The Infernal Sacrament (Guardians of Elysium Book 1)

by Nissa Leder

  He looks away from me, but nods.

  A wave of exhaustion washes over me. I lay my head on Finn’s shoulder and shut my eyes.

  If I can sleep for just a few minutes …

  25

  Within seconds of resting her head on my shoulders, Ava is out.

  I don’t blame her. After everything she’s been through, she deserves a month-long nap.

  Seeing her so pale and lifeless, I feared the worst before the Priest shoved a fiery blue hand into her chest. I was impressed, shocked, a little horrified, but most of all thankful.

  When I heard her friends talking to Ava, I left the room. I figured I was the last person she wanted to see. As the Familiars scratched, bit, and weakened her, I just watched like a coward.

  I’ve only known Ava a week, and I don’t even know if I’m capable of love so I have no three words to profess, but seeing her in pain hurt me. Watching her nearly consumed by the demon made me sick.

  As I sit as still as I can so I don’t wake Ava, the front door swings open. I tense, ready to fight off more demons. But no demons enter the room.

  An angel does.

  Seraphiel, broad white wings and an ethereal glow, steps inside and when he sees me, his eyes narrow.

  Claire barges into the living room from the hallway. “Dad. Hi. Everything’s okay—”

  He takes in the rest of the room. Knocked over chairs. A fallen plant with half the dirt in its pot spilled everywhere.

  Claire steps in front of him and rests both of her hands on her hips. “It looks bad, but I’ll clean it all up. It was an emergency.”

  “Do tell.” He stares at Ava. “Last I checked, this is an angel safe house.”

  Can he sense that she’s nearly been possessed?

  “They took Ava,” Claire says. “And Finn risked himself to tell us and help save her.”

  “And you don’t think that might have been what the demons wanted?” He tilts his head, his bright eyes now looking directly at Claire.

  He isn’t wrong. I might have warned them because I wanted to save Ava, but it was a trap.

  Claire straightens her posture, making herself as tall as she possibly can, which is still nearly two feet shorter than Seraphiel. “Am I not supposed to protect humans? I risk myself all of the time for people I don’t know. There’s no way I was going to let my best friend die and do nothing.”

  Ava nuzzles into me, relaxing my panic. I could be dead in a blink if Seraphiel wanted to kill me. Even if Claire and the Triad wanted to protect me—which, let’s face it, is doubtful—they’d stand no chance against the most powerful angel to exist. The only person who might have a chance is my father, who will disown me once he hears about my betrayal.

  “You seem to have succeeded,” Seraphiel says. “She’s alive. But the darkness will never leave her. The demon got too far.”

  Claire snaps her gaze to Ava. “We got it out. She should be fine.”

  There’s no glee or sadness in Seraphiel’s expression. “The demon is gone. But it left its mark.”

  Anger fills Claire’s aura—an aura she has always kept hidden until now—and she clenches her jaw. “You should know that the Guardians’ teacher’s pet, Uriah Donnelly, completed an Infernal Sacrament and earned his wings. His demon wings.”

  I’ve never seen any emotion in Seraphiel’s aura, but this causes a flicker of worry to surface. As quickly as it appears, it’s gone. “The Hellwalker betrayed us?”

  “It was under his orders that Ava was taken. He admitted killing Darien’s parents and wanting to kill me to get even with you and the rest of the Guardians.”

  “I need to update the council on this matter.” Seraphiel looks at me. “You know what will happen if you do one thing that endangers my daughter or her friends.”

  I lift my chin and meet his stare.

  Confusion covers Claire’s face.

  Without another word, Seraphiel leaves.

  She told him about Uriah, but she conveniently left out the part where he took her blood—the blood of Seraphiel. Something tells me he wouldn’t be too happy if he knew her rescue ended with Uriah getting what he wanted. Angel and demon blood are powerful. I’ve heard rumors that, with the right incantation, they can even raise the dead.

  Claire walks over to the couch and hovers over me. “What did he mean?”

  “Nothing.” It’s been a long day, and I don’t feel like talking about my sister.

  But Claire wouldn’t be Claire if she let things go that easily. “Tell me.”

  I groan.

  “The Guardians have my sister. She made a stupid mistake and wound up in the Order’s prison. I’ve been working for him to earn her freedom.”

  Before Claire can ask any more questions, Tuck returns with a bag of chips in his hand. “Look what I found.”

  I’ve never been more thankful to be interrupted by a Priest.

  The spinning blades of a ceiling fan are the first thing I see as I blink my eyes, trying to come out of sleep.

  My body feels heavier than normal as I sit up and look around. I’m on a couch and wrapped in a blanket at the Guardians’ safe house. The room is dim, lit only by a few thick candles.

  Right. The electricity had gone haywire during the exorcism.

  In a second sweep of the room, my eyes fall on Darien, who is watching me with tired eyes from a chair in the corner. He’s leaning forward, with his elbows on his knees. A mug of coffee rests on the table beside him, the steam rising from it barely visible in the flickering light.

  “Have you been watching me all night?” I ask.

  He nods.

  “Stalker.” I try to break the tension with a joke, but he looks like he’s more likely to break than to laugh.

  “You were so cold,” he whispers. “Like you were barely alive.”

  The truth is that I’ve never used that much of my energy before, and it took every ounce of strength within me to keep fighting. If I’d given up, then Ava might have, too.

  “She still doing okay?” I ask.

  He smiles. “Yeah, thanks to you and Tuck. She’s resting in the other room. Claire and Finn are with her now.”

  “And Tuck?”

  “You know Tuck,” Darien says. “He’s outside getting some air. After what he did, I think the house feels a little too small for him.”

  I sit up, crossing my legs underneath me and look at my counterpart.

  Really look at him.

  A week ago, he knew zero about being a Hellwalker, let alone part of a Triad. He knew nothing about the dangers of our world. But I had seen him when the fire consumed him, the ring around the iris of his eyes glowing bright blue against the flames. He had drawn the Lessers to him like the strongest magnet I’ve ever seen. Dozens of them. I didn’t even know it was possible to take that many down at once.

  And he did it all while the only world he had ever known for seventeen years went on without him. His hopes. His dreams. He lost all the dreams of his human world tonight, sacrificed them before an altar to save Ava. He never even questioned it.

  “What?” he says. “Is something wrong? Do you need anything?”

  I shake my head and meet his eyes. I smile and lift the blanket that covers me, inviting him in. He crosses the room and sits next to me, draping his arm around my shoulder. I rest my head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

  “I want to tell you I’m sorry,” I say.

  He looks down at me, his brows wrinkled in confusion. “What for?”

  “I looked at you for a week,” I say. “I tried to find as many reasons as I could to resist the bond I feel with you. But I never really saw you until tonight.”

  I raise my chin and press my lips to his cheek.

  I want him to turn his head and press his lips to mine. I want to melt into him until there is no beginning or end to either of us.

  But he doesn’t.

  Instead, he holds me tighter and pulls the blanket over my bare shoulders. For the first tim
e in a long time, I am safe and warm. And exactly where I want to be.

  26

  It takes every ounce of restraint I possess not to kiss Rachel Sharp.

  But in a single night, we’ve come a long way, and I’m terrified that if I move too fast, I’ll scare her away again. So instead of pulling her onto my lap and kissing her until we’re both dizzy, I wrap the blanket around her shoulders and inhale the sweet scent of her hair.

  She tenses at first, as if wondering what my next move will be, but when she realizes I’ve gone as far as I plan to, I feel her body relax against mine.

  “You’re so warm,” she says. “Guess there are a few perks to bursting into flames.”

  My lips curl into a grin, but I’m too tired to laugh. I wait for her next smartass joke, but it doesn’t come. At first, I think she’s asleep, but when I peer down at her, she’s studying me with those dark, dark eyes.

  “Is it awful?” she asks. “Like it’s described in all the religious books?”

  Hell. She’s asking me about Hell.

  I close my eyes against the images. The agonized cries. The creatures that scratch against the rocks, trying to escape the fiery lake that melts the flesh from their bones. The smell. That God-awful smell. I swallow back the bile that rises in my throat.

  “Hey,” she whispers. She presses her fingers against my cheek, trying to get me to look at her. Tiny flashes of light flicker before my eyes when our skin touches. “I’m sorry for asking.”

  “No,” I say. “I want to tell you. And I want you to tell me everything. I never want there to be any secrets between us. Deal?”

  She smiles then. “I think I can handle it.”

  So, as Rachel Sharp rests her head against my chest, I tell her every last horrifying detail of hell, everything that goes far beyond the anguish and gnashing of teeth we’ve all heard about. And she listens, allowing me to talk it all out, sharing the burden with me so that it doesn’t eat me alive. When I finish, she holds her hand out to me.

  “You’re never alone,” she says.

  Then, she presses her palm against mine, and my darkness is overcome by her light.

  I want more of Rachel Sharp. Every day for the rest of my life, I will always want more of her. But right here, right now, in this moment, as I hold her against me, it’s enough.

  After a long night’s sleep, I feel more alive again.

  I’m nowhere near back to normal. My limbs are still heavy and hard to control, and though my stomach is grumbling, the idea of eating repulses me.

  Finn is still next to me on the couch, fast asleep.

  Claire has made herself a bed on the floor next to the fireplace, the glow of the flames casting light on her face. Her blankets are bunched at her feet as her chest moves in and out in deep breaths.

  Every once in a while, I nearly convince myself the last week has been a dream.

  No—a nightmare.

  But I don’t have to pinch myself to know I’m awake now, and everything that has happened was real.

  The pain and emptiness are now just memories, but something new swirls in me now, heavy and dark. I know my friends made the choices they made to protect me. That, without hesitation, they risked their lives to save me. But when I think of the lies, the anger in me boils like lava, and it takes everything in me to push it away.

  Carefully, I get up from the couch. The sliding glass door at the back of the room is cracked open, the smell of rain drifting inside. Maybe some fresh air is all I need.

  As quietly as I can, I slide the door open and step outside to a wooden deck. The morning air is thick and chilly, but even without a jacket, I don’t feel cold. Strange.

  Tuck sits on a patio chair, his gaze locked onto his forearm, which is resting on his leg.

  I notice the black swirl tattooed on his skin.

  He glances up at me with an exhausted smile. “Look who’s up at ’em already. Demons can’t hold my V down.”

  I pull a chair next to him and sit, then run my fingers over his newly inked skin.

  Something in me pulses. I swallow and tilt my head to the side, fighting to keep the darkness away.

  “You okay?” Tuck grabs my hand.

  “No,” I say, the truth freeing me just a little. “I mean, I’m alive and so thankful, but I think something’s still inside me.”

  He frowns and looks at the tattoo. “I think something’s in me too.”

  The sound of the sliding door pulls us apart.

  Darien stares at us, dark circles under his eyes.

  Tuck stands. “I’m going to go find some coffee to make.”

  Darien takes his spot. “I need to apologize.”

  “It’s okay. There’s no need—”

  “—Please, let me finish. I should have told you the truth. When Pops died, it’s like my romantic feelings for you vanished. Like bam. They were gone. I thought it was just me. That I was broken and too weak to handle the grief.”

  He takes my hand into his and twines our fingers. Hands that used to feel so warm compared to mine, now feel cool. “Then when I found out about my heritage, about the gift that Pops passed on to me, I knew it wasn’t something that was ever going to change. I shouldn’t have kissed you in my room that night. But I didn’t want to believe the future I’d planned couldn’t happen. That the girl I’ve loved nearly my whole life couldn’t be mine anymore.”

  For the first time, the urge to cry isn’t there. I look at this boy who’s been there as long as I can remember, and I know that even if we might not ever be the Ava and Darien we’ve been the past two years again, we’re still, and always will be, friends. And that means something.

  Tuck comes back with three mugs of coffee and pulls up another chair. He reminds us of the time when we were camping sophomore year and we drank too much vodka; Darien ended up puking in the tent so we had to all sleep outside instead. We’d ended up cold, hung over, and covered in mosquito bites.

  “We were convinced that it was the worst day ever,” Tuck says. “Looks like we were wrong.” He gives an ironic chuckle.

  Darien shakes his head as he stares off into the distance.

  I sigh as the darkness in me hums.

  Something tells me this is only the beginning.

  Also by R.J. Harris

  Native Guardians

  The Spirit Breather

  The Spirit Warrior

  The Spirit Battle

  Also by Nissa Leder

  Whims of Fae

  Two Princes of Summer

  Prisoner of Darkness

  Whims of Fate

  A Dark Eternity

  A Cursed Reign

  Queen of Dark and Light

  (Coming December 2018)

  Curse of the Veil

  When Souls Linger

  Curse of the Veil

  The Soul Crossing

  About R.J. Harris

  Born and raised in the mountains of East Tennessee, R.J. Harris has been writing since she could hold a pencil. The beauty of her home in the Appalachian Mountains, along with the legends, myths, and folklore of that area, is what inspires the unique plots and settings captured in her young adult fiction. In addition to her love of all things fictional, R.J. is also a freelance writer and editor, an occasional adjunct professor, and a social marketing director. When not working, R.J. can be found at home building block towers for her son to knock down, drinking coffee and watching Netflix with her husband, and trying to win the approval of her grouchy calico cat.

  About Nissa

  Nissa Leder was born and raised in Washington State, where she lives with her husband, Joe, and their two boxers, two cats, and pet poison dart frogs.

  Always an avid reader, she didn’t realize her love for writing her own stories until her freshman year in college. Once she knew her life’s calling, she began studying the craft of writing and eventually obtained an MFA from Spalding University.

  When she isn’t writing down the stories that fill her head, she’s likely at t
he tennis courts working on her forehand or journeying to another world by reading a book. She’s a big believer in following your dreams and encourages everyone to shoot for the moon and pursue their passions.