He closes his eyes and gives an infinitesimal nod. “She wears the mark of the beast.”
“Mark of the beast…?” I repeat. “So, she’s not just dying, she’s being dragged into hell.”
“It was her choice.”
“You have to tell me: was it Andras that bought Chauncey’s soul?”
“He...” he says, nodding slightly, “or his minions. Raven, that is what he does. He is a Demon, he exists to do evil.”
“Then I have a chance of saving her. Andras promised me that he would give me anything...”
The old Lord sighs and raises a finger to my cheek brushing it with his feathery touch. “Always so willful you are, you have not changed over all these centuries.”
I don’t know how I know it, but I say with complete surety, “Neither have you, you are still unfailingly kind.” I stand, lean over and kiss his forehead. I let my lips press to his skin for longer than I usually kiss. I pull away and walk from the room.
As I drag open the heavy wood door, I hear, “Goodnight, Elena, I adore you.” But when I turn to the old man, his eyes are closed and he looks asleep.
As I slide the door closed behind me the weight of his story hits me like a ton of rocks. My legs slip from under me and I fall back onto my butt. Do I actually believe it? Can I... can I not? Somehow, some part of me already knew and accepted the story before it was even told.
The part I could not have even conceived of, is that (supposedly) Andras bought one million souls, took one million souls to hell so I could be reincarnated. My body topples the rest of the way to the hallway carpet, and I just… lie there.
Worst of all, something about that man made me believe everything he said about Andras. I believe it, and I don’t believe in anything. It can't be true, though. Can it?
No matter what, I need to get up; but, my body doesn’t seem to function.
Andras is waiting for me. If he is a demon, if that's even possible, I can make him free Chauncey’s soul. I need to get up.
Strong hands lift me off the floor. I look up to see Nicholas as he scoops me into his arms. He walks down the hall toward the stair. We descend without speaking. I rest my head on his chest as he carries me across the foyer, out of the house and starts to walk toward the guest wing. “I’m taking you to your room, you need to rest, and you need to process...”
“No,” I object, breathlessly. “No, I need to leave. Please, put me down.”
He halts and gazes at me. “Raven...”
I squirm until he sets me down.
“Please, Raven.” He bends so we’re eye-to-eye. “Don’t leave me, I can protect you here.”
“Protect me?” I narrow my eyes. His face is half lit from the outside light and half black from shadow. “Protect me from Andras?”
“Yes, he can’t reach you here, can’t take you from me.”
‘Take you from me,’ that’s what Andras said about what Nicholas was trying to do. I shake my head. “If what your grandfather said is true, and I’m not saying that it is,” I close my eyes, and then continue, “He told me that Andras took a million souls to bring me back to earth.” I let that sink in for a second. “If that’s true, I doubt that these stone walls will keep him away.”
“They will.” Nicholas places his hands on my shoulders. “This is hallowed ground, every inch of our land. You are free of him here; you are safe from his influence. Here, I’ll show you.” He presses his lips to mine.
I’m so startled I just stand there, but no blood gushes out of my nose, no overwhelming need to throw up overtakes me. I lean away separating our lips. I repeat, “Safe from him?” Stepping out of his grasp I rub my shoulders. “But Chauncey wasn’t safe, and I’m marked to. Her mark was affected, infected by this place.”
“Your mark isn’t the mark of the beast, it is Andras’s personal mark; it’s different from Chauncey’s mark.”
I touch the back of my neck. “You saw my neck, my mark,” I remember, “In the club...” Then the whole picture comes into perfect focus, Nicholas knew who (his grandfather thinks) I am this entire time; he knew even before I came here, knew since he saw my neck, maybe even before that. “You were ordered to find me and bring me here, weren’t you?”
His silence is answer enough. He reaches to me again, but I move away.
“Hanging out with me, kissing me before, and kissing me a moment ago, was all just following orders?”
“My kiss…” he says, stepping forward gazing at my lips, “…was against orders.”
I narrow my eyes again and give a slight shake of my head. “I’m getting really tired of the lies.”
“My ancestor,” he gestures toward the house, “My grandfather, he still thinks you’re his wife. But you’re not, not this lifetime. My kisses, my feelings for you, they are against his orders.” He cups my cheek with his hand. “Stay with me, Raven. I’ll protect you... I’ll make you laugh... I’ll make you happy.”
I do not step away from his touch, it is so comforting. I am utterly confused. But then I remember, “And Chauncey?”
He cocks his head and light spreads across to his chin. “Chauncey drugged you. She left you, not caring if you were raped or murdered at that club. Chauncey deserves...”
“Don’t say that.” I say, stepping back, "she doesn’t deserve that.” I walk backward toward my scooter parked by the door. “No. Her soul is going to be taken to Hell… to Hell. What kind of person would I be if I just accept that without even… trying? Especially since there’s something I can do about it.”
“Raven,” he says, hurrying toward me. “Raven, Please.”
I grab my helmet off the seat and climb on.
As I slide the helmet over my head I hear Nicholas plead, “Tell Andras that you don’t love him. Tell him that you choose me, and he will lose.” Buckling my helmet for me he reiterates, “That’s how we will beat him...” A smile touches his lips. “You choose me.”
“It’s not a game, Nicholas.”
The scooter hums to life and Nicholas steps back. As I drive away I hear him call something to me but the wind muddles the words and I don’t know what he says.
Chapter Eighteen
Day Twenty-Nine (and again)
The cold, wet night air whistles over my cheeks. I push the scooter to its speed-limit as I follow the road I had not intended to drive tonight. I told Andras not to wait on our rock in Kullenberg but long before I reach it, I know he is there.
Moonlight silhouettes his figure as the ocean twinkles behind him and up to the horizon. He does not turn as I approach but when I start to scurry up the stone outcropping, Andras’s hand reaches down to help me. I accept his hand and he helps me to the top of the boulder.
When I stand securely on the rock, I turn to Andras.
His emerald eyes glitter from the moonlight and the reflections from the water. His voice is deep and husky when he asks, “Why are you upset, Raven?”
“Nicholas told me that you are a...” traitorous tremors shake my words, "You're a demon.”
He continues to stare as if waiting for me to make my point.
“So is it true? Are you a demon? A soul stealing demon?”
“I buy or trade for souls, never steal them,” there is not a glimmer of remorse in his expression or tone.
“What’s the difference? They’re souls.” My breathing comes quick and furious. I need to remember why I’m here, what I came to do. If there is even the slightest possibility that this demons stuff is true, I need to try. “You promised me that you would do anything for me.” I step toward him. “Don’t take Chauncey’s soul.”
“I promised anything in my power, Raven. Chauncey’s soul does not belong to me.”
“You bought it...”
“Not for myself. I am the intermediary; Chauncey sold her soul to Satan. I have no claim or power over her soul, now.”
It’s so true to him, he believes it, that he's a demon. I let out a whimper. “They told me that you took one million… you bou
ght one million souls, for me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“In all the ages of my existence, the moments I spent with you were the only that have been anything near contentment. You are my eternal spirit, without you I only know war.” He's so close.
“I don’t love you,” I whisper.
A darkness clouds over his perfect features. His mouth turns up in a snarl. “Tobias Leijonskjöld told you to say that, didn’t he?” As quickly as his anger emerged it pacifies. He wraps his arms around my waist and touches his nose to mine.
I whisper, “Let me go.” But, my body won't move away.
“My arms are not locked around you. If you want to leave, pull away from me.”
His warm sweet breath heats my lips. His green eyes are three, maybe two inches away from mine. “I don’t love you,” I beg.
“You are a terrible liar." He presses his lips to mine. I don’t pull away; I can’t pull away. No part of me wants to leave, not even my better sense. His kiss is deep. He pulls my body to him, lifting me to my tip-toes. One of his hands holds my back while the other slides over my bottom and wraps around my thigh.
I lift up one leg and wrap it around him.
His kiss moves from my lips to my ear and travels down my neck.
I stretch my head back at the same time I squeeze my leg around him.
Without stopping the kissing which makes my legs shake with anticipation he lays me down on the rock.
I slip my arms out of his coat, which I am still wearing; it separates my back and butt from the cold damp rock.
He pulls away from me and I run my fingers under his shirt and up the muscles of his chest. He grabs the material and rips off his shirt sending buttons flying and presses his bare chest against me.
I sigh under his weight.
He licks my collar-bone and follows it to one of my spaghetti straps. Grazing my shoulder with his teeth he bites it off. Kisses travel up my shoulder and neck until he whispers into my ear, “You are mine, Raven.”
A shiver ripples through me.
Andras pulls back; his eyes blaze with ferocity. I feel his hand at my side unzipping my dress. It seems as if he watches me forever while the zipper caresses down my skin…
"Wait." I blink, surprised, because it was my voice that said: ‘wait,’ but I had not even thought it. Suddenly, it's hard to meet Andras's blazing gaze so I squeeze closed my eyelids.
"Wait?" He whispers, surprise in his voice.
Wait? What's wrong with me? I want this. But, do I? Seriously. I should win the award for world’s biggest idiot. "I… I just ...” I stammer.
I just, what? Idiot, idiot, idiot.
I say, "Tonight is crazy. Awful and wonderful and confusing. I don't know what to believe, and...” I trail off, not even sure of how to finish that. But, it’s true. It's so true; I don't know what to believe. I mean, so far I've just gone along with all this lunacy; but it’s just that: lunacy. Am I supposed to believe in all this biblical craziness? What am I thinking? I completely believe their craziness.
Maybe.
Jeez. I'm as insane as the rest of them. And now I'm lying here, under Andras, a supposed ‘demon,’ about to give him my virginity. "I really need to slow down and think," I tell him.
I feel his lips on mine, but it's only a soft touch before his weight rolls off me. I open my eyes as Andras settles beside me on the rock.
"We will wait," he whispers. As he stretches out beside me, his lips turn up into a small reassuring smile.
A tidal wave of humiliation crashes over me and I cover my face with my hands.
But Andras's hands push mine away to trace both thumbs over my cheeks and he kisses my forehead.
I exhale but still can't meet his gaze. The moonlight dances over Andras's bare arms and side. We lie for some time. Waves steadily slosh, slosh, slosh around us, but otherwise, I hear only Andras's breathing. Andras is so peaceful; I could almost believe he's asleep.
I finally manage to look at his face, Andras's eyes are closed but I don't think he's sleeping. He really believes himself to be a demon? It is so insane that this man, this man I'm (fated to be…? destined to be…?) with, thinks he buys souls.
Andras opens his eyes. I scoot toward him, for the first time feeling the bite of the misty night. His body is warm. He rolls over, slings an arm around my waist and kisses my nose.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
"Embarrassed,” I admit with a small smile, "And confused. But, also happy. It's almost as if being with you has always been the plan, but I'm just now realizing it." I sigh. “I don't know." I lick my lips, open my mouth then close it. I breathe in and try again, “I want you to promise me something.”
He continues to stare into my eyes.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “No more souls. Promise me to not take, buy or trade for any more souls. Please, it’s just so wrong.”
He does not respond or shift for a long minute. Unable to take the lack of response I open my eyes and gaze at him. He has not moved or changed his expression in the slightest. His voice is questioning, “I do not understand ‘wrong’ the way you do, Raven. When I made that promise to your sister, I had not planned on you learning about this side of my existence. I promised, so I will not take a soul while you live.”
“And the people or, um, demons, who work for you- your, um, minions, could you order them to stop buying souls?”
He furrows his perfect brow. “It is their function; that is what they do.”
“Please, order them to not take any more.”
His gaze shifts to the sky and he sighs. “I do not think this will turn out the way you hope, Raven. Taking souls is their function,” he repeats. “Ordering this will be turning my back on Satan.”
I inhale deeply then say, “Please.”
He returns his gaze to my pleading eyes.
I think he is going to refuse me as we continue to gaze at each other but he closes his eyelids and gives a slight nod. “I promised. Once they hear my order, they will not buy another soul while you are alive.” In one move he jumps up, but looks down. “You should dress.”
A little confused at the rush, I pull my dress together and zip it up my body. The slit in the side has lengthened, but besides that and the torn strap it is not all that worse-for-wear.
Andras stands. “Cover your ears,” he says over his shoulder.
Then as he faces the hill beside our rock outcropping Andras’s mouth opens wide… something happens to is mouth, it stretches… changes… in an inhuman way. His skin stretches and pulls forward, impossibly long, forming a sharp point that hooks down. Protruding from his face is a razor sharp beak made of skin. A blackness spreads from his beak point, up his face, as the blackness spreads large ebony feathers slide from his taut skin. The feathers seem to slip out of the skin, as if they were just below the surface, but they stop at his neck; leaving his torso as perfect as it’s always been. The eye I can see expands, rounding into a large iridescent green globe.
Oh, my God. He is a demon.
I place my hands over my ears but my fingers do little to block out the shriek that screeches out of his sharp open bill. The sound would shatter every glass in a crystal shop, every mirror in a department store. It is the kind of sound that is not just heard; I feel it tear into my pores, ooze down my spine and prickle to the tips of my toes.
Immediately the earth shakes. I spin to peer out at the land that leads to this oceanic cliff. On the hill high above, a car is parked next to my scooter. That’s bad. I look around for any other human but can't see anyone.
With a crack, a deep fissure splits through the earth. The fissure snaps open more with every quake.
I think I'm screaming but it’s not even audible to me over Andras’s new bout of cries.
The hill darkens and I look up to see black clouds rolling in from every direction and converging directly above the fissure. The gathered cloud holds no form, it is an indistinct thick black mist. As
the mist drops to the ground, forms solidify. Some figures are human, most are not even remotely humanoid.
It’s hard to differentiate them at this distance but I know what they are. Demons, he’s called his demons.
I curl into myself, trying to control my shaking, as I watch one after the other drop from the sky.
The fissure in the earth also erupts with forms but none of these creatures are remotely human-like. Many are black, shining with gleaming ebony skin and others are a sallow pigment-less white or gray, but they all have red eyes.
They surge forward like a tide of terror consuming the earth around them. Soon the hill looks like a demonic mockery of the ocean itself, a shifting mass of cruelly conceived bodies.
And their red eyes are all staring at Andras.
In a quick, sliding, fluttering movement Andras’s back springs black feathery wings. They spread from his body as if they could pierce the sky. He looks like the opposite of an angel with giant bird wings, a razor sharp beak and a human body. He caws again making my whole body tremble.
His beak snaps back into his face and he screams something not even remotely recognizable. His words sound whispery, ancient.
The demonic horde screeches, cackles and cries. They shift, dance, pant, shriek, and fight but Andras’s voice is louder than their collective rabble.
“I am the sixty third! The Grand Marquis! I am dissention, I am death, I am war!” His voice is raw with unrestrained power.
I more than hear it, it is inside me.
“I am the sower of discord. I am the inciter of rage. My will upon my legions, is absolute. Follow my orders or disintegrate into the ashes of Hell: thou shalt not bleed or wound my woman, Raven Smith. Her death will be by no servant of mine. While her heart beats not another soul will be bought or traded for...”
This… does not go over well. The demons hiss, growl and roar. A dog-like beast lunges toward our cliff. I scurry back. Before the dog-beast can sink his claws into the rock, Andras closes his fist and the dog implodes into a cloud of dust that drifts away in the ocean breeze.
The Deception Dance Page 19
