by Kim Faulks
“This is it,” Alma murmured and stepped through the gaping hole in the wall. “This is the night we finally get him. He used The Circle for the last time. He used you for the last time.”
I ducked my head low and shoved through the broken fence. Footsteps filled my head as Alma stepped into the dark. I could feel that low electric hum of the veil splash across my skin.
My hands trembled as I reached behind me and dragged a blade from my pack.
“Remember, take the bodoach alive,” Alma growled and gripped her pack closer. “He’s the key to nailing this sonofabitch. He is all we have, Redemption. Without him, it’s just hearsay. Without him, we have your word against the word of a future king.”
I swallowed her words and followed her deeper into the abandoned warehouse. Twenty years I’d searched for a way to make the Prince accountable.
And the bodoach was the answer.
Once a human…and now nothing more than a monster.
One who had Lorn.
“The archangel…no one leaves without him,” Rival snarled before he turned his head. Orange flames in his eyes danced in the dark. “No one gets left behind, you feel me?”
I stiffened at his words. A hellhound putting others above his own needs? Fucking unheard of. “I feel you and wonder if you’re feeling well.”
“Just don’t forget him is all,” he snarled and then leaned his head to the side, stretching muscles and tendons.
And as Alma whispered the chant to reveal the veil, I wondered why him…why a damn hellhound….Hell, why any of them?
What the Hell did Lorn see that I sure as hell didn’t?
Loving any of us was a death sentence, wasn’t it?
Rival clenched his fist and stared at the space between us as the air grew light. The veil shimmered silver and black, like swirling tendrils of smoke swirling…swirling…swirling.
“You ready?” Alma murmured.
But I was entranced, staring into that perfect roiling mist. Home called me, stronger than I’d ever felt before. I clenched my fist, took a step, took one more step, then lunged.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Redemption
Darkness swallowed me as I stepped through the veil and out of the other side. A darkness so pure, I felt my soul weep. I was home…home amongst the shadows. Home amongst the cold.
Home amongst the others of my kind…and yet.
This wasn’t really my home. Not anymore. Not the one I chose…or the one that chose me. The mortal world had become more than a home, more than a battle ground. It was alive in more ways than I could count.
It was loud and vibrant, and filthy and sweet. It was a messy perfection wrapped up in the continuous cycle of mortal life; always rushing, always desperate to have and to hold…always alive…
I glanced behind me at the snarl as the hellhound slipped through the veil and scanned the murky hue of this world. Shadows clung to almost everything, leaving faint silver as the only source of light. I blinked, waiting for my eyes to adjust, and then looked down.
Remnants of my blood were here, buried in the cold earth where I almost lost my life. I could still feel the pain of the blade, still feel the burn of their hate.
“Jesus Christ, unseelie. Colder than your momma’s tit in here.”
The hot sting of rage was brutal, hovering far too close to the surface. I clenched my fist and swung as the smug bastard smirked.
The thunder of my heart was deafening, filling my head with the roar. I took a step, and then another. He lifted his head, blazing gaze slipping past me, and muttered, “Heads up.”
The roar of a warrior behind me filled the air. I caught the glint of steel far too late. Reflexes were all I had as I bowed my spine and leapt backwards, barely missing the arc of the blade.
Cries resounded as the guards attacked from all directions. I tried to count, tried to see how fucked we actually were, as the deafening boom of the shotgun ripped through the air.
Chaos followed as the hellhound lunged with white fangs bared and hit the warrior who came for me head on. The shotgun was racked once more and the blinding glare of muzzle flashes filled the space.
The sickening sounds of tearing flesh were muffled under the savagery as the hellhound ripped and tore, coating the pale skin of his bare chest black with unseelie blood, and then left the dead behind.
I drew my sword high and turned as the glint of silver caught my eye. “Morpheous.”
The General stepped forward fast, plunging the massive sword in one perfect arc over his head and down. He was once a friend…once a comrade in the Great War…but now he was nothing more than in my way.
The swing was all he had, and it was a one-time deal. I stepped fast, missing the arc, and lowered my shoulder. My thighs trembled, body alive with purpose, as I crouched and then lunged, hitting the unseelie head-on.
The blow was a sledgehammer through my body, pound for pound we were the same in almost everything—except for spirit—except for soul.
I lashed out, driving my fist upwards, and connected, watching his black eyes widen in the dark.
“You know what kind of monster he is!” I roared as my fingers sank into the thick, corded muscles of his arms. “Why do you protect him!”
Morpheous was a machine, stumbling backwards, only to right his stance and come at me once more.
More moved in behind us and shot after shot followed until the shotgun fell silent.
“I’m out,” Alma screamed as an unseelie warrior charged.
Fists on flesh connected. I took a blow to my kidneys and stumbled. Silver shone ahead of her in the dark as the old woman stepped closer, whispering chants, and dragged out an iron dagger.
But her steps were too slow. She was outmatched and outweighed by even the smallest of my kind. Panic roared through my veins as I swung my blade, burying the tip into Morpheous’s chest, before I wrenched the weapon free.
Blood slipped from the wound, spurting before it slowed. The warrior stumbled as the clash of bodies echoed behind me.
Alma gave a brutal grunt a heartbeat before the unseelie howled. The scent of burning flesh filled the air as the old woman drove the warrior to his knees.
Morpheous winced and wrenched his gaze toward the warrior…and that second was all I needed. That second was the difference between my life or his.
I took a step backward, strangled the hilt of the sword, and pierced his belly. He gave a jerk, then a whimper, and dragged his gaze to me.
“Why?” I growled and wrenched him closer, driving the top of the blade through his insides, reaching for his heart. “Why protect him?”
“Because,” blood trickled from his lips as the man I once called friend answered. “he is all we have left.”
His body trembled, knees buckling as he collapsed to the ground.
Heavy gasps echoed around me as I stared at the dead.
“We have to move,” Alma snarled. “Or there’ll soon be others.”
She gripped her jacked closed, swiped the dagger on her jeans, and surged ahead. I glanced at the hellhound as he sucked in a breath and drew the back of his hand across his mouth. Black blood smeared across pale skin. I stared at the mess and felt the loss.
These were once my family…once my people—but no more.
I took one look at Morpheous as he lay dying. “I hope it was worth it,” and then followed the others.
An old woman and one smart-ass hellhound.
They were more my warriors than these men ever were.
I picked up the pace, catching up to Alma before she jerked her head forward.
The path led into the unseelie forest. I looked behind us at the faint swirling silver of the veil, glanced at Alma, and turned forward again.
“Where to now?” Rival snarled.
The Royal Palace filled my mind…too out in the open…too under the Queen’s nose. He’d take Lorn somewhere quiet, someplace no one would hear Lucifer’s daughter scream. Someplace he could tie them up…and
torture them for days…weeks…years even, and no one would ever know.
The Queen of Air and Darkness was old, barely leaving her rooms in the Royal Palace. Unless someone told her what her precious son was doing, there’s no way she’d know.
And Absolon had far too many followers. No one would dare cross the future king. So he’d take them to the dungeons, where they’d forever stay. “I know where they are.” I broke the hellhound’s pace and surged ahead. “I know where he’d take them.”
“Then by all fucking means,” Rival snarled, and waved his hand through the air.
I waited for the flash of anger, for the tell-tale sign of my fraying nerves. But there was nothing. White fangs flashed in the dark as the sonofabitch grinned. “Giddy-up.”
I wrenched my focus from those fucking fangs and drove ahead. Trees towered over both sides of the path. There were beasts in there. Unmerciful monsters that made the ancient trees look small by comparison.
But you stay on the path...you stay on the path and you’re safe.
I hurried ahead, listening for the sound of boots behind me. There was only one set. I glanced over my shoulder to find the old woman falling behind. “Alma.”
She waved her hand though the air, pushing me ahead. I caught the motion before turning back, and, in my mind, I was already mapping the way through the corridors.
The dungeons were a little too familiar, a little too haunting. I’d spent years down there, imprisoning and torturing those I’d sworn to protect—all in the name of a future king who had a thirst for cruelty.
A future king who would destroy our race.
The wall of many doors appeared before me. I slowed my steps, finding the markings carved into the stone. Heavy breaths slipped into the air behind me as the hellhound snarled, “I’ll take door number three, Larry.”
I winced at the joke and stepped closer. The doors were deceiving, one wrong choice and you were swallowed in a never-ending cycle of the worst moment of your life. Twelve doors…all whispering seduction…and all were wrong. “We turn back.”
“What?” The hellhound growled and stepped closer. “Like fuck we do.”
Desperation raged in his eyes. He scanned the doors. “Pick one…pick one, or I’ll pick it for you.”
And here it was, the test of strength. The willingness to do whatever it took. The bastard took a step, and then another, eyes blazing as he stared at the symbols above the doors. He made it halfway along before he stepped up, gripped the handle, and pushed.
The gust of wind drove him backwards. Strands of jet-black hair were whipped into a frenzy as he lowered his head and forged through.
Alma stepped up to the door and reached out, grasping the frame. Her hold was too weak, fingers slipping under the force. I moved up behind her, grasped her around the waist, and stepped through.
The door slammed closed behind us with a bang, and we were left in the silence, with the wind still roaring inside our ears. But there wasn’t even a breath of wind.
“You alive?” I growled, my voice bouncing off stony walls.
“Yeah,” the hellhound muttered. “You?”
The corner of my lips twitched with the snarl. “Yeah.”
Black on black moved. I felt him turn toward me in the dark. “Why the fuck didn’t you pick a damn door?”
“Because the inscriptions said only a fool would choose correctly.”
There was a growl, and then a sigh.
“Why that door, hellhound?” I muttered. “You never even looked at the others.”
Silence strained before he answered. “The markings…they looked like a chicken.”
“Jesus Christ,” Alma muttered.
“What?” Rival barked as the scuff of boots filled the space. “I took it as a sign!”
Still she never stopped, moving forward slowly in the dark. I shook my head and lifted my hand to shove back my hair, and the heady scent of blood filled my senses.
Fresh blood…human blood. I flinched with the thought. “Alma…”
But she was gone, shuffling through the space until the groan of hinges swallowed the sound of her boots.
“Alma,” I lunged forward, leaving the hellhound behind.
But she was gone, pushing herself, driving herself…one brutal step at a time. The attack…the unseelie. I could still hear her grunt…I hadn’t realized she was hurt.
“Alma, wait…” I raced through the stony tunnel.
Darkness clung to her outline as she shoved along the wall, step after step.
“She’s bleeding…I could smell it before,” the hellhound muttered.
I turned on him, gripping what I could, and drove him into the stony wall. “And you didn’t say anything to me?”
He never pushed back, never lifted one hand to fight. Just stood there with his bare chest and those ugly fucking yellow jeans I hated…just as I hated him.
“She’s dead, either way. You think us stopping back there is what the woman wanted? Look at her…really look at her, unseelie. The woman is holding on for one reason—it’s the same reason we’re all here, right?”
I dragged my fist into the air and sucked in a breath.
“Do it,” he snarled, orange flames turned blood red in his eyes. “Do it if it’ll make you feel better. If it gets you moving, if it gets us one step fucking closer to saving them…then go your fucking hardest.”
My body trembled, fist aching with need…until I shoved him hard against the wall and stepped away.
“You done?” he growled and glanced right. “Can we get on with finding them now?”
I swallowed, watching as he shoved off the wall and moved, never once looking over his shoulder. And the faster we walked, the stronger the scent of her blood.
Tunnels branched, leading us right and then left, until I was lost…I was so lost. Alma stopped. We all stopped.
“It’s a dead end,” she croaked.
But it wasn’t…it wasn’t at all.
Memories flooded through my mind. I stepped up to the wall and ran my fingers along the crevices of the bricks. I’d been here before…a long time ago.
I pressed my palm flat against the crevice, feeling the faint gust of wind, and pushed.
The door opened with a click and slid backwards.
Screams echoed, unmerciful screams. “Get the fuck away from her!”
“Gabriel,” the hellhound snarled and surged forward.
I grasped his arm, clawing for a hold to drag him close. “Wait! We don’t know what we’re walking into.”
He turned his head, and this time there was a fight blazing in his eyes. “I don’t care. I’m going in there.”
“Not before I do,” Alma’s trembling words echoed loudly as she stumbled along the tunnel and headed for the screams.
“Don’t you fucking hurt him!” Lorn screamed. “Hurt me! I’m who you want…I’ll fucking kill you…I’ll kill all of you!”
The blow was deafening, driving me backwards, even though I never moved. And a soft grunt followed. Again, the fist collided…and again, and again. “I will get what I want, Lucifer’s daughter.”
Absolon’s voice slipped through the tunnel to pierce my heart.
“One way or another, I will make you obey me.”
“Go to fucking Hell!” Lorn spat.
The sound of her pain was a fist rammed down my throat. I tried to breathe…tried to think. The hellhound was right. There was no waiting…no plan of attack.
The soft silencer light grew brighter, hugging the old woman’s frame as she stopped at the last cell door on the left and stepped through.
There was a second before Absolon spoke. “What the hell?”
Rival pushed closer, standing outside the doorway. There were no warriors standing guard—nothing. I surged ahead, slow steps lengthening as I picked up my pace.
They expected no one would come for them. That no one would care.
“Get your filthy fucking hands off my granddaughter.”
M
y stomach clenched, heart hammered with the words as I reached the hellhound and together we surged through the open cell door.
The stench of blood was smothering, like a rag down my throat. Rival gave a grunt as I glanced at the man bound, chained spread-eagle by his outstretched arms.
My boots slipped as I took a step deeper inside the cell, drawing my gaze to the floor.
“What have you done?” Rival whimpered, his words brittle and hollow. “What have you done to him?”
The tortured man lifted his head, and, at first, I didn’t piece it together…I didn’t understand.
Blond hair turned dark, matted with blood. But there was a tiny glimmer of light, just a faint flicker as the hellhound neared and murmured his name. “Gabriel?”
“Rival,” Lorn’s whisper was barely a croak.
I took a step, drawn by the desperation in her voice.
Red eyes glowed in the dark behind her. Red foreboding eyes as Alma shuffled her way closer. “Easy now…easy, child.”
“Momma?” she cried. “Momma, is that you?”
The old woman’s steps halted. There was a second where her knees trembled, until movement drew my gaze.
The night hag came with a rush, all claws and whispered words, with her sights set on Alma.
She raised her hands, nails ready to slash as she came for the old woman. The old woman tried to move, but she was weak and slow. I drove my heels into the filthy dirt floor and charged, hitting the beast head on.
The hag screamed like a banshee. She slashed her nails across my face as I gripped her and drove her backwards through the cell.
Agony lashed my head. Once…twice, and that night surfaced, kneeling over Steph’s body with her blood on my hands. I could see the knife lying beside her—the knife I’d used.
“No!” I screamed. “Get the fuck out of my head.”
They were false memories, designed to inflict pain. Nightmares and paralysis were her speciality, twisting reality into cruel lies.
Red eyes blazed in the dark as that lanky thing moved. Bodoach. The name surfaced in my mind as I gripped the hag where I could and heaved her through the air.
Screams bounced off the cell walls. Alma knelt at Lorn’s feet as the screech of tearing metal came at my left. Rival gripped the chains and yanked until the links snapped taut.
