by J. N. Colon
Jayson’s stare scorched into the petite girl. “Next time, tell me before you call Nithael.”
I choked on a gasp. I’d totally been checking out Jayson’s dad.
I was so going to Hell for that.
“Lena.” Seth pantomimed wiping drool off his chin.
My face burned a vibrant shade of crimson. I slung a throw pillow at the Nephilim. He caught it and chuckled. A real archangel stood only a few feet away. Nithael was a warrior of God for crying out loud. He could cut down Lucifer himself with his flaming sword—or something like that.
Get a grip. I was totally fangirling over my soul mate’s dad.
Those gentle eyes landed on me again, a soft smile curling his lips. “Hello, Lena. I’m Nithael. It’s nice to meet you.” He looked like an older—and tamer—version of Jayson. And by older, I was only talking ten years or less.
“Hey,” I squeaked. I cleared my throat and resisted the urge to fidget. Couldn’t he have picked a better time to pay a visit? I looked like crap.
Jayson frowned at me. He did not appreciate my enthusiasm.
I shrugged. Heavenly creatures didn’t grace me with their presence every day. Well, technically they did, but the Nephilim were only half.
Jayson sighed and crossed his arms against his chest. “Do you know anything?”
Seth stood and gave his seat up for Nithael. Wow. He didn’t even do that for his twin.
“Can you tell me what happened?” the angel asked, folding his impressive physique down. He looked young, but those amber eyes held millennia of wisdom. And heartache. Sadness swirled around Nithael.
Jayson explained what happened in the library first. When he got to the incident today, I became very interested in my chipped blue nail polish.
“And this made you sick, Lena?” Nithael asked.
“Yeah.” I swallowed thickly, forcing the acid down.
Nithael leaned back in the chair, a tiny line forming between his brows. “I’ve never heard of anything like this before. And since it’s happened on two separate occasions with two separate dwellers, it must be Lena.” He rubbed the sides of his strong jaw, a barely visible shadow of stubble coating it. “An avis can sometimes see things beyond the veil, but nothing like this.”
Astaroth had said I was an avis for more than one reason. Did that have something to do with it? He also seemed to know why I had the vision, but he made it clear that information would cost me.
“Could it have something to do with me?” Jayson asked, his mouth pulled into a frown. “She’s bound to me, and I’m not a typical Nephilim.” A slash of guilt tore through his brick wall.
Was he worried because his father was an archangel? Did he think the bond came with crazy side effects?
Lines deepened across Nithael’s face. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’ll have to open up some lines of communication with others.”
Jayson gave a quick nod and refused to meet my eyes.
My heart ached. He was blaming himself for the agony I’d gone through today. He didn’t need to say it. I could feel it.
Was he slowly letting me in without even knowing it? Or was I becoming stronger and forcing my way past his blockades?
I nudged him. It took a moment for his gaze to finally lower to mine. “Do you think I can get those cookies now?”
He blinked, clearing the shadows from expression. “If you want.”
“I’m feeling better.” My stomach was still queasy, but I’d fight through it to lighten his guilt.
“Sure.” He stood and marched into the kitchen.
“I knew she couldn’t resist sugar for long.” Seth took a seat on the floor in front of his sister’s chair.
Brenna leaned forward and flicked his ear. “Like you can’t resist making yourself look like an idiot.”
He shot her a dramatic frown over his shoulder.
Nithael’s head tilted as he surveyed me as if he were looking for something. “Jayson was never the type to bind his soul to anyone.” His smile was warm—and a little sad. “I’m glad it was you. You seem good for him.”
I wasn’t sure he was right. I had a habit of getting myself into trouble and not to mention my knack for self-inflicted injury.
Before I could respond, Jayson returned with a plate of cookies and a glass of water. He didn’t acknowledge what his father said even though he must have heard it.
“Thanks.” Yummy sugary, chocolate goodness filled my mouth. “Oh my gawd. Are these homemade?” I mumbled.
Jayson nodded. “I made them.”
My stomach was suddenly ten times better. “You keep baking like this, and I’ll have to keep you.”
For a second, that dimpled smile broke across his face.
Nithael’s stare danced between us for a few seconds before he climbed to his feet. “I’ll see if I can find anything out. Bonds between humans and Nephilim like you are rare, but some have existed.”
Not a lot of archangels were charged with making Nephilim, and it seemed even less tied their souls to humans.
Jayson’s decision to save me had been crazier than I’d realized. If this was some kind of side effect from the bond, I hoped he didn’t burrow himself into a dark hole to push me away.
The sun slowly descended across the sky, nearly disappearing beyond the horizon. Soon, darkness would blanket Mystic Hollow, but I should be home by then. I promised Jayson no more nighttime strolls around town. Demons preferred the dark.
My bag of assorted desserts swung back and forth as I walked. I’d used the rest of my gift certificate at The Sugary Spoon. My mouth salivated just thinking of the goodies. I might let my dad have one.
A couple of days had passed since Mrs. Gracin borrowed a page from The Exorcist and took me on a trip down memory lane.
A shiver rippled down my nape. The horrifying images were still sharp and vivid, but I could force them to the back of my mind in a thick steel cage.
Sometimes they broke free.
Nithael hadn’t returned with any info yet. I wasn’t surprised. They made it seem like no one had a bond like ours.
Jayson tightened that blockade around his emotions. Or he thought he did. I still got flashes of the guilt eating away at him.
I hoped this vision thing had nothing to do with Jayson. Then he could stop blaming himself for it.
A high-pitched whine cut through the brisk air, shattering thoughts of my Nephilim soul mate. I halted, and my brows furrowed as I listened for the sound again. Another cry echoed, followed by a whimper. And another whimper.
Oh, no. An animal was in distress, maybe a puppy. My gaze trailed the area as another cry resonated through the small patch of woods on my right.
My chest tightened imagining a tiny puppy limping around, cold, hurt, and hungry. My feet were already headed toward the grove. Going off into the forest alone wasn’t the best idea, but daylight still lingered, and this wasn’t exactly the dark forest. The other side came out into Sebastian’s neighborhood.
I carefully stepped over the thick roots of a massive oak tree. Fallen leaves made the ground slippery, and I lost my balance.
Crapola! I grabbed the trunk for support with my free hand, stopping moments from crashing to the ground.
A long breath of relief blew out of my mouth. I almost ruined my bag of goodies. Who wanted to eat smashed pie?
I’d still eat it, but it’d be a little messier.
The puppy cried out again, and I leaned off the trunk, trudging further into the small forest. An acrid odor of herbs and smoke lingered through the air. A cold chill spilled down my spine.
I glanced up, the light dimming through the canopy of twisting branches and multicolored leaves.
Something wasn’t right. I should turn back.
The foliage thinned and several figures materialized. My veins iced over.
Two guys and an older woman loomed around a small fire. Symbols were drawn in the dirt, pulsating with an otherworldly crimson glow. The man on the right held a wriggling
black lab puppy by the scruff of his neck, his little paws dangling over the flames. Black holes covered the entirety of the mens’ eyes.
My heart lurched. They were dwellers.
The woman’s humped back was toward me, but I assumed she was sporting those eerie pits for eyes too. Why else would she be involved in a ritual with two dwellers?
An ominous chant strung together by unfamiliar words rose between them. The guy on the left bent, picking up an object wrapped in a black silk cloth. The glowing symbols turned his strawberry blond hair vivid red.
My stomach rolled as blood dripped from the cloth.
Holy Toledo. Was it a totem? Were they performing a dark blessing?
He passed the wrapped object to the woman, her frail, aged-spotted hands gently closing around it.
“We anoint in the blood of the innocent.” The one holding the puppy spoke, his stained teeth visible in his mouth. Greasy black hair matted his head.
Acid spilled through my gut. What were they going to do with that little whimpering puppy? His little body quaked so violently.
The redhead brandished a twisted knife, bringing it to the animal’s throat.
A strangled gasp escaped my lips.
Oh, shiitake.
I slapped my hand over my mouth, but it was too late. The two men found me hiding within the foliage. The woman’s head rotated, her crimson eyes searing into me like hellfire.
My knees grew weak. Son of a biscuit. She wasn’t a dweller. That would have been bad enough. Instead, the old woman was an upper-level demon.
Chapter 10
The bag slipped from my fingers, and I pivoted to run. Clawed hands caught my jacket, yanking me back around. My pulse spiked as I came face to face with the she-demon. Her slitted eyes smoldered while burnt orange scales puckered her arms.
“What do we have here?” Her voice came out in a hiss. “Nosey little girls get eaten.”
I struggled, but her talons dug in, holding tightly. “Get off me!” Would she suck my soul out? Or would she eat me with those sharp teeth growing between her thin, papery lips?
She dragged me toward the fire. “Lucky for you, Astaroth has given strict orders not to harm you. Physically anyway.” She winked. “You can watch while we perform our dark blessing on the heart of a warrior.”
The trees spun sickeningly, candy apple red, gold, and burnt orange leaves swirling into one multicolored autumn blob. A human heart was tucked away in the blood-soaked material.
She released me and grabbed the totem, holding it beneath the puppy. “Blade forged from demon bones and fire created by brimstone. Blood of the innocent flows. Wickedness awaits. Bless this totem.”
The redheaded dweller bared his teeth as he put the blade to the puppy’s neck. “I love little doggies. They squirm like frying bacon in a pan.”
“No!” I lurched around the fire and snatched the animal right out of the dweller’s hands. The frightened furball yelped as I tossed him on the ground. “Go! Get out of here.”
The little guy ran for his life, darting into the trees. I pumped my fists as it disappeared. Victory!
Jayson was going to kill me.
A snarl ripped from the demon. “You stupid girl. If you weren’t protected by Astaroth, I’d suck you dry here and now and eat your entrails for dessert.”
I took a step back. That sounded hella painful. And disgusting.
“I’ll go after the dog,” the dweller with matted black hair said. His pale, sullen face twisted in a cruel smile. He was really looking forward to murdering that helpless animal.
“No,” she snapped. “Use the girl, Vince.”
My heart jumped in my throat as the dweller grabbed me. I held my breath, waiting on the visions. But they didn’t come.
Was this vision thing just some random torment? What triggered it?
“Get off!” I struggled uselessly as he forced my hand forward, holding it over the bloody totem.
Jayson had to have felt my fear by now. He’d be on his way.
“But I thought she was protected by Astaroth,” the other dweller said, twisting the knife in his hand. “Is she even innocent, Lariat?”
“Morten, she’s an avis. And a virgin.” A thin smile split her lips, baring her jagged teeth. “She’ll do. Astaroth will understand our predicament.”
My cheeks heated. What right did she have to divulge my personal business like that? And how did she know? Did virgins have a particular scent or something?
Ugh. Disgusting.
Morten gave a quick nod and pressed the knife to my palm. I squirmed as he sliced it across my flesh, a harsh sting resonating. Blood flowed onto the heart.
“Blade forged from demon bones and fire created by brimstone. Blood of the innocent flows. Wickedness awaits. Bless this totem.” Lariat began speaking in another language again as she held onto the heart.
Smoke sizzled as my blood soaked in. A rancid, foul odor clogged the air, and I gagged. The dwellers chanted along with the demon, their voices rising and falling with an ominous crescendo.
The trees around us swayed and leaned away, trying to escape the evil permeating the area.
“It is done.” Lariat grabbed one of those human-skin bags and slipped the bleeding heart inside.
My stomach clenched as her red eyes lifted to mine. “Now, what to do with Astaroth’s little pet?”
“Let me play with her for a minute,” Vince said, standing so close his body brushed against mine. “She’s so pretty.” His other hand came up and ran along my neck.
Every single muscle tensed. A sour taste coated the back of my mouth as the forest disappeared.
Oh, fudge.
The vision sprung up around me. A man carried a flaming torch, his face shrouded by a tattered cloak. He walked quickly and with purpose, each step silent on the cobblestone street. The moon and stars in the pitch-black sky were the only sources of light. Shadows were thick and unwelcoming.
The clack of hooves sounded in the distance, and the pungent odor of fresh manure sifted through the air.
When the heck was I? Medieval times? The Dark Ages?
A small building came into view. Voices murmured from the other side of the closed double doors. The man laid the torch on the stone ground and shuffled to the corner. He pulled out a metal shaft and slipped it between the handles of the doors.
A pit opened in my gut as he locked people inside.
The man grabbed the torch and scurried around the side. A bitter scent floated around the building as he pulled a backdoor opened. He tossed the light inside, and a whoosh of flames exploded.
Unnerving laughter spilled out of him, the firelight catching his face. Rotten teeth gleamed behind thin lips, and eyes as cold as glaciers danced within the hood of the cloak.
He closed the door and used another metal rod to keep it sealed.
Screams filled the night, souring my stomach. Pounding thudded on the door. Smoke billowed, and a loud bell rang out.
My head craned back. A steeple tipped with a cross rose into the black sky.
The dark street spun. Oh, God. It was a church.
The scent of burning flesh began to seep up my nose right before the vision melted.
Coughing racked my lungs, and the cold earth pressed against my palms and knees. I rested on all fours, trees surrounding me. I was back in the present.
Sharp pains slammed against my skull and warmth leaked from my nose, dripping onto the crunchy bracken.
Blood.
“What happened to her?” Vince asked, nudging my calf with his boot. “She convulsed and dropped.”
Lariat bent, bringing her crimson eyes close to mine. Strands of white hair had slipped out of the low bun in the back of her head. “Very odd. If I didn’t know better, I’d say—” A howl tore from her mouth, and she spun around, barely dodging the sword directed at her chest.
Hannah sliced the long, silver blade toward the demon again.
Lariat’s head twisted to the side and bones cra
cked like gunshots firing. Varying shades of orange scales popped along her body as the tall, seven-foot demon emerged. Topaz tipped the edges of horns curling from her forehead.
She looked like any other demon but had definite feminine qualities. Her chest was rounder and covered by a leather top that matched her pants. White, stringy hair reached past her shoulder blades.
I scrambled back on my hands, running into Vince. He took one look at the attacking Nephilim and split.
Not much loyalty existed in the demon world.
Growls echoed from Lariat as she swiped her large, onyx talons at Hannah. The Nephilim dodged and dipped, doing a fancy little twirl. Her scarlet locks flew around her as she moved.
Ugh. She even looked hot when she fought.
I peered through the trees, darkness beginning to spread dense shadows. Where was Jayson? I expected him to come rushing to my rescue. Not Strawberry Longlegs.
Hannah let out a battle cry as she lunged forward, slicing the demon’s head off in one quick, fluid motion. It rolled away, hitting a tree with a sickening splat.
Morten stood a few feet away, still gripping the knife he used to slice me. Instead of attacking Hannah, he whirled around and took off.
He didn’t get very far.
A hot tingle zipped down my neck, and Jayson appeared, stopping the dweller in his tracks. He surveyed the blood leaking out of my nose and smeared on my palm. His attention swiveled back to the dweller, scrutinizing the knife in his hand. “You’re the one who cut her.”
“Just a little scratch. She’ll be fine.” A sneer curled Morten’s lips. “What are you going to do, Nephilim? My human host is perfectly fine and alive. You can’t hurt him.”
“Who said I couldn’t?” Jayson grabbed Morten’s hand and twisted. The snap of his wrist echoed through the woods.
A scream tore from the dweller. The knife fell from his fingers, the blade landing in a pile of leaves.
My stomach clenched. Jayson just broke his bone like it was nothing.
Hannah ran forward, her chest heaving. “Jayson, don’t.”
He shot her a hard glare, freezing her where she stood.
