by J. J. Dean
"You okay?" he asks as his eyes rake over my face with an observant gaze.
I nod before shoving my face into his chest and inhaling one more time. Once I feel like I've had my fix, I tell him, "Yeah, I'm good. Can we get out of here? I feel like I need a shower after staying here for as long as we have already."
"Yeah, let's get you out of here," he says, moving back but wrapping his arm around my waist to steer me towards the front door.
We've only moved a couple of feet away from the torture setup before Eli grunts, his knees giving out as he falls to the floor with a pained howl that sends chills running up my spine.
Chapter 9
Luna
No. No, no, no. This cannot be happening right now!
"Eli?!" I call, hearing the thud of his body hit the ground. This seriously can't be happening. I rush to his side, but long black wings tinted red rip free from his back, crash into me, and push me to the floor. My head hits the wall, dizzying my senses for a moment until I hear Elijah cry out in pain.
I crawl on the damp floor to him, minding his impressive wingspan that knocked my ass into a wall. When I'm close enough, I cup my hands around his face and turn him to face me. "Eli? Please tell me what I think is happening isn't really happening?"
The panic and horror in my voice can't be mistaken, especially since I can't hide it from him. My heart is hammering in my chest, and my breathing comes quickly. I stroke the side of his face, my thumb brushing against the stubble over his jaw.
Through clenched teeth, Eli grinds, "We knew this shit would happen. He was biding his time until he made me Fall."
An agonized shout rips itself from his chest, and tears fill my eyes. It doesn't take a genius to figure out he means Lucifer. That son of a bitch waited for the perfect opportunity to rip out Elijah's wings. It doesn't surprise me when I think of it like that, but my heart is hurting for the suffering that's only just beginning. We're alone in a place that I don't even know, and Lucifer has decided now is the right time for an angel to Fall. Fuck my day.
Eli cries out again, and the first tear falls from my eye, dropping to his cheek. "I'm so sorry."
His back bows painfully, arching to keep the pressure off his wings, but he turns his head to face me and breathlessly groans, "Don't even think about being sorry."
I shake my head, then wince when he yells in pain, the intensity growing as the seconds tick by. Doing the only thing I know how to do, I start to sing. The start of Ruelle and Fleurie's “Carry You” begins a little shaky, but I infuse as much of my power in the song as I can, steadying my voice as I go. With my hand on Eli's cheek, I rub his cheek as I sing to him, soothing him the only way I've grown good at.
The pain doesn't ease completely, and his face still contorts when I can't take it all away, but it lessens the intensity, and he's able to control his screaming. A few grunts pass through his lips, and his jaw clenches so tightly that I can hear his teeth grinding together when my song ends and I begin another, pushing more power into the notes to try and take away as much pain as I can.
I lose track of how long we lie in the disgusting room, with Eli suffering and me singing song after song to soothe him. It feels like hours, but the worst comes some time later when the first sound of bones snapping bounces off the walls.
More tears fall from my watery eyes, and I shakily tell Eli, "We need to turn you over. It'll hurt more with you lying on your back."
Awkwardly, and with a lot of effort, we turn him onto his stomach, his head resting in my lap so I can brush my fingers through his red hair. His shirt is torn at the back from where his wings burst free, easing the pressure it would have had on his wounds. It lies in tatters on either side of his body, but the front is thankfully protecting his torso from the dank floor.
More snapping ensues, and Eli shoves his face into my thigh to muffle the sounds of utter torment he doesn't want me hearing. It's killing me. It's no easier to witness than Asher's Fall. My heart is thundering in my chest, aching and raw.
The disgusting crunch of bones breaking, feathers falling to the floor, and flesh shredding is the haunting soundtrack to the hours we spend stuck in this room. Sickness unfurls in my stomach when one of Eli's beautiful wings breaks free, long feathers scattering on the disgusting floor. It's not long after that the other wing follows, and Elijah is left as wingless as his brother and me. He passes out pretty quickly following that, the pain growing too much for him to bear.
The wounds are open and weeping blood like it can't leave his body quick enough. The red liquid pumps from the jagged scars in steady flows, dripping down his bare back and onto the ground below. I'd rather suffer my own Fall again instead of seeing the guys in this much pain.
Knowing there's nothing I can do at this point, I keep threading my fingers through his hair, changing the singing to a melodic humming.
The hours tick by, Eli waking up every now and then when the pain grows too much to ignore. He always falls asleep quickly as soon as I add more power before letting up a little. We keep this up for so long that my body grows tired even if my mind is hyper aware of everything. I begin swaying where I sit, forced to lean against the moisture-laden wall just to keep myself upright.
What feels like eons later, Eli starts to regain consciousness. I don't stop my humming, making sure he's as comfortable as he's going to get. Slowly, he moves his arms to wrap around my back. "That's not going to do your back a lick of good, babe."
There's a pause before he tilts his head so one of his eyes are visible. Amusement wars with pain in those deep brown irises, and he asks, "Did you just call me babe?"
I did. I really did. Why? Beats me.
"No. You're delirious from the pain," I lie, brushing a hand through the strands of his soft, auburn hair. I turn my face away, looking at anything but him while I keep humming.
He snorts which prompts a groan, but he rasps, "Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that."
I roll my eyes, and a small smile breaks free when he drops his head back into my lap, hugging me to the best of his ability. When a few minutes pass and his breathing seems to even out, I ask, "At the risk of asking a stupid question, how're you feeling?"
Snorting again, he says, "I feel like a bag of dicks. That's how I'm feeling."
My eyebrows crease, and an amused smile pulls at my lips. "I can't say I know what a bag of dicks feels like, so I'll take your word for it. I should probably be concerned that you do."
Before he can even think to offer words of retaliation, there's a noise outside the door. We both freeze, and Eli's arms tighten around me. All goes quiet, and we both look at one another with concern, not breathing a word. A bang at the door startles me enough to jolt Eli, and he makes a noise that has me immediately feeling guilty.
"I'm sorry. So sorry. Are you okay?" I whisper, keeping my voice low enough for only him to hear. He nods against my lap, his eyes trained on the door that I have very little trust that it will keep us safe now that there are thumps and bangs echoing on its other side. "What the hell is that?"
"I have no idea," Eli replies, keeping his voice just as quiet.
Another slamming of the door causes my heart to hiccup in my chest, and worry laces itself through every fiber of my being. I take a deep breath before facing Eli. "How good are our chances that you can stand right now with my help? Because we need to either get the hell out of here or hide. Either way, I need you to get your wounded ass up if you can manage it."
"I can move. It's going to hurt like a bitch, but I can manage," he tells me seriously, wincing when he moves and jostles his still-open wounds.
I bite my lip before telling him, "I swear I'll look after you when we're home. I'll even bake you cookies."
"You've got yourself a deal, Flower. Now let's get the hell out of dodge," he quips, unwrapping his arms from around my back and bracing his hands on the dirty and damp floor. He pushes himself with a lot of strain and a colorful vocabulary that makes me proud, blood dripping from his clammy s
kin and onto the ground. His blood mixes with the water below him, turning a darker shade of red than before, but he keeps going until he's braced on his hands and knees.
I stand quickly, moving around to his side to help him up. We manage to get him standing, his arm slung around my shoulder while he rests a fair bit of his weight on me. I hook my arm around him, careful to avoid the nasty slashes that race down his spine, and grasp the hand that's hanging over my shoulder in my own.
The banging outside grows louder still, the thudding on the door sounding like fists repeatedly crashing into the metal slab. A bead of sweat trickles down my temple, and my pulse quickens to a ridiculous speed. I look around the scarce room, but find myself struggling to see much of anything with the very little light coming from the flashing on the torture devices the monsters were using on me.
Heaving Eli up a little further so I can carry him better, I ask, "Think you have enough energy to light the room for a second just so I can find us a place to hide?"
He nods even though sweat is pouring off him, and he's incredibly unsteady on his feet. Shitting hell, this is so not good. Not good at all.
Eli closes his eyes briefly, and I start to get a little worried when a couple of minutes pass, and he hasn't moved at all. Just as I open my mouth to ask him if he's okay again, his eyes pop open. What were the warm brown irises I've grown to really love seeing are now red, only a shade darker than freshly-spilled blood. Black flecks litter their depths, truly bringing out the vibrancy of the red. They pulse just the way Asher's do when he uses his power. They're stunning.
Lifting his hand with a tremble he can't hide, he turns it until his palm is facing upwards. In a blink, a small flame appears in his palm, looking like the fire is coming out of his skin. It's mesmerizing to watch, but I shake my head and focus on the now dimly lit room.
It's more disgusting than I thought it was now that I can see the extent of the mold that covers the walls. I find the source of the drops, seeing a broken pipe hanging on the wall in two pieces while water drips from one end. The two chairs are in the middle of the room, with the table to the left of where I'd been sitting. There isn't much else here. There's a folded cardboard box, rusted chains, crumbled pieces of the wall, and more littering the floor when the pounding on the door grows louder.
There are broken and decaying pipes all over the floor to the right, and when I look up, I find more exposed pipes and metal beams that hold the ceiling in place. The room is pretty big, but since there isn't much in here, every noise we make echoes and bounces off the damn walls.
Focusing on finding somewhere to hide, my eyes scan the room. I gently guide Eli's hand in the direction my eyes go, my narrowed gaze taking in every wall in this place.
Lady luck must be on our side because on the very far left of the room there's a small alcove big enough for at least three people to wedge themselves in. It looks like it was used as a small storage area where someone would have once stacked shelves, but there's nothing but an empty space with holes in the walls on either side.
Mindful of Elijah's back, I guide him into the alcove, slipping his arm from around my neck so I can push him carefully into our hiding spot. With the walls holding him upright, he moves enough to give me space to shuffle in after him, and just in time for the door to finally crash open.
The light in Eli's hand vanishes in a blink, and we're descended into complete darkness. Absolutely no light reaches us here, but a harsh yellow glow spills from the opened door, highlighting our intruders. My heart starts hammering in my chest when I finally catch a good look at who the hell just crashed into our prison.
Hellspawn.
A lot of them.
As if our situation couldn't get any worse, right?
Chapter 10
Luna
Eli's mouth opens, and I'm sending my thanks to whoever is listening that my reflexes are seriously on point. I slap a hand over his mouth seconds before a single word leaves him, eyes wide and shaking my head slowly. I have no idea if he can see my head shake because it's so dark here, so I keep my hand over his mouth for a moment longer before slowly moving it away. He doesn't say a thing, and a breath leaves my lungs painfully slowly.
The Hellspawn are all scattered at this point, sniffing at the air like rabid animals. They're in small clusters around the room, sticking together with their herd mentality. Through what little light shines from the open door, I can see that they’re in a state between human and demon, eyes glowing an eerie yellow and blackened claws protruding from their fingers. I fucking hate those claws. A phantom pain in my stomach has me remembering the damage those nasty ass things can do and tensing more than I had been before.
I shudder, and Eli's arm comes to wrap around me. He stumbles slightly, but I manage to catch him around the waist. Only, just not in time to stop the sound of his shoe scuffing against the ground.
Every Hellspawn head snaps up, and countless sets of yellow eyes dart to where we're hiding. A chorus of growls reverberates around us, and my stomach sinks to my goddamned ass. Why is this my life now? I've gone centuries without any of this crap!
Realizing there's no way out of this mess without having to put up some kind of fight, I mentally hype myself up because Satan knows Eli isn't in any shape to kick the asses of some musty souls today.
As quick as I can get the words out, I tell Eli, "You keep your broken ass here and don't move a single muscle, got it?"
I feel his hand squeeze my waist, and I take that as his agreement. Without a second thought, I step from the safety of the shadows, and the growling of the Hellspawn grows louder.
Like they've spent time practicing their next move, they turn to face me before they're suddenly moving towards me. I have a brief moment of panic because I haven't moved away from my wounded angel behind me. I then have a moment of moronic realization when I remember I have all five of my powers and not just two. That would have been a useful thing to remember before the Hellspawn found us.
As they charge at me with the sharp claws extended, I tap into my Reality Warp and hide Eli before conjuring the very same bow and arrows Devon made me the last time we were ambushed by Hellspawn with the use of Mysticism.
The first row of Hellspawn come at me in a flurry of claws, sharp teeth, and too much aggression for one being to handle. Switching my brain off, I fall back to the time where my bow and arrow were the only things to keep me alive. Faster than any human eye could see, I lift my bow, cock an arrow, and fire. In quick succession, I manage to plant arrows in two of the Spawn before ducking and rolling away from two sets of lethal claws. I stand quickly and pop off two more arrows, dropping more Hellspawn before one of them comes barreling toward me with his mouth gaping wide like a shark. Two rows of teeth on the top and bottom drip with saliva as he snaps them in my direction before lunging. He knocks me to the floor, and my head bounces off the concrete, but not before I shove an arrow into his chest. Black oozing blood drips from the arrow and down my arm, my hoodie sleeve absorbing the gross substance.
Using my legs, I kick the Spawn off me, keeping hold of my arrow and hearing the sickening squelch of rotten skin breaking apart as the arrow is tugged away. I gag, the smell coming from the now dead Hellspawn turning my stomach.
The Spawn falls to the ground beside me, and I hurry to get back on my feet before the next line of monsters attacks. I don't get much of a reprieve, but I manage to jump back onto my feet and cock another arrow before releasing it quickly. The arrow whirs as it soars through the air, impaling the hearts of three Hellspawn who were stupid enough to stand in a diagonal line one behind the other, creating the perfect opportunity to drop three in one shot.
Arrows fly through the air by my hand as more Hellspawn attack, coming quicker and quicker, their gaping maws and elongated nails barely missing every time they swipe at me. It grows increasingly clear I'm not going to defeat these bastards with a bow and arrow alone, so while I pluck one arrow out of thin air and stab it through the head of o
ne Spawn that got a little too close to comfort, I conjure Eli's daggers, dropping the bow and seeing it vanish at the corner of my eye.
I twirl, darting the twin daggers out at my sides, and slice the gut of one Spawn, rancid blood spilling over like a grotesque waterfall. I catch one's throat and slice down the chest of another, spilling the contents of her insides onto the damp cement floor. Ew. That's something I'll never unsee.
On my next swing, I manage to cut off the arm that darts toward my face, claws coming within inches of slicing my skin. Another clawed hand comes flying at me, and I just about manage to duck out of its way. More and more Hellspawn are piling into the room, too many for me to take out on my own. I'm already swarmed, and these assholes are getting way too close for me to fend them all off.
Just as that very thought crosses my mind, I'm flung backward by a swift and super unexpected punch to the chest. The breath is knocked out of my lungs, a pained wheeze passing through my parted lips. Holy shit, that hurt.
The brief moment of shock costs me because within that time I'm surrounded, Hellspawn practically piling on top of me like pro wrestlers. Claws scrape my skin, cutting into whatever bare flesh they can find. My hoodie tears, and more slices find their way onto my body. A few sink their teeth into my shoulder and arm, and I can't help but scream at the burning agony that comes after.
Gritting my teeth together, I swap my daggers for something a little sturdier. Devon's axe forms quickly, knocking several of the Hellspawn away. It's not enough, and I have zero space to move and get up, but if I'm going to get mauled by rancid, raggedy-ass monsters, then I'm going to go down swinging.
Deciding to just swing at anything, my axe slices into whatever it comes into contact with. Blood spills, mine and theirs, and growls pierce the air. My arms begin to grow weak, and my body begins to tire with the blood loss and over exertion.
