Fallen (Dark Angels Book 2)

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Fallen (Dark Angels Book 2) Page 6

by Mandy Lee


  With chuckles and murmurs of assent all around him, Sergei took a deep breath and sliced into his palm. As the blood dripped onto the stone floor he began to work the dark magic that would hopefully lead them to their missing friend. “Advocatis diaboli, corruptus in extremis, veritas diaboli manet in aeternum. Devil’s advocate, corrupt in the extreme, Devil’s truth remain eternally.”

  The air around them began to feel heavy as the blood magic started to take hold. Sergei motioned to the group around him. “If you can all take position around me in a circle and open your veins as I have.”

  One by one the fallen drew out their blades and carried out Sergei’s instructions. As the ruby droplets hit the floor, an electric hum filled the room.

  “Repeat the incantation with me.”

  They chanted in unison. “Advocatis diaboli, corruptus in extremis, veritas diaboli manet in aeternum.” As they repeated the chant, a flickering blue light shot between the small pools of crimson at their feet, growing stronger and brighter as the magic took hold. Sergei looked down and smiled. It was working; the blood spell had created a luminescent pentagram with each man standing at a point in the star. He reached down to twist the family crested ring off his finger. It had been passed down from father to son for generations, a tether for each man’s magical abilities. Bending down, Sergei placed the ring crest-down in the centre of the blood pool at his feet. As the ring touched the blood the air was sucked out of the center of the pentagram creating a vacuum. Feeling grateful he had no need for oxygen he stepped back out of the pentagram. Mist began to appear out of nowhere, filling the space Sergei had left. As it thickened, tiny sparks of multi-colored lights flickered inside, slowly coalescing into an image that grew sharper and sharper.

  “Holy shit!” Sam breathed.

  “Isn’t that…?” Gadreel chimed in.

  “Yup.”

  There, in the center of the pentagram, was a semi-translucent Leila. The last time they’d seen the beautiful angel she’d been a vision of sunlight and joy. Her pristine robes had swirled around her as she’d moved with the speed and grace of Heofon on the battlefield. Now she appeared half-prone, her blond ringlets in disarray, a ghostly pallor had overtaken her face, her blue eyes full of sadness and despair.

  “I thought she had died in the battle.” Gadreel shook his head. “Where the hell is she?”

  As they watched, small dark shadows began to swirl around her, growing closer and closer as though they were magnetically attracted to the angel in their midst. Leila quickly turned her head to look over her shoulder, as her expression once again became visible, fear had overtaken her sadness. She stretched out a pale, shaking hand to wipe an errant tear that had begun to track its way down her cheek. “He’s coming.” She whispered in a hollow, hopeless voice just as her image flickered and faded out.

  “Well, I think we know exactly where the hell she is…literally.” Sam said, shaking his head. The last time they’d seen her was during the battle with Satan at Halja castle. “It looks like she never left. If I’m not mistaken those were trapped souls flying around her.”

  “Ok, so it looks like our mission has expanded to include rescuing Leila from the abyss of souls.” Gadreel said with authority as he turned to face Sergei. “But why did we see her? Wasn’t this spell meant to locate B?”

  “This is what I was talking about when I was telling you about dark magic.” Sergei sighed. “It’s more powerful on a basic level, but much harder to control. The spell was cast to locate someone who has been lost so, in theory, it worked. We did lose Leila…I’m going to have to try again for B.”

  “Looks like you’re going to have to find a way to brush up on your light magic after all. Michael and the other archangels will want to know about Leila ASAP.” Sam threw in as the group restarted the incantation to evoke their lost friend.

  Before long, B’s image materialized in the center of the pentagram. He was sitting on a bed looking down at his balled up fists. There was a large white bandage wrapped around his throat. Moments later his image faded from view just as Leila’s had.

  The group let out a collective sigh of relief.

  “Thank Heofon!” Gadreel exclaimed. “He looks a bit worse for wear, but at least he’s alive.”

  Sergei’s disappointment was palpable. “Sorry, guys. I was hoping there would be some indication of where he was.” He stepped forward and removed the ring from the center of the pentagram. As soon as the connection was severed the air in the room returned to normal, the magic dissipating.

  “Hey man, if it weren’t for you we’d have no idea if he was dead or alive.” Sam glanced around the group. “But now we need to come up with a new game plan. Brainstorming time, guys.”

  As the men grouped together in the center of the Portal room discussing their next steps, an unnoticed observer crept down the stairs to watch from the shadows. Her eyes glittered like cut diamonds as she pushed her fall of snow-white hair back behind her ear. She melted toward the stairs, turning slowly to make her way back up to the tavern above, her jet-black wings tucked tightly into her body.

  Chapter Twelve

  Had it been physically possible for smoke to come out of his ears then this would have been the time for it. Keir sat behind the elaborately-carved Victorian, mahogany desk staring across the study at Nyx passed out on the daybed across the room. Her long, blond hair was matted with streaks of her blackened demonic blood; a large stain had bloomed over her heart where the charmed weapon had been buried. Keir had tracked the GPS on Nyx’s phone to a filthy alley where he’d found her lying in a pool of her own sludgy blood, a blade protruding from her chest. He’d yanked the blade free allowing her to regenerate, and had brought her to his new lair.

  Keir yanked angrily at his Mohawk. It really sucked when you couldn’t enjoy a lair full of expensive antiques. Despite his busy killing schedule, Keir had hoped to take some enjoyment in the finer things in life. Given this little twist with Nyx, it was time to kick this mission up a notch. Reaching forward, Keir snatched up the antique silver bowl that had been resting on the desk in front of him. Shoving back his chair, he strode across the room to visit the historic home’s former occupant.

  Strung up by his ankles to a ceiling hook that was previously used for hanging plants, the older gentleman who owned this home for the past forty years was being bled into two buckets that sat below his dangling arms on plastic sheeting. For the hundredth time, Keir thanked Satan that he’d watched a lot of Dexter episodes. That man knew how to properly sheet a room in plastic. It was better than reading “Serial Killing for Dummies.” Keir had managed to get the guy killed and bled without damaging the priceless Aubusson rug. Score! Satan would be so proud.

  Bending down, Keir dipped his bowl into the collected blood. Pulling the bowl back out, Keir ran his finger around the rim to collect the drip that was about to make its way over the lip. His heart raced in anticipation as he raised his finger to his lips. Snaking out his tongue, he lapped up the blood as it began to make its way down his finger, shivering in ecstasy as he swallowed it down. There was nothing better than human blood to calm the savage beast. Sighing in contentment as this latest hit made its way into his system, Keir crossed back over to the desk and set the bowl down. He grabbed two large black pillar candles with Satanic runes carved around the base. Drawing deep, he used magic to light the candles, snapping his fingers just as the wicks jumped to life. Keir began the incantation to contact Satan. He’d done some quick thinking before making this call into the head office. Demons who failed to complete their assignments didn’t tend to live long after disappointing the boss. He had not managed to kill Baal outright, but he’d developed a more-than-satisfactory backup plan that, if properly executed, would get all of the fallen out of hiding and into his clutches. It was almost enough to make him break out in supervillain laughter.

  “In nomine diaboli, corruptus in extremis, veritas diaboli manet in aeternum.”

  As the incantation came to an
end, the wicks flared, the wax bubbled and dripped, transforming into blood as it ran down the sides of the candles to pool on the polished mahogany. The contents of the silver bowl swirled counter clockwise creating a whirlpool out of the viscous red liquid. Keir smiled as the spell took effect. Hell telecomm — long distance was free for the user, but payment was a bitch for the sucker that got bled.

  A deep resonant voice emanated from the bowl. “Keir, how fares your quest?”

  Keir’s eyebrow crawled up his forehead. “Hello, Sire. Thank you for taking my call.”

  “Hast thou been able to execute the requisite….oh, fuck this.” The voice continued in a normal teenage timbre. “Did you get rid of the first of our little problems, or am I going to need to wear your ass as a hat?”

  Keir took a deep breath and carefully formulated his reply. “Satan, Sire, I’ve had to make a few changes to my original plan.”

  “Oh, for the love of all unholy fuck! Did I make a mistake freeing your soul from the abyss? Did I not find Keir, the perfect vessel, to house you? Do I need to return you to the black abyss I had Thanatos drag your ass out of? Second chances don’t come often — or ever — when you let me down! Why shouldn’t I haul your sorry ass back to Halja immediately, slave?”

  “Like I said, Sire, I have a new plan to rid you of the fallen that should be more expedient than picking them off one at a time.”

  “And what is this amazing new plan that has you feeling so confident when you were unable to rid me of one of the pesky rodents at your last encounter?”

  Keir swallowed a lump in his throat. “Our contact on the inside has informed me that Baal is currently staying at a demon club in the city, the fallen are desperate to find him, but have no clue of his whereabouts. I’ve made contact with a shape shifter. He should be arriving soon so we can lay the groundwork for phase two of the operation…kidnap and ransom.”

  “K&R. Interesting work, but I’m not interested in money and you know it.”

  “It's just a ruse to draw the rest of them out to a single location…where I’ll have a special surprise in store for the whole group.”

  “Fine, fine.” Satan’s voice grew dismissive and bored. “I’ll give you another chance with this little project of yours, but do not fail me again. And make use of my sister, she has some very special skills…flaying and the like. I didn’t send her to the human realm to spend her days shopping and getting her hair done.”

  Keir’s eyes flickered over to Nyx’s prone form. “Yes, I’ll make sure she’s put to good use, Sire.”

  “Fantastic. Now fuck off and get things taken care of.”

  With that, the whirlpool slowed and eventually stopped. Keir took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. There was no way he was going to let his soul get stuffed back down into that maddening black pit of despair. He’d spent centuries languishing there, slowly losing hope that he would ever be freed. Thanatos — the skeletal keeper of the void — was a master sadist, giving souls brief glimpses of hope and snatching it away. Now he was out, Keir’s body was a strong vessel, and he wasn’t going to fuck things up again.

  As he tried to calm himself he felt the fluttering start up in his head again like a bird flapping its wings against the bars of a cage. Keir twitched as the whispering began. He leapt to his feet, the heavy wooden chair clattering to the floor behind him. The voices got louder and louder; he felt like he had a hive of bees buzzing around in there. He had to make it stop! He clutched his head, covering his ears, his eyes squeezed as tightly shut as possible. Stumbling around the room, Keir ran headlong into a wall. The pain overtook the infuriating sounds bouncing around inside his skull. The relief was short-lived, so he reared back and slammed his head into the wall over and over. He could feel the plaster from the walls cracking from the impact, dust rained down, but silencing the voices was such a sweet relief he couldn’t stop.

  The wall finally gave way and Keir withdrew, a trail of blood running down his forehead and rounding his eye like a bloody teardrop. The intermittent pounding noise continued unabated. Either he was truly going mad, or he’d managed to beat himself senseless. He shook his head violently, but the banging only increased. He was tempted to find another wall to finish off the job; unconsciousness would be a blessed thing right about now. As he cast his eyes around the room looking for a new implement of self-torture, the pounding turned to ringing.

  Cursing colorfully, he made his way through the lavish library and into the ornate hallway where he threw open the heavy oak door with a flourish. Standing on the marble stoop, shrouded in the darkness of the broken porch light was the answer to his little angel problem. The shape shifter. The creature had arrived au naturel, and Keir marvelled at the horrifying beauty of its construction. The creature was fully covered with tiny scales that glimmered as though moist. It's eyes were a swirling kaleidoscope of every color imaginable.

  Keir sneered and stared defiantly into the shape shifter’s eyes. The patterns began to shift and merge like light refracting off of a multitude of tiny coloured mirrors. Keir began to feel a pull on his psyche, a hypnotic sense that he was falling. As a languor stole over him, the skin of the demon rippled and shifted. The creature’s scales were flipping over like falling dominoes, the scales changing in whorls that were quite beautiful in a disturbing way. The rolling waves of movement finally settled, and the demon released Keir from his psychic hold, his prismatic eyes flashing several solid colors before settling on a glowing crimson.

  As he looked the shape shifter up and down, Keir smiled his most evil smile and saw it reflected back at him. It was like staring into a mirror of malice, the shape shifter was now his doppelgänger…evil and eviler.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The shaking and shivering just wouldn’t stop. He’d curled up into a ball, pulled the covers up, and thrown them off as the sweats went from cold to hot. His teeth were chattering, his head was pounding, and it felt like his heart was alternately running a marathon or trying to hibernate for winter. As the latest round of quaking subsided, B stretched out his limbs, feeling each and every joint protest at the movement. He groaned as he flipped over slowly onto his back. The gems on the ceiling were sparkling away happily, mocking him in his pain and heartache. B slammed his head down into the pillow in frustration. Between detoxing from his salvia habit, suffering from nicotine withdrawal, and being an emotionally fucked-up basket case with Mara, he was definitely not on his A game.

  He had to find her and apologize. B knew that he should probably leave it alone. Being as far away from his emotional baggage as possible was probably in her best interest. He wanted to find her and beg her forgiveness, to make her understand…even though he knew he would never — could never — be able to fully explain what had happened. He was damaged and broken, but there was no reason for Mara to go through life thinking that his reaction was about her.

  With a grimace, B flopped his feet over the side of the bed and dragged his torso upright. If he was going to go after Mara, he needed to stop the shakes. He wiped the sweat off his brow, his eyes stinging as the salty moisture ran in. Squinting, he peered around the room and saw a pile of folded clothes on the floor a few feet away from the bed. As soon as he dragged himself up to his feet, his joints gave out and he crashed to his hands and knees on the floor. The world spun as he breathed shakily through the pain radiating throughout his entire body. His joints ground together as he crawled slowly across the stone floor toward the jeans and hoodie that were his ticket to looking decent in the world outside of this little cave.

  He struggled into the clothes, contorting his body into positions that were not friendly to a detoxing junkie. He slid himself up and leaned against the wall for balance. Taking a deep breath, B pushed off the wall and staggered over to the frozen pool on the other side of the cave. With no knife to draw blood, B took a deep breath and slammed his hand repeatedly into the gems on the wall. With the crimson liquid dripping down his arm, he turned back to the pool and let it flow freel
y onto the icy waters. As the blood seeped in, fissures and cracks broke up the frozen block, turning it into a bubbling cauldron. B stepped over the edge into the pool and began to slide through the portal. The push and pull of the changing gravitational fields was oddly soothing on his strained joints and muscles, giving him a few moments of relief from the pain of detox. As he began to emerge on the other side of the portal, his body seized and he stumbled across the room to lean up against a wall as the crushing return of pain took his breath away. As the stars dancing in front of his eyes receded and the ringing in his ears dissipated, he heard the faint pulsing sounds of the music drifting in from above. A faint rose-scented perfume drifted in, B closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, images of curling red hair and jade green eyes flitting through his brain. He felt his heart clench. Feelings of lust warred with confusion as he slid along the wall toward the curtained doorway. The closer he got, the more he sensed Mara. There was no way she was just outside the door, so why did the entire space make him feel as though he were only inches away from the object of his desire?

  Reaching out a shaking hand, B pulled the curtain open a few inches to peer out into the space beyond and realized he’d just gone to his own personal hell. Alcohol was flowing, drugs were being consumed, and a bevy of eerily familiar female demons were bumping and grinding on the dance floor. The hellish carousel of laughing female faces made an unwelcome reappearance as he made a mental count of the women in this room alone that he’d managed to fuck. Bile rose as he came face-to-face with the visual evidence of his whoring in the same place that smelled so much like the woman that had captured his heart.

  Reaching back, he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head, covering as much of his face as he could before moving out into the club. Keeping his head down, B glanced furtively around out the corners of his eyes as he made his way along the wall. Demons were snorting lines of salvia, dropping pills into their drinks, and partaking in every sexual practice under the sun, the moon, and the smoldering Sheolic sky.

 

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