely felt the same way their entire lives.

  “Now you see why I acted like I did,” she said, bringing him back to the present. “So, I’m sorry if you’re angry with me, Jack, but I did what I had to do. You need to let it go. I’m gone, and I’m not comin’ back. Bein’ angry with me won�
�t change anything. Let it go.”

  He sighed, rubbing his eyes. Despite not needing food or sleep in this place, he felt exhausted, emotionally drained.

  “I haven’t wanted to be,” he said with a shrug. “It just seemed easier to blame you than myself. The things I said to you before you left—”

  “You thought I was cheating on you,” she interjected, reaching out to grasp his shoulders. “I gave you every reason to suspect me, and I didn’t say anything to prove otherwise. You did what anyone else would have done in the same situation. Hell, if I’d thought you were messin’ around on me, I’da taken a skillet to your skull.”

  He chuckled, and she laughed. It felt good to laugh with her again. He’d missed that.

  “I’ve been angry with myself, too,” he admitted. “For failing you, and not being there when you needed me. I should have known something was going on. I should have tried harder to figure it out and not let up until you told me the truth.”

  “All I can do is apologize for my part in this,” she murmured. “When it comes to your own guilt, only you can decide to let that go. I made decisions that led to my death, and I’ve accepted that. You need to accept it, too.”

  “One of my biggest regrets was that night you died, we argued just before you left. I’ve beat myself up over it every day since then, wishing I could take back the things I’d said. I think I could forgive myself, but only if you forgave me.”

  Standing on her tiptoes, she placed a short, sweet kiss on his lips—something he never thought he’d experience again.

  “I forgave you the moment I left that house,” she whispered. “Because I knew if you understood the truth, you’d never have said those things. I forgave you already, Jack. Just accept it.”

  Wrapping his arms around her, he hugged her close. “Thank you. That means so much to me. You don’t even know.”

  “Now,” she said, stepping away. “You aren’t done yet.”

  He nodded. “You’re right. I’m not. But, I think I have what I need now to move forward. Seeing you again … it was more than I could have hoped for. Thank you, Tracy.”