Hellsbane Hereafter (Entangled Select Otherworld)

by Paige Cuccaro

  I looked away, tears burning at the back of my eyes. When I had them under control, I looked back. “I’m not leaving you, Eli. You don’t belong with them. I’m not leaving until I can figure out a way to get you back where you belong.”

  “Emma Jane.”

  My cell phone rang, but it was muffled and coming from somewhere other than my bedroom. I remembered I’d left it in my skirt pocket and was glad for the excuse to retrieve it, effectively ending the discussion.

  “Hello?”

  “Ms. Hellsbane,” Abram whispered on the other end. “They’ve got us surrounded. I think…I think they killed Señor Patron.”

  “Who?”

  “The gardener, the damned gardener.” Abram’s voice sounded tight, panicked. “He gave me a ride, and I think he’s dead. He’s…he’s…oh God, I don’t know what he is.”

  I remembered the demon gardener and imagined what Abram must be seeing, the pile of smoldering black goo that a dead demon degenerated into before vanishing completely. “Who killed him? Where are you?”

  “At the radio station on campus. They were interviewing me and…and all hell broke loose. You have to get here quick. You have to help. Please!”

  “Okay. Just stay down. I’ll be—” There was sudden silence on the other end, and I figured I’d lost the connection. “Abram? Hello? Hello?” I looked at the phone to confirm my suspicion.

  “What is it?”

  I turned to see Eli had followed me into the bathroom. “Something’s going on with Abram. I’ve gotta go.”

  “Jukar just summoned me. Will you be all right?” Eli had used their mental connection, and it still bugged me that he allowed the fallen archangel into his head. Not that I was sure Eli could keep Jukar out even if he wanted to.

  “Yeah. If I need help, I’ll yell. Literally.” I grabbed a hair tie from the back of the sink and pulled my hair into a quick ponytail.

  Eli took advantage of my occupied hands and stepped close to steal a quick kiss. The sweet scent of a summer rain wafted around me. I loved how his scent changed subtly with his mood, but I knew the rain wasn’t a good sign. He pulled back a few inches. “We will continue our conversation later.”

  I smiled at him. “Right.”

  He traced a finger down the side of my face, brushed my bottom lip with his thumb, then turned and left me standing in my bathroom, an icy dread running down my spine.

  I used the internet on my phone to figure out the University of Pittsburgh’s radio station was on the fourth floor of the student union building. After throwing on clean undergarments, jeans, and my black Doctor Who T-shirt, I teleported from my bedroom to the radio station lobby. It’d been easy to get there. Too easy.

  “Abram?” I called out, heart pounding like a machine gun, my hair still damp, my hand flexing, ready to draw my sword.

  “Can I help you?”

  My attention shifted to the girl sitting behind the reception desk. She stared at me like she thought I might need some sort of mental evaluation. Lucky for me, I was used to that look.

  As quickly as I could manage, I reevaluated the situation. The place was pretty much what I’d expected from a college radio station. Old carpeting lay over the floor, exposed soundproofing hung on the walls, and water-stained tiles covered the ceiling. Band posters decorated the walls, framed certificates of operation, a few awards, and old vinyl records, too. Top forty played over the speakers, while a couple in the next room paused mid-conversation to stare at me through the open doorway.

  The scene didn’t scream all hell’s breaking out the way Abram’s panicked phone call had made it sound. I cleared my throat, dialed back my warrior charge. “Yeah. Hi. Um, I’m Emma Hellsbane.”

  “I’m Caily. What can I do for you?” I could tell she was struggling to hold a cordial smile.

  “I’m looking for Abram Marino. He asked me to meet him here. Short, ginger-haired dude. Kinda on the melodramatic side.”

  Caily pointed to the right. “He’s in the sound room. Down the hall. Last door.”

  “Thanks.” I spun on my heel and marched down the narrow passage, windowed rooms on either side.

  “If the on-air light is lit, you can’t go in,” she said, and I waved my hand over my shoulder to let her know I got it.

  I glanced into the rooms as I passed. A long conference table and boxes of wire and junk in each corner filled the first. On the other side of the hall I noted the soundboard and a microphone on one of those long swing arms I could see through the window. One wall held floor-to-ceiling shelves with hundreds of CDs and tapes, and in the corners stood boxes of wires and random radio-type stuff.

  I glanced ahead, peering into the next room through a windowed wall it shared with the room beyond, the last room, where Abram sat. Judging by what little I knew about radio stations, I figured the end room with Abram was the on-air room with two tables set side by side, a chair for each facing the other, and mics stretched across a dual soundboard. Soundproofing that looked like gray egg cartons glued together lined the walls, and a long, floor-to-ceiling shelf held more CDs and tapes.

  Abram spotted me through the shared window between the two rooms and leapt to his feet, going for the door before I’d taken another step. He jerked the windowed door open just as I reached it. He still wore that god-awful ring. Dammit. What was taking Mihir so long to get back to me?

  “Finally,” Abram said. “I thought you were supposed to be fast.”

  “You called me like eight minutes ago,” I said, a little insulted. “I live forty-five minutes away, and I had to get dressed first.”

  “Whatever. I need you to get me out of here. The place is surrounded.”

  “By what? I didn’t see anyone.” I glanced back the way I’d come just to be sure.

  “Seriously? You didn’t see them? There’re angels everywhere, and they want to kill me.”

  “Hey!”

  Abram and I both jumped a foot and turned to look at the skinny, flannel-wearing guy sitting on the far side of the mutual desk. I hadn’t noticed the headphones or the mic hanging three inches from his mouth when I’d looked in before. The guy was clearly not happy with us. He pointed to the glowing on-air light above the door. “See that? Do I need to draw you a picture?”

  “Sorry.” I cringed.

  “Yeah, all right,” he said into the mic, putting an easy laugh into his tone. “We don’t do crazy for the listeners for another few hours, right folks?”

  I laughed, embarrassed. “Right. I get it. ’Cause we must sound like total loons over the radio. That’s funny.”

  Ugh. I could hear the moron seeping out of my mouth but couldn’t seem to stop the leak.

  “Close the door,” he said, any hint of humor gone from his tone.

  “Oh.” I’m an idiot. “Right.” Shoot me, please.

  Abram pulled the door behind him, shuffling forward as I shuffled backward out of the way. The click of the latch snapped me out of the weird stage fright. Who knew being on the radio would wig me out so much?

  “You okay?” Abram asked.

  I cleared my throat and straightened. “Yeah. What? I’m fine.”

  He looked at me sideways. “Good. Can we go?”

  I shrugged. “Whenever.”

  He shook his head and started down the hall. I followed, still not sure why I was there, throwing a wave to Caily behind the reception desk as I passed.

  In the outer hall Abram stopped and let me take the lead. I jabbed the elevator call button.

  “Hey. Are you crazy? We can’t take the elevator,” Abram said. “We get to the bottom and those doors open, we’d be sitting ducks.”

  “For whom?”

  “I told you. Angels. Can’t you feel them?” When I didn’t answer, he sighed. “I thought you were supposed to be some super powerful, supernatural protector. How can you protect me if you can’t even feel them?”

  “Who told you that?” Someone had totally blown my cover with the kid. Who? Or more importantly, why? />
  “The angels who visit me. The one who told me you’d come to protect me. When I found out you were just a chick, I got worried. He told me you were supposed to be some kind of supernatural badass.”

  Is it wrong that I liked that description?

  “So why can’t you feel the angels?” he asked.

  I looked away. It was a good question. If I’d been truly gibborim, my mark would turn to ice, freezing straight through skin and bone to warn me if a seraph was near. As an illorum, the Fallen would trigger the warning alarm, making my mark burn like a hot iron against my skin. But I wasn’t illorum anymore, and I’d never really become a gibborim. I was somewhere in between, numb to both good and evil. I was useless.

  “Listen, kid. There was no one in the lobby or outside the building when I came in.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You’ll be fine. Why would angels be after you, anyway?”

  I knew why. But did he? Did he know the angels he’d befriended were Fallen? I had a feeling the kid knew a lot more than he let on.

  “How should I know?” He scrubbed a hand through his hair and scratched his head. “Maybe they’re pissed that the other angels are talking to me.”

  “Right.”

  “Were you even looking for them when you came up?”

  No. Since the day I’d picked up Tommy’s sword and become an illorum, I’d honed my instinct to be alert for Fallen and their demon minions. It never occurred to me to search for seraphim. Some protector I turned out to be.

  I hadn’t felt a thing—hadn’t sensed anything supernatural. Could I have missed my old allies lying in wait for Jukar’s son? Maybe. If they’d stayed back just to lure me in. But why? I wasn’t sure. No one was supposed to even know about Abram except Michael, although bragging about visits from angels on his internet videos might have drawn some attention. Were the seraphim just curious, like Dan’s magister, Ham? Or was there something more going on?

  “Fine. We’ll take the stairs. Stay behind me, but watch your back.” I slammed my weight into the steel door’s long metal lever, shoving it open, the loud bang of the heavy-duty latch echoing off the cement block walls of the stairwell. We were only four flights up, and at each landing, tall windows opened onto the multi-level rooftop of the student union. The city campus lay beyond the rooftop in a wash of summer sun. My senses strained, trying to pick up on the slightest ripple that might warn me a seraph was near. But I couldn’t feel anything, not even a cool breeze.

  We’d picked up speed by the time we turned to jog down to the third floor landing. So when I glanced ahead and met the hard white eyes of an angel, it took all the strength and agility I possessed to stop. Abram bumped into me before he could stop himself, but somehow I managed to keep us both on our feet.

  “What do you want?” I asked the tall, golden-haired angel below, my hand already finding the hilt of my sword at my back.

  The angel crossed his hand to his opposite hip and drew his sword. A smile that looked more ferocious than happy curved his mouth and made his eyes blaze. “The demi-arch. I’d hoped such an abomination would not be suffered to live. Father knows how you still stand before me.”

  I shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.”

  “Move aside. I have no interest in you, except to end your traitorous soul if given the smallest excuse.”

  “Wow. That’s harsh.”

  His creepy gaze shifted past me to Abram, his hands longer than a normal man’s, face a little too oval, hair glittering down to the curve of his hips. He wore the familiar white Gi-style karate uniform seraphim warriors wore, and the blade of his sword glowed with power.

  His attention shifted back to me. “You should show a seraph more respect, female.”

  Yeah, I kind of thought the same thing, but I had that moron-seepage problem. There oughta be a pill for that.

  “Get me out of here, Ms. Hellsbane.” Abram tried to whisper and failed miserably.

  “No,” the angel said. “You will come with me, son of perdition.”

  Aw, hell. They knew who he was. Someone must be playing double agent. I mean, besides me.

  “Who? Me? I’m not…” Abram swallowed his denial, his voice a little higher than normal. “What do you want with me?”

  “Don’t be frightened.” Golden boy held out his free hand, his voice softening. “You will feel no pain.”

  “Um, that’s not exactly a promise of safety. You seraphim are big on telling people what you won’t do just to avoid telling them what you will.” I edged to the side, putting more of myself between Abram and the angel, my blade solid and ready in my hand. “The kid’s staying with me.”

  The bright, shiny angel flashed that hungry smile again. “I hoped you’d say that.”

  Faster than anything had a right to move, the powerful angel attacked. His blade slammed into mine, driving me to the floor and knocking the air out of my lungs. The hard edge of the step punched into my spine, and the pain jolted through my body. He loomed over me, big and menacing, his feet straddling my sprawled legs.

  He shifted his weight to swing at me again, and there wasn’t enough time or space to get my sword up to block. His blade sliced in a low arch, and at the last instant, I rolled to the side. The metal dug a trench in the step where my neck had been, a quick spray of sparks singeing my flesh. I had less than a heartbeat while he readjusted his weight, re-aiming his swing before my neck would be at risk again. I used that instant to teleport between his legs to the landing below.

  No matter. He’d seen me move, tracked my slow pace compared to his own, and turned to meet me when I stopped. The big angel swung his blade, anticipating where my throat would be even before my body had stopped moving. I jerked back, too stunned to do anything more. It wasn’t enough.

  The heavenly sharp tip traced along my flesh, cutting so fast it felt more like the swipe of a sewing needle. But I knew if I’d felt it at all, the wound could be fatal. I staggered back, my hand going to my neck.

  Blood wet my palm, my racing heart pumping the vital fluid faster and faster through the clean, thin wound. The golden-haired angel stared at me, brows high in surprise. “You’re faster than I imagined. Interesting.”

  “Lucky me.” My voice came as a rough croak, my throat burning. Too many memories of heads lolling off shoulders flashed through my mind, the victims seemingly unaware of how badly they’d been injured up until the very last minute. Was that me? Was I already dead and just didn’t know it yet?

  A loud bang made us both look up to the landing above where Abram stood, opening the window, giving the heavy pane a final hard shove and pushing it up over his head. A warm breeze filled the stairwell, pressing his slacks and dress shirt to his body, making the ends of his reddish-blond hair flutter. He glanced over his shoulder at us, eyes wide, face pasty white, then he turned and jumped.

  It was less than three stories from the window down to the roof of the student union lobby. I couldn’t be sure he’d landed well. Didn’t know if he’d find a way off the roof, find a way to escape. The angel looked back at me, indecision warring in his eerie white eyes.

  He’d been sent to kidnap Abram, but he wanted to finish me more. I could see his need to rip me from the mortal coil I’d sullied with my existence tightening through every muscle.

  Good news. It meant I wasn’t dead yet. And no way would I stand there and give him another swing at it.

  Faster than I’d ever moved before, I teleported to the roof where Abram would’ve landed. I knew without looking the angel was hot on my heels—folding time and space, tracking me quicker than I could move or think.

  Abram had managed the jump. I spotted him up ahead running full tilt toward the huge glass prism over the lobby. “Abram, no. Not that way.” The words were barely a whisper.

  There was no way around the glass pyramid, and climbing over it would be too dangerous. But the kid was in a full-blown panic and running for his life. I could totally relate. I teleported to him just as he started the scramble up the glas
s roof.

  Not my best plan. Our combined weight and the sonic impact from my speed shattered the huge square pane right under us. We dropped nearly thirty feet onto the lobby’s hard, polished floor, shattered glass raining down around us. The fall seemed to take forever, and I had the time and presence of mind to pull Abram to me, taking the full impact when we landed.

  We were both nephilim, both the children of an archangel, but the perks of those two things hadn’t been activated in Abram. My body, thanks to the supernatural angelic blood pumping through my veins, could take the hit.

  But it still hurt like hell.

  Abram’s hundred and forty-some pounds crushed me, driving my body into the hard, tiled floor like a sledgehammer. My chest felt two inches thick, lungs pushing to inflate, screaming for air. Pain squeezed around me like scalding hot liquid, engulfing every square inch of my body.

  My little brother rolled off me a second later, jumping to his feet, sparing me only a fleeting glimpse to see if I’d survived the fall.

  “Um… Thanks. Sorry.” Abram spun on his toes and headed for the stairs that led up to the second-level balcony of the atrium and out the doors.

  I tried to get up, but my arms and legs were too busy holding me in the fetal position, waiting for the crushing pain to subside. A few of the students, or maybe they were staff, I couldn’t be sure, came closer, asking if I was okay, if I needed an ambulance. I couldn’t waste time explaining. Finally, I crawled to my feet, lungs burning, and staggered toward the stairs to chase after him.

  “What will kill you, little demi-arch?” the golden-haired angel yelled down from the broken skylight. “I can’t wait to discover it.”

  I ignored him, racing up the stairs as fast as I could, opening my mind to the only people I knew would answer. Eli, Jukar, I need help. We need help. I placed images in their minds, at least I hoped I had, images of the student union, of Abram running, of the golden seraph chasing us. But there was no reply, no answering thought warming through my head to tell me they’d heard. I couldn’t teleport to them. I didn’t know where they were, and figuring it out would take time I didn’t have. Plus, I’d have to drag Abram along for the ride, and I wasn’t sure how much he’d slow me down. I wasn’t sure I could teleport anywhere with Abram in tow fast enough that we wouldn’t be overtaken by an unencumbered seraph.