by R. K. Ryals
Lucas pats the beast on the shoulder. “Or Desi for short.”
The lion glares. “You go too far, angel.”
“Don’t be fooled,” Lucas tells me, ignoring the creature. “He likes it.”
“What . . . how . . .” Inhaling, I try again. “Where did he come from?” My gaze flies to the lion. “You, I mean. Where did you come from?”
Lucas answers for him, a secret smile on his lips. “A very powerful gargoyle friend of mine out of France. He has a thing for collecting ancient weapons.”
“Weapon? That does not look like a weapon!” The lion growls, and I step back. “No offense or anything. I just . . .” I shake my head. “I think I’m going to shut up now.”
“Into the mace, Desi,” Lucas snaps, startling me.
Grumbling, the lion stretches out in the snow, folds his wings over himself, and then vanishes. Poof. Gone. In his place is an intricately carved wooden club, the end of it covered in bronze thorns.
Time out.
“Did,” I gesture at the club, “that lion just turn into a baseball bat on steroids?”
The mountains echo when Lucas laughs.
Setting our drinks in the snow, Lucas swipes the steroid-bat off the ground and offers it to me. “It’s a mace, a much more popular weapon a long time ago. It’s yours, for now.”
I stare at it. “Not that I don’t appreciate this, but I wasn’t expecting to wake up this morning to hot cocoa and a new pet, er, mace.”
“He’ll be an invaluable ally for you.”
Tucking my camera into the bag on my shoulder, I let Lucas place the weapon in my hands. It’s surprisingly light considering it was just a massive, flying male lion.
“I don’t like the way you’re giving this to me,” I say quietly. “This gift comes with too many unsaid things.”
Reaching out, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear before pulling my knit cap down over it. “You are stronger than you know, Harper. You don’t get ruffled easily. You take pain better than most mortals I’ve met. You’ve been locked away from your abilities out of fear, and when that fear is gone, you’re going to discover a whole new woman locked inside of you, too. It takes an awful lot of power to keep a Seraph out of your head. Until then,” he winks, “Desi here will be a friend. He’s a sentient weapon, which means you can fight with him, use him for information, or even let him fight for you when you can’t. I’d teach you how to use a sword or some other form of defense, but we’re running out of time.”
“What about you?” I ask, my hands gripping the weapon. “Couldn’t you use the mace?”
Lucas ducks his head. “Seraphs are nearly invincible. I say nearly because we do have weaknesses. Not many, but we do. If Leviathan is threatening me, he’s got something he knows will harm me.” At my look of alarm, he tips my chin up. “I’ll destroy him no matter what happens to me. This has been a long time coming. This has nothing to do with your town or you. It’s not your fault.”
I’m not worried about the demon’s destruction; I’m worried about Lucas. He may have charged into my life too quickly, like a flame sparking, but now that he’s here, I want to know more about him. I want to know more about what and who he is. I want time. My abilities have always left me with little time. Scrawl a message to a guy in town. He dies. Scrawl a message threatening an angel, and my life becomes a fast-paced action novel. In audio.
I hug the weapon to myself. “What did you do to the archdemon?”
Lucas glances at the valley beyond. “When the world was ancient, Leviathan was considered a god. He was worshipped as one. His need for power, his greed, and his cruelty grew. His possessed followers were sacrificing humans for him, specifically young virgins. In his bid for supremacy, he nearly wiped out whole cities of mortals. Archdemons are a pain in the ass. For even their own kind.” His gaze returns to mine. “This was the time of the gods, of the Greeks, of the Romans, and of great power. Before I fell, I was commanded to take down Leviathan before he caused more destruction. The battle wasn’t an easy one. It took me and a legion of warriors to take down Levi and his minions.” His eyes go distant. “A dragon of the heavens against a dragon of the seas and the land. In the end, I managed to lock him away in the Infernum, a dark place for very powerful and dangerous supernaturals who are hard to kill.”
I stare, awed. “You felled a god.”
“I felled an archdemon who wanted to be a god, and now he wants retribution.”
If the morning was cold before, it’s frigid now.
I should say things like, “No, you can’t fight him!” Or at least beg him to leave Havenwood Falls, but I don’t.
In retrospect, sex kind of foiled things because now I feel something for him and that complicates everything.
I also keep my mouth shut because he’s right. This is his battle with an old enemy, and I am simply the tool to make it happen.
“What can I do to help?” I ask. “You know, other than bleed everywhere?”
Respect fills his gaze. “Find a way past your fears. There is unimaginable power in you. I sense it.”
The mace in my hand shudders, and I nearly drop it, a shriek escaping me.
“Desi senses it, too,” Lucas adds, chuckling. “Now for a suggestion. Your bed was much, much warmer than this mountain. If you catch my meaning.”
I throw him a look. “Do you even feel the cold?”
“No, but admit it.” He leans close. “Bed has a nice poetic feel to it. Besides, it’s Thanksgiving.”
His words paralyze me. “What did you say?” Oh, God! My aunt! With everything going on, the date completely slipped my mind. “We need to go!” I wave the mace. “Make us do the whole blink in and blink out thing.”
Lucas watches, amused. “I don’t really do the holidays.”
“Why?” I ask, aghast. “What’s not to like? Food, fam—”
Family. My thoughts cut me off. Do Seraphs even have families?
“Harper,” Lucas warns, grabbing for me.
I feel the gush before I see the blood pouring out of my face.
Ripping off his button-up shirt, Lucas stuffs it beneath my nose. I clutch at the material, and the mace falls to the blood-speckled snow at our feet.
“I’m sorry,” I say to Desi, my voice nasal because of the shirt.
Resting a large hand on the back of my head, Lucas presses me against him. “Don’t worry about the mace. He’s been ordered to stay with you. Trust me, he finds his own way.”
Blood soaks the shirt, and I sag against Lucas. “How has this not killed me?”
“You’re weak because Levi is drawing on your energy. You’re not dead because it’s not your blood.”
It takes a moment for his words to sink in, but when they do, I recoil, pure horror crashing down on me. “What?” I panic into the shirt, because who wouldn’t? “What do you mean it’s not my blood?”
“You stay calm when you think it’s your blood, but you get all up in arms when it’s someone else’s?”
I push away from him, still clutching the shirt. “Lucas! That’s like pissing out someone else’s urine!”
He reaches for me. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“Whose blood is it?” I insist.
Lucas inhales, his gaze settling on mine. “The condemned. It’s the blood of the condemned in the Infernum. Levi can’t sacrifice humans, so he’s sacrificing the condemned imprisoned with him so he can build enough strength through their deaths and your energy to escape. I don’t know how he’s doing it, but I know it’s not your blood.”
My knees go weak, but I hold my ground. “There’s no way to stop him from doing this?”
“Not without going into the Infernum, and there are some places even Seraphs can’t go. Escaping it is one thing; entering it is another.”
“Has anyone ever escaped it before?” I don’t think I want to know this answer.
“No.”
My vision blurs, and I stumble away from him to lean against a tree. My h
ands are covered in blood, and it’s not my own.
Lucas appears next to me. “The condemned suffer more than you could ever know. Death is relief. Even if it’s brief. They won’t stay dead. Remember what I told you about the Infernum, Harper. It’s a prison for supernaturals who are nearly impossible to kill. Like archdemons.” He pauses, letting that sink in before adding, “For creatures like me.”
My gaze flashes to his face, Levi’s words potent when I recall them. You will have a place in Hell, Lucas Fox. Cast and chained in the Infernum of darkness. Death to the messenger. Death to those who give her sanctuary.
“That’s what he plans to do to you,” I whisper.
Silence, and then, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
A new resolve fills me. “Today, you’re doing the holidays.” He pulls back, surprised. “I may bleed everywhere, and it may be the most uncomfortable meal I have ever had, but you are damn well doing the holidays today, Lucas.”
If I’m going to bleed other creatures’ blood, and Lucas is prepping for a fight that may cost him more than he gains, then I’m damn sure going to show him what it means to be human.
Chapter 9
After returning to my cabin to clean up, Lucas blinks us to my aunt’s basement apartment.
Below her shop, the apartment is an open and airy area with lots of recessed lighting to make up for the lack of windows. Stained concrete floors span the entire space, all of the rooms open to each other except for the two bedrooms. A vibrant multi-colored kitchen connects to a simple dining room with a farm table covered in artwork. The dining room joins a living room with wildly painted walls and a sofa and a recliner, each of the furniture pieces sporting gauzy scarves and strange-looking dolls. Two doors to the back of the space lead into the bedrooms. Candles are displayed on every available surface.
Eloise is in the middle of pulling a small turkey out of her oven when we appear, and she shrieks, dropping it.
Lucas catches the pan bare-handed in mid-air, places it on the kitchen’s small counter, and smiles. Evidently, he’s also immune to heat.
“You couldn’t use the door?” Eloise asks, holding her chest.
“The angel doesn’t have any manners,” I tease.
Still shaken, Eloise glances from me to Lucas and then me again. “I wasn’t sure you would come, but—”
I rush to embrace her, cutting off her words.
She stiffens in my arms, unused to me hugging or seeking comfort from her. Her scent of gingerbread and honey invades my senses. She smells like home. It doesn’t matter that I was here only yesterday. Today, even though I am unsure about everything, I feel more confident than I have in years.
Relaxing, Eloise hugs me back, her hand stroking my hair. “Harper,” she whispers in my ear.
Today, I am thankful for her.
Lucas pulls me away, regret coloring his eyes. “It’s not safe,” he reminds me. “I don’t know how closely tied your psychic abilities are to hers.”
Eloise clears her throat, turning away so she can swipe at her eyes, and guilt swamps me. I wasted too many years letting my fears and grief distance us. I doubt I’ll ever feel natural around people, but my aunt is different.
Her, I should have tried harder with.
If all of this ends well, I will try harder.
Eloise faces us, all smiles again, although she casts a lot of ill-at-ease glances at Lucas. “I’m glad you came. I cooked enough for three meals. On purpose. Because who really wants to cook more than twice a year?”
She’s lying. She loves to cook.
“Can I help?” I ask.
She ushers us into the dining room. “No! You sit.” Her gaze slides to Lucas. “Both of you.”
For years, every time Aunt Eloise would get stressed out about something, she would grab a box of paints and brushes, sit at the table, and create art until she was spent. The table is now a collage of anxiety-ridden graffiti. Pictures as simple as stars and as difficult as human faces fan out across the wooden surface. When she ran out of room on the table, she started on the walls.
The pictures are my aunt. They are her emotions, her thoughts, and her fears. My face is among the chaos, and I think it’s a perfect place for it to be.
“How are things going?” Eloise asks.
Rushing back and forth, she fills plates before setting them down before us. My aunt may prefer making herbal concoctions, but she is an amazing cook. She says it’s a way to express herself. Like the painted table.
“Stop,” I demand. “Sit. If we need anything else, we’ll get it.”
She sits.
In a long, tiered peasant skirt, a strawberry-red top, and her auburn hair pulled up in a messy bun, Eloise looks young. Or would, if not for the circles under her eyes and the tight lines around her mouth.
“I made it through the night okay,” I assure her.
She sinks her fork into her food and then stops. “Why my niece?” she asks, her gaze finding Lucas.
Because I wrote my name, I think.
Eloise stares at him hard, as if she’s challenging him to a visual game of thumb war. It’s not about who blinks first; it’s about whose stare is stronger. “Angel?”
He leans back in his chair. He’s too big for the farm table. It’s like looking at an adult trying to sit at a kid’s table, and yet he makes it look not ridiculous.
“Which question do you want me to answer first? The one about Levi or the one about her virginity?” Lucas asks.
“What?” I glance between them, horrified. Guilt takes up residence in Eloise’s eyes. “You did a reading on me?” Realizing she hadn’t asked the questions aloud, I throw in, “You know he can read thoughts?”
“Last night, I went to see Saundra,” she replies, still staring at the angel. “It was educational to say the least. Afterward, I asked for a little guidance from the spirits.”
Lucas raises his brows, impressed. “I’m developing a new respect for psychics and your tenacity.”
“My niece?” Eloise persists.
“Levi is a tyrant. I don’t get confused often, and when I do, it pisses me off. I don’t know how he’s doing what he is. I’ve seen a lot of demonic possessions over the years. This isn’t a possession.” He shakes his head. “It’s like he’s using her as a sacrificial altar, bleeding victims on her skin. That shouldn’t be possible. He’s slashing his victims. Each time he does it, it slashes her. Then he bleeds them.”
My gaze falls to the table and to the food growing cold. Without looking at either of them, I eat. Stress wins out over the steal-my-appetite gruesome details. I already know I’m not bleeding my own blood. The other information is new to me, but I sense they’re theories he must be throwing back and forth in his head.
“As for her virginity,” he pauses, and I know he’s looking at me. I refuse to look up. “She’s a beautiful woman. Consenting adults. And—”
“You were protecting me,” I finish for him. I should have known, and honestly, I did suspect it after he told me the story of Levi and his penchant for sacrificing virgins.
“Harper—” my aunt begins.
“I’m not surprised.” I’m not. It doesn’t shock me that she knows about what happened the night before. It doesn’t surprise me that Lucas had sex with me as much to protect me as he did out of need and desire. Everything comes back to me—my curse and the things everyone around me has to do to fix it or protect me.
None of it surprises me.
I’ve been living under a microscope my entire life. What would surprise me is living out from under a microscope.
“You’ve got to know a good song for this one,” I tell Eloise. “Come on, hit me with it.”
When I look up, she’s staring at me. Maybe she wants me to be fazed by all of this. Maybe she expects me to be upset. Maybe I should be. Thing is, I may not be doing cartwheels over all of the bad shit happening, but I’m glad I slept with Lucas. It let me connect with someone, and doing that is teaching me to connect with ot
hers. Maybe my first wasn’t movie-of-the-week material, but it was an awakening. I can’t regret that.
Slowly, she smiles. “Stranded.”
The lyrics play in my head, and I smile back. “Now, that one feels like me.” I glance at Lucas. “You’re supposed to eat when there’s a holiday. Like, a lot.” He hasn’t touched his food, and I add, “Even if you don’t have to.”
His gaze searches my face, his expression unreadable, and I’m thrown by how deeply he studies me.
A thousand years pass in one stare.
The sound of my aunt’s chair scraping the floor drags me back into the present. “What the hell?” she exclaims. Abruptly, she stumbles away from the table, and then points to the end of it. “What the hell is that?”
There, resting in a seat, is Desi, the weird pet that turns into a badass baseball bat. Lucas did say it would find its way to me.
I sigh. “Just accept that my life is really weird right now.”
Eloise circles the table, giving Desi a wide berth while eyeing the bronze protrusions on the weapon. “There’s weird, and then there’s a club with thorns.”
“Weird,” I repeat.
“Club,” she points out.
“A mace actually,” Lucas inserts. “With spikes.”
Eloise pauses, leans forward, and then narrows her eyes. “A mace? Why does it feel alive?”
Her psychic abilities go much deeper than just spiritual reading. She’s also an empath and extremely sensitive to auras and energy. Trying to lie to her as a teenager was a bitch. Hence, why I never tried more than once.
“It’s sentient,” Lucas replies. “Think a guardian inside of a weapon.”
Stunned, Eloise glances at me.
I shrug. “Apparently, that’s what you get when you channel an archdemon, and then have a one-night stand with a fallen angel.”
Eloise shakes her head. “You are so my kid.”
A sharp laugh escapes me, mainly because I did not expect that response.
“Let’s eat,” I suggest.
We barely make it through the meal when my chair slides backward away from the table, completely on its own. Blood trickles out of my nose, and my hand flies to my face to staunch a gush that never comes.
