by Claire Marta
Watching them ascend upwards I find some of the other angels above. Flaming swords in hand, they dive like great white winged birds of prey inciting terror in Trukun’s ranks. They are a breath-taking sight. One I can’t help but stop and gawk at.
A hand landing on my shoulder spins me around, almost making me stumble onto my arse in the slushy snow.
Lips peeled back in an unpleasant leer, a scaly faced male grabs me around the throat. The power in his grip steals my ability to breathe. Lifting me up, he applies pressure.
Bringing the gun level with his groin, I open fire.
His inhuman screams are with agony as the blessed ammo ravages his manhood. I’m back on my feet, sucking in oxygen in the blink of an eye.
On his knees, he tries to stem the blood leaking through his hands as he cups himself.
An invisible symphony. It’s pure melody emanates out from within me. Irresistible.
My head tilts back with euphoria. Eyes half-mast, I survey the carnage, the fresh blood of my enemy still warm where it splattered across my face. I let my desires and blood lust free. With barely a look I send another bullet through his head.
Registering movement behind me, I realise Lucifer’s quick reflexes have saved me from being skewered by another assailant. Deflecting the blow of the axe, he forces the female back. In a second, he’s despatches her expertly, staining the snow with more crimson that is ever spreading around us.
A darkness radiates off him, insidious, malevolent. Something lurks beneath his tanned skin. Shifting, rippling now and then, but not fully revealing itself. It sends my heart thudding with fear.
His eyes burn through me. Lust. Hunger. I can see them swirling within those emerald depths. “Your halo is full of fire. It dazzles. Use it. bring every enemy you encounter to their mother fucking knees.” In a swirl of shadowy robes, he stalks back through the skirmishing mob. The same aura I can feel makes anyone who gets close to him recoil.
Tracking the heaving sea of faces, I search for my objective.
I get a glimpse of Leo back to back with Gabriel. My ex archangel boss is in his element. Axe swinging with inhuman strength, he’s dishing out wrath to anyone who challenges him. The shock wave throws enemy after enemy back.
Leo’s pale expression is showing signs of strain. Crimson is bright, streaking his dark blonde hair. Hands weaving in front of him, he’s tossing demons around as if they weigh nothing.
Trukun.
I find the succubus knee deep in dead bodies on the other side of the combat zone.
With a war cry, an angel rushes down at her from above.
Slashing, he aims for her head, but his efforts miss as she artfully dances clear.
Wings flapping gracefully, he lands in the snow. Muscles bulging, he charges her.
Lips curling up in a shrewd smirk, she looks unimpressed by his bravery.
She takes off his arm in one decisive strike at the elbow. His screams mingle with the rest of the roars and shrieks of the dying. With another delivery she removes his other one with skill.
Like a shoal of piranhas her minions swarm with gleeful cries ripping and plucking feathers free of their victim’s wings.
Blasting into them, I manage to neutralize a handful, but it’s not enough. Already too late.
Teeth and claws in a vicious frenzy, they don’t stop until he’s nothing more than a lump of shredded flesh.
I hear Gabriel’s bellow of fury and loss. In answer, the other angel’s outcries rise into the sky. It thunders through the trees as violent as an unforgiving storm. Doubling their efforts, they butcher their quarry.
Trukun looks my way.
Hatred burns mercilessly behind the bitch’s eyes.
She murdered Caesar. Anger is better than tears. Better than grief. Better than the guilt I can feel festering inside me.
Holding my breath, I fire.
At the last second, she dodges, her squeal of pain letting me know I’ve winged her.
With a roar, a hulking yellow skinned demon charges me. Firing, I hit him in the torso, but it doesn’t stop his momentum.
My gun goes flying free from my hand as he ploughs into me like a freight train. Fist meeting my cheek, it snaps my head back. Somehow, I remain standing. Blood fills my mouth.
Gathering moisture and the metallic taste, I spit it to the ground.
Fire and brimstone infuses my veins. Rage. I feel such hellish rage.
Another blow connects with my shoulder. Ignoring the pain, I reach for my knife sheathed on my hip.
With a twisted smile, I impale him on the end before he realises.
Stabbing, again and again, I don’t stop until his legs can no longer hold him up and he’s falling limp to the ground in a bloodied mess.
I revel in the moment. I’m becoming far deadlier than I ever was before. I’ve let myself succumb to something I’ve never fully unleashed. Something unhallowed. There’s no doubt in my mind that if I ever step foot in a church again I will more than likely burst into flames.
“I know that look in your eyes well.” Trukun’s voice calls to me closer than I would like. “Do you think you’re safe because you love him? He’s heartless. Plants seeds of lies which only bloom into sorrow and death. Are you so naive to believe he won’t destroy you once you’ve done everything he asks? He will never risk you being used against him. Better to kill you than let you live.”
My gun is nowhere in sight in the calf high sludge. Grabbing a sword from a corpse, I swivel to face her. Its weight is something I quickly adjust to. My vengeance is near. There’s nowhere she can go now I won’t find her. “I think you like hearing the sound of your own fucking voice too much.” I reply with a clipped rhythm to my words.
She moves to meet me. “You’re a fool. Once I've dealt with you, I will deal with Lucifer. This blade kills angels. I wonder how easy that will make it to chop him up into pieces to feed to my Hell hounds.”
We circle each other.
The soldiers in the vicinity steer clear. Whether it’s through fear or something else I have no clue.
Our swords meet with a resounding clang.
My training holds up. Thank fuck for Uncle Dane insisting I learn to kill with every weapon available, not just hand guns. Trukun’s mastery with the blade is obvious in every calculated swing.
She goes for my exposed side.
I counter using my own weapon to block the intended strike.
The next thrust slices through the leather of my jacket on my upper arm. Hissing, I jerk back.
I know I’m bleeding. Can feel something wet and warm dousing the material of my t-shirt beneath. It hurts like a son of a bitch.
“I enjoy watching you bleed.” She’s smug. Confident in her abilities.
I exhale out all her bullshit and posturing. I won’t let her distract me in hopes that I make a mistake. A slip I won’t repeat.
The symphony in my head swells in response. Dark and compelling, it weaves a song through the fabric of my soul. Warmth flows through my cells, otherworldly, righteous.
As the two forces converge, instead of being repelled, I let them merge. Heady, potent.
Trukun’s cocksure attitude alters.
It’s as if she’s suddenly aware of the change.
With a quick lunge, she goes in for a killing blow.
Pivoting clear, I retaliate with one of my own. Metal cleaves through the tight bodice biting through skin. My blade tastes her blood on its honed edge for the first time.
A flicker of fear is unmistakable in the bitch’s beautiful eyes. Attacking, her efforts are met by my sword again. Slashing back and forth with a renewed vigour, I sense her desperation.
Agile movements fast and clear, I counter each one.
Letting this go on too long risks her wounding me in greater ways. What I need is a clean kill. That of course doesn’t mean I can’t make it painful.
“Where’s my brother?”
My question catches her off guard. “Don’t worry, you
’ll be joining him soon. He begged for his life. It was pathetic how he blubbered like a frightened child. Breaking him was easy.”
She’s trying to get a rise out of me. Trying to regain the upper hand. The power balance has already shifted, and I refuse to let her have it back.
Circling each other again the sounds around me dim.
I see her gaze flick from mine to my weapon. In that instant she flies at me.
Before I can defend, I’m off my feet quickly. When my back hits the ground, I lay winded.
Body aching, bruised, and in pain I try to piece together what the fuck just happened.
I don’t get the time to see what brought me down. Trukun is above me. Expression deadly and intent, she crawls across. Her weight crushes me down in the compacted snow. Pressing the length of her body against mine, she pins me. Mouth smashing down on mine, she kisses me aggressively.
It’s not what I was expecting. Confusion sets off a chain reaction. As I gasp, her tongue finds its way inside. One hand cupping my jaw, her other squeezes my wrist still holding the sword.
The new sensation dampens the melody of death within my head. I find myself kissing her back.
Continuing her exploration, I feel as if I'm drowning, dragged under. When Trukun inhales, agony follows in its wake. Life force. Realization dawns quickly. The cunning succubus bitch is going to drink mine dry, leaving me an empty shell.
Struggling, I’m unable to get up.
I feel her smile stretch against my lips. Eyes drilling mercilessly into mine, I can see her enjoying the panic rushing through me, knowing that I am probably about to die.
Free hand groping numbly in the freezing snow to my right, I fumble for anything I can grab. Metal connects with my fingers. Clutching it, I swing it up. The side of the hammer cracks into the side of Trukun’s head.
She rears back in shock. It’s enough for me to bring up the sword I’m still gripping.
Without a word, I drive the sword into her yielding flesh. The sheer force I wield drives her backwards. Chasing her up, our roles are reversed. Twisting it, I ram it through her body as far as it will go.
Blood spills from the corners of her mouth. Nails clawing the length of the metal protruding from her chest, she struggles to draw in her next breath.
Observing her dispassionately, I view every aspect of her suffering. Each shudder and nuance of anguish rippling over the muscles in her beautiful face. I see the moment of defeat. The second death inevitably wins. Lips trembling one last time, they go slack. It’s the eyes that always fascinate me the most in these situations. How they lose that spark of animation. Dim to something lifeless and dull.
Trukun fades quickly, staring sightlessly up into the grey bright sky.
Using a knee, I rest it on her carcass, freeing the bloodied sword with a relish I can’t deny. The victory is mine.
I’m fucking untouchable. A force to be reckoned with. Demons scurry from my path. Without pity, I cut them down.
The battle field is a sight of carnage. Snow no longer pure and white. It’s heavily soaked through in a sea of deep beautiful red. Limbs and bodies lay scattered and trampled in the frenzy. Fatalities on both sides. I can hear the wails of the wounded and dying. Forms laying unnaturally still at odd angles in the aftermath of gore.
With their leader now dead, many turn to run or surrender, knowing they have nothing longer to fuel them.
I look towards Lucifer and for a second see his demonic eyes shining with pride and something else when he catches my stare. Something tender.
Six berserkers are engaged in battling him. Their impressive muscular frames bathed in sweat as they cleave the air with their axes. In a fury of blades, Lucifer cuts them down one by one.
“Mavi, your brother.” Leo’s voice warns. It’s a mistake. Telekinetic concentration broken, he takes a blow that sends him off his feet. Gabriel is defending his unconscious form before I can blink.
Surveying the heaving throng, I see the meaning to Leo’s words.
Nathan.
He’s alive. Unhurt and appearing out of nowhere, moving with the angel blade in his hand.
The one Trukun had wielded.
Red eyes. Unholy, burning intently with rage, they’re directed at the Devil.
My feet move instantly. Arms pumping, I dash across the distance with only one aim in mind. Protect the one I love.
Chest heaving with exertion, I leap to intercept, throwing myself without another thought between them as the Devil turns to meet him.
For a split second I feel nothing but the warmth of something wet spilling from my neck. Pain kicks in so hard I have no time to make a sound. The noise of flesh cleaving open as metal slices through veins and arteries fill my ears with the roaring sound of my own heart.
My vision blurs.
Enveloped in a blanket of numb, empty darkness, I fall.
Epilogue
Dark.
It’s so dark.
Numb. Everything is numb.
I sense a presence close by. Brimming on the edge of awareness.
Please don’t leave me alone. I’ll be a good girl, I promise.
Warmth washes through me.
“I won’t let you go.” The familiar voice soothes.
Safe. I’m safe.
He won’t let me slip away.
I know that. Heard his crooning tone before.
It always brings me comfort.
Chases away the silence that claws away at my sanity in this place of confinement.
He’s my light in the nothingness that cages me. My angel in the dark.
Instinct draws me closer.
Why can’t I feel him? I hunger for his arms to wrap around me, cradling and secure. I burn for his kisses. The feel of his possession as he claims me with his cock. Yet I have no substance to touch him with. No form to interact.
Flashes of fragmented memories burst, lighting the darkness in jagged painful sparks.
I remember my last breath. The way it had hissed from my cracked lips. A battlefield drenched in blood and agony.
I’m dead.
My body smashed and broken for love.
Head severed from its shoulders.
I gave him everything.
The ultimate sacrifice.
Made it without regret or guilt.
People like me don’t get happy endings.
I’ve known that all along.
“Mavi StClair, you must finish what we started.” There’s anger in his rough-edged words. “Death must be earned and I am far from ready to let him have you.”
He won’t leave me in peace.
I’m trapped.
My soul his prisoner.
And I know the Devil is far from done with me yet.
The Devil You Know Playlist
Wicked Games – The Hot Damns
Desire – Meg Myers
Sweet Dreams – Eurythmics
Get Jinxed – League of Legends
Wreak Havoc – Skylar Grey
Poison – Meg Myers
Tainted Love – Marilyn Manson
Heart of The Darkness – Sam Tinnesz
When the Truth Hunts You Down – Sam Tinnesz
Coming Soon
Mavi and the Devil will return in the second book in the series The Devil’s Plaything.
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About the Author
Claire Marta has a passion for writing and finally took the plunge and became published with her first book, Frostbite, Book One in The Hunter Chronicles.
She has always been a fan of everything paranormal, especially romance books.
A native Brit, she lives in Italy with her husband and daughter. When she is not writing, and drinking copious amounts of tea, she enjoys taking photos of he
r adoptive country, trying to stay fit with running, reading amazing books and being a stay at home mother.
[email protected]
Also by Claire Marta
The Hunter Chronicles Series
Frostbite (book one)
Dark Desires (book two)
Claimed by Magic (book three)
The Serpents Kiss (book four)
Twitch (book five)
Standalones
Coloring Under The Covers
