Redemption (Redemption Series Book 1)

by R.K. Ryals

  ~Bezaliel~

  The week had caught up with me. I slept deeply; waking only when Conor shook me gently to inform me it was time to switch flights. We were on our last leg to Italy. The images of the next airport were vague, seen only through sleep drugged eyes as we made it to our gate and boarded the new plane. Monroe wasn’t faring much better. This plane was bigger than the last and the four of us managed to share a row of seats. Monroe sat next to the window followed by Conor, me and Marcas. The plane took off, and I leaned against Conor wearily. Monroe did the same. We were both asleep almost instantly. The rest of the flight was mostly a blank for me. There were vague moments when I’d stir, but it felt like a dream. Conor and Marcas were still awake.

  “What do you plan to do in Italy, Demon?” I thought I heard Conor ask. If Marcas answered, I never heard it. There was darkness for a while then voices again.

  “I’ve never heard of a Demon getting unbound from a person without taking his soul,” Conor murmured. His chest vibrated against my ear. It was strangely comforting.

  “I’d be afraid to take hers. The Angel in her could kill me,” Marcas said. “But it’s not out of the question.”

  Conor’s chest rumbled. I felt the anger move through him. I wanted to tell him I didn’t care, that I knew Marcas would kill me if he could, but I was too tired and too curious to interfere.

  “You’d have to kill me first, Demon,” Conor warned.

  His bravado was impressive, but it wasn’t the least bit intimidating. Or was it? Was that what Marcas was thinking ? Or was it me? Was I feeling Marcas’ reaction to the comment? I hated this feeling of duality!

  “Don’t tempt me, gargoyle,” Marcas growled.

  Their voices faded out again. I had never felt this tired before 

  “And you think the ring will work?” I heard Conor ask sometime later.

  “It’s an option, Reinhardt. I didn’t say it would be a solution. No one’s ever tried it before.”

  “You think the church would relinquish it?”

  “I’m not planning to ask.”

  “Ha! Well, stealing is what you creatures do best.”

  “We murder too, Reinhardt,” Marcas warned. There was a pause. The threat didn’t go unnoticed.

  “What kind of danger are we looking at?” Conor asked.

  “You want me to make a list, gargoyle?”

  “I want you to quit being a smartass and be blunt.

  “Then I’d have to ask you what kind of danger are we not looking at,” Marcas answered.

  “There are groups that want us destroyed. The Demons are in an uproar. Even some

  Angels are convinced Dayton should be removed. And then there’s Lilith,” Marcas pointed out.

  Lilith’s name almost made me shiver. And Angels? Really?

  “Our most immediate danger?” Conor asked.

  “A group called the Swords of Solomon. The SOS.”

  “And they are?”

  “The people who guard the ring,” Marcas answered.

  The ring? I felt like a character in a Tolkien novel.  I fought to hear more, but my body was heavy. Was I having to suffer because Marcas was tired? I dozed off once more.

  “I won’t let you hurt her,” Conor’s voice said as I drifted awake once again. He shifted subtly.  I lay still, my eyes too heavy to open.

  “You don’t have a say in the matter, gargoyle,” Marcas replied.

  “My actions speak louder than words, Demon.”

  “You are in love with her then?” Marcas asked.

  The question jarred me even more awake, and I fought hard not to tense up. Conor didn’t reply immediately.

  “It’s hard not to be,” he finally murmured.

  Conor’s arm fell across me. It was an uncomfortable weight only because I could feel the possessiveness in it. The feeling was both pleasant and frightening all at the same time.

  “She’s been hurt enough,” Conor continued.

  “And she’ll be hurt more, Reinhardt. You can’t protect her from everything.”

  “I can try,” Conor spat. “You didn’t see her face the day her parents were buried. You didn’t watch the next seven years of her life lived in a prison with no affection and only condemnation. You can’t even recognize the fact that her strength comes now from betrayal. What must it feel like to find out you were raised to be sacrificed to a Demon. For what? For an ideal? For a redemption even you think doesn’t exist?” Conor argued.

  My heart expanded. He was passionate and protective. The emotions chipped away slightly at the block I’d encased my heart in. But it didn’t last long. Marcas’ presence tended to overwhelm any feeling. I felt the heat coming off of him and I cringed. I’d begun to notice that, while his face was always expressionless, his body grew uncomfortably warm when his mood changed.

  “Are you in love with the girl or with the damsel in distress?” Marcas asked.

  The question made me feel instantly cold. Did Conor care about me or was it just an innate need to protect those weaker than him? I wasn’t weak. Conor grew silent.

  “Some people look weaker on the outside than they really are. It takes a strong person to endure what you've described.  It doesn’t seem like she’s the type to fold under pressure. If she was, I would have already possessed her,” Marcas said quietly.

  Possessed? As in the Exorcist possessed?

  “You wouldn’t dare!” Conor said heatedly.

  I heard Marcas sit up, and I felt his back brush up against mine as he moved in closer to Conor. The heat chased away the cold. Now he was intimidating. My heart rate picked up.

  “I’ve already tried, gargoyle. The night she sought me out at Everett’s. Or did you know she did that? Despite her fear. How many people do you know who would seek out a Demon? I could have killed her. And I tried. I did try. Her resolve is stronger than you think hero. I couldn’t even get inside her head enough to do anything more than cause discomfort,” Marcas said.

  I did open my eyes slightly then, just enough that I could see Monroe dozing next to me on Conor’s chest. Our heads were touching slightly. Her breathing was shallow. Something told me she was eavesdropping too. That’s what that electric buzz at Everett’s had been about. I had felt Marcas' presence. He hadn’t come out of the alley when I called for him because he'd actually been trying to possess and kill me! Jesus! The thought didn’t surprise me, but it did make me angry. God, he was a bastard! Not that Demons are supposed to be anything less than that.

  “You would kill her?” Conor asked.

  Well, duh. He’d obviously already tried. I felt Marcas move away.

  “Would you expect anything less? I’m not here because I want to be, Reinhardt. I’ve been around a long, long time. Anything good in me was worn out centuries ago,” Marcas said. The tone of his voice made me shiver.

  “You can quit pretending to sleep, Dayton. Monroe,” Marcas muttered.

  Well damn! There’s nothing worse than getting caught spying. I opened my eyes to find Monroe staring back at me sheepishly. I shrugged. She could feel bad about listening in if she wanted to, but I sure as hell didn’t.

  “How much longer is the flight?” Monroe asked.

  The seat belt light came on, and Marcas glanced over at her.

  “That answer your question?”

  Something told me we were well beyond getting on his nerves. The captain’s voice came over the loud speaker and I sat up. There was light streaming in through the window next to Monroe, but I avoided it like the plague. I had a genuine fear of heights. This was probably strange considering my father was an Angel, but it was true nonetheless. A hand came to rest on my back gently, and I looked up at Conor. His face was clouded.

  “You okay?” I asked him.

  He looked down at me and our eyes met. His usual sparkling humor was replaced by something darker, and, for the first time, I felt like our roles were reversed. I looked down and saw his other hand lying in his lap
, and I took it in mine. He gripped it hard. My eyes found his again.

  “This is changing a lot of things, isn’t it?” I whispered.

  Conor leaned close.

  “Not everything, Red. It isn’t changing everything."

  His eyes searched mine. It hit me then. Marcas was wrong. Conor didn’t care about me because he thought I needed him. He needed me. I wasn’t sure why. He was one of the strongest people I knew. Always had been. He’d been a champion for me from the day he’d thrown a bucket of mud over my head while dressed in my Sunday best to the day he’d asked me to dance at the formal our ninth grade year when no one else would because I’d had a little accident with Monroe’s hair straightener and washable hair dye. He was tall, proud, and strong. And, for the past year, he’d obviously been my guardian.

  “Maybe,” I muttered as I pulled my hand away.

  The connection had become uncomfortable. There wasn’t a moment of my life that didn’t include Conor in some way. I did love him. I did. I just wasn’t sure in what way. Conor looked away but he didn’t remove his hand from my back. I looked over at Monroe. She gave me her best "we’ll figure this out" look. I smiled slightly.

  “So, do we get to do any touring here, or is it all James Bond-wanna-be-hell?” Monroe asked, her tone light.

  Marcas looked over at us blankly. The plane rolled to a stop and the seat belt light "dinged" off.

  “We have got to make you watch some movies,” I said to the Demon as I unfastened my seat belt. He didn’t reply.

  People began lining up in the aisle and we all moved toward the exit. My eyes grew round as we drew close to the opening. I’d always wanted to travel. Italy was on the top of my "places I wanted to see" list.

  “I hope you enjoyed your flight,” an attendant said merrily as we climbed out of the plane.

  Late afternoon sun blinded me momentarily, and I didn’t bother acknowledging her. "Enjoy" wasn’t the word I’d use to describe the long hours spent hanging way too far up in the air with a reluctant Demon and a pissed off gargoyle. My feet hit the tarmac and I sighed. I wondered if it would look strange for me to kiss the ground. I loved gravity.

  “Is it wrong that I’m standing on Italian soil and the only thing I want is a shower and a toothbrush? The film on my teeth is beginning to drive me nuts,” I muttered as we walked through the airport. We didn’t have luggage. Monroe laughed.

  “Ditto. Please tell me we get to go shopping,” she pleaded.

  Conor snorted. “With what?”

  Monroe slapped him on the side of the head playfully. He flinched and pretended to be seriously injured.

  “Don’t go spoiling my dreams,” she said sulkily.

  Marcas walked ahead of the three of us. I knew our company annoyed him on many levels, and I felt genuinely sorry for the way we'd been thrown together. Neither one of us had asked for this. I watched his back a moment, my thoughts whirring, as Monroe and Conor threw jibes at each other next to me. There were still a million questions left unanswered, so many things I didn't know about myself and the Demon I was bound to. I glanced quickly at Monroe and Conor, watching them argue a moment before jogging slightly to catch up with Marcas.

  “Where to next?” I asked breathlessly. He didn’t slow down.

  “Marcas?” I persisted. He looked behind him.

  “We meet up with a few Demons I actually trust,” he answered.

  Demons? Wait a minute. I let him move ahead. Demons? I jogged to catch up with him again, almost tripping over several people as I went. I was panting as I came up beside him.

  “I thought they all wanted me dead,” I said shakily.

  He moved through the crowd easily. People seemed to know to stay out of his way. I needed that power too. If it even was a power. Maybe it was just Marcas.

  “I have a few kin loyal to me, Blainey. They won’t harm you if I order them not to,” Marcas said as he walked out into the street.

  I froze. The scene before me was awe inspiring. People moved along the busy stone road screaming into cell phones, dragging luggage, or hailing taxis. Italian words wrapped themselves around me as I glimpsed some of the architecture in the distance that made Italy famous. 

  “Awesome,” I heard Monroe whisper from behind me.

  I smiled. We weren’t even at a tourist attraction, just standing outside an airport, and I was already in love with the country. I think it was the atmosphere. It was a mix of modern society and ancient history. The Italian language around us didn't hurt. Not being able to speak or understand the tongue made the scene feel exotic. I found myself whispering a sonnet by Oscar Wilde, the lines making so much more sense in that moment than when I'd first read them.

  "Italia, my Italia, at thy name:

  And when from out the mountain's heart I came

  And saw the land for which my life had yearned,

  I laughed as one who some great prize had earned."

  I finished as I looked toward the road, my eyes finding Marcas. He was looking at me quietly, and I felt my face burn. I had a tendency to talk to myself, and I knew it probably looked like a childish habit. I kept my expression blank and Marcas turned away, flagging down a car idling further down the street. The driver seemed to pick up on Marcas' gesture, and the car pulled into the crowd before stopping next to us. I glanced nervously at Conor and Monroe. It didn’t look like a taxi, but I didn’t argue as Marcas stood back and motioned for us to climb in. So far, he’d kept his promise to keep us safe. He leaned into the front seat and said something to the driver in the native tongue. If he wasn’t such an ass, it would have been sexy.

  “I’ll go first,” Conor said abruptly. Monroe and I looked at him in surprise. Unless he was angry or sick, it wasn’t like Conor to enter a vehicle before a female. The fact that he did so now meant he must be worried. It made me more cautious. Monroe followed Conor, and I slid in last. The vehicle’s interior was made up of dark leather and smelled new. Yep, this wasn’t a taxi. Marcas slid into the front seat and began talking to the driver.

  “Should we worry?” Monroe asked me nervously as she watched the man behind the wheel nod before pulling away from the airport. He and Marcas appeared to be the same height. His head was level with Marcas' and his hair was just as black. His face, however, was shaped different. Longer. And he felt younger than Marcas. There was no doubt he was a Demon. Somehow, I just knew he was. Must be something else I’d inherited from my dear ol' bound-buddy.

  “I don’t think so,” I finally answered. “If there is such a thing as a friend in the Demon world, I think he’s one of them.”

  I watched Marcas and the stranger talk. They seemed at ease with each other. It was completely different from the way he’d been when talking to Samuel. There was no "animal kingdom" animosity, suspicious glares, or barbed comments. We lapsed into silence as the man drove. I glanced at Conor and noticed him staring out the window. The conversation in the front seat halted.

  “Forgive my brother’s rudeness,” a smooth husky voice said suddenly. I looked up to find the driver watching us in the rearview mirror. His eyes were green, his cheekbones high.

  “I am called Luther,” he said.

  His accent wasn’t deep. Something told me he wasn’t originally from Italy. We didn’t introduce ourselves, and he didn’t seem to expect us to. The car moved quickly through the streets before pulling up to a building nestled on the edge of what appeared to be a large plaza. I didn’t know enough about the country to know where we were, but I found myself staring in awe at the people casually walking by as if they had all the time in the world. There were birds flying around the heads of passersby, and other birds limping from foot to foot along the stone walks. There was an incredible fountain visible from the car, and I craned my neck trying to get a better look. A Piazza. This was a Piazza. I had read about those, but nothing prepares you for the beauty of reality.

  “Ladies,” Luther said suavely as he climbed out of the car and pulled o
pen the back door, his gesture punctuated by a long, deep bow.

  It was a ridiculous, over-done move that reeked of charm, and I heard Monroe choke on a cough next to me. I knew without looking that she was fighting the urge to giggle. I caught a glimpse of Marcas swearing at the Heavens behind the stooped Demon, and a smile spread across my face as Luther straightened. For a Demon, Marcas sure did talk a lot to God.

  “Thank you,” I murmured as I slid out from the interior. I heard Monroe mumble the same. Luther let go of the door and walked toward the building before Conor could emerge. I guess the hospitality ended when it came to gargoyles. Conor didn’t seem to care.

  “This is your brother?” I asked Marcas as we all followed Luther.

  “I have a lot of siblings, Blainey. He’s one of many. Some are sons and daughters of Cain and Lilith and others I just share with one parent,” Marcas answered, his back to us.

  I glanced at Monroe. There was no telling how many that would be. Talk about sibling rivalry.

  “Must make for some nice family reunions,” Monroe hissed.

  I snickered. I saw Conor smile from the corner of my eye. His humor was returning. Luther stopped at a doorway on the side of an ancient stone building and held it open. We all moved through it. A hallway opened up to us, and Marcas said something else to Luther in what I assumed was Italian. Maybe I was wrong. Who knew? It was obvious they both spoke English but wanted whatever they were discussing to remain on the down-low. Whatever.

  “You do realize that having foreign conversations in front of guests is rude,” I pointed out to the two Demons as we started down a flight of stone steps. It got darker as we descended. Marcas looked away from his brother.

  “You’re not a guest,” he said. Ouch, that hurt.

  “No, I’m just your unwilling, bonded Naphil,” I complained.

  Luther actually laughed. He seemed much more comfortable with joviality than his brother. I still had yet to make Marcas smile. I put my hand against the wall as we moved, my balance precarious as the stairs narrowed. Light filtered upstairs from a room below, and the engagement ring and wedding band from the airport suddenly glowed as it caught the light. I stared. They were still on my finger? I looked away just in time to see Luther staring at the rings. Why hadn't they disappeared?

  “I’m sure he finds the bond detestable,” Luther said as he looked at Marcas curiously.

  Marcas' eyes met mine briefly, his gaze glancing quickly from the rings to my face. He didn't say anything, and I found myself reluctant to ask why they hadn't disappeared. We both looked away.

  Curiosity engulfed me as we came to the bottom of the stairs and entered what appeared to be a living room. Cushy leather furniture was scattered throughout the room. Most of it was red and black. These Demons weren’t very creative. A bar stretched along the back of the room. Stools covered in black leather lined the front of it. Luther leaned against the corner of a sofa. He made the move look irresistibly sexy. I heard Monroe whistle quietly under her breath.

  “Does he do that on purpose?” she grumbled.

  I couldn’t help but grin.

  “No doubt."

  She shook her head before grinning back. It felt nice to relax a moment. Things had been pretty tense. I was seriously contemplating trying out one of the couches when I felt it. I looked up.

  “Dayton?” Monroe asked, her senses tuning into the wariness I was feeling.

  Another Demon? The sound of a door creaking made us all pause. Monroe swore under her breath. This Demon didn't feel right, and I broadcast the emotion to Monroe. It didn't hurt to be prepared.

  “Well, what do we have here?” a sultry female voice asked suddenly from the side of the room.

  I glanced at Conor and Monroe. Both of them had turned toward the voice, and the expressions on their faces spoke volumes. I fought the urge to run away and turned toward the woman slowly instead. What were we going to have to deal with now? I wanted to stomp my foot in frustration, but temper tantrums weren’t going to get me anywhere.

  My gaze found the source of the voice easily. A svelte, raven haired woman sauntered into the living area. She was tall and curvy with straight, shining black hair and clothes that looked painted on to every valley, plain, and dip her body made. Each step she took emphasized her physique. She moved stealthily, her eyes pinned on me. Once again, I felt Demon. It made me nervous, but I didn’t move.

  “Is this the one?” she inquired curiously.

  I glanced at our male Demon escorts but they barely reacted. Luther only raised a brow and Marcas didn’t move at all. Conor, Monroe, and I were the only ones who seemed startled and put off by the woman’s sudden appearance. Her presence filled the area with tension and anxiety. I wondered briefly if she was doing it on purpose. She didn’t look pleased to see us here. Her focus was undoubtedly on me.

  “A little thing, aren’t you?” she asked with a sneer as she moved across the room to stand before me.

  She was as tall as the other two Demons. It left me just about eye level with her boobs, but I didn’t look up at her. Something told me she was expecting that. And I was determined not to let her believe she was dominant enough to influence me or I’d have to deal with a bitchy power gamble. Thus, the whole "mean girls" concept. Movies can be oh so educational. And I assumed the whole Lindsey Lohan movie example worked the same way with any female species. The Demon circled me.

  “I expected more from the daughter of Bezaliel,” she continued, her eyes curious as she ran painted black fingernails somewhat painfully along my collarbone.

  It took all I had not to shiver. What did she know about my father? News obviously traveled fast in the Demon world. The fact that I was a target must not be an exaggeration. And it really, really frustrated me that so many people and creatures knew more about my father than I did. I glanced at Marcas. He was leaning against the wall, his gaze focused elsewhere. Was this a test?

  “You think you might give her some space?” Conor asked guardedly from behind me.

  He must have noticed my discomfort. An open book, he’d called me once. I seriously needed to learn to keep my book cover closed. The woman’s head popped up with a frown until she caught sight of the tall gargoyle behind me. She grinned. Her eyelashes fluttered.

  “Why, of course, sweetheart! Aren’t you a handsome young thing?” she purred as she gave him the classic feminine once over.

  She moved around me just enough to put Conor fully in her view. It gave me a little space but not much. Her gaze moved between Conor, Monroe, and me before landing once again on me.  Her eyes were searching. 

  “Hmmm." she murmured before glancing at Marcas.

  “They couldn’t have bound you to the sister?”

  I must have been found wanting. Marcas gave her a look. Some unspoken message seemed to pass between them. She laughed.

  "So, the little Angel doesn't know?" she asked gleefully.

  I narrowed my eyes. Know what? The woman circled me. She rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

  "Even so, I hear the sister is still more impressive," Lexi muttered.

  Marcas looked away, his gaze focused on the opposite side of the room.

  “The sister wouldn’t have lasted a day,” Marcas said evenly.

  My gaze shot to his face. Did he mean that? The female Demon drew back in surprise.

  “Well!” the woman said.

  She lifted my chin up slightly. I continued to avoid her gaze. She dropped my face.

  “Marcas here must think highly of you,” she said before reaching out to touch me again.

  I flinched. Luther pushed away from the couch.

  “Forgive my sister. She’s obviously my more evil half. She forgets mortals have manners. This is Alexis,” Luther said pointedly, his eyes riveted on the female Demon. His gaze was full of disapproval.

  “Lexi,” she corrected him with a pout. The similarities between them were undeniable.

  “She’s your twin
,” I said quietly. Luther didn’t deny it.  I could hear Conor huff from behind me as he threw his hands up into the air.

  “Jesus, do all you God forsaken creatures come in pairs?” he asked irritably.

  Monroe snorted next to me. I could tell she was trying not to laugh. Only Monroe could find something amusing in a moment so dark.

  “Lexi . . .Luther. . .Lex Luther. Ha! Someone was a fan of DC comics,” Monroe said snidely. I got the joke and it tickled me.

  “Oh, my God,” I said with a giggle.

  The Demons didn’t look pleased. I’m sure they’d been around before the invention of comic books, but it didn’t make the coincidence any less amusing. Lexi glanced at Marcas. She seemed perturbed. I guess she wasn’t the type of Demon who enjoyed being goaded by humans.

  “You traveled with these mortals?” she asked. He nodded his head slightly.

  “And you didn’t kill them?”

  Her mouth sprouted fangs. I think at this point I was too numb and delirious to care about the dangers pissing off a Demon posed. I still giggled. Lexi growled.

  “Young ones! All of them! And this . . .,” she paused just long enough to give me a look of disgust, “is the daughter of Bezaliel?” Lexi spat as she waved her hand in my direction. I grew still.

  “He’d be so disappointed in her,” she added with a laugh.

  It was like rubbing salt into an open wound.  I brought my shoulders back and took a small step forward. She didn’t know shit about my father or me!

  “Dayton,” Monroe warned as Lexi leaned toward me, bending over so that her eyes were just about level with mine. I didn’t look away. My blood pressure was rising.

  “What would he say if he saw you now, darling?” Lexi drawled. “Would he enfold you in his protective Angel wings or abandon you?”

  She tapped my nose.

  “Oh wait! He already did that,” she said with a laugh.

  Anger filled me.  I tried deep, soothing breaths, but I just wasn’t feeling the calm. Something inside me burst, and I shoved the Demon woman as hard as I could. She flew across the room, her eyes going wide.

  “You bitch!” I screamed.

  A light shot forth and hit the wall just above Lexi’s head.  She watched it a moment in amazement before getting up with a snarl. Had I done that? I looked down at my hands. What was that? I looked up fearfully, my gaze finding the red, angry eyes of the female Demon easily. Lexi was pissed.

  “You wanna fight, Little One?” she asked before moving with lightning speed toward me.

  Her pointed teeth and newly expelled claws shone in the overhead light. I stood frozen, my body numb with terror as I watched her move toward me as if in slow motion. Conor shoved himself in front of me, and I grabbed his shirt desperately. I didn't want him protecting me! I wanted him out of danger! I pushed at him, but he wouldn't budge. I heard Lexi's snarl as I quit fighting Conor and braced for impact, but something stopped her midflight and she bounced onto the floor.

  “Want to calm this down a notch, girls?” Marcas said calmly from the spot he’d been in since we’d gotten there. His hand was raised. Lexi bared her fangs. She didn't appreciate his interference. 

  “What the hell are you going to do with her?” she growled.

  Marcas pushed away from the wall and slowly moved between us.

  “Kill her if I can, save her if I have to.”

  Chapter 25

  There is danger coming for them both. Lilith is angry, but she bides her time. Her son must know this. He is an unusual creature. For while he is as much Demon as he is man, there is rumor that he once fought his own kind and almost gave up his soul.