Fallen (Dark Angels Book 2)

by Mandy Lee

  “Father?” Keir asked, his voice wavering as he stretched out his arm toward Uriel.

  There was a muffled sound of glass cracking and Keir looked down at his pocket in horror. A black fog seeped out into the air, encircling Keir’s body. The fog swirled faster and faster, turning into a tornado on the rooftop. Soon, Keir was no longer visible as the black fog sucked itself back in and imploded into nowhere, taking Uriel’s son with it.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The burning pain of the hellhound poison was driving B mad. The only thing that kept him from giving in to the hallucinations bombarding him was the driving need to get back to Mara, to make sure she’d gotten to safety. The poison moved through his body — acid eating away at his insides — as he stood frozen. Suddenly, a bright pulse of white light burned his retinas. The pain stopped, the hallucinations disappeared, and B found himself standing in a bedroom staring out the open window. A female scream rang out from the ground floor. Blinking his eyes as they adjusted from the flash, he stumbled down the hallway and crashed down the stairs, bouncing off of walls and corners as he went in a violent rush. His heart was in his mouth as he imagined that Mara had been recaptured by Keir and his followers.

  B skidded into the ground floor hallway and stopped dead, blowing out a relieved breath at the scene before him. Sam was standing over Nyx’s unconscious body.

  “What in the name of Sheol did you do to her?” he asked in confusion. “I mean, good for you, whatever it was….”

  Sam just shook his head and threw up his hands. “Not a damned thing. There was a flash of light, my body unfroze, and she screamed and dropped like a ton of bricks.”

  B raised an eyebrow. “Hmm.”

  The two of them just stood there for minute, hands on hips, staring down at Nyx.

  “I guess we should take her with us,” Sam said with a shrug. “We might be able to get some intel out of her or something.”

  B nodded. “Agreed. We can’t leave her here to wake up and run around raising hell.”

  “I’m not going to lie,” Sam said. “After my last tangle with Nyx, this defeat seems a tad…underwhelming.”

  Sam reached down with his gloved hands and picked her up, heaving her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, her long blond hair dangling down by his ass. B and Sam stood there for a minute staring at each other, and then shrugged and headed out the front door.

  As they emerged from the house into the daylight, Mara came streaking across the lawn to throw herself into B’s arms. His heart sang as he held on tight. He still didn’t know what he’d done in his life to get so lucky. He’d been part of a revolt in the heavens, been stripped of his wings, been a drug addict, and had carried out untold deeds in the service of Satan; but here was this beautiful, intelligent, talented woman who, for some insane reason, loved him. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face and figured it would likely be plastered on there for many centuries to come.

  “You’re okay.” Mara’s voice was muffled as she spoke with her face mashed into his chest.

  B pulled away from her slightly so he could see her face. “And so are you.” He smiled at her and he knew that all the love in his heart was glowing in his eyes for her to see.

  Mara stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on him. B wrapped his arms around her and lifted her slightly, spinning her around in a circle before setting her back down gently. The sound of a throat clearing got their attention.

  “Um, guys?” Sergei said, coming up in front of them and pointing upwards.

  Everyone turned their gazes upwards. The sight was really something to see. Michael and Uriel were coasting down from the roof, their powerful wings outstretched as they caught the current of the air, and the sun shone behind them. Their wings tucked back slowly as they touched down gently on the lawn.

  “You guys did this,” B said, moving Mara to his side and tucking her under his arm. “Thank you.”

  Sam slid Nyx off his shoulder and set her down on the grass. “Thank you, guys. But how did you know?”

  Uriel gave a small, sad smile and stepped toward Mara. “It was you, wasn’t it?” he asked quietly.

  “What was me?” Mara asked in confusion.

  “It was your plea that led me here, your selfless love and caring for your friends.” Uriel reached out and touched her arm, sending a frisson of white light into her body. “You saved them.”

  B leaned down and kissed her wild hair gently. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “I hate to ruin the moment,” Michael said. “But I need to know if any of you have had word of Leila? Was she mentioned at all by Nyx or Keir?”

  Sam shook his head. “Not a thing from Nyx, but you can ask her yourself if she ever wakes up.”

  “Oh, yes, she will wake.” Uriel looked down at her unconscious form. “The light magic I wove broke through the dark magic that was holding you both captive, and it cleansed evil from the home. Nyx is pure evil, a being with no soul; her darkness cannot be ended by my magic, only temporarily disabled.”

  Sam nodded. “Good. When Sergei did a spell to locate B, we managed to connect with Leila somehow. She must still be alive…looked like the abyss...”

  Michael and Uriel shared a relieved look. “Excellent. This is the first news we’ve heard of her since the battle. We will need to hear about this magic later.”

  “What about the others?” Mara asked worriedly.

  Uriel shook his head. “Keir is gone. I believe he was called back to his master.”

  “You saw him?” B asked with a pained expression.

  “I…yes.” Uriel turned away.

  “I’m sorry,” B said quietly.

  Uriel simply nodded as he struggled with the grief of losing his son for the second time in so many weeks.

  “Did anyone see the shape shifter?” B glanced over at Sam. “He shot me with one of those darts so I don’t know where he went.”

  Sam shook his head. “I didn’t get a look at him.”

  “If he was in the house, he was incinerated,” Michael said, taking over the question answering so Uriel could compose himself. “However, if a shape shifter escaped, he could look like anybody by now.”

  “Damn,” Sam said, bending forward and grabbing Nyx’s body back up again. “So we may have a rogue shifter. There’s at least one dead body in the library we’ll need to clean up.”

  B raised his hand like a school boy. “There’s also the vampire I beheaded in the master bedroom.”

  Sam turned to high-five him. “Nice work!”

  Michael shook his head. “There will be no clean-up required. The magic has removed the presence of evil, and any bodies would have disintegrated with the white light.”

  Mara gazed up wistfully at the beautiful historical home. “Good. It would have been a shame for such a beautiful house to be permanently tainted by all of this. It will make a lovely home for someone someday and at least now it’s full of light.” She smiled and turned to Sam with a pointed look. “We should probably do something with her before she wakes up, right?”

  Sam nodded to Mara before she turned away to talk to Sergei. B caught Sergei’s eye and gave him a meaningful look and a conspiratorial wink. After Nyx was taken care of, he was going to need Sergei’s help with a special project.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Keir’s head pounded. He had no idea what had happened. One moment he was fighting that angel, and the next he was here…wherever here was, with a splitting headache. He knew he was standing, or rather that he was suspended upright. He could feel the shackles around his wrists, and the pull of his weight on the muscles and tendons of his upper arms. He kept his eyes closed and just hung there, unsure if he was ready to open them and discover his whereabouts. A door opened and a familiar scent wafted into the space…sulfur. Keir felt a small smile turn up the corners of his lips. He was home.

  The light sound of rubber-soled running shoes headed in his direction, followed by the thud of a chair being set down. He hear
d someone settle himself into the seat. There was a soft click and a whirring noise from across the room, and the sounds of Wham!’s hit “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” streamed through the air.

  “Rise and shine, sleepy head.”

  Keir cracked open his eyes and looked upon his master. Satan sat there calmly, a benign smile on his deceptively-innocent face. He’d always been amused by human’s depictions of Satan as a big, red-horned devil with a forked tail and cloven hooves. The Prince of Darkness was far less intimidating to look at, which made him that much more dangerous. That innocent smile with the straight white teeth and dimples, his nondescript, sandy brown hair, and the casual jeans and tee combo didn’t come anywhere near the typical idea of evil incarnate.

  “So, it seems we have some things to discuss,” Satan said, clasping his hands in his lap like a good schoolboy.

  Keir swallowed hard. “I failed you, Master.” He averted his eyes, looking down at the floor. “I don’t know how it happened. One minute I was fighting an angel, the next I was here.”

  “I’m well aware of the particulars. I summoned you back using the vial you had in your pocket.” Satan waved a bored hand. “What I’m concerned about is the problem we appear to be having with your vessel.”

  Keir raised his eyes. “The vessel is damaged. A piece of the original owner remains.”

  “Yes, so it seems.” Satan stood and began to pace around his private office.

  “Despite the vessel, I was able to infect one of the fallen,” Keir said quietly.

  Satan looked over at him. “Yes, and that is the reason you’re being spared torture.”

  “Will I be receiving a new vessel?” Keir asked hopefully.

  “Not a chance in…well…hell,” Satan said with a laugh. “The face you’re wearing is the one you need to keep. Keir is a blind spot for the fallen and their angelic supporters. Brother…son — that vessel gives me leverage.”

  “So, how do I rid myself of the remnants of Keir?” he asked.

  “I put some thought into that while you were getting your beauty sleep.” Satan resumed his pacing. “The power of angelic light magic was enough to shut you down and allow that kernel of goodness out to play…I plan on darkening that tiny sliver of soul that’s left until it shrivels up and dies.”

  Keir breathed a sigh of relief. “I will finally be free of the voices.”

  “You’ll be spending some quality time with my friend, War,” Satan said with a sick smile.

  “The Horseman.” Keir breathed.

  “Yes,” Satan said. “Once upon a time he was a very good person. Now he’s quite warped. He’ll have no trouble blackening that sliver of soul just as he did his own.” Satan pointed to a shelf across the room as he yanked on a bell pull.

  Four clear crystal containers sat in a row; each contained an amorphous black substance that floated freely within. The souls of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse — War, Death, Pestilence, and Famine. All were legends of the Netherworld, their cruelty and darkness the stuff of demonic bedtime stories.

  The clicking of hooves sounded coming down the hall toward the open doorway of Satan’s private office. Halja was a large castle, but only a select few were allowed access to Satan’s inner sanctum. One of those special few now appeared in the doorway. The butler was always well turned out, his tuxedo was pressed to perfection, his neck scarf was sufficiently natty, and he wore a very stylish pair of breeches.

  He spoke in a crisp, upper-crust tone, “Sir, War will be here shortly. I have made arrangements for your next appointment in the dungeons. The tools you requested have been polished and laid out as per your request. Your preferred apron has been cleaned and pressed and is ready for use. Please ring me if you require assistance cleaning any entrails after you’ve completed your business.”

  Satan nodded. “Thank you, Jeeves. Make arrangements for a meeting with the mole I have planted with the fallen. My sister Nyx needs to be located.”

  “Yes, sir.” The butler said, before bleating loudly.

  His inadvertent slip clearly bothering him, the satyr frowned at himself in annoyance, his furry face looking like a stuffed animal. With a sharp nod, he turned on his hooves and marched out into the hallway, his horns barely clearing the doorway, his tail swishing behind him.

  “Well, I’m off to my next appointment. Do have fun with War; he’s quite an artist really if you take the time to appreciate his work.” Satan headed toward the doorway. “Toodles.” He wiggled his fingers at Keir and blew him a kiss.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Mara smiled up at B and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Okay, I’m finally going to take that shower now.”

  B reached out and caressed Mara’s cheek lightly with the back of his hand. “You are an amazing woman. You know that, right?”

  “Duh,” she said, rolling her eyes and then giving him a saucy wink. “Now go talk to your friend while I use Sergei’s shower. I need to wash the kidnap off me.”

  B watched her walk naked into the ensuite bathroom, his mind making all sorts of wonderful plans for them the second she got out of that shower. He was never going to get enough of this woman. Shaking his head, B made his way out of Sergei’s bedroom into the living room. He and Mara had come back here after their adventure to clean up and get some rest. When they’d arrived, Al and Bill had made a quiet exit, heading out to join the others on their mission to hide Nyx.

  Gadreel was still sitting in that chair, staring out the window. He’d been so lost in his own head he hadn’t seemed to notice the comings and goings around him. The black veins on his arm were still painfully visible, but the infection appeared to have halted its progress. B sighed. He knew what it felt like to be locked in the worst parts of one’s memories. He walked over and leaned his butt up against the windowsill directly in front of his friend. This was a conversation that needed to be had, and there was no way he was letting Gadreel out of it this time, for B’s good and for Gadreel’s.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” B said quietly as he looked down at Gadreel.

  His friend had no reaction; he just stared straight through B’s chest as though he didn’t exist.

  B tried again. “I don’t blame you for anything that happened. It was the demon blood, I’ve always known that. It wasn’t you.”

  Gadreel remained silent, not moving a muscle.

  “Look, I know we agreed to leave it all behind us after we were rescued, but I think we were wrong.” B took a deep breath. “The longer we’ve kept this secret, the more it’s eaten away at us.”

  Not a muscle twitched, Gadreel continued to sit there, frozen.

  B’s heart ached for the pain he knew his friend was feeling. “Even if you’re not going to talk to me, I need to say some things to you. So here I go.” With a deep, steadying breath, B went for it. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to save us back then. I know now that it wasn’t my fault, but I’ve always felt that I should have been able to do more.” He paused and looked down at his motionless friend. “I’ve spent centuries feeling weak, like less of a man because of what happened. I’ve whored and drugged myself to oblivion, but no self-medicating in the universe will fix what happened to us.”

  Gadreel abruptly got to his feet. He walked across the room, his eyes downcast, to a mirror hanging on the wall. He stood there for a moment in silence before slowly raising his eyes to look at his reflection.

  “None of what happened to either of us was our fault. We need to stop blaming ourselves.” B walked over to stand beside his friend, gazing at both of their reflections in the mirror. “If we don’t stop torturing ourselves, we’ll never be able to move on with our lives. We never really got out — we’ve spent centuries stuck in a prison of our own making.”

  B laid his hand gently on his friend’s shoulder, only to have it shaken off abruptly.

  “You’re wrong,” Gadreel whispered, continuing to stare himself down in the mirror.

  “What?” B asked.

  “I
can still see it.”

  B frowned. “See what?”

  Gadreel raised his arm to touch the glass, but dropped his hand back down before his fingers could connect. “The monster. I still see it every time I look in the mirror.” His eyes flicked up to connect with B’s through the glass. “They chose to infect me with demon blood, not you. They had me carry out torture on you, not the other way around.” Gadreel gazed down at the blackened veins snaking their way up his arm. “And now, I’ve been infected again.”

  “But that’s not your fault,” B said emphatically, shaking his head. “You didn’t ask for any of this; it’s something that happened to you.”

  Gadreel turned away from the mirror to face his friend. “Look. I’m glad you’re all better now, that you’ve found someone who understands you and loves you, but that’s just not in the cards for me.”

  “I’m not all better, never will be,” B said with a tight expression. “I’m getting my head around the past a bit, but it’s going to be a long road…”

  “There’s hope for you. There isn’t any for me.” Gadreel shook his head. “There’s something in me that the demons can all see. Something evil. That’s why they keep choosing me...”

  “That’s crazy! There’s nothing evil about you.”

  “Look, I’m happy for you, dude, and I know you don’t see things the way I do, but it is what it is.” Gadreel spun on his heel and headed for the door. “I need some air…alone.” He twisted the handle and yanked the door open angrily, stepping through and slamming it shut behind him.

  B stood there staring at the empty space his friend had occupied. He’d always known that Gadreel blamed himself for the torture he’d meted out to B during their captivity. Despite being infected by demon blood, at the mercy of their captors, Gadreel…like B…seemed to have held onto the notion that he was somehow at fault. Until this moment, B hadn’t known that Gadreel felt he was evil, that there was something inside of him that drew the demons to him.