Fallen Angel 4: Cold-Blooded Fate

by J. L. Myers

  Michael could not begrudge Azrael’s choice. The Angel of Death had the freedom to lay with the woman he desired each and every day—with God’s blessing. If Gabriel was still here with him, Michael wasn’t sure he would even have concocted this plan. When she had been his to hold, to lie down with, Michael had never thought of anyone else. Now he had to. But was it all about to come crashing down? What would he allow himself to do if Azrael chose to inform God?

  “God sent me to spy.” Azrael’s silvery eyes swept to the sword at Michael’s back. Even though it was not the angel sword, Azrael’s expression hardened as Michael palmed the hilt. “And I will report all that you plan, with or without your feeble threats.”

  “Then you will lose her—well before we are lost to darkness.”

  “Your imagination amazes me.” Azrael chuckled, but a certain fear lurked beneath the surface of his eyes. “You have no idea what you are talking about.”

  Michael stepped forward, an audience of silver eyes on him as he came right up to Azrael. He released the hilt of his sword and offered it to the other archangel. When Azrael took hold, Michael’s grip tightened, holding him in place. “Then call my bluff. Spill my secrets to God, but know…” His voice lowered to a whisper as he leaned in close to Azrael’s ear. “I will reveal yours; the forbidden love your heart holds for Ariel. A love that has already grounded one archangel and sentenced him to life in Hell.”

  Azrael tugged his hand free, his glare stabbing as he gave a curt nod. “Fine.” He flapped his wings, removing himself from the barn as he torpedoed through the window opening and disappeared into the stars.

  Michael tilted his face down but kept his chin hiked in authority. “Our secrecy is ensured. Our plans begin tonight.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Gabriel moved through the labyrinth corridors that snaked through the castle, feeling like she was lost. Zallina and her replacement hellhound, Zephyr, padded after her, keeping a close and watchful pace while guarding her and her messy steps. When Lucifer’s blood had saved her from death, Gabriel had felt stronger than she ever had before. Invincible. Now as she cradled her belly that was heavy and swollen, she could no longer deny that strength was gone. Her bones ached, her skin itched, and the bruises she sustained from accidentally bumping into, well, anything now took forever to fade and heal. Dragging her feet, Gabriel stumbled.

  Zallina trotted forward fast, her huge body brushing up against Gabriel’s side and her head acting as a balancing point under her hand.

  “Thank you, my girl.”

  Gabriel continued to follow that tingling sensation inside her that forced her dragging feet onward. Lucifer seemed to be toward the center of the monstrous structure, down a long straight that led to the rear of the castle where the windows only glimpsed the barren land and snaking fiery river. The room ending the dark hallway with its vaulted ceiling had been empty of anything but blown-in ash since her arrival. Lucifer had been more distant of late, more secretive too. She did not think it had to do with his role as the Prince of Hell. Since revealing what grew inside her, he had retained that light to his eyes, a newfound strength to hold onto even without her help. But she had been changing, her body gradually morphing from how God had intended her to stay into that of a mortal woman with child. Was Lucifer repulsed by her now? Was he seeking physical comfort from another— No. Lucifer would never. Deep down, Gabriel was sure of this. Yet she still could not dislodge the stirring worry in her that promised something was going on.

  Something apart from the knowledge of her weakening body that she’d kept from Lucifer.

  Reaching the soaring double doors, Gabriel grasped the round knocker, motioning with her free hand to keep her canine guards quiet. When she pressed her ear to the glossy stone surface, there was only a faint shuffling to be heard.

  Her heart battered her ribs from the inside, and she struggled to control her breathing as she pushed one side of the doors inward. A creak announced her arrival and Lucifer whirled up from the ground—right as the blood rushed to her head.

  Stumbling on her tingling feet, Gabriel went sprawling.

  Lucifer’s eyes widened and he sprinted straight for her. “Gabriel!”

  The hard marble ground tilted up and Gabriel’s hands stabbed down to soften the blow as her hellhounds darted forward. But Lucifer caught her this time, one arm slinging under her legs and the other around her back and wings. He cradled her to his chest right outside the tall doors, concern wreaking havoc on his rugged features. “You are tired? Hungry?” Her stomach let out a growl as if in answer, but Lucifer had noticed something else. Her flowing robe had pulled up over her knees with Lucifer’s sweeping save, the dark bruises on her legs that blurred with her spinning vision now visible. “What happened? Who did this?”

  A flash of flames burned in Lucifer’s eyes as he kneeled on the ground of the hallway, lowering her to take a better look.

  “No one.” Gabriel tried to get her eyes to focus, blinking slowly to clear her head.

  “Zallina, Zephyr, stand watch.” Lucifer’s glare up at her was a shock as the dogs turned to growl down the empty hallway. He reached for the deadly dagger sheathed at his waist—the one that could kill the dead. “There is no reason for you to protect anyone—”

  “I am not. I have no reason to.” Gabriel touched his face, and the connection to his heated flesh seemed to ground her, returning her vision and some control of her body. “You are all I care about. You and…” Her hand fell to her ballooning stomach.

  Though it did not seem possible, given how distraught and angered Lucifer’s face already was, Lucifer looked even more stricken. “This life we have created is taking a toll. Already its progression is abnormal, so slow to grow and mature, and now…this.”

  Gabriel understood Lucifer’s concerns. She was certain of the moment she had conceived. That very first time with him that was so long ago, well past the nine months a human woman normally carried a life inside of them. She was three months past that timeline now.

  But she had been eating like a horse. Now that her garden had recovered from her attack so many months ago, the fruit that sprouted provided nutrients she had never needed before now.

  “I am tired. That is all—” Gabriel froze, her tongue choking back in her throat as she caught a glimpse through the crack of the partially open doors. Tears welled, blurring her vision with a film of silver that she quickly brushed away. Now that she’d seen it, seen it all, she could not believe it. “Lucifer…” With his protective arms tensing around her, Gabriel’s gaping mouth snapped shut. The place where Lucifer had raced toward her from was a mess, and the scent wafting from the room hinted at what was clearly on show for her wide eyes to see. The colored streaks staining his golden hair that she had been too disorientated to notice, painted the scene. “It is…beautiful.”

  Lucifer helped Gabriel to her feet, pushing the door open wide. “It is not finished yet.”

  The pots that surrounded where he had been sitting were filled with liquids of varying colors, somehow pale and bright at the same time. Blue, purple, pink, yellow, red, green, and everything in-between. Smears of the stuff stained Lucifer’s usually golden skin, and the rest of it… Not only was the ground coated in a layer of dried light gray, but the walls were also painted too. Flocks of birds adorned the mural, soaring across a blue sky with fluffy, pale clouds. A full rainbow spanned from the doors to halfway around the room, overshadowing the black-red sky beyond the speared windows. Hanging crystal chandeliers encased with clumps of burning coal lit up the area, shining warm light down over a portrait of Gabriel, her face serene and gray wings curled comfortingly around her hands on her swollen belly.

  And that was not all.

  Forged tools also littered the painted floor, accompanying chunks of black discarded wood. Wood that had been used to build an oval basket that was filled with cuts of cleaned furs and black feathers. A crib to lay a newborn to sleep.

  Lucifer stood close to her
side, curving in to face her while Gabriel gaped. He cupped her face in one hand, his soulful eyes searching her own. “Do you like it? I mean, he/she doesn’t have to stay here alone. We will keep our child in our chamber…but for a place to play, to grow…I wanted there to be light. A place free of all the dark and danger.”

  The tears welling up Gabriel’s eyes plunged down her face. She let them fall this time, rising up on her toes to press her lips to Lucifer’s. “I love it. So very much. But how did you? I mean, where did you find…?”

  Lucifer’s smile was proud, his genuine happiness at her reaction warming her heart. His hand covered her stomach right as there was a rolling nudge. The joy in his eyes soared as if it were a shooting star. “From the mines. When they uncovered a pale clay, I ordered them to keep digging, to collect and transport anything that was not black to the castle.”

  “I adore it.”

  “I adore you.” Lucifer’s lips came down over hers, hungry and almost desperate at the taste of her. With his hand shifting upward and around her neck, his tongue ventured into her mouth, teasing her, arousing her, dizzying her.

  Gabriel’s breasts tightened at the thought of Lucifer’s gaze upon her, and the area between her legs throbbed with anticipation of his touch.

  Gabriel stepped out of Lucifer’s hold abruptly, breath coming in short and quick pants. She wanted to be touched by him, she wanted to touch him too. But she feared his reaction if she bared herself to him, if he saw the changes to her body without any covering.

  Forcing her attention to divert back to the awe-inspiring sight, she marveled at the effort Lucifer had gone to for their child. How could what they shared, what they had created, ever be a danger to anyone? How could it be impure?

  But the throbbing of her lips refused to let her change the subject.

  And then Lucifer was right behind her, his open mouth finding her neck as he swept her hair aside. “I long to feel you.” His tongue forged a hot trail up to Gabriel’s earlobe, making her toes curl. “To be one with you.”

  Gabriel tensed as his hands came around her belly, but her breath heightened as his palms descended down, bunching up her robe as he got ever closer to the throbbing place between her legs. “I am changed,” she uttered out. “My body is—”

  Lucifer spun her around to face him, making her head spin, but this time it was in a good way. “Beautiful,” he said, conviction filling his fiery red eyes. “No matter what, you will always be the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. The woman I love. The mother of my child.” He cupped her face, his thumb teasing at her throbbing lower lip before stealing a kiss. “I will wait if you want to. But know that you are as beautiful to me now as you have ever been. I love you, Gabriel, heart, body, and soul.”

  Chased away by his sincere devotion and the honesty in Lucifer’s eyes, Gabriel arched up on her toes. Her wings quivered with anticipation as she slid his hand from her face, hooking his fingers under the shoulder of her robe to drive the cover down. Lucifer hissed at the sight of Gabriel’s bulging breasts, but he let her take the lead.

  So she did, with utter confidence inspired by the fierce love in his eyes. “I need to feel you, to be one with you. Make love to me, Lucifer.”

  Lucifer swept Gabriel up into his arms with ease and kissed her like it was the first and the last time, devouring her mouth like he would never ever stop…

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The sound of Darius’s grunts and screams of pain echoed through the tunnels that made up the forking prison cave. Cyrus flinched, arms aching from their strung-up position. His son was well out of eyesight, though, like him, he was never out of danger. Since their public torture, they had not seen the light of a Hell day. But the course of his imprisonment was set to change. Rumors ran rampant like bloodlust in Hell, and despite Cyrus’s isolated existence the whispers of hellions and even soldiers had not evaded him. A small shadow skulked down the narrow cave path, blending in with the darkness that grew between each flaming torch along the rocky walls. Cyrus’s lips stretched wide, splitting the skin with a trickle of warm leaking blood.

  Right on time.

  It was the equivalent of nighttime beyond the cave, the thick swirls of red electric cloud doused for endless black. Not that Cyrus had seen the sight in so long now, but still, he knew it was. These visits had been routine for months now, set after the forever-hungry hellhounds completed devouring the parts they tore from his body and left him to heal. Once the beasts bounded up the path and down another, Darius’s screams announced when it was safe to encroach.

  The rushing shadow came into view then, revealing a young boy, his dirty face shadowed with torches backlighting his gaunt frame. There were tracks of dry blood cracking from wounds at his neck. He staggered as he slowed and used a rock formation for support before shakily holding out his skeletal hand.

  Now with muscles reformed and flesh stretching out over all that had been a gory mess, Cyrus was able to reach out and take the rolled up cut of skin. But he didn’t unravel it. Not yet. Instead, he remembered the first sign of good news he’d had since his imprisonment when this boy had unexpectedly delivered his first note. The assassin is no more. The spawn of Hell lives.

  Being one of the hunted hellions, getting this boy to assist Cyrus had been easy with the promise of escape from Hell and the deformed hellions that hunted him down every single day. Now he had to know. “The child, is it born?”

  Cyrus’s one last chance of freedom and revenge had survived the assassin he had been unable to stop. And now the long months dragged on as he waited to put his plans into action.

  The boy kept a safe distance and shook his head.

  Cyrus ground his molars together. His desperation to escape and so much more made his insides burn with impatience while his outer shell stung with rapid healing.

  It was only a matter of time before that new life, the first life to be born in this realm of death of all places, would come into existence. A life that held the power to befoul Heaven and, if the other rumors were true, to free them all. But why was it taking so long?

  For months Cyrus had been scheming and organizing as if it would all pay off. With the numbers of their hybrid offspring in Hell rising each and every day, not to mention the rest that Darius’s siblings would continue to turn on Earth, they had quite a secret following. But there was more to be had. So much more…

  Another roar of agony bellowed down the cave, making the boy hunch and shoot nervous glances around. Fear made his heart pump fast at a level Cyrus could hear, circulating the boy’s veins with sluggish blood.

  Cyrus ran his tongue over his lips as he chuckled, but he kept his voice low to evade sensitive nearby ears. “Not to fear, boy. The hounds will not be done with my son for some time yet. The torture is not meant to be swift. It is meant to last, to feel like a lifetime. And, believe me, it does.” Cyrus resisted the urge to rub at his arms that were still raw and oozing. The torture was, well, torturous, but the healing, it took ten times longer and was near on maddening. He gritted his teeth at the itching sensations that crawled over his body like a million centipedes trampling over him and tunneling in through the holes in his flesh. The irritations dulled only a fraction as he unraveled the rolled skin, yet his lips curved up into a smile. “That is what he sourced all the mining materials for?” Cyrus could see it now, a pansy room fit for a child of Heaven—not one of Hell. “Lucifer is indeed going soft.” He handed the note to the boy with a nod. “Read it.”

  The boy—cautious at first—snatched the scrap of skin back, looking as if he expected Cyrus to lash out at him. Which was fair, he was now eyeing that gouge in the boy’s neck as if he wanted not just to bite him, but also to rip his throat out.

  The boy looked confused by the words, and Cyrus realized that he was probably never taught to read.

  Cyrus held up a hand, curling his finger that still had the bone protruding from the tip in a directive to come closer. The fear in the boy’s eyes widened,
but he complied, stumbling until he fell to his knees. This was part of their deal.

  Holding the boy up by his chin, Cyrus struck like a viper, ready fangs reopening the old wound that flooded dehydrated blood into his mouth. Though Cyrus wanted to drain the boy dry, he only took a few gulps before retracting enough to look into the boy’s wide eyes. He revealed Lucifer’s dutifully created nursery that took precedence over any efforts to look for a way out of Hell, because the prince was planning to stay, to forfeit any attempt to escape and free his hellions as promised. Then Cyrus added, “Share Lucifer’s growing weakness with the hellions, human and deformed. Tell them their secret support will be demanded—once they’re freed of Hell. Once Lucifer’s failure to deliver their freedom is granted by their new king. And lastly…report back that we must continue to build our numbers. I want them doubled before the child arrives. But prepare our growing supporters at once. We must be ready to strike as soon as this child is born.” Cyrus knew this message was not going directly back to any one individual. There was already a chain of command outside this cave, and lessers were used to hide direct involvement. With him and his son locked up, keeping their allies free of suspicion was imperative.

  Shoving the boy upright, Cyrus held out his hand. Knowing what he wanted, the boy produced a thin pointed piece of coal from the sack that hung from his chest and handed it over.

  Cyrus took the writing tool and leaned the cut of skin into a flattened patch on the rocky ground. He smoothed out the rough, curled edges and scribbled symbols into the clean side of the flesh. Our time is coming. Soon we will take on the prince and overthrow Hell. Hell will follow us, and the child will be ours. With his power we will escape this Realm and Heaven will fall to ruin.

  Rolling the fragment up once more, he handed it to the boy who held a hand over his bleeding neck and took the offering with the other. “When Darius is no longer occupied, take this note to him first. Now go. Deliver my messages and pass this back through the chain of command. Do not let anyone else read or get hold of it.”