by Amy Braun
DARK DIVINITY
A Cursed Novel
Amy Braun
Dark Divinity , a Cursed novel by Amy Braun
© 2015 by Amy Braun. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the author.
Cover Design: Deranged Doctor Design
ISBN: 978-0-9938758-3-0
For my friends, family, and Connie and Dro’s fans.
More From Amy Braun
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DEMON’S DAUGHTER
PATH OF THE HORSEMAN
NEEDFIRE
ANTHOLOGIES AND COLLECTIONS
THE MAKER OF MONSTERS in SPAWN OF THE RIPPER from April Moon Books.
HELL TO PAY in LEGENDS OF SLEEPY HOLLOW: ORIGINAL TALES OF TERROR FROM AMERICA’S SPOOKIEST VILLAGE.
SURVIVALISM in THE DEAD WALK: VOLUME 2 from FOF Publishing.
DISMANTLE in THE STEAM CHRONICLES from Zimbell House Publishing.
LOST SKY in AVAST, YE AIRSHIPS! from Mocha Memoirs Press.
SECRET SUICIDE in THAT HOODOO, VOODOO, THAT YOU DO from Lincoln Crisler and Ragnarok Publications.
BRING BACK THE HOUND in STOMPING GROUNDS from April Moon Books.
HOTEL HELL in DEATH’S CAFE from Mocha Memoirs Press.
CALL FROM THE GRAVE in TOIL, TROUBLE, AND TEMPTATION from Mocha Memoirs Press.
CHARLATAN CHARADE in LOST IN THE WITCHING HOUR from Breaking Fate Publishing.
DARK INTENTIONS AND BLOOD in AMOK! from April Moon Books.
Hell is empty and all the devils are here. – William Shakespeare, “The Tempest”
[Vestras spes uritis.] You burn your hopes. – Virgil
Chapter 1
“Something’s wrong,” I said. Story of my life.
Warrick used the sleeve of his brown leather jacket to rub away the dust from the warehouse window. “You’re right. It shouldn’t be taking him this long.” He looked over at me, bright green eyes illuminated from the moonlight shining outside.
“Do you think something happened to him?” he asked.
I stared through the murky glass and put my hands on my hips. My thumb ran up and down the hilt of the hatchet attached to my waist.
“Maybe,” I answered truthfully. “Seph knows the risks better than us. He also knows we can’t find him if he’s in trouble.”
Warrick hesitated, then said, “Dro could.”
I shot him a dark glance. Yes, my adopted sister could find our resident Seraphim warrior by using supernatural skills that continued to confuse, amaze, and terrify me. But I wasn’t going to ask her to do that. Not even for Sephiel. It was too dangerous, especially now.
“We can’t keep waiting for him,” I said, turning away from the window.
I walked deeper into the crumbling warehouse, my scuffed combat boots splashing in thin puddles of God knew what. Steel support beams were scattered through the metal building. The large windows on the rusted walls were cracked and grimy. There was a dirty, multi-paned skylight over our heads and decaying concrete under our feet. It wasn’t the best place to hide, but we assumed it would be temporary since Sephiel said he was coming back soon.
So much for that plan.
I made my way to the four door truck Sephiel stole for us before he left. I looked in the truck bed, where my little sister was asleep with her boyfriend.
Max and Dro were snuggled close together underneath a sleeping bag. Max looked younger than most eighteen year olds with a mop of curly black hair and a sweet, boyish face. A stubbly, black goatee was growing around his mouth. It was the only thing that kept him from looking like he belonged in a teen-pop band.
The contrast of Dro lying next to Max was jarring. His skin was a dull gold like my own, but Dro was as pale as a person could be without being called a ghost. Her skin was milk-white and smooth, stretched over a shapely body and an angelic face. Snow-white hair spilled around the top of her head, her ice-blue eyes closed in sleep.
I looked at Max’s arm as it was draped over my sister’s ribs, keeping her close to him. Even though his arm, the sleeping bag, and her clothes were blocking it, I knew exactly where her scar was. The raw, gaping wound that had poured blood when her rib was torn from her body, making my little sister scream with more pain than any living person should have.
My heart felt heavy even as I shook off the memory. It had been two months since that night. Two months since the Gates of Heaven and Hell were opened. Two months since Lucifer had risen and found his child.
My brain taunted me with the phrase “time flies,” and I told that bitch to go fuck herself.
Dro shifted, moaning softly. I tensed, waiting to see what she would do. She always got nervous about sleeping beside Max. It was impossible to predict when Dro would have a nightmare. They were horrendous for her, and deadly for us. The only consolation we had was that Max was gifted too. He was a psychic whose foresight increased by touch. If he sensed a nightmare coming, he would warn us. After that... Well, our survival would depend on how fast we could run.
I watched her pinch her pale eyebrows together, as if she was in pain. I didn’t know what my sister was dreaming, wasn’t sure if I would ever know. She didn’t like to talk about the things she saw in her sleep, not even to me. It couldn’t be anything good, and there was no way for me to take her nightmares away.
“Constance?” Warrick’s gentle, deep voice came from behind me.
I turned sharply, facing the tall, incredibly handsome demon slayer. His thick brown hair was a tired, wavy mess on his head. His goatee was now becoming a beard. Sincere green eyes fixed on my dark brown ones. Just looking at him made my heart rate speed up. He seemed to know I was off my game, something that didn’t happen often. The readiness to help me burned in his eyes. He was waiting for me to tell him what to do.
The gesture was kind, but pointless. There was nothing Warrick could do to help me with Dro. I was beginning to think there was nothing any of us could do.
I could have lied and said I was fine, or that I wanted to be alone, but there was no point to that, either. I hadn’t slept in almost two days. I was too damn exhausted to try faking otherwise.
“We should get moving,” I muttered. “Seph will have to find us on his own.”
I turned and slapped my hand against the edge of the truck bed to wake up the kids. My sister shifted and started stretching, blinking her icy blue eyes open. Max groaned and turned his head closer to Dro, burying his golden face in her shoulder and pulling her closer.
“Good dream,” he mumbled. “Go away.”
I hit the side of the truck bed again. “Too bad. I can’t drive the truck with you sleeping in the back.”
Dro’s eyes found mine. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, white hair falling down her back. She was sixteen, but looked older every day since her injury. I tried not to notice, but I couldn’t fool my little sister. She could read me like a book and knew when something was bothering me.
“Con? What’s wrong?”
She also knew I wouldn’t tell her what was on my mind until we were alone.
“Seph isn’t back yet. We need to leave.”
My sister’s eyes widened. “He said he was just going on a scouting mission,” she said worriedly, sitting up.
“I know. But something must have delayed him.”
I didn’t tell her that Sephiel might have been tracked down, maybe even killed. Dro wasn’t a naive girl. She was smart enough to understand the p
ossibility that he was dead. Sephiel was a soldier of the Heavenly Host, but he was in a human vessel, and humans could be destroyed all too easily.
“He’ll find us, Dro,” I offered to make her feel better. “If we don’t hear from him soon, you can connect to him.”
She looked at me nervously and bit her lower lip. Dro’s powers had been growing ever since Lucifer used her as a conduit to open the Gates of Heaven and Hell. The strength of her powers had nearly doubled, and it was easier for her to sense any demons or angels nearby.
After all, Dro was a mix of both.
But the catch was that while she could sense them, they could sense her. We hadn’t had any problems with angels yet, but the threat of Lucifer turning up out of the blue was a constant terror we were forced to live with. It was part of the reason I hadn’t slept in nearly two days.
“Come on,” I pressed. “We need to go.”
The kids started sliding out of the truck. Max played the gentleman and offered Dro his hand to help her down. She smiled at him, but as soon as her feet touched the cement, she gasped and clutched the truck bed.
“Dro? What is it?” I asked, stepping forward.
She was breathing heavily, placing one hand over her heart. Max gripped her other hand. She couldn’t focus, so he used his gifts to read her. Dro lifted her head to meet my eyes. She looked terrified. Max turned his head to mine and his expression matched hers.
“Demons,” he breathed.
Shit.
My hand went to the hatchet on my hip. Warrick took his sawed-off shotgun from the inner lining of his jacket. “How many?” I asked.
“Four.”
“What kind?”
“Two Reds and two Shredders.”
“Shit,” Warrick cursed under his breath, voicing my thoughts.
“Get the truck started. We’ll hold them off.”
Max darted from Dro’s side, running for the truck cab. Dro took a step closer to me.
“I can help,” she offered.
I looked at my little sister. A half angel, half demon girl who had heightened senses, could heal almost any injury, use telepathy, and create hellfire blasts as hot as the sun.
Dro had more power than I could comprehend. But she couldn’t control it.
“No,” I told her. “Warrick and I have this. You stay safe.”
Dro narrowed her eyes to show her irritation. “Seph isn’t here, Con. You need as much help as you can get. I know how to fight.”
Of course she did. I taught her myself. But being a big sister came before her desire to play hero.
“Look, if we get pinned down, you get our backs. But I’m not having you directly in the fight, Dro. Not since you’re the exact thing they want.”
That gave my sister pause. A flash of terror went through her eyes. Demons had been chasing her for years. They wouldn’t give up until she was in their clutches, and there had been some damn close calls. Not that I was going to give the bastards any more chances.
A high-pitch screech sounded just outside the warehouse and made me spin around. I tightened my grip on the hatchet. Warrick finished loading his sawed-off shotgun and snapped it closed. His expression was completely calm and blank of fear. He wouldn’t be a very good demon slayer if he were afraid of demons.
“They’re almost here,” he stated, casually walking to the middle of the empty building.
I glanced at him, then turned back to Dro and gave her a final, pleading look. “Please, little sister. Stay safe for me.”
She frowned. She never liked standing back and watching me fight. I was a plain, simple human. Dro had seen me bleed and nearly die more times than she could count. She told me that she hated herself for being weak, and not being strong like me.
I told her that she shouldn’t have to be.
Dro backed away to the truck where Max was standing. He wasn’t a fighter, and he had the smarts to keep very far away when the demons made their unwelcome entrances. I turned away from them and walked to Warrick. The demon slayer was rigid, his eyes hard and trying to be everywhere at once.
“There’s not a lot of cover out here,” he said without looking at me.
I unhooked the hatchet from my belt and spun it in my hands, slipping a silver knife out from my lucky jacket. “Yeah, well, it’s not like we have a lot of–”
Glass shattered on our left. The first demon had jumped through the window.
It was a Red, a hybrid eurynomos and oni demon if you wanted to be technical with your demonology. I called them Reds because their bodies were the color of blood. They were six-foot tall, humanoid monsters with smooth, poreless skin, hooked black claws, and oily chunks of hair. Their ears were pointed like a bat’s, their fangs were razor sharp, and their almond shaped eyes were completely black from lid to lid.
The Red twisted its head in our direction, hissing once before it charged toward me with inhuman speed. I hefted my knife and threw it at the demon. It slammed into the speedy creature’s shoulder. The Red shrieked as the angel-blessed silver weapon sank into its flesh. But it didn’t stop running. More glass shattered on my right, followed by a loud boom from Warrick’s shotgun. I didn’t have to worry about him. This was his job. He knew how to take care of himself.
The Red swiped its claws at my face. I leaped to the side, tucking and rolling. The Red reached around its stomach to grab my hair. I spun on my knee and sliced at the monster’s arm. Black blood sprayed out of the wound and onto my face. It burned against my skin, but I’d been covered in demon gore so many times that I could almost numb the pain.
Screeching in fury, the Red lunged for me. I rolled away and shot to my feet. I jumped and spun a kick to its head, knocking it onto the ground. Even before it was finished landing, I was driving my hatchet into the monster’s face.
It bucked and howled as the blade split its cheek in half. More demon blood coated my hand and arm as I hammered the blade down. This new hatchet was more powerful than my last one. It was blessed by Sephiel, coated in silver, and cleaned in salted holy water. It didn’t take nearly as many hits to kill a demon now. It wasn’t my father’s hatchet, but it got the job done.
After one more strike, the demon’s skin began to blacken and crumble inward as it turned to ash. I grimaced at the acidic smell of sulfur from the dead demon’s remains. One down, three to go–
Instinct tugged at my brain and said there was movement behind me. I kicked back and felt my foot connect with something. For a second, I thought I’d kicked a pale concrete wall. Then I looked up, and up, into the snarling face of a Shredder demon.
Oh, shit.
It raised its claws over my leg. I yanked my foot back before the gigantic creature could slice it off. I stepped back to look at the beast taking up every inch of my vision. The monster was triple my weight and almost two feet taller than me. Its skin was pale and covered in long, bumpy scars. Greasy, shoulder-length hair hung from its head in thick, black strings. The Shredder had a blocky face and milk-white eyes that made it look blind. Its teeth were nasty and sharp behind its thick lips, but that wasn’t going to be what it tried to kill me with. The foot long, solid bone claws at the end of its fingers were made for that.
The demon didn’t hesitate to slash at me again. I weaved from side to side, only barely escaping the Shredder’s claws. It pressed on, determined to cut me in half. I was quick, but I was human. I was already feeling weary from the fight with Red and all the sleep I denied myself.
And there were still at least two more demons to kill.
The Shredder shoved its claws toward my gut. I twisted away at the last second, but I didn’t get as far as I wanted. My stomach brushed across the demon’s thick, mutilated arm. The smell of sulfur and sour rot almost choked me. I tried to cut it with my hatchet, but the Shredder yanked its arm away. Before I could react, its elbow slammed into the side of my head.
Stars exploded behind my eyes. I felt like I’d been hit with a brick. I landed hard on the ground, rolling to catch my
fall. The Shredder stabbed down with its claws, forcing me to wrench my body to the side so I didn’t get skewered. I swung around in a crouch, drawing another silver knife from inside my jacket so I was doubly armed. I got to my feet and backed up, my head still pounding from the hit. My sight was semi-blurred, which made dodging and ducking the Shredder’s claws much more of a challenge.
Then I backed up too far. My spine hit a metal beam. I panicked for half a second, giving the Shredder a chance to swing its claws at my face. I ducked and twisted behind the post. Metal screeched as the bony claws sliced across it. I took cover behind the post and hurled my silver throwing knife into the Shredder’s eye.
Its head rocked back and it roared in fury. One of its hands went for the weapon. It curled its hand around the blessed weapon, bellowing its rage as the silver burned it. I could hear flesh sizzling, but at least it was distracted. I kept away from its good eye, hoping it wouldn’t be able to sense me before I found a way to kill it. I’d faced this kind of demon before, but the fight hadn’t gone well for me that time.
Holding my hatchet tightly, I crept behind the Shredder and slashed the blade along its heavily scarred back. The Shredder cringed and stumbled forward a step, still gripping my knife. It screamed when it ripped my knife from its eye, then swung its arms back at me. The claws narrowly missed my chest, but I still kept away from its good eye. I darted around its back and lashed out again, the hatchet blade catching it in the back of the knee.
Thick, oily blood splattered onto my jeans and combat boots. The demon didn’t buckle like I hoped. Instead, it twisted sharply, and finally saw me with its uninjured eye. Its lips peeled back in a nasty snarl, and I knew I was in trouble.
