Beloved Purgatory (Fallen Angels, Book 2) (29 page)

He turned it over.

His chest rose and fell slowly. The scales fell away
from his thumbs, like a snake shedding its skin. With the pads of
his fingers, he wiped the incriminating area over and over.

"Devi." He said my name as if I were lost to him.
When I didn't respond, he shut his eyes and pressed the mark
against his cheek. "What did you agree to, exactly?"

I'm sorry
, I wanted to say, but I wasn't
really. I would give anything to save him, even if it meant
enduring his quiet, pained expression for the rest of our time
together. No matter how much I hurt him, it was worth it.

He shuddered as he inhaled. His wrist shook. And then
I saw it, right below his left palm and illuminated by otherworldly
violet light--a black spot exactly like mine.

How could I have missed it? No, it wasn't
possible--neither Jasmine nor Oz had a mark like that on them. Did
it only appear in Azazel's demon form?

"You have one too?" I murmured, before I could think
better of it.

Mist curled around my bare legs, making my body go
cold. His eyes opened. There was nothing demonic about them--just
deep, restless, tender green. "It's a little late for me to be
saved. Now, what did he agree to do for you?"

"What do you mean it's a little late?"

He kissed the black spot. My wrist seized up as fire
shot through my limbs. It didn't hurt as much as when Forneus had
pressed his lips over my skin. Still it ached, as if each
individual cell in my body was remembering the pain.

"The terms of my contract have already been
fulfilled."

"I don't want to hurt you," I whispered.

"Is that what you asked for?"

I cringed. "Well, part of it."

He lowered my hand to his chest and backed up. "Then
the way out of this is simple. You must kill me."

I stood, paralyzed. Nothing moved but the mist,
filling the space between us until all I could see of him were his
green eyes. His heart beat furiously on my fingertips.

"What?" I asked.

No answer, and then something wet leaked onto my hand
and ran down my palm. I looked down and saw something black
dripping from my elbow to the floor.

I screamed.

"Keep your fingers straight," he demanded.

What the Hell was going on? Something gummy and damp
collected under my fingernails. His muscle tissue. And beneath
that, something long, thin and delicate cracked.

Oh my God. He's cutting into his chest with my
hand
.

I screamed kicked at his shins. His grip loosened,
and I slipped out of it, falling onto my back. He leaped on top of
me and grabbed my wrist. Our hands, sticky and coated in black,
reflected the purple from the light in the corners.

"Stop it," I begged.

His knees were over my thighs. I couldn't move
anymore. All my flailing did was give me a headache from whacking
my head against the gym floor.

"Stop hurting yourself. Don't make this more
difficult than it has to be." He was begging too, and breathing too
heavily. Each breath parted the mist, revealing his twisted,
agonized expression.

He leaned forward and kissed my temple. "I love you,
Devi."

You're so messed up
, I thought.
I really
wish I didn't love you right now, because this is more than anyone
should have to deal with.

His tattoos swirled around his body, slowly migrating
to the crude opening in his chest. He sandwiched my hand between
his claws. What was he going to do, tear his chest apart and make
me squeeze his heart until it popped? Its brutal trembling filled
my palm. It vibrated through my entire body, forcing my own
heartbeat to match its pace.

"If you really loved me, you wouldn't do this," I
croaked.

"You don't know what will happen if he takes your
soul. I won't let him have it."

"Azazel. Stop." Forneus wheezed.

The demon froze.

"Let go of her and get off."

Forneus' voice was louder that time. Azazel dropped
my wrists and stood, his body jerking as if he were a marionette.
He crouched over me, eyes violent, furious, and pointed at
Forneus.

I rolled my pounding head on the floor to get a
better look at the devil. He'd finally reached the center of the
court. His hand was draped over his heaving chest. He looked just
as pissed as Azazel. "Are you really so eager to throw away your
life?"

"Do not speak to me. You weren't supposed to go near
her. You promised."

The devil's eyes narrowed. The purple in them looked
as strangled as the flickering lights emanating from the four
corners of the gym. Then he smiled. Slowly. "She came to me. You
know I can't refuse a lady in need."

Azazel pounced.

"Stop," Forneus spat.

He did. Immediately.

"Don't look at me like that," the devil said. "I
didn't want to do this. I know how much you hate it, but you give
me no choice. She and I are under contract, and you are mine."

I propped myself up on my wobbly elbows. It was hard.
My arms were still sore and caked in Azazel's blood. "What do you
mean, he's yours?"

"Don't," the demon begged. He bowed his head,
slightly. At his sides, his hands curled into fists.

Forneus looked straight past him, at me. "Haven't I
told you already?" He asked. "He is my demon. I'll have to remind
him of that, if he continues to get in our way."

Suddenly, I didn't want to hear any more. I didn't
want to know what kind of sick hold he had over Azazel. And I
realized I'd asked for the wrong thing. It should have been
Azazel's freedom.

I didn't know
, I thought, curling my knees up
into my chest as sickness filled my stomach.

Forneus sighed and wiped blood off his neck with the
back of his wrist. "Come here, Devi. It's time to save your
father."

I involuntarily scooted back. It didn't look like he
was about to save anything.

His eyes flashed. "I can't believe I have to keep
asking this. Do you want him to remain in Purgatory, or not?"

I shook my head, shut my eyes, and crawled towards
him.

Mist cloaked my body, cooling the sweat on my neck.
The blood on my arms cracked as I flexed my muscles. Some of it was
dry, at least. As long as I kept staring at the floor, I could go
to him. If I looked at that decaying face--at the dark liquid
foaming out of his neck with the same frothy consistency of a bath
bomb tossed in water--I'd lose my nerve.

But you run into problems when you don't look at
where you're going. Like, you bump into things. Things with
shimmering white ankles.

"Camael!" Where the Hell had he come from? I latched
onto his ankle and pulled myself forward. "Why didn't you stop me
when Azazel was about to--"

"Because it would have been better if you'd killed
him," Camael said without turning around. Then, he stepped out of
my reach. "Stop this, Forneus. I won't let you take her."

Forneus laughed. "So it's like this? You're getting
in the way of her free will again?"

"That doesn't matter. I am here to protect her," the
angel said. And it didn't matter what I thought, or what I did, or
even that he would never understand me. Camael would stand by me,
until he was called away.

His back sparkled as if someone had dumped ten pounds
of glitter on it. He rolled his shoulders forward, and four white
wings uncurled from the flawless skin between his shoulder
blades.

The devil's lip curled up. "I see. Azazel," Forneus
began in a commanding voice.

The demon's head shot up. His muscles flexed as he
tried to move. His ankles shook. He swallowed and clenched his jaw
as if trying to speak, as a look of disgust and fear washed over
his face.

Forneus nodded towards the angel. "Stop him for
me."

Azazel's green eyes went wide. His hand trembled as
he brought it to his throat, already changing into inhuman claws.
He tore at his neck, plunging his fingers deeper and deeper. Blood
dripped down his stomach.

"Don't fight it," the devil whispered.

Azazel fell to his knees, blood streaming across the
floor, so dark and smooth that it acted like a mirror, reflecting
the pained and twisted expression in his eyes. He convulsed,
screaming. His limbs contorted and snapped, as he bent them
back.

This wasn't how he'd changed in the cave. The scales
climbed over his skin, then fell back as if being pushed, before
surging again.
He is breaking his arms on purpose
, I
realized. He didn't want to change.

"Stop it!" I didn't know who I was begging.

Only his face and stomach remained human. He clawed
at them, until they looked as dark and complex as his scales.
"Finish me, please." He reached out to me with his claws.

I couldn't move.

"Run, Devi," he croaked.

That thing is Oz
, I thought. And,
at the
same time, it's everything Oz doesn't want to be
. I couldn't
leave him like that.
I love you
, I vowed,
even when you
scare me
. I didn't look directly at his putrid, reeking form. I
tried to ignore the stench of death--the haunting, heavy aura that
dragged on my skin. But I did run, straight to him.

"Oz." I reached out to him.

He growled and slashed at the air in front of me with
his claws. "Get the Hell out of here or kill me!"

Then, something grabbed my shoulders, pulling me
back. "It would be kinder, I think, if you did as he said," it
whispered near my ear.

Camael
. He always knew exactly what not to
say. "What do angels know of kindness?"

My body seized up. I'd spoken without thinking. I
couldn't take those cruel words back.

The angel lifted my aching body from the floor and
set me down behind him. Those blue eyes looked down at me, patient
and forgiving--but maybe he only appeared to be those things
because he felt nothing.

He cupped my cheek. "Fine. Don't move, no matter what
happens."

And then, right in front of me, Camael began to
change, too.

He shut his eyes and dipped his head back. Light
filtered from the dark ceiling, and it touched only him. The mist
around his body died down. The floor beneath his feet was lost
beneath a wave of white gold. Everything--the outline of the
basketball hoops, the flickering, haunting, purple lanterns, the
faded school banners on the walls--faded from my vision, until only
the darkness, the ethereal light, and his perfect form existed.

His core began to glow. It eclipsed his dull, human
skin, his faded clothes, and his lackluster hair, until all that
remained was light.

My chest began to throb.
Don't look at him
, I
demanded.
Please stop
. He made my eyes sore, my throat
tight, and my body feel heavy and weak. But I couldn't tear my eyes
away, even for one second, because he was the most beautiful thing
I'd ever seen.

I wanted to stay enshrouded in the dark as the
otherworldly, dank mist filled my nose. I wanted sit before him
with my cramping hip digging into the gym floor. I didn't even mind
the cold emanating up from it, making my muscles tight and my skin
numb. All I wanted was to look at him forever, until I forgot
everything else, because Camael's body was made of Heaven's
light.

He held out his hand, and a flaming sword appeared in
it.

Yes, Heaven's light would destroy the scaly creature
in the corner--no, that repulsive, stinking, tortured person I
loved.

"Wait, Camael. What are you doing?" I shrieked,
coming to my senses.

He moved forward, not answering.

"You can't hurt him!"

The angel's step faltered. "He made a deal with a
devil, Devi."

"So did I, like five minutes ago," I reminded him.
"Are you going to swing that thing at me too?"

He looked down. "I will always protect you," he said
without turning.

"And what about him?"

He took another step forward.

"Don't hurt him!" I screamed. "If you do, I will hate
you forever!" It was probably the most useless threat I could have
made, since Camael wouldn't care if I hated him, and I wouldn't be
around forever.

He glanced back at me. Even his eyes are made of
light, I realized. They looked like the sparkling surface of a
lake--or at least would have if they didn't seem so sad. "I cannot
promise that, though I will try," he said. "Stay back."

Then, with his sword held high, he waited for the
dragon to move.

The monstrosity bellowed. Rows of sharp teeth jutted
out the sides, and he gnashed them wildly, as if rabid. The narrow
green eyes glowed as they locked on me. There was no cognizance in
them.
Has he forgotten who I am?

My wrists weren't strong enough to hold up my body. I
fell onto my elbows as I tried to scoot back. Why was it so hard to
move? Why couldn't I see any part of Oz in those eyes that stared
back at me, filled with cold, relentless violence?

Azazel rushed forward. The angel stood his ground. I
couldn't see his face, but his back remained motionless as the
demon charged. Then, the moment before the demon hit, the angel's
long muscles relaxed, and he clutched his hands against the sword's
helm as if in prayer.

Fire leaped out, creating a bubble around the
monster. The dragon screamed as he was flung back by the flames.
Camael stepped forward, cutting the air with his sword, surrounding
them in a ring of fire.

The demon crept along the perimeter. There wasn't
anything human about the way he looked, or moved. His scales were
like plated armor. He lay low, like a cat, as his serpentine tail
swayed behind him.

Azazel attacked quickly, using his size and speed to
his advantage. It didn't matter. Camael was like Heaven itself--you
could fight him, but you would never win. Even when the dragon
plunged his claws into his chest, the angel didn't bleed.