02 Awaken-The Soulkeepers

by Adams, Lori

  “So let me make myself clear, it’s no parlor trick to yank out their spines—it’s timing, aiming, speed. More than likely, they’ll take off or they’ll just take off your head and then gut you while you’re lying on the ground. You can regenerate only so fast, and they can do all kinds of freaky to you while you’re out. There’s not a demon weapon yet that can kill an angel, but they’re getting close. They’ll anesthetize you and then put shit in your head till you don’t know your own name.

  “And it goes without saying that they’re always after your weapons. You don’t want your own blade used against you. If they get into your head, and you find that the only blood you’re spilling is your own, power down and stop fighting. One of us will find you. Just don’t give in to the urges.” He gave them a hard look, assessing each candidate in turn. Then he nodded, satisfied. “Now, first lesson in the final trial is close quarter hand-to-hand combat. Gear up.”

  They headed to a table where equipment was laid out: swords, daggers, body armor, shields, helmets. It was clearly practice quality, but they suited up with everything available: chest and back plates, arm and leg armor, and open helmets. Sachiel stepped up to explain the rules of engagement during close quarter combat.

  “Each candidate will enter a separate series of tunnels and chambers beneath the barn. You must clear each chamber of demons and return within twenty minutes or less. This is actual combat, people. A real taste of everything you’ll encounter. Don’t trust anything you see down there. Keep ’em out of you head. Now let’s hit it.”

  One by one, the candidates disappeared down separate stairwells. Michael took up his shield in one hand and his sword in the other. He entered the tunnel that took him below the waterfall. It was dark and damp, the stone walls smelling of earth. His eyes immediately adjusted and swept the area. He moved quickly on alert. The first chamber door was open and Michael kicked it off the hinges, letting it skid down the tunnel floor. He braced himself and rounded into the chamber. The first demon came at him from behind, red eyes flaring and sword flaming. Michael ducked, spun around, and slammed his boot into it, sending it reeling. Knowing that demons liked to attack in pairs, he flipped his sword and thrust it behind him, catching another one in the gut. The demon exploded into dust and burned his eyes. He coughed and momentarily lost his bearings. The demon he had kicked returned and thrust a sword at Michael. He deflected it with his shield and then cut a clean path across its torso. Only then did it shatter into dust.

  Michael scanned the chamber. No red eyes remained so he moved on, and the scene repeated in the next chamber and the next. Down twisting tunnels with ledges where more red-eyed demons attacked high and low. They were getting craftier, harder to kill. The floor was uneven and treacherous, making progress slow. Wild screams exploded all around him, the sound of Forgiven souls being attacked. It wrecked havoc on a guardian’s emotions, and Michael had to work to maintain control. He was flooded with memories from Halloween night, when Sophia and her friends—his friends—had been trapped in Dante’s haunted mansion. They had been so close to death, while he and his brothers had barely arrived in time to save them.

  Distracted, the next attack caught him off guard, and Michael felt the searing demon blade score his arm. He hissed and lunged for it, smacking it senseless with his shield before slicing off its head. More came, some wielding ancient maces and others armed with long spears. Some were misshapen forms dripping ectoplasm with fangs and horns. Their red eyes churned like blazing furnaces. Some were charred, grotesque lumps pieced together by a madman. Their hideousness was distracting but Michael killed them as quickly as possible and moved on.

  Before he reached the next chamber, a delicate, familiar scent caught him off guard. He hesitated and looked around the dim tunnel. It was Sophia’s perfume but … how—

  Demons poured out of the next chamber like ants fleeing a burning house. Up along the walls and ceiling, they scurried on all fours, their jaws clacking with dagger-like teeth. They were skinned to the bone and deranged, some with black wings that swooped down with their talons out. Michael beat them down as they came. Then he whipped out a ball of light, rolling it down the tunnel where it exploded in a silent burst of white energy. The demons were sucked into the light and gray ash shot into the air, filling the tunnel with their dusty remains. Before it settled, more came and Michael charged, wielding his sword in great sweeping arcs. He hurled his shield, taking down the handful attacking his flank. Unsheathing a second sword, he spun and swung, cutting down demons while their thin, fiery blades clashed against his body armor. Every so often, a burning blade made contact with his skin, and he seized in pain. But he was destroying them faster than they could come. He was going to make it. The last chamber was straight ahead.

  Michael raced forward, bounded of the wall, and came down hard on a particularly tall demon. He sliced it open but something hit his head on the way down. Another demon lurking in the shadows had hurled a hammer that glanced off Michael’s temple, knocking him to the ground. He fell to his knee but quickly sprang up, both swords impaling two demons falling from the ceiling. And then he heard her, Sophia calling his name.

  Michael jolted to a stop and squinted in the gray haze. She was just ahead. He knew it. He could smell her perfume. “Michael! Please!” she called, and he took off running, only to clash with more demons. They threw knives and spears, and Michael spun away, cutting them down from behind.

  “Please! Michael! This hurts too much! I miss you! Please come back!”

  Michael tensed and gripped his swords. He was filled with rage that he couldn’t go to her. Rage that she was in pain. Rage that she was sad and crying. He was so sorry to make her sad. He wanted her to feel love. Only love. So as the next wave of demons attacked, he narrowed his focus and tugged three times on her heart. I. Love. You.

  She had to know he still loved her. She had to know. Didn’t she?

  Two blazing whips snap around Michael’s wrists, capturing him. He’d been distracted, and now the demons pounced, cutting and stabbing any exposed flesh the armor didn’t cover: the backs of his arms and legs, his throat and face. Michael’s head flew back and his body arched in pain. His helmet was ripped away and two more fire whips wrapped around his ankles, stopping his struggle. He was jerked to his knees, the whips stretching his arms wide and painful. The armor was torn from his chest and legs, and a thousand knives pierced his skin. He shuddered as pain enveloped him.

  “Michael! Please! This is unbearable! I can’t take anymore! Please come back! Come back to me, Michael!”

  His head slumped forward in surrender. The tortured continued as he drowned in Sophia’s sweet cries. He missed her so much. He was so sorry he left her. He wanted her back. I. Love. You. I. Love. You. I. Lov—

  Michael’s head snapped sideways as a demon kicked him in the face. He offered no resistance as they beat him, cutting him open. His body was pulverized but he welcomed the pain. It was fitting. He never should have hurt her. Sophia still wants him. She still loves him. And that’s all that matters.

  “Please, Michael! Give up. Stop the trials! Come home! Please, Michael, stop the trials!”

  Michael’s eyes opened and he stared at the ground. Something wasn’t right.

  Warm blood pooled around his knees, and his arms were numb from being stretched beyond their limits and shredded by demonic blades. Something wasn’t right.

  He looked at the red-eyed demons holding the ends of the whips that spread his arms. Something wasn’t right.

  Sophia would never ask him to quit the trials.

  Michael ground his teeth and curled his hands into fists. His arms strained and shook as he slowly forced them together, bringing the demons down beside him. Then he clawed his fingers and thumbs, and plunged them into the back of their necks, ripping out their spines like yanking off a belt. They shrieked in pain and then their bodies shriveled into separate piles. Michael jumped up and lunged for the third demon, yanking out its spine before it expe
lled itself through the mouth. He couldn’t stop, realizing that he had nearly succumbed to their mind games. They had penetrated his most private thoughts and used them against him. Michael was on a rampage.

  By the time he had torn through the last chamber, all the demons were destroyed—either piles of ashes or sagging, spineless skins, on the ground. Altogether, Michael gathered six dripping spines and walked calmly up the steps.

  Chief Master Sachiel and Squad Master Camael stood in the meadow with stunned expressions as Michael approached. Never, in all the trials, had a candidate made a permanent kill, let alone six in one day.

  No one else had emerged from the tunnels yet, and certainly no one else was expected to be carrying demon spines.

  Michael threw the bones at their feet. His body was bloody, torn, and trembling with exhaustion, yet he lifted his chin and demanded, “Tell me what you know about Sophia St. James.”

  The Halo Masters looked at each other in silent conference. They seemed reluctant to kowtow to the whims of a candidate. But with six demon spines at their feet and time left on the clock, they capitulated.

  “I have seen the girl called Sophia St. James at the Borderland,” Sachiel said. “I was with a band of Halos returning from battle when we came upon her and her mother. Sophia is the one you and your brothers saved from the bargain with Demon Knight Dante, is she not?”

  “She is.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “And the demons in the tunnels used her image to distract you?”

  “Her voice,” Michael choked out, remembering the sound of Sophia’s heartbreaking pleas. It was still agonizing and made his chest ache.

  “It’s not uncommon for guardians to form an attachment to souls they have saved. The demons looked for your weakness, Michael. Did they find it? Have you a weakness for this soul?”

  Michael opened his mouth to speak but changed his mind. He knew it had been a ploy by the demons, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it hadn’t also been true. Did Sophia want him to quit the trials? Had she changed her mind and quit her Awakening instead? Was the pain of their breakup tearing her apart, as it was him? Did she feel him tugging on her heart, telling her that he still loved her? Would she come to him? Now? Tonight? Or was she off doing something far more important?

  Chapter 21

  Dante

  It had been a successful evening and Dante was restless with arrogance. His date with Sophia had gone perfectly: They had secured the spell book she needed to bring out her memories, and he had shown that he was more than capable of protecting her. These tattoo blades had proven far more useful than he’d imagined.

  There was nothing left to interfere. He only wished he could see Michael’s face when Sophia was reborn to her old life. When she remembered exactly who she was and what she wanted.

  It was only a matter of time now. Sophia had asked to be alone with Rama when he performed the spell. Evidently, there were restrictions; only one spell could be cast and Sophia would not risk contaminating the process. She had called it a one and done kind of thing. He liked that she was being cautious, but he hadn’t liked being excluded. It would be worth it in the end. He wouldn’t be there when the spell was cast, but he would sure as hell be around when her memories came back. Sophia said it could take some time after the spell was cast to fully bloom inside her. Dante was willing to wait. In fact, since he didn’t have a death contract and wasn’t stalking a Forgiven soul, he had all the time in the world. Sophia would be his.

  “And very soon, she will answer to the name, Lovaria. Again,” he murmured into the fire.

  “How’s that?” Vaughn asked, throwing himself into a chair. The mansion looked much as it did when they’d arrived back in October, before the haunted party that Michael and his brothers had so rudely interrupted. The giant hearth blazed continuously, but the flat screen TVs in the game room were new, and without Wolfgang’s destructive accents. The remainder of the house had reconfigured from the bizarre back into the McMansion it was.

  Dante turned to answer and then scoffed, shaking his head. Vaughn’s neck was covered in bite marks while both arms were carved with black lines. “You look like a succubus’s teething toy.”

  Vaughn broke into an evil grin. “My girl likes to play rough. What can I say, I’m one lucky guy.”

  “Clearly. And will you be following the young lady through the halls of education as she asked?”

  Vaughn cocked his head and gave it some thought. “Seriously, I think I’d follow that girl anywhere she asked.”

  “Within range,” Dante reminded him. They knew their chain tattoos extend only so far but neither knew what would happen if they reached their limit. They had taken a great risk going to New York. No telling how the night would’ve ended if they’d reached the end of their tethers and had been yanked back to Hell while Sophia and Bailey were left in La Croix without them.

  “So do you think the marquis or Chax will report back to The Order?” Vaughn asked. He didn’t like the idea of Lord Brutus discovering their whereabouts so soon.

  “I’m sure they will go out of their way to avoid telling anyone how easily we dismembered them, and where. But since we had an audience of lesser demons, and they do like to gossip, I would say Lord Brutus will eventually hear about it. By then, Sophia will have her memories, and I’ll have her through the gate and back in Hell with me. Safe and sound. Where she belongs.”

  “Oh.” Santiago stopped in his tracks, having heard Dante’s remark. He’d just unloaded his backpack from the Escalade and checked his phone for messages. While the Demon Knights had been clubbing it up in La Croix, he’d been scouring the city for the items on Julian Wexler’s list. What he didn’t expect to find was a text message from him.

  “What is it?” Dante asked. He didn’t like the look on Santiago’s face. The kid was more nervous than usual.

  “Well, uh, I just got this text from Wexler and—”

  “Wexler?” Vaughn hollered. “The gatekeeper? How can he text you from Hell?”

  Santiago shrugged. “I dunno. Guy’s got mad skills. Anyway, he says Lord Brutus already knows where you guys are. I mean specifically. And he went ballistic. Apparently, when you escaped the Death Bunker, he assumed you were bound to Hell. You know, ’cause of the friendship bracelets he left on your arms? He’s had his men scouring the Five Kingdoms looking for you.”

  “Who informed him?” Dante demanded.

  “Well, you guys did, when you used those kick-ass daggers. They have a supernatural connection to the underground and bam—Lord Brutus was alerted.”

  “Shit, boy. Don’t you have any good news?” Vaughn grumbled, and Santiago grimaced.

  “Actually, that was the only thing close to good news. I guess Wexler forgot to mention that your tethers come with an expiration date. We don’t get to roam the land of the free forever. When time is up, no matter where you are, you’ll be yanked back down.”

  “How much time do we have left?” Dante asked, tightly. He was simmering with rage. This was vital information he should’ve been told earlier.

  “Uh, ’bout a week. Maybe less.”

  Dante spun away and began pacing and muttering under his breath. “It might be enough time; if her memories return quickly. Perhaps some coaxing would spur the process along.”

  “There’s more,” Santiago said, and Dante stopped in his tracks. “Well, I guess Lord Brutus was on the warpath after he learned you guys got all the way to Haven Hurst. He punished Isatou for tricking him with the tattoos, and then he … released Wolfgang.”

  “So?” Dante snapped, stepping closer. Santiago flinched and moved around a chair to keep a barrier between them.

  “You guys know how Wolf was tortured and all? Well, Lord Brutus really went psycho on his ass, turned him into a monster. Wexler said he heard Wolfgang is part demon and part beast with fangs and horns and shit. The chains could barely hold him.”

  “And now he’s on the loose?” Vaughn asked. He stood and flipped out his b
lade, slicing it nervously across his thigh.

  Santiago shook his head. “Not on the loose. On the prowl. Lord Brutus is sending Wolfgang to … kill Sophia.”

  Demonic rage exploded in Dante, and he grabbed the chair, hurling it against the fireplace. Tables and lamps followed, and then he torn down pictures and curtains and doors, ripping away anything his hands touched. The room was in shambles, and then he went after Santiago, clutching him by the throat and crushing him into the wall. The kid’s eyes bulged and his face turned red. Vaughn jumped on Dante, trying to tear him away before he severed Santiago’s head.

  “Stop! Dante! We need the kid! And we need a plan! Now back off!”

  Dante had wild snake eyes, and his body shook with fury. Slowly, Vaughn’s pleas reached him, and he eased back, releasing the kid. Santiago dropped to his knees, clutching his throat and gasping for air.

  “We need a plan,” Vaughn repeated calmly. He held Dante by the shoulders, working to bring him back down with something he could understand, a rational game plan.

  “Yes,” Dante murmured, forcing his demon down and regaining himself. He shoved Vaughn away, and then ran a hand through his hair. “We know Wolfgang better than anyone. We know his tactics, his ploys and preferences.”

  “But what about Sophia? You have to tell her. She’ll have to be ready if he finds her without us.”

  “He won’t.”

  “You willing to risk that?”

  Dante contemplated this, his mind frantic for a way to keep Sophia out of Wolfgang’s reach. “I’ll have to stay with her. Never leave her side.”