Destroyed by Onyx (A Dance with Destiny Book 4)

by JK Ensley

  How is it she came to be here unaccompanied? A creature as rare as she… you would think Michael himself would meet her here, happily escorting her away from me, forever.

  Apollyon was lost in thought when he beheld amethyst locks pass through the edge of his vision.

  Ahriman? What’s he doing here? Never have I seen him escorting. We must be gaining a rare soul indeed for him to venture within the Nether. Perhaps he has finally obeyed my commands and slain the vile Guardian witch, Valencia. Good. I want to witness her mournful journey through this place. I want to see the look on her face as she draws the last sweet breath she will ever know before I receive her within my realm. We have much to discuss, she and I.

  He followed the same path his soul-eating general had taken; almost giddy with the thought of avenging his torment upon one as fair as a Vanir… especially this particular Vanir.

  Where is he going? What in the Underworld does he think—

  Apollyon stopped short when he realized Ahriman wasn’t here to greet anyone. He was simply using the Nether to access another realm, a realm he had no business entering.

  I told him not to return until he had found Jenevier’s betrayer. Until he could bring me the rotten soul residing within Valencia’s lovely vessel. Why would he be going to Sheol, of all places? Valencia is neither Angel nor Nephilim. She wouldn’t be granted access to that accursed place.

  *****

  Ahriman entered Sheol, unaware his presence had been noted by anyone other than the waiting fallen-one who had summoned him, Shamsiel.

  He grabbed Ahriman’s shoulder as the soul-eater passed by the once mighty Angel. “Where is she? And do not lie. I felt her presence. I saw her colorless, trembling form. Why do you not escort her to me?”

  Ahriman stared at him, puzzled. “Who do you speak of? Jenevier?”

  “Of course that’s who I speak of,” Shamsiel snapped. “Have I ever spoken to you of anyone else?”

  The furrow in Ahriman’s brow deepened. “I caught up with her upon the fifth layer, planted my dark gift deep within her. Yet, she lives. How is it you say you felt her? With whose eyes did you look upon her?”

  “I felt her soul trembling not far from the same spot where you just entered this realm. She was minus her golden curls, but there’s no mistaking. She was there, the Angel whom I desire.”

  “Oh, but you are mistaken,” Ahriman said. “If she were dead, I would know it. If that sweet Angel parted from the realm of the living, the tiny sliver of a heart she gifted me would burst to flames within my chest.”

  Shamsiel snarled threateningly. “Did you touch her, soul-eater? Did you lay your filthy little hands upon mine Angel?”

  Ahriman matched his jealous rage. “I have touched her every chance I could. From the moment she strolled into hell, have I touched her. Do not think your worthless threats will stop me. There’s not a creature in existence that could stay my hand when I am near my blessed little Angel. She is the only woman I would never force. Yet, I will know her, just the same. I am her friend. She trusts me. Nay, she loves me. Upon meeting, she freely confessed her physical desire for me. Neither of our hearts have changed in that regard. There is an undeniable pull between us that mere words could never adequately justify. It may be dark, it may be forbidden, but it’s there… alive and irrefutable.”

  Someone noisily cleared their throat. Ahriman spun back toward the Nether… and saw him.

  Apollyon was leaning against the stone wall marking the entrance to Sheol. Arms lazily crossed over his chest, he was casually staring at the perfect fingernails on his right hand.

  When the conspiring Angels couldn’t find their tongues, the Prince of Hell glanced their way.

  “How very interesting,” Apollyon said. “I didn’t know you two were so close. I had no idea. I feel slighted, Brothers. Was my invitation to your little tea party lost in transit? I can understand. It seems that lately important messages have the most damnable time making their way to and from hell. Or perhaps your secret little chitchat was never meant for my ears.”

  “My Liege.” Ahriman regained his composure and began speaking as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “I haven’t had the pleasure of taking the she-Guardian’s life. Yet I did happen upon your beloved. It seems a jealous Elf tried to steal her magic, leaving Jenevier as but a pale shadow in the process.” He dutifully crossed his fist over his chest and bowed low.

  “Is that so?” Apollyon strode purposefully toward the lying dark Angel. “Did you happen to forget who I am, good Ahriman? Has your extended absence from my side caused your mind to deceive you?”

  “No, Sire. Of course not.”

  Apollyon raised one sapphire brow. “Then how is it you presume to bear false tongue to the Chief of Liars?”

  “But, Sire, I speak only the truth. Jenevier roams about the layers, minus her color and her mind. The treasured mother of your glorious sons is but—”

  “I have only one son,” Apollyon interrupted him. “That sapphire Blessing of hers is not of me. Nay, he’s not even of her.”

  “Yet he is for her.”

  Shamsiel’s cutting words earned him a vicious glare from the wickedly beautiful Prince of Hell.

  “Sire, he is no longer her Blessing,” Ahriman said. “He no longer stands by her side. I heard her unbind him with mine own ears.”

  Apollyon ignored the soul-eater as he took another step toward the auburn-crowned fallen Angel of Sheol.

  “Tell me, good Shamsiel. How is it you come to know of my enchanting wife, mother of my precious son? What business do you have with them?”

  “Apologies, oh mighty one,” Shamsiel said mockingly. “I had heard she was no longer your wife. I suppose the rumors about Father withdrawing the very manacles He had once bestowed Himself must have been nothing more than idle tongues. They’re the devil’s workshop, you know—idle tongues.”

  Apollyon gracefully ignored the blatant smirk upon the fallen Angel’s lips and turned toward his right-hand warrior. “I did not accuse you of bearing false tongue concerning my… Anicee.” He cut a fierce glare toward Shamsiel and then casually looked back to Ahriman. “I was speaking of Valencia. You may not have taken the pleasure of ending her life. Yet I see clearly within you. You have taken pleasure with her, much pleasure. Your magical eyes still sparkle with the memory of her exquisite screams, while you pleasured her.”

  Ahriman felt the weight of his Prince’s smoldering wrath and wisely held his tongue.

  “Tell me, Prince Apollyon.” Shamsiel couldn’t let go of his insatiable curiosity concerning Jenevier. “I am startled at your use of the term. Anicee is of the ancient tongue. There was no more powerful word to describe a blessed soul-mate.”

  “Do you seek to give me lessons, good Shamsiel?” Flames leapt in Apollyon’s breathtaking eyes. “Forget not. I am the ancient. I spoke the words before your pitiful form was even given breath.”

  “Yes,” Shamsiel continued. “You are indeed ancient. Let us see if you are as wise as your many years would suggest, mighty Prince. Tell me. How can light blend with darkness and remain light? How can you still believe your soul capable of truly bonding with one such as hers? It was but a fleeting dream, Brother. One which Father used to torture you. How can you not see that? How can you live since before time even was… and not see the truth of your torment?”

  “Please, dear Shamsiel, continue to enlighten me on the trials of my heart,” Apollyon said. “You seem so well versed with my plight, little brother. Do go on. I am fascinated to know exactly how it will all end. I was unaware of your exquisite omnipotence. How very lucky for you.” The darkest of Princes winked at the fallen Angel of light before turning back to Ahriman. “You are sorely mistaken, tiny little soul-eater. She has not the power to unbind her Daichi. Father made him especially for her. She can no longer live without him. No matter her talents, she has not the power to release him from his only purpose.”

  Shamsiel snorted out a laugh. “Then how can on
e, even one as beautiful as you, dear Prince, ever hope to compete or compare with an Angel crafted by Father to ultimately complete her?” He held Apollyon’s glare and didn’t back down.

  Ahriman kept his head bowed as he spoke. “Sire? How is it Princess Jenevier came to be in the Nether?”

  “If you were out doing as I had commanded, perhaps you might hold the needed answer,” he hissed.

  “I saw her on Val Hal, yes,” Ahriman continued. “She was minus her glory and most of her memory, but nowhere near death. She kept company with the Vikings and Celts. One of them even loved her, of course.” He mumbled that last part. “She was tracked down there by her Guardians and her sapphire twins.”

  Shamsiel chuckled. “So, her son is blue like his father, and her Blessing the mirror image? Could this possibly get any better?”

  “Tenshi looks like his father, our Prince,” Ahriman continued. “Yet his eyes are the color of polished steel reflecting the sun.”

  “Why do you speak to this Sheol dweller of my family?” Apollyon asked the soul-eater. “Of what concern is my son or my Anicee to him?”

  Shamsiel ignored Apollyon’s questions and continued pressing the rattled, silver-eyed Angel. “And you say her Blessing looks the same as well? Glorious steel eyes and all?” He laughed mockingly. “So, she gets the best of both worlds, doesn’t she now? Your Anicee can bed your likeness anytime she chooses. Yet he is light and love and heaven. Why would she ever choose to be embraced by night and fire and hell?”

  “Ah, you are so blind,” Apollyon said, chuckling. “How is it you are Angel yet you cannot see past the flesh? That was your downfall, good Shamsiel, was it not? Yes, and it continues to be your greatest weakness. My eternity is set, as is yours, Brother. Not so with my lovely Jenevier. I surrendered any hope of being with her so that I could ensure her freedom from Shabriri’s vile torture. I willingly gave up everything, just to see her safe and happy. That is what her Daichi now ensures. How could I be jealous of a creature made solely to guarantee her eternal happiness? It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted—her happiness.” He turned then to his silver-eyed warrior. “Ahriman, I know not what you and this cursed father of a wretched Nephilim are plotting. But I do know the Archs are wise to you if it is concerning Jenevier. When I held my beloved in my arms, I could smell Raphael’s disgustingly sweet scent upon her hair. He favors her, that one. And she spoke of Uriel as well.” His eyes danced when Shamsiel blanched at the name of his former commander. “She knew nothing of Angels when we parted. Begged knowledge of them, she did. I rightfully warned her away from such creatures. Yet, now she walks with the greatest among them. Mind your deceitful steps, little brothers. She has gained powerful allies. Ones who could lay you both low.”

  Ahriman’s voice was only slightly louder than a whisper. “Munenori helped Daichi and the Guardians. He was there with them on Val Hal.”

  “Munenori is of no consequence,” Apollyon said. “She is now the Empress of Jinn, is she not? He is but her mentor and sensei. Nothing more than her Senpai, I’m certain. It is his realm, after all, thus his duty to train and protect her.”

  Shamsiel snickered. “And forget not—he is one of the few Angels allowed to strengthen races. Mmm… What I wouldn’t give for a talent such as that. What a lucky little creature he is. And quite good at his job, from what I hear.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Ahriman hissed, obvious jealousy dripping from his words. “What do you accuse my Princess of?”

  “Oh nothing, perhaps,” Shamsiel said with a sneer. “Just curious, that’s all. But… I can’t help but wonder if her next son will have raven locks and magical purple eyes.”

  “Ahriman,” Apollyon snapped. “You have your orders, none of which require you to enter Sheol. See to them. Or find yourself bound to a place I promise you will not like. Actually, I will make damn sure of it, personally.”

  *****

  The rare amethyst soul-eater held his breath until he had safely exited Sheol. He had no intention of returning there, ever again.

  Ahriman may be dark and ruthless and evil, yet he was no idiot—hell bent on self-obliteration.

  Now, he was on a new mission. On his way to check up on the happenings of his dark Prince’s sweet Anicee… and the Archs now surrounding her.

  I won’t let them have her back. I refuse. She will be mine. And there’s no escaping that delicious little truth, not for any of them, he thought, as he spread his wings and took flight.

  *****

  Apollyon’s sapphire eyes blazed with the fire of the Underworld as he kept his gaze locked with Shamsiel’s.

  “Does her look remind you of that daughter of a whore you fell for?” he taunted the other Angel.

  Shamsiel did not answer.

  “Be that as it may,” Apollyon continued. “You will never touch her and you will only ever look upon her through my eyes.”

  “And just how can you be so sure of that?” Shamsiel asked, goadingly. “You killed her beloved Guardian… with your own blade, before her very eyes. Her darling Varick, the one she loved as truly as she once loved you. How can you deny it? She used all her power to try and take his place, appearing before your blade with no thought for herself. Complete and total sacrifice—now that’s the true definition of love… selflessness. And forget not, Prince Apollyon. It’s a fine line between love and hate, a very… fine… line.” The fallen Angel smiled with but one corner of his mouth. “You not only crossed it, Brother, you trampled upon it, mercilessly so. Can you still feel it? Do you yet see it when you close your eyes? The biting ice in those magical pink eyes of hers… Now that was hate, pure and simple and bitter cold. I mean, she bound you to the gates of hell, for goodness sake. Then sliced open your perfect chest to reclaim her likeness, the only treasure you have ever desired. You have the power to claim any treasure upon any realm. Yet, the one thing you truly desire, you will never see again.” He shook his head. “No. I believe I will no longer be looking upon that rare little Angel through your eyes. Those are the sapphires she now hates.”

  “If you could see her in my arms, then you would know the lie you now speak. She is my Anicee, always. She came back to me. And when I kissed her, I healed her. If you were watching, you cannot deny the affect I still have upon her.”

  “And she upon you,” Shamsiel said with a smirk.

  Apollyon smiled. “Yes. I have never denied what that precious Angel does to me. How she makes me feel, the things she causes me to do without thought. She owns me, the whole of me. And I will never regret our amazing love. That little curl-covered fireball brings out the only good in me. Remember that, Shamsiel. I am only ever good with her.” He moved closer, erasing the last few inches separating them. “The horrors you have heard about, the ones whispering all the wicked deeds of my hands… if you touch her or harm her in any way, those same dark deeds will seem as fond fairytales. What I will do to you, the half has not yet been told, Brother. Shabriri himself will count his lucky stars he wasn’t handled as you will be.”

  The fallen right hand of the mighty Uriel remained silent. Shamsiel’s tongue lay dormant, frozen behind his clenched teeth. Never was Apollyon quite so terrifyingly glorious as he was when his mind toyed with thoughts of exquisitely demented torture.

  The Prince of Hell strode out of Sheol, leaving the fallen-one trembling as a child, and set his mind upon a proper punishment for his deceitful little right-hand warrior.

  “Ahriman is getting too big for his wings,” he mumbled coolly. “Perhaps it’s past time they were clipped.”

  Chapter 37

  Jenevier

  (ZHEN-ah-veer)

  Her breathing was heavy, labored. The on-again off-again thing going on with her vision was making her dizzy, wreaking havoc on her equilibrium.

  “Stay where you are,” she cried. Another flash of sight. “I said stay!” Two more nauseating images flicker by. “I do not wish to kill you, but I have no problem spilling your blood if you come any close
r. Step back now and stay away from me.”

  Several strobing pictures later, the blobs remained as they were.

  “Heed what I say! I can’t see you clearly and I cannot understand your words at all. If you know me, if you count me as friend, if you mean me no harm, then please, step back.” She waited for three more snippets of blurry vision before she continued. “If you do not, then I will know you have ill intentions concerning me. I won’t hesitate and I will not mourn your death, for you will have brought it upon your own head.”

  With the next revealing flash, the blurry figures were smaller, and then smaller still. With seven more pieces of the coming picture, they were as far away as the wall would let them go.

  They are friends, she thought. Good. Then they should understand why I cannot stay here like this. If they truly know me, they will understand.

  Amatiste continued to spread its vibrant purple glow across the room. She kept a firm grasp upon the sword’s hilt. Her betraying gaze remained locked on the unrecognized trio as she slowly bent down, feeling around for Iole Máni. Seizing her precious dagger, Jenevier took two steps back before she felt the doorknob against her spine. The cold metal bit her tingling flesh. Looking down, it took three more flashes for her to clearly see that her dress was destroyed… and bloodied.

  “Did you do this to me?” Her words brought no ascertainable response from the blurry blobs. Her voice pierced through the silence with the repeated cry. “Did you do this to me?”

  She could hear them mumbling now. One shadow began moving toward her. One flash, he was advancing. The second flash put him almost half way there. She didn’t wait for the third. With the pommel up and the blade steadied against the length of her forearm, Jenevier lunged for the advancing stranger, spinning Amatiste in a flurry of strobing snap-shots. One picture revealed deep red droplets hanging silently in midair… the next they were gone.