by J. L. Myers
There was no time to send thanks to the vampire who blasted him with his affinity for air. There was no time to prepare.
Michael hit the ground like a meteorite, crushing the hellions nearest to the nephilim and freeing Micah from the clutches of certain death. Michael’s entire body begged for him to stop, but despite the pain, he leaped up and lashed out with the silver sword he still clung to.
One by one the hellions dropped, their insidious hunger and drive to kill failing them in comparison to Michael’s ferocity to protect what he’d brought into this world. The emotion was new and it was shocking to him to care about life other than his own or that which God commanded. To feel more than duty when it came to another soul. Since Gabriel fell to Hell, Michael had not felt anything like that…until Evangeline. She had opened him up and she had broken something in him. Or maybe she had healed him of something he was missing. Either way, Michael knew something undeniable as he banded around the children and dropped bodies like there was no tomorrow.
Evangeline was his awakening. And one day, she could be his total undoing.
“Michael!”
Michael screamed as he stabbed his sword into the eye socket of a hellion, and then again as he fell to his knees and grasped one of its horns to sever its head. Hot oily black sprayed up at his face.
“Michael!”
He heard his name as the coursing of blood in his ears died down. Lifting his crazed eyes from the hairy body beneath him, he saw all eyes were on him. The vampires, all eleven purebloods and what was left of the others, as well as his bruised and bloodied angel warriors, circled around Michael and the massacre of bodies that left the ground bumpy and bloody.
Ruthaven was looking at him—the man who’d shouted his name—and he nodded to his other side.
A breath of relief escaped Michael’s lungs. The children were huddled together, staring down at him with awe and a little fear. Six littered the ground amongst the other dead, but the rest of them, including Micah who watched him with a look of respect and maybe even gratitude, bar a few deep cuts and bruises, were alive.
Rising up to his full height, the weight of Michael’s broken wings pulled at his aching back. Steeling his features, he refused to let it show as he gazed over at the many dead hellions and vampires. “We must return to our safe haven at once. It is time we brought the war to them. It is time to plot Bathory’s rescue and our victory—before it is too late.”
Chapter Twelve
Lucifer lay on his back among the smoldering remains of what had been the biggest village he’d stumbled upon to date. His chest burned with every breath, roiling inside with the souls he’d taken down. All six of them. Each had been corporeal, fit with grotesque flesh, gnarled limbs, and razor-sharp teeth. Their rage at being stumbled upon had not been forgotten for even a second. They each fought with all they were worth, ganging up on Lucifer, circling him, cutting into his flesh and clamping onto him with their jagged teeth.
Lucifer hadn’t felt a thing.
Despite the blood loss from the many places he’d been torn open, Lucifer had been so consumed by desperate hate that any physical sensation paled to what tormented his mind.
Catching his breath now, Lucifer lifted a bloody hand and curled his fingers tight around the mirror pendant. Gabriel’s soft crying assaulted his ears, breaking through the rushing sound of blood that pulsed there. Lucifer saw her in his mind as if he were back in that cave, chained so close and yet so far away, forced to watch as Cyrus closed in. But the view was the same even when he dared to look, as he knew it would be by the sounds she made and the shuffling around her. Bared and bruised, Gabriel fought Cyrus off. She always put up a fight. When she slashed her long, dirty nails down Cyrus’s face, two guards moved to pin her to the wall. And then Cyrus set upon her, his fangs plunging deep into her supple neck.
Wetness collected in Lucifer’s eyes, squeezing out as he pinned his eyelids shut before sliding into his bloody hairline. Seeing Gabriel grow weaker and being held aloft by strong arms as Cyrus’s body pressed her back against the cave wall, it ruined him all over again. Knowing what came next brought the taste of acid to the back of Lucifer’s throat here and now.
Cyrus healed her with his own polluted blood.
Lucifer watched the silver tears trail down her face after Cyrus stepped away. He saw the horrible blood-red color that pulsed from her eyes and heard the hissing from her mouth that was more animal than angel.
“What has he done to you?”
Gabriel no longer whispered words she hoped Lucifer would hear through their one surviving connection between the realms. These days, well over a decade since he left her, Gabriel solely took the punishments and then curled up in a ball, shedding tears Lucifer had no power to wipe away as her gentle humanity shone through.
Lucifer was losing Gabriel. Or maybe he already had lost her.
When this impossible plight to detain all the escaped souls in Hell was done, would there be anything left of Gabriel to save?
Grip sliding from the mirror fragment, Gabriel’s sobs cut off—
The gentle whooshing of wind through the trees replaced the sound, along with a revived sensation and a scent Lucifer could not confuse. Hellions were nearby, and if his senses were correct, their blood had already been spilled.
Lucifer’s eyes snapped open and he shot to his feet, even as his muscles tightened with fatigue and pain. Early morning sunlight pricked at his eyes, but they remained peeled wide.
The village was still ablaze, wooden shacks combusting in plumes of billowing black smoke. The scent of death and burning flesh from the slaughtered residents was thick amongst the smoke. But the view of their destroyed village and even their torn and twisted bodies was not the cause of the faint and undeniable scent or the renewed tingles that burned his insides as if he had swallowed a smoldering log off a burning fire.
Hell’s souls, and these ones were no longer alive…
Lucifer’s thoughts came out with his heightening breaths. He had a job to do, and failing to return all Hell’s souls meant damning Gabriel for all eternity. “All of them must be returned—to save her.”
Lucifer was running before he even made the physical demand of his cramping legs. The smoky village of death shrank behind him as the dawning sun rose higher into a slate gray sky. Trees engulfed Lucifer, delivering the surrounding forestry that grew more chilled for every running step he took. Plant life slashed at Lucifer’s shins and fallen twigs poked into his feet, but he didn’t dare slow down. Sweat sprouted despite the chill in the air as white patches of snow appeared, dusting the trees and blanketing the ground that numbed his feet to the bone.
Lucifer ran harder, lungs on fire and every part of him numb except for his mind.
And then he broke through the trees—and halted at once.
The mashed-up ground was slick with crimson, black, and even silver. But the bodies that remained were all that mattered. Hellions, every single one of them. And they were dead, slaughtered in a battle that had long passed—their black souls barely lingering around their corpses.
Lucifer could not lose them, not a single one.
Mobility rushed back with a flood of heat to his veins and Lucifer moved like the wind. His dagger graced his hand and one side glowed blue. Stabbing each dismembered and cold corpse through the heart, Lucifer was a blur of determination and fear.
When it was all done, Lucifer fell to his knees in the center of the carnage. “From Heaven’s light to Hell’s fire, deliver back unto darkness.” Each hellion remained nothing more than a body of live coals, their darkness pluming into black clouds that lingered low.
Lucifer opened his mouth and inhaled, praying it would still work—and then it did.
All the darkness shot into Lucifer at once, filling his mouth and then his lungs to the brink of bursting open. Flattened to his back, Lucifer lost his vision as excruciating pain snaked through his veins and clutched at his heart. The organ stopped and so did his ability
to breathe—but then something broke through the dark emptiness.
A presence.
Lucifer’s vision slammed back into place, appearing as though falling trees were spearing down all around him. Soot clogged up the frigid air from the combusted hellions, but the sight of his largest soul reaping was out of sight—blocked out by a solid ring of men and a few women. There was something about them as they stared down at him, a cruel intent that made one thing clear. They were not human. Not solely. With red eyes, some were hybrids, the call to their souls revealing their status of belonging to his list to be reaped. But the others…not hybrid, not hellion, but something else, part human, and part…
Lucifer jumped upright at the speed of light, his whole body screaming at the sudden strain after the battle already fought, his trek to get here, and the mass reaping he had completed. Lucifer’s head spun, the ground rushing up and toppling back down, but he lunged anyway. His ready dagger never met flesh. The blazing blue blade didn’t even come close. Pain seared up his arm with a sweeping flash of mirroring blue. Cut from bicep to wrist, Lucifer dropped the dagger. The cold blue blade of a sword was held against his neck, kissing his flesh with a slice that spilled trails of blood down his chest.
The angel sword.
The appearance of a familiar face had Lucifer seething. “Darius.”
The hybrid smiled wickedly, his stained teeth and pointed fangs flashing from between curved lips as he flung his long black hair out of his crimson eyes. “Lucifer, you finally took the bait. Hell awaits your return.”
Lucifer laughed, making the angel sword cut deeper into his jugular. “Then go ahead, Darius. End me. It will never give you what you want. It won’t send me to Hell.” He leveled glaring eyes at his unworthy opponent. “It will not open up the realms.”
Darius’s lips twitched, rose burning up his neck to his face. Piecing together that Zachias had been playing both sides? Hell yes. Perhaps the creeton could be trusted. But that mattered not now.
“Retrieving all the escaped souls is my only way back. So I only see you have one choice if you believe the tripe you have been fed. Help me, or get the Hell out of my way.”
Lucifer acted with the benefit of Darius’s surprise, head-butting him. The angel sword sliced deeper, cutting off Lucifer’s vocals. Despite how much his legs felt like they were turning into water, he refused to go down. Instead, Lucifer shoved Darius back and ducked, dropping down to snatch hold of his dagger. Spinning upward, Lucifer batted away the other hybrids’ ready weapons. The dark power in him added to his momentum and numbed his pain as blood poured from his injured arm. A few hybrids teetered back to escape the strike. Others were cut and staggered a safe distance back.
With untappable fire in his veins, Lucifer was ready to go ‘Prince of Darkness’ on all these misguided hybrids. He was ready to end their meager lives.
A man shot in front of Lucifer with dark blond hair and bronzed skin. A shock of sudden recognition at the face staring back at Lucifer stalled his vengeful strike to take his first part-human lives. Darius appeared beside Lucifer in the same instant, angel sword digging into his back as a dagger plunged into his ribs. Lucifer sucked air at the shock attack, but the surprise that stole his features was reserved for the man before him that, even with the sun spilling light down over the treetops, seemed to somehow glow. With his dagger ready to swing out and slice this man ear to ear, Lucifer planned to chance his survival to keep up the fight, to let that darkness prevail and take the lives it craved. Instead, his mouth opened to speak, but with his voice box still healing, no words came out.
The strangely familiar man stepped closer, looking young in spirit but near on as old as Lucifer appeared to be. His silver-blue eyes were a thing of beauty as they captured Lucifer’s gaze, refusing to let him look away. “Lay down your weapon. Do not fight back.”
Lucifer’s fingers loosened even as he screamed in his mind to tighten his fist. The dagger fell with a thud to his feet. Every muscle in his body went lax, releasing the tension that had him ready to maim and kill. In fact, his drive to do exactly that fled his mind as if the brewing breeze that stirred the whispering trees had washed away his good sense to survive. What in Hell? And then Lucifer saw the others, the rest of the men and women that were not hybrids but something else. Not all were tan and gold haired. Some had black or brown locks and skin tones that varied from pale to dark as dirt. A small few had red curls and pink or freckled skin. But there was an air about every one of them, a presence that glowed like nothing of Earth ever could.
“You are coming with us…” The bronzed man came closer, mere inches from the blade that waited by Lucifer’s throat. “Father.”
Chapter Thirteen
Lucifer couldn’t have believed his luck even if God had ordained it from his very lips. He was back in Babylon, the city he had ruled over in the guise of God on Earth, the mind behind the malice of King Cyrus the Great. The one thing he needed—every hellion soul—was within his reach now, filling his tired body with that same sickening feeling of close proximity. Begging to be slain and absorbed into his blackening heart to feel the darkness that wanted full reign of his mind and soul.
But fate was a cruel bitch.
The city was overrun with the desecrating monsters, all the original occupants long slain and devoured. Their remains littered the avenues between the clay brick buildings. The smell was gag worthy, despite the weak wintery sun that spilled down over the city rather than the full force of a summer heat. There had not been any rain in the last month, leaving their withering bodies to turn to grimy ash on the chilled, pungent air. And yet, all was quiet. There was no slurping of blood, wet chewing of flesh and innards, or even the crunch of human bones. But soon that would change. Once the falling sun dipped below the surrounding mountains, the non-hybrid hellions would wake safely from the sun’s rays…ready to feed on the fresh victims Darius and his hybrids delivered.
Lucifer was as powerless as ever, even though he was not restrained in any way.
Darius was not one to trust easily, and he refused to believe Lucifer’s declaration without proof. Proof Lucifer was tasked to extract.
In the arena the great stone castle overlooked, Lucifer circled around and around. Every muscle in his body twitched with the restraint that he had no power to evoke. The weapon he’d been gifted from the Angel of Death sat snugly in his hand, the blue light gone while the red whip trailed down over the ground.
Lord Bathory, the boy Lucifer had spared at Gabriel’s request and then turned so long ago, the one who’d accepted God’s offer, circled in time with him. He was carved open in places along his limbs and chest, and bleeding profusely.
All wounds inflicted by Lucifer himself.
“Speak now, vampire. Tell me what I want to know,” Thanatos, Lucifer’s eldest son, screamed down from the lowest castle platform, sweat sprouting across his reddened face despite the chilled breeze that batted his face and golden locks. Hanging plants and vines surrounded him, in varying states of withering to dead without humans to maintain them. He ripped at the leaves in frustration. Flanked by Lucifer’s twenty-nine other spawn that glared daggers down at him, his son was far from alone. Though none of his shadows were hybrids or even hellions. The hellions had fled underground with the rising light hours ago—as they did each day to evade being incinerated. The hybrids, whether alive or hell escaped, had accompanied Darius on his hunt to gather the last roaming hellions and more prey for them to feed on.
Lord Bathory, as he shared a worried glance with Lucifer, did not volunteer a response like he had in the days prior. They wouldn’t believe his words anyway—because what he had to say clearly had not changed. He was certain he had seen the circumstances Lucifer had to fulfill to return to Hell and crack it wide open—but he couldn’t remember a single detail that would confirm or deny Lucifer’s claim.
“Have it your way.” Thanatos whistled and even though Lucifer wanted to keep his eyes averted, he could not stop himself
. He’d been compelled to meet his son’s gaze every time he made that sound. “Kill the vampire Oracle. Cut him to ribbons.”
Lucifer fought with every ounce of his strength, willing his feet to dig into the cracked dirt and dust beneath him. Willing his arm not to rise in readiness to flick his wrist and the length of burning whip out. He didn’t want to maim and kill the young vampire. In all Lucifer’s horrible deeds, he was one of only twelve that Gabriel’s hope and trust had saved with God’s help. He owed the boy who had overcome Lucifer’s infection against the odds a battling chance. Even more than that, with his power to see the future, the oracle vampire could be invaluable if freed from the enemy. But it was no use. A half-breed, his own son, was in control. Without wings, Thanatos’s powerful gaze was stronger than Lucifer’s weakened one.
The whip went sailing with a crack of Lucifer’s wrist, snapping air as Lord Bathory dove sideways. Rolling and leaping up, the whip was there again, cracking as it nicked the vampire’s face. “Get away!” Lucifer bellowed as he stalked closer, shocked by his sudden ability to speak. Since the angel sword had severed his vocals, he hadn’t been able to mutter a word. Each day the injury healed until Darius inflicted it again. But this day he hadn’t. The temptation to ponder the reason was strong, but Lucifer’s need to get out of this mess won out. “Why are you doing this?”
Lord Bathory dodged Lucifer’s assault again, faking to the left as the whip snapped out before driving his elbow back into Lucifer’s face.
Lucifer barely felt the impact as the vampire sprinted away. “Why side with evil that will cut you down the moment he no longer needs you?”
Turning away from the audience, Lucifer staggered, fighting every step not to take after his victim.
It was no use.
Thanatos’s voice was as sure as the sun that slinked lower, creating long shadows and dropping the temperature even more as he yelled down. “You, Father, are all that is evil, all that is a threat to our existence. You are the one who means us harm. You wish to end us along with all of your other mistakes.”
