Voices of Hell

by Catherine Stovall

  Giovanni whispered through a sad smile, “So much like my, Caprice. She would have done just as you. Business and love were never the same for her. She could adore you and still put a knife to your throat.” Clearing his throat, he blinked away the tears in his eyes. “Sit, tell me of what must be done, I feel time is short.”

  “You are in pain. You must take your medicine. You must rest. We will find another way. I can’t allow this thing to take your life. I cannot let it take you from me,” Izzy pleaded, her eyes turning to Raf for help.

  “No!” Giovanni shook with frustration, fighting the weakness that threatened to consume his fragile body. “I have done terrible things, destroyed many lives. I’m a sinner with blood on his hands, and this will be my act of redemption. I may still burn in Hell, but I will do so knowing that my final act was to save the innocent.”

  The soft sounds of Aosoth weeping filled the silence as Izzy bowed her head in defeat. “We need your help.”

  Izzy and Raf spoke rapidly, sometimes interrupting each other and sometimes in unison until Giovanni and Aosoth understood the extent of the situation. The scale of the plan was impossible, the odds were against them, but the decision was made before the question had ever been asked.

  “It is my honor to extend my assistance.” Giovanni pulled a knife from his robe, a small harmless looking blade. “When I was welcomed into the family as a made man, I took an oath to serve my brethren. I swore to live and die by the knife and gun. I thought then, that it was the only loyalty I would ever give.”

  Pricking his trigger finger with the tip of the blade, he continued, “This ritual, to take blood from the finger that controls life or death and place it on the image of a saint, it made me family. I chose wrong.” He squeezed the blood from his finger onto the photograph of Caprice. “They said if I betrayed them, my blood would burn, and they lit the saint on fire.”

  Izzy watched as the man picked up the photograph of the only woman he had ever loved and held it over the low flame of a white candle. The symbolism was not lost on her. The tradition of his people ran bone deep.

  “I never considered, as I promised my uncertain loyalty to those of my blood, that they had pledged my soul to the service of Hell. It wasn’t until I took my place as their leader that I learned of the existence of demons and angels, and the mafia’s loyalty to the former.” Holding the picture so that the slight breeze carried the ashes out over the rooftops and the street below, Giovanni promised, “I revoke those vows, and I give my soul to God, his angel, and to you, Iyzebel. You will save us all.”

  By the time he let the final burning bit fall to the ground, his fingers had scorched from the heat, and the old man had weakened greatly. The spurt of energy had drained him until his eyes drooped. A choking sound followed his words, and his body shook with a deep, throaty cough. Pressing a white handkerchief to his mouth, he doubled over, hacking as if he might never catch his breath.

  Aosoth rubbed her hand on his back, drawing soothing circles as she whispered comforting words. Encouraging him to remain calm and to breathe through the attack in small breaths, her history with dying men providing the knowledge she needed. At last the fit faded, and when Giovani pulled the linen away from his mouth, dark blood glistened on his lips.

  We are a dying old man, a bubble gum chewing succubus, an Angel, and a demon who can’t control her hunger, Izzy thought. How in the name of the darkness will we ever win?

  As if he had read her mind, Rafael spoke at last, “We thank you, Giovanni, for what you have given us. We are not a legion of angels or demons, we are not an army, but we are on the side of God. With faith and diligence, we can win this war.”

  Aosoth looked doubtful, her small hands wringing together. “I don’t have anything quite so inspiring to say, but I’m with you. Iyzebel has been the only friend I have had since I was forced into the change, and I will follow her.”

  “Thank you. All of you, but how will we get to Capone?” Izzy felt their strength rallying her own, and the lust of battle nibbled at her with sharp teeth.

  Giovanni smiled, though he was barely able to form the words, “My father left me with two pieces of wisdom, dear girl. ‘God will provide, but you must provide till he does’ and ‘When you hunt, let the game come to you.’ It is by these words, you will find your victory.”

  Another fit took the elderly man, and a font of dark blood flowed from his lips. Izzy felt panic, too much rode on his life and she wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her friend. Looking to Aosoth, she saw the same fear reflected in the woman’s face, so she turned to Rafael.

  The look on the angel’s face was strange to say the least. He looked as if his mind were a million miles away, even as his amber eyes focused on Giovanni. He walked with wooden and stiff movements, as if a puppeteer controlled the muscles. His hands reached out, the palms pressing against the old man’s chest, and just as he had done on the street, Raf spoke strange words.

  “I heal you. I give you absolution. You are washed of your sins and the blackness that eats at your lungs. I cannot reverse the years, I would not take them away when they have been so lovingly earned, but I free you from the rot of death.”

  Giovanni inhaled, sucking a deep breath into his fragile body, and Izzy watched as the most amazing changes occurred. The color returned to his cheeks, the trembling of his body ceased, and the flesh plumped. He was still an elderly man, his body to weak to support itself without the use of the chair, but the cancer that had been devouring him was gone. A gift, from the angel, had saved his life for at least a bit longer.

  For a long moment, no one spoke. Then Giovanni lifted his hand, studied the steadiness, and declared in a voice full of strength, “It is time to gather the good fellows. Ashley…I mean Aosoth, if you would please help me to my office.”

  “Of course.” The tenderness in her voice was real, and Izzy wondered if there wasn’t anyone that Giovanni couldn’t seduce into loving him.

  Alone on the balcony, the sun fully risen above the city, Raf sighed. “I’m tired already, Izzy. Being in this world, giving my life force to others, it weighs heavily. I need to rest, and so do you.”

  “How did you do that? How did you cure him? Is that what you did to the bum this morning as well?”

  “It’s not permanent, love. It won’t stop him from dying. He knows that, and you need to know it as well. Giovanni is going to pass on soon. I only took away the sickness, but his body is old and failing. Please do not ask more, it is not something I wish to discuss,” his serious tone stopped the flood of questions bubbling on her lips.

  Taking him by the hand, she led him inside to the spare bedroom that she had sometimes used when she’d taken refuge from Ash in Giovanni’s home. Though her passion for him could have kindled quickly, Izzy knew they both needed rest. As the preparations were being made to save the world, she laid her head on his chest and fell asleep to the beating of his heart and the comforting rhythm of his breathing.

  Chapter Twelve

  Three days, and he has not called, Izzy stared nervously at her cell phone. At first she had been relieved that Ashur had not tried to reach her, but that relief had turned into fear. He has to know something is up. He has to. Scrolling through her contacts, she thought about calling Ogwald. Would he know? Would he be willing to tell me? Is he really a friend? Or would he double-cross me to stay in Ashur’s good graces.

  Inside, she felt the familiar flame of hunger and disgust kindle.

  Hate. So much hate inside. It’s no wonder you still fight for control, demon. I feel you. Don’t think I don’t. You are never going to let go, but I won’t give you my spirit freely. Too many years now, we’ve danced this dance. Ashur’s biggest mistake was leaving me to suffer at the hands of those doctors. If they taught me anything in that forsaken place, it was to never fully give myself to anything. For as long as I am strong enough to resist, I am strong enough to survive.

  Laying the phone down, she turned her attention back to the large m
irror. Sweeping her hair up and pinning it to the top of her head, Izzy let the carefully created curls fall around her cheeks in disarray. Her image looked back at her, refined and beautiful, except for her eyes. The hunger danced in them, the demon clawing at the walls of her being with a fierce determination.

  As if her thoughts had called him to her side, Raf appeared in the open door. “How are you doing? Nervous?”

  Izzy smiled into the glass, watching him as he came up behind her. “A little, but I’m okay. Is everything ready?”

  Trailing his fingers up the back of her bare neck until she shivered, Raf kissed her cheek. “Yes, I believe so. We’ve prepared as much as we can. All the bosses who can be here will be arriving shortly. Giovanni has an incredible reach. Marcola of course will not be in attendance, but he assured Giovanni that his nephew Alejandro will be.”

  Izzy nodded, causing a curl to fall. As she struggled to replace the pin, she sighed, “That will be difficult. He is a kind man, despite his history and his ruthlessness. He considers many of these men his brothers, their families have loved and fought for many years as if they were truly blood. I have no doubt that he will hold to his oath, but it might kill him to watch these men die.”

  With deft fingers, Raf reached to help her. “I do not fear Giovanni’s betrayal.” Snapping his hand away from her hair, he yelped, “Ouch!”

  Laughing, Izzy turned to him, “You can wield a sword, great demon slayer, but you can’t manage a simple bobby p—”

  Some demons enjoyed drinking the blood of their victims before taking their soul. They did so as a way of strengthening the life force inside of them. Izzy had never, but in that moment, she wanted nothing more than to taste the blood of the angel. The smell and sight of the glistening drop forming at the tip of his finger hit her full force. Without warning, the demon raged forward, shredding her human composure.

  Leaping up from the chair, she buried her talons deep within Raf’s biceps and yanked him forward. Her sharp teeth snapped together, only missing his jugular by an inch as he jerked away.

  In one powerful swoop of his arm, Rafael knocked her away, his wings shooting outward in preparation of a battle he did not want. “Iyzebel, control it. Fight it,” he cried out as he watched the demon pick itself up off the floor and prepare to lunge again.

  “Iyzebel is gone, angel. The bond between us is strengthening. She is weak, and her love for you makes her weaker. Do you think you could really defeat a greater demon just by your presence?” Laughter rang out of her perfectly painted lips, but the voice was not hers. “You broke her spirit, Rafael. You are made to destroy our kind, and you did your job well with her.”

  “No!” Raf roared. “Iyzebel, I know you can hear me. You are stronger than this thing.”

  The demon put its hands up to it cheeks, batting Izzy’s lashes over milky black eyes as the thin silk robe she wore fell open to reveal her soft flesh. “Your pretty little play toy is screaming. I can hear her. She’s begging for you to kill her. Can you, angel? Can you kill this body to rid your beloved of my presence?” As it spoke the words, Izzy’s cheeks sharpened and jutted outward and the lips stretched wider, making the red lipstick appear like a hideous joke.

  “I can!” Enraged by the demon’s taunting and driven by his instinct to destroy the cursed, Rafael attacked.

  One thick hand wrapped around Izzy’s throat, and the other pinned her wrist to the wall above her head. As the demon snapped, snarled, and twisted to reach his throat, Raf used the weight of his body to pin it down. Shoving his knee between her legs and pressing his hips against hers, he leaned backward out of reach.

  His words sharp and pleading, he begged, “Iyzebel, don’t make me do this. If you die, then what has this all been for? Once the demons are destroyed, I will have still lost everything. Come back to me, Iyzebel. I don’t wish to watch you die.”

  The demon growled, “She’s weeping, angel. She wants to die.” Laughing with maniacal glee it tried to speak more, but Raf’s hand tightened until it choked and sputtered.

  He had no choice. If Izzy could not fight the demon and prevent it from completely bonding to her soul, then she was the enemy. No matter how much he loved her, she would die by his hand. Tears slipped down his cheeks, falling freely from his jaw, as he watched her face. Slowly, the demon’s struggles weakened and the blackness of its eyes lightened with tints of blue. His fingers ached from the pressure of squeezing away such a life, but Raf pressed harder, willing the end to come quickly.

  He could see his Iyzebel beneath the demon’s face, but he could not trust that she was really there. He could not release her in hopes it was not a ruse to gain his trust. The demon was crafty, a thing of pure evil that knew no honor and had no limits to its treachery. Until the body was dead, the spirit would be in control, and he could not risk another failure.

  The light in her eyes flared and her body went limp, Rafael could feel the pulse beneath his fingers stammering and weakening until it was barely there. “Goodbye, my sweet Iyzebel. I love you,” he whispered. His tears fell heavily as he struggled not to let go in the last moments. He could not spare the demon in hopes of saving the girl.

  Iyzebel’s head jerked up, sapphire eyes wide with panic and pain. Her perfect lips moved to speak, but his hand at her throat would not allow her the freedom to do so. Tears brimmed on her thick lashes and ran down smooth cheekbones, no longer stretched and pointed as they had been under the demon’s control.

  Raf fought the sight of her, weak and broken, refusing to fall for the demon’s tricks. His heart pleaded with him to see that the demon had slunk away in defeat, and his mind insisted that he must kill the woman he loved. Even her frantic gasps and feeble attempts to struggle could not convince him that it was not the creature attempting to fool him

  When he did not let go, her head fell again, a single tear trickling from her face to his hand as if in slow motion. The impact of the salty plea hit him like a lightning bolt striking full force in his chest, throwing him backward. Landing with his wings crumbled beneath his body, his head screaming with throbbing pain, Raf felt the divine hand of Heaven lay down upon his chest.

  Knowing that it was by the grace of God that his hand had been staid, Rafael murmured a silent pray of thanks as he crawled to where Izzy lay. Gathering her in his arms, he wept openly, forcing the power of healing in warm waves through her body. Her demon strength would help her to heal, and his power would quicken the process.

  Slowly her pulse evened, her breaths deepened, and her eyelashes fluttered open. “Rafael?”

  The look of confusion and pain on her face was almost too much for him to take. “Oh, Izzy. Iyzebel, my love. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know if you’d come back. The demon had so much control.” He pulled her against his chest, covering her face with rapid kisses as he murmured apologies and the sincerity of his love. “If He had not stopped me…. Oh, Izzy. I almost killed you.”

  Though she feared him, feared the demon slayer that he could so quickly become, she felt love for the angel. She couldn’t deny that her heart had somehow become his. In a haze of darkness, she had looked through the demon’s eyes and watched him weep as he meant to save her from the curse of her existence. In the intention of death, she’d seen the heartbreak he suffered, and she had loved him for the sacrifice he had been willing to make.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered. “It’s okay. Everything is okay. You did the right thing.”

  Pulling his face away from hers, he desperately searched it for the truth. “Do you, Iyzebel? Say you really do. Tell me once more. Do you truly love me? Do you forgive me for what I am?”

  Her hand cupped his cheek, “I love you for what you are, just as you love me for what I am. The demon hates you, wants to destroy you. The woman wants to drown in your beauty and your strength. That war between the angels and the Fallen is old, but our love is stronger.”

  “You are strong, my beloved. You are stronger than I could ever be
. When the time comes, you will use your demon, instead of him using you. You will defeat him by making him your slave.”

  “If that day ever comes, it will be because of your love that I find the strength.”

  Smiling, he kissed her once more and lifted her from the ground. The promise of pleasure hung in his voice as he growled into her neck, “I’m going to show you how much I love you, little demon, as soon as we are done dealing with tonight’s guests.”

  Izzy tossed her hair back, what was left of her once perfect curls falling free down his arm, and laughed with a sincere happiness. “I can’t wait.”

  Setting her down before the mirror once more, Raf stood behind her, their eyes meeting in the reflections.

  “It is nearing time, love. You should dress now.” His fingers traced the fading bruises and lines that marred her lovely skin. “These will heal before the hour ends. I’m sorry, Izzy. I swear, I thought you were gone.”

  She grabbed his hand and pressed it to her cheek, leaning the weight of her head against his palm. “All is forgiven, Rafael. You only did what you must. I don’t believe there would have been any other way.”

  He kissed the top of her head, hating to let her go. The picture they made together in the mirror was a solemn one—an angel with ivory wings, a demon with cobalt eyes, two lovers determined to silence the war that waged inside of them both.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The incredible transformation from unused and desolate isolation to brightly lit and decorated social haven snapped her to full attention as Izzy entered the formal dining room. Humans rummaged through boxes everywhere, laying out white table cloths and gold rimmed fine china. Crystal glasses gleamed and red linen napkins were being folded into swans, the sound of Vivaldi played overhead, and the smell of fine cuisine wafted out from the seldom used caterer kitchen. In the middle of it all, Rafael and Giovanni, laughed and chatted like true gentleman.