Her Black Wings (The Dark Amulet Series Book 1) (29 page)

CHAPTER

SEVENTY-NINE

Damien/Reed

Tluck.

Tlock.

Tluck…

Water dripped in single, steady drops. Reed couldn’t move. His wrists and ankles were trapped in iron spiked shackles. The more he struggled against the binds, the deeper the sharp barbs dug into his flesh. Twice he’d had his hands and feet cut off. Painfully. And each time the extremities grew back in an instant. Excruciatingly. A suffocating force would hold him to the ground while dark shadows would come off the walls and re-shackle him. The mistake wouldn’t happen again, if he could help it.

Now he lay on the warm stone ground inside a small cavern in Netherworld, trying not to breathe too much. Welcomed, considering the strong rotten egg smell, he now understood to be sulfur. A lone flame flickered against the wall near his feet. He’d noticed the fire was the only light during his earlier fits to break free. Shadows of his two sets of severed feet were cast on the floor by the orange and yellow blaze.

Tluck.

Tlock….

He wanted to scream, but the action involved more movement than he could spare. Where was the water coming from? The ceiling shrouded in darkness hid the source. Of course, this didn’t really matter as the drips seemed to relocate every few hours…or years…depending on one’s perspective.

He flinched. Water hit him in the eye. “Ow! Nooo…shit!” Another drip pelted him near his mouth. And another. The drops seeped into the crease of his lips. His thirst took over and he parted his lips for the sweet taste.

A spray of nasty liquid and spit shot up out of his mouth, splattering his face and neck. Whatever it was—not water—coated the inside of his mouth. The smell invaded his sinuses. The metallic after-taste lingered.

“Oh, God.”

Gasoline.

So focused on spitting, he failed to notice the line of drops made down the center of his body. When the direction reversed, spilling more fuel up the middle of him, he saw.

A shadow flitted into the cavern.

The flame sparked, licking further up the wall and starting toward his crotch. He screamed and tried to close his legs. The shackles reacted by tightening their hold but stopped before slicing through.

“Oh shit!”

The fire jumped as it continued the path, igniting the gasoline. His clothes blazed and his vision started to go black.

“Oh no, you’ll be a wake for this one,” Aba growled.

Large claws seized him on the sides of his jaw. Reed tilted his head back and screamed. The fire, like a blade, tore through his body, starting between his legs.

CHAPTER EIGHTY

Brandon

Charles Montgomery had no memory of the basement incident. Brandon parked in the man’s driveway. Out for a drink with new friends would be the only thing he’d remember. He’d called his wife on the drive home. She waited for him at the front door with her hands on her hips.

Even though Charles didn’t have a clue what had happened, his emotions and the expression on his face told a different story. You could wipe away the events, but not the feelings generated. He was grateful to be alive, exhausted, and more in love with his wife than ever before. After waving goodbye to Brandon, he approached his porch steps with caution. His wife stood behind the front screen door and folded her arms across her chest. Then she uncrossed them and opened the door.

“What happened. Are you all right?”

“Never better.”

“Sure about that?”

He reached for his wife. She giggled as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. Brandon drove away, smiling to himself.

“Boo!”

Brakes squealed. The car swerved. “You just won’t quit doing that, will you?”

Amalya laughed. “No. It’s too funny. I’ll tell you what though, this will probably be the last time you’ll see me.”

“Good. Thank God for that.” Brandon smiled.

“Nice.”

The dark angel sat quietly beside him, either lost in thought or enjoying the car ride. He couldn’t tell. The rising sun peeked over the horizon, causing him to squint. Trees in the distance filtered the rays. They both flipped down their visors.

“So, uh…I have something to ask you. And I want to you think about your answer before telling me,” she said. “I think you should be the one to decide for yourself.”

“Decide what?” He put his blinker on, checked his blind spot, and merged into the next lane. “Listen, I got some shit to do before I leave town and—”

“Do want to remember me, your crappy childhood, tonight, any of this?” she asked cutting him off.

Brandon puffed out his cheeks as he exhaled. “Hmm…”

“Like I said, think about it.”

Glancing at her, he noticed her wings had changed; the color looked brighter. Although, how was this possible? They were black.

Her lips were ruby red. Full. Had they always been?

Knock it off.

He sighed and remained quiet until they reached his home. On the ride there, he pondered the pros and cons of remembering versus a memory wipe.

Brandon pulled into the garage of his house, put the car in park, and closed the bay door. He turned to look at her. “I want to remember.”

Her eyes widened. “Okay.”

“Wait, I want you to know why.”

She nodded. “Please.”

“I’m afraid of making the same mistakes. I want to remember where I’ve been, what led me to where I am now. These things, experiences, whatever you want to call them, have made me the person I am. I’m far from perfect. I know, I know, hard to believe right? Oh, and you were right.”

Her brow furrowed. “About?”

“I’ve used my past as an excuse for the shitty decisions I’ve made.”

“I would think that alone would be the reason you
wouldn’t
want to remember.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t be real. I wouldn’t be me.”

She didn’t say another word, just looked at him, understanding in her eyes. He wondered if she felt the same as him. Would she change anything if she had the choice?

“What will you do now?” she asked.

“Skip town. The dude with the pink hair gave me some money. Not enough to pay my debts, but enough to start over someplace else. I actually have a friend who lives…” He let his words trail off. The less someone else knew, the better. Even if she was an angel. “What’re you going to do? The white haired angel that came in, who was he?”

Amalya shook her head. “My…angel,” her voice caught as she wept. “And, I dunno, just hang out, try to help others facing a crossroad in their life.”

“What’s it like? Heaven? Or, er, did you go there?”

“Cloudy. Full of angels.” She shrugged. “I didn’t see much of it. And they don’t call it Heaven.”

“Did you see people there, loved ones?”

“No, I had the impression they went someplace different than what I saw.”

Brandon pursed his lips and nodded. He had a ton more questions, but decided only on one more. In a sense the same question she’d asked him. “Amalya, if you could, would you wanna have a do-over? In life, I mean.”

“Not unless I could know what I know now, otherwise it wouldn’t be worth it.” She smiled and evaporated before his eyes.

CHAPTER

EIGHTY-ONE

Hazel

Being one of the first to come to work had perks. Hazel enjoyed the quiet before her co-workers began arriving by the herd. During the early hours she could work on the web layout and designs for her latest client undisturbed. She could get more done now than any other time of the day.

This ritual always started with a fresh cup of cinnamon flavored coffee and a donut; vanilla crème filled and powdered. Picking up her treats, she headed for her cubicle, set in a high open ceiling workspace with about twenty more just like hers. She rounded the beige panel, taking a bite out of her donut.

She gasped, inhaling powdered sugar into her lungs. A puff of white expelled when she coughed. Coffee splashed over the rim of her mug.

Amalya stood next to her desk wearing a black sleeveless gown, partially sheer and flowy, that sparkled in some spots. The halter top was tied around her graceful neck. Her wings were shiny and almost colorful, reminding Hazel of a ravens, with highlights of dark greens and blues.

“W-Wow, y-you’re g-gorgeous,” Hazel sputtered.

Her aunt giggled, “What? Wasn’t I before?”

“Yeah, but your wings were so dull and flat. Your dress is
awe
some.”

Amalya found something interesting to look at on the floor. A speck of lint or a loose staple stuck in the carpet perhaps. “You know, it’s okay to take a compliment.”

The angel sighed and glanced at her. “Thank you. Sorry, I have trouble with that.”

“I didn’t expect to see you again. Your last words had me believing I wouldn’t.” Her aunt nodded, her lips forming a flat line. Hazel sighed, wishing her mother could see for herself that Amalya was real. Her mother, Genevieve, wasn’t ready to acknowledge the truth. Except when she’d called her a mule for being stubborn, the steel expression on her face melted.

“I just wanted to say goodbye and that I wish I could’ve gotten to know you.”

“You still can…please.” Hazel’s voice cracked.

“Your mother should be proud of you. Seems like you’re a decent person. Good soul.”

“Wait, can you let me call Mom?”

“I think, I
might
already be breaking the rules.”

“What rules?” Hazel’s brow crinkled.

Amalya’s eyes lit as she smirked. “I’m dead, Hazel. And you’re not.”

“Where will you go? Where will you be? Please, let me call your sister.” Hazel fumbled through her purse, searching for her cell. The thing was always in the last compartment she checked. Pulling out her phone, she looked up and focused on the spot where her aunt stood. A shiny black feather floated in the air, drifting to the floor. Tears rolled down her cheeks. If her aunt was so determined to stay out of her life, then she was as determined to see her again. The question was…how?

CHAPTER

EIGHTY-TWO

Aza’zel

Fear wasn’t something Aza’zel experienced often. He stood behind a thick oak tree, his heart racing. Swallowing hard, he gasped for air. Something scarier than the devil and his wrath chased him. The face of the pursuer was unseen by its prey.

Above him the sky remained darkened, but beams of light filtered through the tall pines at ground level. The goat demon spun around. A figure silhouetted in white light darted in a zig-zag motion from tree to tree, zipping across the forest floor. Pine needles kicked up like dust.

The creature hung back. Aza’zel sprinted in short bursts, already exhausted from running. His lungs had trouble expanding. He couldn’t get enough air. Ironic. Earth had an overabundance of fresh oxygen it seemed. Netherworld could stifle the shit out of someone.

Rotten-ass stale gagging, no breeze…

What made him think of this now? Oh yeah, he knew what tailed him but was too afraid to admit it. Deus.

The demon didn’t want to go back to the place from which he came after having had a taste of freedom. Risking his life for the sake of clean, cold water was well worth any punishment from Aba. The intolerable, however, would be banishment by Deus from the realm of Earth. There would be no more splashing through the creek, cutting through the woods, drinking uncontaminated water, or hunting deer.

Completely out of breath, the cloven-hooved beast stopped and sank to his knees. The demon didn’t beg nor shiver, and instead accepted his fate like a brave soldier just before execution. Light fell upon his shoulders from behind, casting his shadow on the ground in front of him. A warm glow spread throughout his body. He looked down at his arms and chest. His skin glowed, his fingers and hooves tingled. The sensation of being gently squeezed around the torso felt foreign. Aza’zel didn’t hate it, but he didn’t like it either, and he wondered when the suffocation process would begin. How soon before he really couldn’t breathe? Would his eyes bulge out of the sockets? Being tortured was never a fear he possessed. He was merely curious.

He was released from the gentle hold and an odd thing happened; he felt cold, unhappy. A resentment built up for the hug he’d been given, and then had taken away from him. In that moment, he vowed to never let anyone or anything embrace him again. The hug’s removal was beyond cruel. Tilting his head back, he roared in anguish.

“So touchy are you demons…much too intense. Relax,” Deus said.

“You are here to send me back. I know I shouldn’t be here.”

“Send you back? Arcadia’s no.” The white haired man chuckled. “You have done something you must correct.”

The fiend’s face tightened. What had he done? He couldn’t think; then he pictured Julia.

“Now you understand. However, I’m not quite certain you completely understand the situation. You gave something to the innocent child Julia.”

“What?”

“What did you leave for her?”

“Ahh.”
Think.
“I dunno.”

“It was not so long ago for you, surely you haven’t forgotten so quickly?”

Aza’zel let out a gasp as realization hit him. “The amulet. This is true, I don’t understand.”

“One word; can you say it with me? No?” The deity smiled, stomped his feet. “Oh
come
on, we’re talking about
Taint
here.”

Of course, the necklace had been infected. The Devil gave it to him, the king of liars. The young girl was probably drowning in poison by now.

“Aza’zel, you will find this girl and help her.”

“How? I have cloven hooves, she has left the forest for good, I’m certain.”

“Ah, right you are. It just so happens I can help with that.”

“What is it that I’m supposed to do? How can
I
help her?”

A wide grin appeared on the divine being’s face. “Someone is about to steal the talisman and it needs to be destroyed. The people responsible believe it holds a power not of this world. And of course, they’re only partially right. Search for the amulet with Julia. But be wary demon, obsession is powerful.” Deus narrowed his eyes and stroked his chin. “Perhaps you two can help each other.”

Help each other do what?
“I don’t understand, why me?”

“It’s your fault!”

“I didn’t know.”

“Always this excuse with you. The answer you seek will become clear in time.”

Aza’zel expected lightning to strike. Having been caught in a storm the night before, he knew how dangerous it could be and wondered if the bolts were created by the man standing a foot away from him, who wasn’t actually a man.

Another warm light passed through the demon, but this time he flopped onto a bed of pine needles, writhing in pain.