by Elise Marion
Her hand trembled as she paused near the door of the garage, reaching down into her shirt to take hold of the Seal. It had come alive, glowing brightly and warning her of the danger inside.
Pushing the sliding door open, she stepped into the garage, blinking to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Antoine’s bike sat nearby, the helmet Jack had been wearing hooked on one handlebar while her mother’s helmet rested on the other. Just beyond it, the dark shadow of a body lay crumpled on the ground.
“Jack!” she cried out, the flower slipping from her fingers and falling to the ground as she rushed forward and fell to her knees beside him.
He lay on his side, facing away from her—no sound indicating that he could breathe. Reaching out, she took his shoulder in her hand and turned him onto his back. His eyes were open but sightless, staring up at the ceiling. Lips parted, he didn’t seem to be drawing breath, his chest remaining still as she lowered her head to press an ear against it.
“No,” she whispered, blinking back tears. “No, Jack … no.”
Lifting her head, she narrowed her eyes and searched the shadows for the presence of the demon she knew had done this to him. The sensation of being watched made her skin prickle while anger heated her blood to the boiling point.
Based off what Derek had told her, this could only be the work of one demon.
“Orobas,” she hissed, laying Jack gingerly on the ground and rising to her feet. “Show yourself, right now!”
The moment the words had left her lips, the air around her seemed to shift and move, until the garage itself disappeared completely.
Addison could barely blink before she found herself standing in completely different surroundings. The dirt beneath her feet morphed into a gleaming tile floor of interspersed black and white squares. A massive structure loomed before her—a pyramid with what looked like a white star glowing at the very top. All around it, black shapes moved, undulating and leaping, the sounds emanating from them grating against her eardrums like fingernails on a chalkboard.
Demons, she realized as she registered the stench of sulfur and recognized the sounds that had been haunting her dreams for weeks. Turning swiftly, she found Jack’s limp body still resting at her feet—along with the lone figure of a man standing just a few feet away.
“You,” she growled, stepping over Jack and marching toward him, hands balled into fists at her sides.
Holding one hand up, he narrowed coal-black eyes on her and shook his head. “If you kill me, then your precious lover can’t be saved.”
That gave her pause. Stumbling to a stop before him, she studied the demon she assumed had brought her here. Just as Derek had described, Orobas’ human form was nothing to be intimidated by. Standing shorter than her by an entire inch, he had dark skin, a bushy, salt-and-pepper beard, and a shaved head. Everything about him was unassuming, except for the dead, black eyes boring into hers with malice. That stare sent a shiver down her spine. Orobas was, clearly, not to be trifled with. He didn’t look like much, but he’d taken Jack down and lured her into this place—whatever it was.
“What did you do to him?” she demanded.
Holding up an object in one hand, Orobas chuckled, the sound echoing through the chamber which seemed to have no ceilings or walls—simply the black and white checkered floor, stretching on forever.
“Just a little poison,” he replied, shrugging as if it was no big deal.
The object in his hand, she realized, was a syringe … shining silver, with a black substance smeared on its tip.
Poison? Surely, that mean Jack was dead. Fury had her reaching for the ring, a guttural growl simmering in her throat as she began advancing on him again.
“Of course, if you want the antidote, you’ll need to hurry,” Orobas said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Addison halted again, fighting to breathe through her rage and think rationally.
“I don’t believe you,” she ground out from between clenched teeth.
He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t have to … he can die, for all I care. But if you care to know … the antidote is just at the top of that little pyramid. All you have to do is get through my friends over there and have it down his throat in … oh, let’s say sixty seconds.”
Jaw clenched, she glanced from Orobas, to Jack’s prostrate form, to the pyramid surrounded by demons—hundreds of them watching her with glowing, red eyes, practically drooling to get their hands on her.
“I should mention that your little light won’t work here,” Orobas continued, smirking as if very satisfied with himself. “But someone as powerful as you should have no trouble getting through them.”
Once again, Addison found herself facing a choice. Save Jack, or take out one of the ten, who stood just in front of her. There was no contest. In the choice between Jack and some other thing, Jack would always win.
Backing away from Orobas, she narrowed her eyes at him. “When I’m done here, I’m coming for you. Believe that.”
Shrugging one shoulder, he produced a silver pocket watch. “Time starts now … and I may or may not be here when you get back.”
She turned her back on him—there wasn’t a second to lose. Fixing her gaze on the bright star-like light gleaming at the top of the pyramid, she took off with a burst of speed she had never before tapped into, allowing the black wings to sprout from her shoulders. Her feet left the ground and she soared toward the dark shape thrusting up toward the seemingly nonexistent ceiling.
The whispers and snarls of the demon horde crawled up and down her spine as they launched themselves at her as one. She met them with all the fury brewing inside of her, a scream tearing from her chest as she tore ten of them apart at once with a wave of dark power. Ten more seemed to rise in their place, slamming into her with a force that knocked the wind from her. She was falling, the pyramid looming over her as she hit the tile floor, pain radiating through her hips and back. She used the pain as a weapon, throwing it back at them in a burst even more powerful than the first. Rising to her feet, she ran again, this time launching herself straight upward like a torpedo, wings folded back.
She hurtled straight through the center of the demon mass, heard their bellows of rage as she slipped through their fingers, emerging clear above them with a spin and flare of her wings. Weakened from lack of practice, she found the wings heavy and unwieldy, so she dropped to her feet on the side of the slanted structure and began to run. Pumping her arms and legs and forcing herself to breathe through the burning in her chest, she ran until she could see the top—the glowing star revealing itself to be a clear vial full of a gleaming liquid.
Snatching the vial out of thin air, she turned and crouched, curling her wings forward for protection just as two of the demons reached the top and threw themselves at her. The feathers hardened like armor, and the sound of the demons crashing against them echoed with the music of snapping bones and groans of pain.
Gritting her teeth, she allowed herself to fall, sliding down the side of the pyramid with her wings folded around her like a cocoon. She closed her eyes, holding tight to the vial as the demons continued bouncing off the protective shell, splattering her with their blood and falling away like bugs off a windshield.
Hitting the ground, she threw her wings open and found three of the demons still in front of her. She put the vial between her teeth to free her hands, continuing forward to Jack while reaching out to grab the first demon by its throat. She tore its head from its shoulders with her bare hands and tossed the carcass aside, ignoring the black demon blood staining the front of her shirt. The second one had leapt onto her back, but she batted it off with a flap of her wings. The third flew at her from overhead, but she caught hold of it and took it out with a powerful body slam, staining the tiles with its blood.
Then, skidding to a halt near Jack, she went to her knees and retrieved the vial, pulling its stopper out with far more force than was probably necessary. Lifting his head into her lap, she tilted it
back and poured the glowing liquid down his throat.
As promised, Orobas was nowhere to be found, but he’d left his pocket watch behind, resting on the floor beside Jack. She glanced at its face to find that she’d made it back down with barely two seconds to spare. Smoothing one hand over Jack’s brow, she stared down at his face, fighting to catch her breath and praying that the stuff she’d just poured into his mouth was actually an antidote instead of more of the deadly poison.
Suddenly, the air around them began to shift and waver again, then they were back inside the garage, alone. Jack lurched suddenly in her lap, coughs wracking him between deep pulls of air.
Her relieved exhale came out on a sob, and she held him tighter, lowering her head until it rested against his. Jack calmed, his shallow breathing eventually evening out and his coughs ceasing. Still, he remained unconscious, limp in the dirt with his head resting in her lap.
“Jack,” she whispered. “Thank God.”
Shoulders shaking from the sobs tearing through her, she fought against the terror gripping her heart in a vise.
You should have listened to me. I warned you this was coming.
The voice of Eligos echoed in her mind, a phenomenon she hadn’t experienced since taking the Guardians’ mark. She hadn’t thought he could infiltrate her mind again, but the truth was, her father would always get into her head—a startling reminder of where she came from and what her life would always be. There could be no escaping it, even after taking the light in and allowing herself to be happy with the man she loved.
She’d vowed to protect him, but it wouldn’t be enough—not with all of Hell bent on destroying him because of her. Jack had told her they could face it together … but how many more times could they cheat death before it came back with a vengeance? He’d already been allowed to rise from the dead once; she doubted God would allow it a second time.
Addison couldn’t let that happen; not when he’d just returned from beyond the grave full of optimism and hope for his future. He was going to become a police officer, build a career and a life, and she realized now that it had to be without her. All she could ever bring him was pain, loss, and fear—and surely, that must outweigh whatever small moments of happiness they could find here and there. The knowledge made her chest ache as she forced herself to confront reality. She was going to have to let him go—an act akin to ripping her own heart out with her bare hands.
Impossible, but necessary.
“I’m sorry, Jack,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his temple. “I can’t do this … I can’t watch them kill you again.”
She had realized last night that Jack would never let her go without doing everything he could to convince her otherwise. She was too weak when it came to him to resist, which meant there was only one way to ensure he stayed away. Pressing both hands against his head, she closed her eyes and concentrated on her task.
Addison had never altered someone’s memories to the degree she attempted now, but she had to try—she had to do this so that Jack could live. Focusing on every memory he possessed of her, she began sifting through them, pulling out the ones that had led to them falling in love. Any happiness she might have felt from seeing the precious moments through his eyes became overshadowed by the knowledge that she couldn’t allow them to exist.
One by one, she destroyed them, obliterating them into nothing—the first time they’d kissed, their one perfect night on the roof of his parents’ building, the night she’d told him about Micah and the resulting fallout, the moment she’d returned from Hell and told him that he was the one she had chosen, the magic of last night and the hope it had made her feel. All of it came away like puzzle pieces, leaving him with only part of the picture.
By the time she was finished, Addison Monroe would be only an assignment to him—the ring-bearer he’d been chosen to protect, a duty and a means to an end.
If he never remembered those other things, then it would be as if he’d never loved her at all.
She would no longer be the woman he loved, the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. No longer a liability putting his life in jeopardy at every turn.
It hurt, the knowledge that he would never look at her again in that way that made her heart skip a beat. He would never kiss her, or hold her, or tell her he loved her again.
But, he would be safe, and out of Eligos’ reach. Because, if she could convince her father and his followers that Jack didn’t care about her, if she could pretend not to care about him, he would cease to be of use to them.
Twining her fingers through his, she held on to him for whatever time might be left, for the last moments that she would be able to think of him as hers. And while he remained unconscious, she could allow herself time to grieve, to hold him and inhale the scent that brought her so much comfort. She could close her eyes and think about the wedding she was never going to have—of Jack standing at the end of a long aisle, watching her walk toward him in a white dress. She could picture him sitting at a table in a kitchen where she cooked terrible food, but he would eat it anyway because he loved her. She could imagine him in a rocking chair with a baby against his chest, completely at ease with the tiny bundle in his big hands—because she just knew he would be the kind of father who took to things quickly, likely quicker than she could learn to be a mother. But that would be okay, because he’d help her, and they’d learn to be parents together. She could imagine years of nights in his arms and mornings spent sharing coffee and smiles … of growing older and watching the world change around them while they continued to remain constant.
Because she had no choice, she would fit an entire lifetime in these last moments … and then let them go for good.
Then, she vowed to herself that Eligos would pay for what he’d taken from her. For all the things she’d ever valued and lost to the demon who had spawned her, she was going to exact revenge. Eligos had taken everything else from her, but he could not take her anger and rage. He could not rob her of the desire to destroy him and everyone who followed him. If it took the rest of her life, she would see it done. If she couldn’t have any of the things she wanted, then why should he?
“Game on, Father,” she whispered. “Game fucking on.”
“The first thing you gotta learn about cookin’ is good knife skills,” Micah said, gesturing toward the black-handled knife set resting in its carrying case on the counter.
Addison’s brother, Drew, stared down at the knives—a gift from his mamère—with interest. The kid had come to him the day prior and expressed interest in cooking. Now that things were starting to come together at Monroe House, there was an entire large kitchen at Micah’s disposal. Thanks to Harley, who had taken up a collection from among her people, there had been enough money to shop. He’d taken Drew with him to buy groceries in bulk, and because he needed something—other than his weekly meetings—to occupy him and keep the craving for a drink at bay, he’d offered to teach the boy how to cook.
“Chopping,” Drew said with a shrug. “How hard could it be?”
Micah reached out to grasp the kid’s wrist, halting him before he could touch one of the knives. “Choppin’ is only part of it. There’s also dicin’, slicin’, and julienne … you got a lot to learn.”
“Okay, well, I’m here to learn, so show me what to do,” Drew replied, an edge of impatience creeping into his voice.
Addison’s little brother seemed to be working to stifle his temper, but still had a long way to go. In Micah’s experience, cooking was good for soothing a quick temper, as it taught a man patience—which Drew was going to need plenty of it he wanted to master the kitchen.
“First, you’re gonna practice on onions, okra, and tomatoes,” Micah informed him. “Now let’s hop to it. If I’m gonna get this gumbo ready in time for dinner, we need to get a move on.”
Nodding, Drew reached for the largest of the knives, gripping it as if ready to stab someone with it. With a scowl, Micah gingerly plucked one of his fav
orite knives out of the kid’s hand.
“God a’mighty, kid!” he chastised. “Don’t hold it like a god-dang serial killer. She’s a chef’s knife, not a weapon.”
Drew raised a pierced eyebrow at him. “She?”
Micah pursed his lips. “Her name is Bethel, if you must know, and she’s a lady so you gotta handle her like one. Hold her like this … relax your grip.”
Demonstrating how to hold the knife, he produced an onion. He handed Drew the knife.
“Good grip, kid. Now, first we cut it in half, then slice along these here lines, then chop them in the other direction, small like. Give it a go.”
Standing back, he crossed his arms over his chest and watched as Drew started in on the onion. At first, he struggled with it, but seemed to get the hang of it as time went on.
“Keep goin’,” he urged. “All them onions … we got lotsa people to feed.”
Satisfied that Drew had things well in hand, he turned to begin prepping the other ingredients for his gumbo. Just as he opened the pantry, where he’d painstakingly organized everything he’d bought at the store, Alice appeared in the doorway. Making a beeline for the refrigerator, she bent and peered inside.
“And just whadya think you’re up to in my kitchen?” he asked, staring at the back of her head as she started rifling through the fridge.
“Looking for the wine bottle I stashed in here the other day,” she murmured. “Have you seen it?”
“A bit early in the day to be drinkin’, ain’t it?” he retorted, going back to pulling things down from the pantry.
“Normally, I’d agree with you,” Alice said, finding the bottle and pulling it out. “But those rules go out when window when a girl is going through a break-up.”
Piling everything he’d pulled down on the counter near the gas range, Micah frowned. “Didn’t know you was seein’ anyone.”
Which made him feel even worse about showing up drunk at her house the other night looking for comfort.
“Not me,” she clarified, rifling through the drawers before finding a corkscrew. “Addison.”
