Heartless (The Heartless Series) (23 page)

BOOK: Heartless (The Heartless Series)
8.94Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Seth stops and raises his brow at me. I swear this is just like being in one of his lectures only about a thousand times more terrifying. "Do you know why that is? Why people think evil is there to balance the good? That the universe would collapse or whatever if they weren't together?"

He pauses, waiting for my response. How in the world am I supposed to know? My head is pounding. I need blood. Maybe not need, but I sure as heck want it.

As if reading my mind, because let's face it, he can apparently, Seth motions for Hart, and before I know it, his wrist is against my mouth. Warm, thick liquid is running down my lips, down my throat. It shocks me at first. I find Hart's gaze. His eyes aren't playful. They aren't mischievous. They are hard. Dark. Soulless, maybe? No that's not right. He's the one with the soul. He is a soul. I'm not. I'm probably the only person in the cavern that doesn't have a soul.

How's that for irony?

"Think, Gracen. Why would humans need to think good and evil need to balance?" Seth's voice rings in my ears. I honestly can't think. The blood tastes so good. Makes me feel whole. The part of my mind that's actually registering what is going on keeps yelling at me to stop. I don't listen. I'm not human. Not really. I don't have a soul. Why should I care about saving it?

I throw Hart's arm off my mouth, surprising him and me. Why should I care? Why should I care? Because I should! Simple as that! I should care because caring is the only thing I can do. If I can't think of myself as important or useful or even flipping worthy, then who else can? Cliché? Yeah. But also true. Why should someone try to save me, if I don't even try to save myself? If I just give up and let the demon blood take over. It would be so nice to give into it. It sings in my ears, it makes me strong. It makes me feel normal.

It makes me feel less than human.

Then again, maybe being human is overrated.

Chapter Twenty-Six

 

"
W
HY,
M
ISS
S
ULLIVAN?"
S
ETH YELLS AT
me, making me jump. "Why is being a human so overrated? I was a human once…
me
… not you. I had a family. A mother. A father. Two brothers that I never got to meet because of God not liking one of their gifts as much as the other. How is that fair!"

"Leave her alone!" Hart's mad. His voice echoes through the cave. He's wrapping a piece of cloth around his hand, the hand he let me feed on.

My stomach turns. Oh ick. I mean, good, but ick.

"Can we just get on with it? You don't think Heaven knows what you're up to? That they haven't figured it out yet? That Lucien hasn't? If we don't hurry up and do this, all the Heavenly hosts will be falling on us. And I don't think they'll be very happy."

"Since when do you care about Heaven?" Seth scoffs. He places his hands in his pockets and stands like he's challenging Hart. Oh good. I see this ending well.

"You have no idea what I care about."

Seth's eyes narrow. "Oh, son, you have no idea what I know."

There is an uncomfortable silence while the idiotic, possibly psychotic, men I'm with have a pissing contest. Finally, it's Seth who seems to have a longer stream. "Though you aren't wrong. The angels will be here in a minute, and we need to be well on our way when they are. They'll have their hands full trying to close the gate."

"Can they close it?" I hadn't meant to say it out loud. Once I did, I sort of couldn't take it back. If I'm going to open this thing, and it seems pretty damn likely, then I need to know that there will be a way to close it. I need to know that everything will be okay.

Seth tilts his head toward me. "Everything can be stopped. One way or another. Would you like to get back to the lesson or not?"

I nod. Kill time. We are killing time. Killing time until Lucien and his merry band of good angels—God I hope they are good—seems like a good idea. Keep the bad angel talking. A good plan. A very good plan. I like this plan.

Seth doesn't smile like he usually does when I think something about him.

Wait…

Seth's an idiot.

Seth can't get it up around hot women.

Seth wears women's underwear and likes it…

Nothing. Not even a flinch.

Holy hell! He can't read my mind anymore. There's too much demon blood in me.

It really is changing me.

Hart
, I think as loud as I can. From the corner of my eye, I watch him. He ever so slightly twitches. What does that even mean?

Seth has started talking and pacing, and I totally missed the first half of it by freaking out. Stupid.

"… people," he's saying. "People can't wrap their head around the fact that
He
did it because
He
likes chaos."

The what? Why would God like a mess? If I were God, I'd hate messes. I'd have everything neat and orderly. I guess that would take away everybody's free will and that would sort of defeat the purpose of being human.

Guess I don't have to worry about that anymore.

I want to cry. I never asked for this. Never wanted to be this. Being human wasn't all cupcakes and birthday parties, but it was something. It was better than this.

"God likes the mess," Seth's hands are behind his back like they were before. He's pacing, but he's talking faster.

The angels must be getting closer, but I have a feeling he's had this speech in his mind for—maybe forever—and he isn't going to unleash Hell until he says it. Maybe to make me feel better. Maybe to make
himself
feel better. I get the feeling Seth doesn't think of himself as the bad guy. I think he sees himself as the good guy. That's the worst kind of bad guy, actually. The one who doesn't know they're bad. The one who thinks he's doing all the wrong things for the right reasons. I can tell the way Seth is strutting around that he thinks he's the be-all and end-all angel. That he's the one that is going to save Heaven and Earth—how opening the gate to Hell is going to help, I don't know, but I'm not a crazy, self-righteous angel.

I hope the angels who are coming to save me—or rather save the world, not sure if they'd give a rat's ass about little pure demon me—will be nicer angels.

"God likes people in turmoil." Seth rattles on. "Hell—if you pardon my language—He likes having people pray to Him for help. Think about it, when do people pray? Hmm? Do they go to bed all happy and healthy, close their eyes, and chat with God? No, most of the times, these humans, they forget all about God. Forget about us."

I assume he means the angels. He's speaking faster now, and I wish he'd slow down. Give the God squad a chance to be there. Being a Hell gate key doesn't sound like a fun time.

"They don't care. Don't care that they woke up. Don't care that they didn't die today. No. They just go through life thinking they are in control. Thinking that every choice they make is an actual choice. That nothing bad will happen. That monsters… that demons—" he eyes Hart then me "—don't really exist. That's just for TV shows. For books. But in real life? No. they don't exist. Right?"

Seth inches closer. His bright blue eyes are trained directly on mine. He is serious. Very, very serious. Scary serious. "Now, imagine something bad happens. Imagine an accident. Or a plane crash. Or, Heaven forbid, a school shooting. Then it's all ' Why God… Why?' When something bad happens or something that the people didn't plan on, that they couldn't stop, that they couldn't control, they're all quick to either pray or blame. Doesn't seem fair, does it?"

Well, not really. Not when he put it that way. Then again, I was a demon now. Not sure if I was supposed to care or not, or if I was even thinking clearly.

"Here's the thing. Bad equals God quality time for the people. They fall on their hands and their knees, begging Him for help when they are sick or someone they love is sick. Or they are being tormented by a demon… or a ghost or whatever it is that's driving them crazy. God likes the chaos evil brings, Gracen, and don't you think for one pretty little minute that He doesn't. He's freaking God!"

The rocks vibrate from the echo, and I flinch. Hart does too. He seems to be as focused on Seth as I am. I don't think he's ever heard all of this before. Seth must have saved it for the big finale.

"He made the rules, children!" Seth's voice booms, flowing down the tunnels in the cave before disappearing into nothingness. "If He didn't want it… if He didn't allow it… there wouldn't be any evil! None. Paradise on Earth." He stands straighter and takes a big breath. When he speaks again, he isn't as loud, but his voice shakes. "You can thank Him for that. Not me. Not the angels that fell at the beginning. The ones who had the audacity to stand up to our Father and question His motives… to try to protect YOU, HIS humans, from His sick and twisted little experiment. He is to blame for this.

Not the demons in Hell.

Not Lucifer, who everyone seems to blame for everything.

Not my mother, Eve, who they blame for the sin in the world.

Not my brother, Cain, for killing his weaker brother.

No. To caste blame, you have to go to the source. You have to go right to the beginning." Seth stands very still and straightens his back, his lip quivering. More from anger and rage, I'd say, than any sort of sorrow. "In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. And it was good… and all the angels rejoiced."

His expression changes, and he actually looks amused."And then God got bored."

I stagger back.

"That's it. That's how the story, the real story, goes. God got bored and brought evil into the world. Made it under the guise of free will. Giving you a choice when there wasn't one. How messed up is that? How fair? Was it to see if you would still love him? Who knows? I don't think so. I think it was just because when you have power, absolute power, not everything is as hunky dory as you think."

He blinks a few times, and a small smirk pulls on his lips. "If you want to blame someone for this, blame God. Not me. I just used the evil in the world—the evil in you—the evil
He
created—to do what needs to be done."

He's gone from teacher mode, to yelling, to I don't know, explaining himself? Now, I think Seth has moved on to pleading.

"What crime is that, Gracen? What I'm doing… " He walks toward me, and I refuse to back away. He puts his hands on my shoulders and leans down until we are eye to eye. I tried to look over at Hart for some kind of assurance, but Seth grips my cheeks until I focus on him. "What I'm doing, girl, is setting things right. If God created evil, and He did, why punish the people—the
things
—that are evil? How fair is that? How fair is it to toss something into a pit—into Hell—for doing, for being the thing God created him to be? You above all should understand that."

"Me?" I whisper. I'm glad we're still stalling, but I don't know how much more of this conversation I can take.

"Yes… where do you think you'll go when you die, Gracen?"

Truthfully, I hadn't thought about it. I used to go to church with my mother, before she stopped going. I knew how you got to Heaven. I always thought I'd go there. I did everything right. So why couldn't I… oh…

"Because I'm an abomination."

I can barely say the words. I think it's finally sunk in. There's a difference in knowing you're a key and knowing you're a demon and that, "God might not let me in Heaven."

"God
can't
let you in Heaven." Seth's grip on my cheeks ease, and he speaks almost with compassion. "He can't because you have evil inside you. Evil can't enter Heaven."

"How did you get in there?" Hart says like a smart ass. Thankfully, Seth doesn't smite him then and there.

"I'm not evil." He doesn't even look at Hart. Never takes his eyes off of me. "What I'm doing is the right thing. I have no sin in me, so I can come and go. But a person—a thing—with demon blood in them can't enter heaven. They just can't. I'm sorry, Gracen. That's just how it has to be."

"So…" My voice shakes. I blink, and a tear streams down my face. Damn it. I didn't want that to happen. What does it matter now? I'm dead. "Where will I go?"

"You know." Seth seems almost sorry for me. "If we don't open this gate, when you die, you'll be down there with the other creatures, the other sinners, the other… things. But when we open the gate, you can stay on the earth, forever. That doesn't sound bad, does it?"

It doesn't. Well, I mean, it's the best offer I have. I don't want to go to Hell. I've never wanted to go to Hell and to be an abomination…
the
abomination.

"If it could be different…"

"But it can't," I say. I know the truth. No sense sugarcoating it. He's done a good job explaining. I guess that's why he is what he is. Good people skills.

"It can't. This plan, this day, has been planned for years, decades, centuries. Hart had to be here… you had to be here. It all had to be done exactly like this. You know what that means, don't you? It means it was planned that way. God wants to it to be like this. He wants this to happen. It's supposed to happen." A big grin stretches over his lips, and he claps like this has suddenly just occurred to him. "This is God's will! His work. And we have been chosen to carry it out."

"Thought you didn't like God," Hart says what I'm thinking.

Suddenly, Seth's jovial mood slips away, his face falls, and Hart and I are met with a very disturbing glare.

I take a step back. Seth is, quite frankly, scary as heck! I get that I'm a demon. Apparently a pure demon, and I assume that means I can do things. Maybe even special, awesome things like moving objects with my mind or, I don't know, magic—prophetic dreams, mind control, something—Holy crap, Hart can get in my mind. My demon is bigger than his demon, or however you say that. I should be able to do something. I shouldn't have to just stand here and take it.

Sure would be nice if I knew of anything I could do to help myself.

Anytime now.

Any.

Time.

"Bring her here." Seth sneers at Hart.

Seth backs away to where the rocks are bunched up together around, what I'm assuming, is a very big hole. It doesn't look like much. Not really. It's covered with a clear film. I don't even notice the film, the glass maybe, until I'm right over it. It's smooth, unlike any surface I've ever seen. Like I said, glass is the best way I can describe it. Except it's cold. I can feel it, and I'm standing a good three feet over it. It's cold… cold like I used to be before this demon blood warmed my body. Is Hell cold? Would be ironic if it was. I always assumed it was hot. Fire and brimstone and all that.

Other books

The Shadow and Night by Chris Walley
Ghost Ship by Sharon Lee, Steve Miller
Daring the Duke by Anne Mallory
Treacherous Intent by Camy Tang
Shadow Magic by Karen Whiddon
The Blue Bistro by Hilderbrand, Elin
El guardian de Lunitari by Paul B Thompson & Tonya R. Carter
The Gifted by Aaron K. Redshaw