The Immortals Trilogy Books 1-3: Tales of Immortality, Resurrection and the Rapture (BOX SET)

by C. F. Waller

  “Well?” Satan grumbles.

  He leans his backside on the corner of the desk, sipping Merlot from a huge wine glass. It’s probably wine, but could be blood. Even money either way.

  “It’s true,” I remark, removing my pipe from a jacket pocket and placing it in the corner of my mouth. “I had a conversation with her earlier.”

  “And you didn’t think I’d like to know?” he narrows his eyes at me. “For that matter, how did it come to pass that she entered without your knowledge? Isn’t that what I pay you for?”

  “You don’t actually pay me,” I chuckle, thinking a little levity might improve my situation.

  “Are you nailed to an inverted cross dangling over the Lake of Fire?”

  “Thankfully, no.”

  “You’re welcome,” he growls. “Now tell me how she got here and what she is up to.”

  Since there are no chairs on this side of the desk, I pace back and forth, sharing every bit of information. I do my best to make it sound as if I was doing a keen bit of roleplay when talk of my escaping with them comes up. He is shocked to find out there are two others, one of them a forgiven soul of the Almighty. I join him in actual surprise on this score. When I have explained as best I can, he sits, putting his feet up on the desk. He mumbles to himself, the bottom of his worn shoes now visible. I have no idea if I am about to be hurled into the Lake or patted on the back. In virtually all cases such as this, it’s tough to read the Dark Prince.

  “They are operating under the impression you will aid them?” he asks, eyes on the ceiling. “Let the Angel out of her cage?”

  “I lead them to believe it was a possibility. Why don’t I send word for them to meet me? We can lure them to the Amphitheater, then snatch them up?”

  “No, tell them you agree to their terms,” he orders, dropping his feet off the desk. Then meet them at the Amphitheater alone. Don’t take any guards with you.”

  “As you wish.”

  “I’ll handle it from there,” he pops to his feet, putting a finger to his chin.

  “But I don’t let her out?” I mumble, unsure what he wants. “I just lure them in.”

  “No, open the door and free her,” he laughs. “Turn her loose and see what they do. She’s as likely to eat them as help them.”

  I nod, feeling the slightest bit sick. What is he thinking?

  “Miss Ben-Ahron told you the End-of-Days was upon us?”

  I nod, unable to conjure a witty remark.

  “Do you believe her?”

  I shrug, having run out of opinions, or possibly just trying to not be wrong. In this case having no opinion might be the safest bet.

  “Too soon,” he mutters, pacing around the edges of the room behind me. “The great war is still some ways off.”

  “I agree.”

  “Keep them on Three,” he snaps, causing me to flinch. “Don’t let them get back up to Level Two. This girl, the resurrection specialist, she can’t possibly pull their souls back from three levels down.”

  “I already had the fountain drained.”

  “Excellent, now run along to meet them,” he orders, plucking his glass off the corner of his desk and sipping on it. “Let me know when you’re ready to open the cage.”

  I nod, then retreat to the waiting room. The air is cooler, and I gather my thoughts waiting on the elevator. It would appear my best course of action is to betray the interlopers and solidify my position down here. Miss Ben-Ahron and her friends are out of luck this time.

  “It would appear, her third time will be her final trip down.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Edward Grey

  “This is beyond a doubt, the best thing I have tasted in a hundred thousand years,” Dorian raves, slowly chewing a mouthful of Annie’s apple pie. “I don’t know if it’s the apples or the crust, but kudos young lady.”

  “Thanks,” she blushes, clearing my plate.

  Bea rolls her eyes, sticking a chunk of apple with her fork, and then flinging it at Dorian. She misses, the tidbit landing on the floor near the door. He glares at her, as if this was an unforgivable act of rudeness. She returns this by scratching the underside of her chin, then waving the back of her hand at him.

  “It’s not the apples or the crust,” she grunts. “It’s the girl.”

  “She is a delightful cook,” Dorian croons, sticking another bite in his mouth.

  “It’s not that,” Bea complains. “She’s not supposed to be here. All this happiness is because of her.”

  “All this happiness?” I balk, shooting her an unhappy face.

  “Yes, most of that too,” Bea sighs. “My scars going away, the great tasting pie, and even a wee bit of the sex Edward my love. All these things come to us via the piglet.”

  Annie frowns and retreats into the kitchen with the dirty plates. Dorian glares at Bea then follows close behind.

  “A wee bit of the sex?” I groan.

  “Even that my love,” she sighs, laying a hand on my arm. “Nothing here is ever this good. I am not saying every single moment is torment, but things have taken a glorious turn since her arrival.”

  “I also arrived.”

  “Sorry darling, you’re amazing, but the piglet is magical in this place.

  “We can still hear you,” Dorian shouts from the kitchen.

  “Sorry piglet,” Bea replies, then leans closer to me and whispers. “What’s her name again?”

  “Annie.”

  “Right, sorry piglet,” Bea offers, winking at me. “I mean Annie.”

  “Not helping,” Dorian complains. “Possibly you could refrain from using the term, piglet altogether.”

  “Nonsense, it’s meant in an endearing way,” she argues.

  “Not really coming across that way,” Dorian grumbles.

  Bea giggles, hands over her face. I pretend to slap her, but she puts a foot on my chair and pushes mine back a bit. I sit, her foot on the edge of my chair, wishing this moment never had to end. I regret every moment we were apart during our long lives. How many years did I waste brooding alone? Looking at her now, hair down, no makeup, acting like a school girl. I am smitten as if it’s the first time. I pray Gabriel will let her accompany us. If this doesn’t happen, should I stay here with her?

  “What are you thinking about?” she asks, lifting her foot and pointing a toe at me.

  “Nothing,” I reply quickly, not wanting her to worry.

  The door flies open and Rahnee enters, stopping to glance behind her before kicking it shut. Dorian and Annie poke their heads around the corner to see who it is. I’m afraid to ask, but Bea isn’t bashful.

  “What did he say?” she demands. “Little prick going to help us or not?”

  “As a matter of fact,” Rahnee frowns, looking down at a smashed apple on the bottom of her boot. “He is.”

  General good cheer surrounds our small group for the next hour. Rahnee tries some of Annie’s pie, then Dorian finishes it, ending with an impassioned speech arguing she is the best baker in the history of apples. Bea is suspicious of any deal with Balthazar, and says as much before she retreats to the bedroom to put on some decent clothes. Dorian offers to help Annie do the dishes, but gets slapped on the way to the kitchen when his hand lands on her behind.

  “Ouch,” Rahnee chuckles wincing sympathetically from the blow.

  “Do you think he’s messing us around?” I ask.

  “Balthazar?”

  “Yes,” I press. “What exactly did he agree to?”

  “We show up, he opens the cage, then we take him back with us.”

  “Even if this jailbreak goes perfectly, Gabriel will never agree to let Balthazar go up,” I argue.

  “No argument from me,” Rahnee smiles, pushing her chair away from a table a bit. “I’m still wondering if I will get a hall pass.”

  “So, you just show up at the Amphitheater tonight?”

  “We all have to go, but yeah,” she nods. “We need to keep this party moving before the ho
rn sounds and we get stuck here.”

  “Strange that he wants all of us to be there?”

  “Agreed, but when I balked, he claimed it was a deal breaker.”

  It seems obvious to me that this is a trap. I’m watching her face and the unspoken expression is that she shares my suspicions. In truth, this is our only move. There isn’t any more time and if she’s right about the tiny bottle and the Bible verse, it’s unlikely we could accomplish this without Balthazar’s cooperation.

  “You two look glum,” Bea announces, as she re-enters the room, putting her hands on the back of my chair. “What’s the plan?”

  “It would seem,” I stand, turning to face her over the chair. “That we are all going to a show tonight.”

  “Delightful, someone tell Dorian. When I passed by the kitchen his hand was on the piglet’s—,” she stalls mid-sentence. “I mean your wife’s backside.”

  “Till death do you part,” I state for the record. “Marital bliss ends at the gravestone.”

  “Agreed, but the geographical location of his hand is not up for debate.”

  “When have you known Dorian to take no for an answer?” I sigh rhetorically.

  “Never,” she nods. “When do we go?”

  “Soon,” Rahnee remarks, leaning back on her chair to peek into the kitchen. “Peel Dorian off her and get him a stiff drink. It’s going to be a long night.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rahnee Ben-Ahron

  Theater of the Dammed

  Decker lets us pass via the secret tunnel, although a half a dozen others do so just before us making me think it’s less secret. Edward and Dorian have to get between Beatrix and Dunn when we pass. I ask if this happens every time they run into each other and Dorian confirms this is the case. Apparently, killing each other is a sore spot, even after a few thousand years.

  The crowd is loud tonight, which is not unexpected. We gather by the exit of the tunnel, waiting for Balthazar to appear. When Rhea notices us, a cross between confusion and apprehension crosses her face. There isn’t time to ponder it as she is hit square in the face with an egg thrown by Bea

  “Where did you get that?” Dorian huffs. “We just got here?”

  “A lady is always prepared,” she winks, pulling her other hand from her jacket pocket, revealing a second egg.

  Edward puts a hand over the egg, motioning that this might not be the right time for torment. She places it back in her pocket reluctantly. I scan the crowd, but don’t see Balthazar. Is it strange that he didn’t pop into view when we arrived or is he not coming? Before I can sort out an opinion one way or another he materializes in a haze of purple dust. Annie waves her hand back and forth in front of her face to clear the air.

  “Nice of you to show up,” Bea complains, even though we have only been here a short time.

  “I try not to keep the ladies waiting,” he bows, tipping his purple top hat.

  “I doubt many ladies are waiting on you,” Dorian pokes.

  “You’d be surprised,” he replies, a short-handled dagger pulled from somewhere on his person.

  “I certainly meant nothing personal,” Dorian back peddles, before losing out to his own sarcastic nature. “Sort of a small weapon you have?”

  “Charming as always,” he grunts, handing it to me. “Not that I wouldn’t prefer to give it to you blade first.”

  “What’s it for?” Annie asks.

  “The DRINK ME part,” I reveal, slipping it in the inside pocket of my leather jacket. “Your turn Balty.”

  “Are you quite sure,” he asks, scanning around our assembled group. “She’s as likely to kill you as help you.”

  “Yeah, we know, she’s untrustworthy,” Edward sighs. “Just do it already.”

  After pausing to glace at me, Balthazar pulls out his pipe and waves it. Three vertical bars vanish, leaving a gap big enough to drive a truck through. Rhea turns slowly, a grin washing over her face. Balthazar takes a few steps back, running into Dorian.

  “Excuse you,” Dorian complains.

  Rhea steps up to the gap in the bars, but cocks her head and pauses. Her eyes land on the pipe that circles the cage. Holes drilled in the top glow blue as gas burns. Previously whenever she got too close it erupted a wall of fire to keep her away from the bars. Rhea crosses her arms and glares at Balthazar.

  “Well?” I poke him in the side.

  “Yes, yes,” he mutters, pointing his pipe at the cage.

  The blue flames flicker, then burn out, the fuel for them cut off somehow. Eager to be free, Rhea steps over the pipe. Placing a hand on the bars on either side of the gap, she takes a deep breath, then smiles.

  “Good luck,” Balthazar whispers to me, then begins walking to the closest staircase leading out of the theatre.

  “Where are you going rat?” Rhea growls, but when she steps out of the cage a hole opens up in the center of the enclosure.

  Swirling like a whirlpool, the stone floor dissolves into sand, then drops out from under Rhea. As if drawn down by suction, she hangs on to the pipe with one hand. Balthazar looks over his shoulder and shakes his head. He wiggles his pipe, causing a wall of flames to explode upward, burning her hand until all that remains are bones. Without any tendons to hold them together, they fly apart, scattering on the ground. The fallen Angel, our golden ticket to the pearly gates, disappears into the swirling vortex in the floor.

  “I warned you that worm would double cross us,” Beatrix shouts, then winds up like a baseball pitcher and drills Balty in the back of his head with an egg.

  What happens now?” Annie sobs. “I can’t stay here. I won’t.”

  My mind spins, trying to sort out a course of action. Without Rhea, nothing matters. It’s unlikely we could even get topside without her. Why would Gabriel allow this? Beatrix glares at me, eyes wide, nodding at the cage. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she knew what I was about to do.

  “Go back to the fountain,” I order, slapping Edward on the back when he doesn’t turn around. “Annie, how much time left on your counter?”

  She doesn’t reply, so I grab her hand and flip her arm over. The clock reads 0:05 in yellow light. Checking my own, I find them the same.

  “All of you get back to the fountain. Get yourselves up on two so Jennifer can latch onto you when the trumpets start.”

  “What’s the point?” Edward snarls, putting an overly protective arm around Beatrix. “The game’s lost.”

  “Just be at the fountain,” I shout over the riot that’s ensued by the crowd. “I’ll get Rhea; you guys just get back to Level Two.”

  “How do you plan on doing that?” Edward shouts, then Beatrix puts a hand over his mouth and nods at me.

  “You’ll get them to the fountain?” I plead.

  “I will,” Bea nods, then pushes Edward back. “Good luck.”

  I take one last look at them, then duck under a railing keeping the audience away from the bars. The flames have died down from the pipe, but my face feels red hot up this close. I take one running step and leap over the pipe, landing on the edge of the spinning vortex. The swirling sand latches onto my foot, dragging me around the outside of the enclosure. The last thing I hear is Annie screaming, then nothing as I am sucked down. The world as I know it, fades to darkness. Which Level is next?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Edward Grey

  When Rahnee disappears, I stand frozen, unable to look away. A crowd files past me, hurrying down the tunnel. Bea tugs at my arm, but I resist her. Why did she follow Rhea down to lord knows where? The game was lost, what did she think she could accomplish? Was it guilt? Did she feel so utterly responsible for us being stranded here, that she dove directly into the Lake of Fire? Where does this leave the rest of us?”

  “Wakey, wakey,” Bea slaps me across the face. “Let’s go.”

  She pushes me, but I fight her. Dorian joins her and they manage to get me started down the tunnel. Annie’s wails of desperation echo in the narrow tunnel.
/>   “Where are we going?” I bark.

  “The fountain,” Bea scowls. “Stop being such a candy ass and get with the program.”

  “Just stop,” I demand, putting my hands on her upper arms and slamming on the brakes. “Let’s you and I make the best possible use of our remaining time.”

  “Huh.”

  “Let’s go back to your place, crawl in bed and pretend we didn’t get up this morning.”

  “It’s was late afternoon mate,” Dorian chimes in.

  “For now, we go to the fountain and back to Level Two,” Bea asserts, pushing me back. “If Rahnee doesn’t turn up with the Angel, I’ll race you to the bedroom, but you’re in for a rude awakening.”

  “How so?”

  “I told you this earlier. Once Annie is gone, this place will lose all of its charm.”

  “As long as we are together,” I plead.

  “You mean my scared body,” she growls, inferring her clear skin might revert to its previous state. “I think you’ll find the food tastes like ash and the sex isn’t what you recall.”

  “All because of her?” I choke out, pointing at Annie.

  “She’s telling the truth Edward,” Dorian assures me. “Before you three got here it was right desolate. Better to stick to the plan just in case Rahnee pulls a rabbit out of her hat.”

  “Fat chance,” I scoff.

  “She’s a resourceful woman,” he pursues his lips. “I suggest we keep our options open.”

  Unable to put together a logical argument, or even a coherent sentence, I am pushed along. At the entrance to the tunnel Dunn is nowhere to be seen. Apparently, he abandoned his post when the chaos ensued. We push on towards the fountain, but choke on ash that fills the air. Bea and I use her scarf to cover our mouths, while Dorian sucks air through Annie’s loose fitting shirt sleeve. For whatever reason, she is not beset by the ash. More indications she’s not supposed to be here.