Scarred (the Spellbound Series Book 3)

by Rene Lanausse

  Alyssa leans against a nearby street pole, and asks, “Whose soul did we just steal, anyway? Why does it matter to Lucifer so much?”

  Lily looks at the little urn in her hands, and answers, “It’s my mother’s…”

  I swear, I could slap Lily right now. “You mean to tell me we just fucked up everything because you wanted to save your mother’s soul?!”

  “It’s more complicated than that!” Lily cradles the vessel containing her mother’s soul, and explains, “I don’t think Lucifer cares about my mother or her soul, not in any real way. But he knew as long as he had her soul, he had a way to keep me in line if I ever showed any signs of defecting. Now he’s got no bargaining chip, and he’s down one major chess piece. I’m not his to control anymore.”

  “Didn’t seem like he was doing a very good job controlling you, anyway. You’ve been plotting against him for months.”

  “Yeah, but only when he was busy, and I kept it well hidden. Of course, none of that matters now that I’m a free agent.”

  “Whatever.” I rub my temples, and sit on the hood of the Cadillac. “So, what do we do now?”

  “We go with Plan B,” Lily replies. “Gather the other Nephilim, wipe out both Michael and Lucifer. The hard way.”

  “How the hell are we going to do that? Michael is an archangel, and Lucifer has an entire army.”

  “Believe me, I know… and by the looks of it, your boyfriend is part of that army.”

  “Nick is not my… Oh my God.” I clasp a hand over my mouth. I haven’t looked at Nick once since returning from Hell. Maybe if I had, I would have noticed his eyes sooner. One eye is its usual, gentle brown, but the other has turned a deep shade of red, glowing the same way a demon’s eyes would. I whisper to myself what Lily told us back in the trophy room: “When Lucifer gets hold of a soul, he corrupts it… and turns it into a demon. That’s what Lucifer did to you…”

  “What are you talking about?” Nick frowns at me, and looks in the Cadillac’s side mirror. When he realizes his eye has changed, he backs away, horrified. “Please tell me this isn’t actually happening…”

  “It is,” I tell him calmly. “You’re turning into a demon.”

  “But that makes no sense. A demon needs a human vessel to walk the earth, and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m still alive. I’m still in control of my body. So what’s going on? What exactly am I turning into?”

  “I don’t know, Nick. All I know is that if Lucifer did this to you, nothing good can come of it.”

  “So what am I supposed to do, stop using my powers?” Nick looks frantically from me to Alyssa, daring either of us to say a word. “I can’t do that, you know I can’t. There’s no turning back…”

  “We don’t know that for sure-“

  “I DO!” Nick turns, and for a split second, I think he’s about to storm off. But instead, he stands very still, with his back towards us. A few seconds later, the back of his sweater is ripped to shreds by the emergence of two black, leathery wings protruding from between his shoulder blades. When Nick turns to face us again, I notice he’s breathing heavily, his face shining with sweat. His one red eye is glowing even brighter than before. “I’ve been hiding these for a few days,” he says. “I didn’t want anyone to worry about me.”

  “Nick…” I’m horrified by what Lucifer has done to Nick, but at the same time, I wish I could reach out to him, hold him closer, try and hold him together. I can’t, though… I no longer have the right. I may have instinctively pushed him away after finding out he was alive, but now that I can finally see why, I wish I hadn’t.

  When none of us can think of a thing to say, it’s Alyssa who walks up to Nick and tries to calm him down. “Look, whatever’s happening to you, we can fight it,” she says. “You’re still the one in control. You’re still you.”

  “And what if I’m stuck like this forever?,” Nick asks.

  “Then fuck it. Embrace it. Accepting the things you can’t change will only make your life easier.” Alyssa peeks at Nick over her glasses, and I can see her eyes have begun to glow red as well. “Besides,” she adds, “Everyone’s got a little freak in them.”

  “Yeah yeah,” Nick mutters. He doesn’t look mollified by any means, but at the very least, he puts his wings away. To be honest, they were a little intimidating.

  Lily groans, and pushes herself up onto her feet. “Alright, well I’m out of here. I’ll put this soul back where it belongs, get the rest of the Fallen together, and we’ll meet up again soon. Then, we’ll figure out a plan of attack. See you guys around.” Without warning, Lily vanishes entirely, before any of us can give her a proper goodbye. Then again, maybe she wasn’t expecting one. She seems to understand that while we happen to be working together, we’re a long way from ever being friends.

  “I’m outta here too,” Alyssa announces. “I’m gonna head back to the party. You guys coming?”

  Nick shrugs, and says, “I think I’ve had enough for one night. Right now, I sort of just wanna be alone.”

  “Fair enough. Heather?”

  “I think I’m gonna pass as well,” I tell her. “I feel like I owe Michael an apology, so I think I’m gonna go and do that.”

  “Suit yourselves.” The three of us walk towards the building our group of survivors has claimed, but as soon as we enter the lobby, we go our separate ways. Alyssa takes the stairs up to Jenna’s apartment, and Nick walks out the back entrance for some solitude in the garden. I wait until both of them are out of sight before slumping against a pillar in the lobby, and the gravity of our situation nearly pulls me to the ground. We’ve messed up pretty badly. The game with the Nephilim was horrifying enough, but the thought of Heaven and Hell clashing with Earth as their playing field is so much worse. I’m careful to restrict my volatile powers, but an angry angel might not bother. And a demon definitely won’t. Under the wrong circumstances, this battle could cause a lot of casualties.

  I push off from the pillar, and take the stairs two at a time to reach Michael’s apartment faster. Maybe if I can talk some sense into him, we can avoid even more people getting hurt, or worse. And at the very least, I have to try and make up for putting us in this situation. When I reach the seventh floor, I knock on Michael’s door, but nobody answers. When I try the doorknob, though, I find it’s unlocked. He’s probably deeply engrossed in a book. I let myself in, and gently close the door behind me.

  Unlike his house in Huron, Michael’s apartment is sparsely decorated. There are a few chairs, a couch, and a well-stocked bookshelf in the living room, but that’s about it. No paintings. No pictures. No vases. Not even a TV. And most confusingly, no life; I can’t find a trace of him anywhere. I’m about to leave when I pick up on someone speaking in a hushed voice, behind a door that’s only partially closed. Curious, I peek through the thin crack, and immediately, I get the sense that I shouldn’t have.

  In place of decorations, there are maps covering the walls. They’re detailed maps of regions around the world, with their names and a series of numbers written under them. Every city from Los Angeles to Delhi is displayed on the wall. But only one of the maps is circled in red marker: Tokyo – 15,000,000.

  I’m curious to know what it all means, but at the same time, if Michael is holed up in his room it’s probably for a good reason. I’m just starting to back away from the door when it swings back, revealing a fuming Valtiel. “We have a visitor,” he calls over his shoulder. “Just like I thought.”

  “Bring her in,” Michael commands. Valtiel places a heavy hand on my shoulder, and guides me deeper into the room. Whereas one wall had been covered in maps, another is littered with symbols that I can’t decipher the meaning of. Angelic sigils, possibly, whose purpose I’ll never comprehend. And yet another wall is covered entirely by an enormous map of New York City, with circles and arrows scribbled in odd places around the island of Manhattan.

  “What is all of this?,” I wonder aloud as my head swivels around the room.

  M
ichael clears his throat, and I look down from the walls to acknowledge him. In the dim light of the room’s single lamp, he looks older than ever. “Is there something I can help you with?,” he asks.

  “Oh… Yeah. I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry. I screwed everything up… I never thought tricking Lucifer into leaving Hell would start a war.”

  “It’s alright, Heather. As you can see, we’re prepared for the occasion.” Michael gestures around the room, and adds, “I had hoped Lucifer would abide by the rules of our agreement, but I always plan for the worst, even when hoping for the best. This contingency plan has been around for the better part of a decade… My brothers and I are only now working on the minute details.”

  I look around at the maps and sigils again, in awe that my father could have planned so far ahead. “What is this plan, exactly?”

  Michael hesitates before answering. “At present, Lucifer has a clear advantage. He has millions of demons at his back, but Heaven is woefully lacking in numbers. And while angels are far superior in terms of strength, I’m concerned that he may overwhelm us with the sheer volume of warriors at his command. So, I’ve devised a way to tip the scales in our favor.”

  “Yeah? And how are you going to do that?”

  “By taking a leaf out of Lucifer’s book. You see, the events that transpired here a few months ago were not mere coincidence. I have reason to believe Lucifer claimed all eight million of this city’s souls not merely to catch my attention. He did so to bolster his armies.”

  I glance at the map labeled Tokyo, hoping that I’m taking away the wrong meaning from what Michael is saying. “How… how would that have helped him?”

  “The human soul is a powerful commodity. Lucifer can corrupt its raw power, and turn it into a loyal servant for his own needs. The angels still loyal to Heaven, however, cannot and will not stoop so low. We use the souls in our possession to add to our own individual strength. We replenish ourselves when we are weary, and use the excess power to grant us immeasurable success on the battlefield.”

  “So what you’re saying is… You’re going to steal fifteen million souls… To win a war…” I back away, groping behind me for a wall to lean against. I feel like I’m going to be sick. I can’t be hearing what I think I’m hearing.

  “This tactic is nothing new to us,” Michael says calmly. “Haven’t you ever wondered why the sword I gave you burns the way it does?”

  “No… stop-“

  “It burns with the fire of six archangels, their strength contained within the ruby on the hilt. Together, they make sure only the worthy may wield their might, and burn the wicked ones who might try to steal their power for themselves.”

  I press myself against a wall, my heart hammering. I remember Lucifer telling me once that Michael was the only archangel left… and I think I just pieced together what happened to the rest of them. “Tell me,” I whisper. “Did you steal your brothers’ souls after you killed them all? Or is it possible to do so before?”

  Michael’s expression darkens, but he doesn’t deny my accusation. “Those were different times,” he says. “The heavenly throne needed an occupant, and-“

  “And you killed everyone who got in your way, is that it? And now you’re willing to sacrifice the lives of fifteen million innocent people to get what you want? What kind of angel are you?! How are you any better than Lucifer?”

  “We are at war, Heather.” Michael fixes me with a disappointed gaze, as if he expected me to accept his penchant for genocide. “That means we must sometimes make terrible decisions. That means we must sometimes sacrifice a few lives, so we can protect the lives of many more.”

  I can’t stand being in Michael’s presence for another second. I turn, and run out through the open door. Just before slamming the front door shut, I can hear Tyrael say aloud, “She may be a born warrior, but at the end of the day, she’s still just a child.”

  20

  I’m not entirely sure where I’m running. I’m not even entirely sure why I’m running. All I know is I can’t resist the urge to put an incredible amount of distance between myself and the man I thought I knew. The man who slew his own brothers for personal gain. The man who’s plotting to rob 15 million innocent people of their souls. The man who, I’d forgotten, only fathered a child to raise a killing machine. A miniature version of himself. It makes my skin crawl to think that his blood runs in my veins.

  As soon as I’m outdoors, I take to the skies. The cool night air isn’t enough to soothe my nerves, but it’s a start. Before long, I’m soaring above the streets, looking down at them curiously. Normally, by this time, the streetlamps would have already come on, their orange glow somehow making the city seem darker. But the only power left in the city comes from a few generators the others found while scavenging; there’s nowhere near enough to light up the streets again. Instead, the light of billions of stars illuminates the city. I’d always hoped my love for both stars and skyscrapers would come together someday, but now that I have what I wanted, I’d trade it in for the past any day.

  I’m not paying much attention to where I’m flying. One minute, I’m still circling Hell’s Kitchen. The next, I’m down near Battery Park, gliding south over the Hudson River. I spot the Statue of Liberty looming up ahead of me, and angle myself towards it. I’ve never seen it up close; it’s always seemed like such a tourist thing to do, and if there’s anything I’ve learned from living in New York City for nearly twenty years, it’s to avoid acting like a tourist. But now that there’s no one around, I can finally satisfy my curiosity.

  I touch down gently on Liberty Island, my feet crunching on dry leaves as I land. The statue herself stands tall above the grounds, her stern face overlooking the New York Harbor like a watchful guardian. My stone memorial to New York City’s lost souls doesn’t do her justice; the real Statue of Liberty is infinitely more beautiful than anything I’ll ever create. I only leave destruction in my wake. Yet another trait I inherited from my dear father.

  I find the brick path leading straight to the stairs, and follow it all the way to the base of the statue. I lean my head against the stone, and close my eyes. Solitude hasn’t brought with it any answers to my problems. Michael still intends to commit genocide. War is still on the horizon. The hunters still have me in their crosshairs. Nick is still going through a bizarre metamorphosis. And I still can’t seem to forgive myself for letting millions of people die. I’ve gotten so much better at pretending to be alright, and on some days, I can even fool myself. But I’m worried I’ll start to crack again.

  I pull myself together, and back away from the statue’s base to look up at the stars. Part of me almost hopes an ancestor of mine will magically materialize in the clouds, and offer me guidance in my time of need. But it doesn’t look like I’ll be having my Disney moment; the night sky is just as cloudless as ever. It looks like I’ll have to figure out what to do on my own.

  With my head tilted towards the heavens, I close my eyes, and review the facts. What Michael is planning is downright evil, there’s no doubt about that. But does that mean Michael himself is evil? I find that hard to believe; our relationship had an incredibly rocky start, but I’ve never once gotten a sinister vibe off of him. He just doesn’t seem to have much concern for human life. I remember his offer to help me destroy the hunters as they chased us into another realm, and shudder.

  Then again, my father might not have much concern for life in general. His most recent gift to me, his sword, is imbued with the spirits of six slain archangels, whom he as well as confessed to killing with his own hands. His own brothers. And he admitted that they were only killed because they stood between him and apotheosis. Maybe Michael and Lucifer are more alike than anyone’s ever realized. The only difference is that I expected Michael to be better.

  A breeze blows past, and I open my eyes again, taking in the constellations above me. If Michael is capable of such evil acts, what does that say about me? For better or worse, I’m his daughter. No
w that I see him for the murderer he is, I have to wonder if dealing death runs in the family. And maybe it does; I accidentally killed someone almost immediately after discovering my powers. Clearly, I’m just as capable of unspeakable acts. I am my father’s daughter. But the real question remains: who will I choose to be? Will I stand idly by while my father claims 15 million souls before their time? Or will I find some way to stop him?

  A tiny part of me still likes and respects my father enough to let him have his way. And to be honest, it sounds like that much power will be incredibly useful against millions of demons. But I know I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t do what’s right. I reach for my neck, and unclasp the chain around it. Then I pull my hand away, and inspect the glistening pendant swinging from the end of the chain. The same winged pendant Michael made for me as an infant. It’s meant a lot to me over the years, but now it’s just a symbol of a man I thought I could forgive. For abandoning my mother and I. For using me as a tool in his mad quest to become God. Just the sight of this tiny trinket makes me sick.

  I briefly consider throwing the whole necklace into the harbor, and watching it sink to the bottom. But before I can do exactly that, I realize that if I’m going to sabotage Michael’s plan, he needs to believe that I’m on his side. Meaning the necklace can’t suddenly go missing. He sees me wearing it nearly every day now, so he would definitely notice the absence. I slip the necklace into my pocket, and let out a long sigh. I’m still not sure how I’m going to pull this off, but I do know I have a lot of work ahead of me.

  I’ve had my fill of introspection for the night. After one last look at the stars, I sprint until I have enough speed to take off. I fly back home at a leisurely pace. I’m in no rush to do what I have in mind. When I finally reach the right building, I retract my wings entirely, wincing a little as they recede into my skin. I climb the stairs to Michael’s apartment, and bang on his door until it opens inward, and the man I came to see answers my call. Michael’s eyes burn into mine as he asks, “How can I help you?”