The Infernal Sacrament (Guardians of Elysium Book 1)

by Nissa Leder

  20

  Fire burns through my veins. Every inch of my body feels blazing hot as if I’ve been thrown into a fire pit. My instincts scream to run but I can’t.

  I can’t move. I can’t scream. Pretty soon, I won’t be able to breathe.

  Pain sears my skin, like knives slicing me open all over my limbs.

  Whispers buzz in my head. The voices overlap and I can’t understand a word. Are they even speaking English? I don’t think so.

  A heaviness fills me and my body yearns to sleep, but my intuition urges me to stay alert.

  Behind the whispers, I hear voices. I push my hearing past the inaudible murmurs.

  “If you get her killed before the ritual,” Finn’s voice says.

  Finn. He’s back. Did he warn Claire?

  I try to listen, but the whispers grow louder.

  Sadness presses into me, pulling me further into myself.

  If only I could sleep for just a few minutes …

  Something grazes my cheek.

  I hear my name.

  “Wake up,” Finn says.

  I’m not asleep yet, but my eyes are so heavy. I try to open them, but fail.

  The sorrow in me dims as a calmness fills me instead. Though still tired, my body grows lighter and I’m able to open my eyes, barely.

  Finn’s face, full of worry, stares at me.

  My lungs ache and I cough. “What’s happening?”

  “The demons are going to try to possess you. You have to fight it. Your friends are on their way.” He speaks fast as if he doesn’t have much time. He might be a demon, but he’s holding me gently and I know he cares.

  I’m thankful he’s holding me, not Ruben.

  “No …” My throat hurts as I talk.

  If Claire and Darien show up, they might get hurt.

  Finn’s lips press into my forehead. “Fight it.”

  When he sets me down, the serenity I’d felt in his arms vanishes.

  “Boss wants her weak before we take her in,” Ruben says.

  The whispers return, louder than before.

  Finn said to fight it. Whatever is happening, I can’t let it take me.

  The sadness in me shifts to anger.

  Darien’s face appears. His blue eyes, the half-grin he’d always give me before he’d kiss me. Things that I once took such comfort in send rage through me now as the memory of the break-up surfaces.

  I’d gone to his house to watch a movie on Saturday night like we always did. I should have known when he didn’t lean in and kiss me after he answered the door that something was wrong.

  “I brought a comedy.” I lifted up the Bluray I’d just rented.

  He’d been having such a hard time since losing Pops, I’d chosen something funny to distract him.

  His lips were pressed together as he stared at me. “We need to talk.”

  It felt as if my throat had dropped to my stomach as we sat on the couch and he told me he thought it was best if we ended things. He’d been going through a lot and just needed to focus on school and football.

  I fought the tears, not sure how to feel.

  But now, as I remember it, my blood boils.

  How could he do this to me? After everything we’ve gone through together. Everything we’ve shared. I’ve given him all of me —my whole heart, body, and soul. And poof, just like that, he is over me?

  Rachel’s face appears next. Her luscious hair and deep brown eyes. I want to tear her open.

  The way Darien looks at her now sends a tremor of fury through me. She doesn’t know him. His goals, his dreams. How he shivers when my hands slip under his shirt, skin to skin.

  Will he kiss her like he’s kissed me? Hold her? Sleep with her?

  As the rage grows, darkness spreads through me. Tendrils of shadow swim through my veins, starting in my fingertips and toes and traveling toward my core.

  “Fight it,” Finn’s voice replays in my head.

  This is what he meant. I can’t let it get to my heart.

  Another memory attacks, this time of my mom the day after Dad found her stash of pills in her car.

  Her glossy eyes gazed off into the distance as she stared at the black TV screen.

  “Mom,” I said as panic rushed through me.

  She blinked. “My baby, you look so lovely.”

  She’d promised she wouldn’t take the pills anymore. She swore. After going to rehab, she’d done so well. I’d convinced myself things were going to be better.

  “Why?” I asked. “You said you were done with them.”

  She frowned then dropped her face to her hands and bawled. When she regained her composure, she peered up and said, “I just needed them once more. That’s all.”

  I knew it was a lie. Even if she wanted it to be true, her problem was too big to be wished away.

  The whispers stop and I feel the shadows stall.

  Warm hands lift me, a hand beneath my back, the other under my knees, as a sense of peace swells inside me.

  Ava’s screams pierce my ears. With Ruben’s permission, the Lessers aren’t holding back as they break through the mental wards she doesn’t know she has. With a combination of physical and emotional pain, they’ll eat their way into her soul and darken it forever.

  God, I hate myself. There had to be something I could have done to protect her. What, I’m not sure. After I told her the truth about myself and her friends, she needed space. Even if I’d have taken her concern of being followed more seriously, stalking her myself would have just been creepy.

  “You got a thing for the girl?” Ruben asks. “Or are you just into torture?”

  I realize I’ve been staring. “I’m just wondering what the point of all this is.” Which is true. Sure, Claire’s father is powerful in the angel world, but hurting her is sure to piss him off.

  “Boss has big plans, and he needs angel blood.” He pulls a Snickers bar from his pocket and rips it open. “The angels deserve what they get.” He bites the candy, chewing it obnoxiously with his mouth open.

  I can’t disagree. As much as I’ve kept away from the demon world, I’ve seen the way angels treat anyone who has demon blood—except for their prized Hellwalkers, of course. If a demon can do their dirty work, then he’s worth something. Otherwise, we’re nothing more than scum.

  Seraphiel has used me to his advantage, my love for my sister a weakness.

  How would he feel if something happened to his family?

  But even if I wouldn’t spill a single tear for his pain, I can’t pretend the demons don’t do awful things.

  Ava doesn’t deserve this fate.

  Ruben’s phone dings and he reads a text. “Boss says the angel and her friends are almost here.”

  Relief hits me. Claire will be here soon. She can save Ava.

  But wait? How would anyone at Serpent’s Lair know where Claire and the Triad are?

  “Grab her,” Ruben says.

  I bite my tongue, ready to remind him who he’s talking to before I remember that if I don’t carry Ava, someone else will. I unlock the cage and bend down. The scratches on her body are deeper now, the Lessers brutal in their torture. She cries out as I lift her and I send a wave of peace through her.

  Sweat pools on her blazing hot skin. A fever has set in, which means the Lessers’ tactics are working.

  Ruben exits the room and I follow him down the hallway to the staircase leading up. We pass through the bar where the bartender pours a pitcher for two Greater Demons waiting at the bar. They don’t even blink as they see Ava in my hands. We pass by a pool table and head through another door.

  Down another set of stairs is a room that looks ordinary enough. I’ve never been to this side of the Serpent’s Lair. The drip of water and mildew smell are like any dingy basement I’ve been in.

  I glance at Ava. Her heart is racing, which isn’t a good sign.

  When I look up, doors that weren’t visible a moment ago slide open.

  With a flashlight in his hand, R
uben leads the way down the tunnel. At the end, we arrive at a huge room full of Lessers, all squeaking with hunger at the sight of Ava.

  “Chain her to the altar.” Ruben gestures to the front of the room.

  I gulp. There’s no turning back now. I have to play along and hope Claire and the Triad show up soon. I set her as gently as I can on the circular slab of stone, spreading her arms and legs to create an X. She whimpers as I shackle her wrists and ankles, binding her in place. Underneath the altar, a demonic pentagram is etched into the floor, its power allowing the Lessers easier entrance into her soul.

  After I have Ava secured to the altar, I walk to the back of the room where Ruben waits.

  The Lessers have held off so far, hovering around her like dogs begging for a bone.

  “They’re here,” Ruben says.

  “How do you know?” I ask.

  Ruben chuckles. “The stupid angel and her friends are with Boss right now.”

  “Huh?” Did someone stop them on their way here?

  “They think he’s going to help them save their precious little human, but he’s luring them right where he wants them, then giving her to the Lessers to do what they will.”

  Everything clicks in my brain like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

  Uriah Donnelly isn’t coming to save Ava. He’s coming to have her killed.

  21

  All five of us, even Uriah, pile into my Wagoneer with one destination in mind: The Serpent’s Lair. Fitting name for a bar run by demons and half-demons. Uriah drives since he and Claire are the only ones who know where this place is. As Uriah steers the car away from downtown and toward Roxhill, my heart begins to pound.

  The plan is simple, but like Tuck had said, the best ones usually are.

  Rachel and Claire will blast away the demons with their angel light and Uriah and I will drag as many of them to hell as we can while Tuck finds Ava.

  I try to breathe, but my pulse only sprints faster.

  There’s no room for self-doubt. It’s what Uriah has been pounding into my thick skull for the past week. But when I’m so new to this whole Hellwalking thing and Ava’s life is hanging in the balance, how am I supposed to be brimming with confidence? Why couldn’t Pops and Gran have just told me? So what if my mother had made them promise. It’s not like she would have been around to guilt them about it.

  Suddenly, I’m aware of Rachel’s leg touching mine. She’s scooted close to me in the backseat, leaving a gap of empty space between her and Claire.

  “Are you okay?” she whispers.

  “Yes,” I say. “No. I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

  “We’ll get Ava out,” she says.

  But how can she know that? None of us do.

  “Look at me,” she says. She turns my head toward her, bringing her face close to mine. “We will work together, we will stand united, and we will get her out of there. You can do this. We can do this.”

  Then, she slips off her glove and brings her palm to my face.

  The bright light sears through my vision, blotting out the faded colors of my world. Her warmth soothes my nerves and melts away the fear as I relax into her touch. The colors swirl together, tiny lights popping and fizzling like fireflies. But as calm as I am, her light has drowned out every trace of self-doubt, empowering me to be who I’m meant to be.

  Gradually, the light fades, and the cracked vinyl of the car seats is visible once again. Beside me, Rachel takes off her other glove, ready to face the darkness without obstacles. When I feel someone watching us, I look up, and Claire is crinkling her nose.

  “You two are absolutely nauseating,” she says.

  For the first time since I’ve known her, Rachel bursts into laughter.

  In the front seat, Tuck points out the passenger window, and Uriah parallel parks by the sidewalk. When we step out of the car, I see a weathered sign bearing nothing but a coiled snake to identify it.

  “I’ve logged plenty of Hellwalker hours out here,” Uriah says. “I can get us to the basement.”

  Adrenaline rushes through my veins. This is it. We all climb out of the car. My feet feel heavy as I step onto the sidewalk, and I try to shake out my arms and legs, loosening up my muscles and channeling my nervous energy.

  “This isn’t a football game, Darien,” Claire warns. “And Ava’s life is on the line, so don’t screw up.”

  I’m painfully aware of that fact. And it’s Friday night. Right about now, my teammates are warming up on the field without me. But I’m right where I need to be.

  “Is this your version of a pep talk?” I ask. “Because, just so you know, you really suck at it.”

  Ignoring me, Claire steps in front of me to stand with Rachel. She takes off her jacket and tosses it in the backseat. Uriah turns and raises his brows in question. I nod. We’re ready.

  We follow him inside.

  The bar is dark, the room illuminated only by a few neon beer signs and pendant lights that dangle over the bar top. A couple of guys in the back pause from their game of pool when they see us. The bartender, a young guy with dark hair, is drying a glass with a towel. He stops what he’s doing and watches Uriah. A bright red ring circles his pupil as he looks at the rest of us. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

  “Are you lost?” the bartender asks.

  Uriah doesn’t respond.

  The man’s eyes slide over each of us. “Get out. You’re not welcome here.”

  “Now is that any way to welcome thirsty patrons?” Uriah asks. “Maybe we just want a drink.”

  “Or maybe you’ve come to stick your self-righteous noses in affairs that don’t concern you.” The man places the glass on the bar top and reaches beneath the counter. Uriah turns to look at Claire and Rachel. He gives them a nod.

  Claire smiles at the bartender.

  As if tethered by a string, she rises several inches from the floor, hovering in mid-air. When she blinks, her eyes are the color of fire. She zeros in on the bartender, concentrating.

  Then, Claire raises her palms, and the room begins to shake. Liquor bottles rattle, dozens sliding off shelves and shattering on the floor. The sweet pungent smell of alcohol rises through the room. Like Rachel, Claire’s skin begins to glow with ethereal light. But suddenly, blue flames erupt from her palms. They dance and sway without burning her, crackling as they lap the air like tongues.

  “How ‘bout it, Bartender? Wanna play with fire?”

  The man slides to the floor, shielding his eyes from her and scrambling away from the puddle of flammable liquor.

  On the other side of the room, Rachel, glowing just as brightly as Claire, lifts her bare hands into the air as if gathering power just before brilliant rays of blinding light erupt from her eyes, wrists, and feet. She walks toward the two men in the back and expands her aura in a powerful burst. It blasts the men from their feet, leaving them stunned on the ground. Pool sticks fly through the air, splintering apart when they hit the walls. Then, she reins her light back in and turns toward me, wearing a satisfied smile.

  Hands down, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

  “This way,” Uriah says.

  He heads past the bar and opens a door, revealing a set of stairs.

  “Claire, are you finished playing with the half-demon? We have some real work to do.”

  Claire smirks at the bartender and drops back to the ground, her eyes dimming back to their deep brown color.

  “Tuck, you coming?”

  When I look back at him, though, he is staring at Claire, who is wearing an amused expression.

  “Like what you see, Priest?”

  Then, she struts past us both, obviously having zero problems with self-doubt.

  The underbelly of the Serpent’s Lair is basically what you’d expect from the basement of a bar. Boxes line the damp stone walls, revealed by a single lightbulb Uriah switches on in the center of the room. Somewhere behind me, the rhythmic drip of a leaky pipe plunks into a li
quid puddle. The room is small, completely void of windows or doors. I’m confused.

  “Is this it?” I ask. “There’s nothing down here.”

  Uriah runs his hands across the block wall. “That’s because you have to know where to look.”

  He grabs a barely perceptible sliver of stone from the wall and pulls. With a low, scraping sound, a hidden door opens into another passageway so dark, there’s no way we’ll be able to see where we’re going.

  “Claire, I assume you can lead the way?” Uriah asks.

  She slides past Uriah and stops for a moment until she glows like a human night light, illuminating the passage so that we avoid rocks and unexpected crevices in the stone floor.

  Beside me, Rachel finds my shirt and gives a tug, pulling me to a stop as the others walk ahead.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “Something’s not right,” she says.

  “What kind of something?”

  “Well, I’ve been trying to fight it, but I just can’t shake the feeling that it’s been way too easy to break into the underground lair of Seattle’s demon world. I mean, I know Claire and I took care of the three guys upstairs, but don’t you think they should have put up more of a fight?”

  Now that I think about it, she has a point. Even my limited experience with the Lessers has taught me that interfering with demonic agendas results in chaos. Yet we’d walked right through the door.

  “And how did Uriah know exactly how to reveal this passageway?” she asks.

  “Well, you heard him earlier. He’s been on several Hellwalker missions at this location.”

  Rachel sighs. “I guess you’re right. I just wish I could shake this off.”

  “Even if something is wrong, we can’t let Tuck and Claire walk into it alone.”

  I feel her hair tickle my arm as she nods. Then, she unleashes some of her power to light the way in front of us. Tuck, Claire, and Uriah are way ahead by the time we step out of the passageway and enter a large, bleak room with floor-to-ceiling cement.

  Uriah stands protectively in front of Tuck and Claire, staring down at least a dozen Lessers who are guarding some kind of altar. It’s surrounded by an ornate pentagram that has been etched into the stone floor. Then my eyes zero in on Ava’s figure held in place on the stone slab by thick chains.