Retribution (Redemption Series) (11 page)

"Arrogance does not suit you,"
I warned, releasing one of his shoulders to crook a finger in his face.

Marcas
was suddenly
serious, his gaze moving over my face, and I felt instantly shy and dirty. I
was still in the same too long, grey cotton pants and oversized black t-shirt I
had been in when I had entered the Seal. My feet were bare, my body covered in
dried blood, both from
Marcas
and Luther. I had no
doubt my hair was hopelessly tangled.

Marcas
lifted my chin
with his finger, his gaze locked on mine.

"It suits you," he said.

I smiled. Arrogance was definitely
something I was beginning to develop. It was past time. Being overconfident was
annoying and never good, but being a little proud was something everyone
needed.

Marcas
looked away
from me, his eyes lifting to a point behind my shoulder, and I knew by the
shadow against the wall it was
Bezaliel
.
Marcas
didn't release me.

"What are your plans, Son?"
Bezaliel
asked,
his words even.

Bezaliel
wasn't the type
to beat around the bush, and I knew
Marcas
wasn't the
type to skirt an issue either.
Marcas
didn't flinch.

"I have some things to take care of
in Hell."

Bezaliel
was silent only
briefly.

"You intend to fight?"
Bezaliel
asked.

Marcas
nodded,
his eyes full of a determination that frightened me.

"Lucifer fully intends to destroy all
of the children born to Lilith and Cain. There are thousands of us out there.
There are enough of us to build our own kingdom.
Exiles of
Hell.
We have the same right to Exile as the Angels who chose to leave
Heaven."

"I agree,"
Bezaliel
said slowly. "And I will agree to follow you.
All of us.
The Exiles will help you fight for that right.
Under one
condition."

Marcas
' eyes grew
hard. I couldn't see my father's expression, but I knew by the look on
Marcas
' face that it wasn't a good one.

"I'm not good with
conditions,"
Marcas
said.

Luther moved next to
Marcas
,
his eyes on
Bezaliel's
face.

"What's the condition?" Luther
asked, ignoring the warning look that
Marcas
threw
his way.

Bezaliel's
shadow shifted
suddenly.

"That afterwards, you walk away
from my daughter."

Chapter 10

The balance has shifted. With a new Exile group
rising up from Hell, the Underworld is losing power. The threat of war on Earth
will lessen. But there are some balances that should never be tested. There are
alliances too dangerous. Angels should never be linked to Demons.

~
Bezaliel
~

What the hell? I knew my eyes were wide,
my heart a pounding mess in my chest, and the only thing I wanted to do was
turn around and curse my father a blue streak, but
Marcas
still held me securely in place. His eyes moved to mine a moment before he
looked away, and I felt a numbness steal over my limbs as his unreadable,
penetrating gaze met my father's.

"I don't make promises I can't
keep,"
Marcas
said coldly.

I closed my eyes, my cheeks burning. My
father had left me with an aunt whose insanity was no secret. He had sent me
dreams and a fallen Angel to protect me, but he had never taken the step that
would cause me to be infinitely loyal to him. He hadn't come for me himself.
Maybe the sense of betrayal that flooded me was childish. He had, after all,
given me the room to grow, to discover what I could be on my own. He had given
me a choice. I respected him for that, but now he was taking that away.

"Maybe we should think about this a
moment,"
Conor's
voice said carefully from
across the room, and it was only then that
Marcas
finally released me, his hand uncovering mine on his shoulder, moving down my
arm until my hand was gripped firmly in his. The grip was almost too hard, but
I understood the need I felt in his touch.

 
I
turned to
Conor
, my back to
Marcas
as the Demon stood up carefully, his height and breadth impressive even next to
Bezaliel
.

Conor's
gaze moved over
us all, and I noted again the change in him. His eyes locked with Luther's
briefly and something passed between them, but I didn't have time to wonder
what
Conor's
connection was to the Demon.

"I think we should involve the
S.O.S. in this,"
Conor
said quickly. "They
have as much invested in this battle as we do."

Bezaliel's
head tilted.

"And you would know this how?"
Bezaliel
asked.

Conor
stepped
forward.

"Because
I'm working with them now.
The children of Lilith and Cain aren't
the only Demon hybrids affected by the rift in Hell. There are many being
destroyed."

This simple statement garnered a lot of
attention.
Marcas
stepped up behind me.

"What about Gibson? Are you no
longer working for the Director of the gargoyle Council?"

Conor
avoided eye
contact, his gaze meeting the floor before he looked up again. The strain in
his gaze was obvious.

"We have our differences. Let's
leave it at that."

Marcas
didn't question
him.

"Then call in Alessandro. We will
meet in Italy."

"No,"
Conor
countered. "Not Italy. There is too much going on at S.O.S. headquarters
at the moment. I'll call him, but we should meet somewhere neutral. Where there
are no sides."

There was no response from the group.
And, in the end, when someone did step forward, it wasn't the fallen Angels, it
wasn't the Demons, it wasn't Monroe, and it wasn't me. It was Amber.

"You can use the Abbey," she
said softly. "It's a safe house now, and the Sisters have a lot to atone
for."

Marcas
looked at her,
his gaze softening. We had all made mistakes. Amber had lost as much as the
rest of us.

"The Abbey it is."

Sophia suddenly
laughed,
the sound cold and harsh.

"You seriously plan to open war on
Hell?"

Marcas
turned to her,
and I had to fight back the jealousy I felt when their gazes locked. They had a
history I could never be a part of, but it was a history that had molded
Marcas
into the hybrid he was now. And I was the one who
had healed him. I was beginning to learn that love was complicated. It isn't
always the burning, intense love at first sight kind of love that lasts
forever. Sometimes it's the kind of love that heals, the kind that teaches
people to accept one another despite their differences. Sophia had never been
able to accept the Demon in
Marcas
.

"I plan to do more than open war on
Hell. I plan to turn the place upside down."

Sophia shook her head.

"Your
realm?
Your people?"

Marcas
didn't look
away.

"Hell has as many hybrids as it
does full-blooded Demons. Heaven has one hybrid and only one,"
Marcas
said as he lifted my hand. I had a moment of
loneliness, that hollow feeling that comes from knowing I was the only one of
my kind, the only sane child born from an Angel/human relationship. "My
people are not the full bloods in Hell. My people are the Demons being
persecuted now because Lucifer is holding a grudge against my mother for her
off-spring's actions."
 

"And you plan to save them?"
Sophia asked.

Marcas
shook his head.

"No, I plan to release them, give
them a choice. Or offer them sanctuary depending on that same choice."

"Lucifer will kill you,"
Sophia breathed.

Marcas
smiled.

"He can try."

Sophia's gaze moved to me, her eyes
perusing my figure critically enough I had to fight not to squirm.

"And the
Naphil
?
A relationship is out of the question.
You understand that, right?"

I felt my jaw clench, but
Marcas
' hand tightened on mine, and I knew he was trying to
keep me from intervening.

"She has a choice."

"No," Sophia said with a
laugh. "No, she doesn't. She never has. None of us ever has."

The room fell silent. I looked from
Sophia's face to
Bezaliel's
.

"What do you mean 'never
has'?" I asked.

Bezaliel's
expression
remained neutral, his eyes sharp. His gaze moved once more to
Marcas
.

"There is a prophecy in
Heaven."

Marcas
didn't blink.

"A
prophecy?"
I asked.

Bezaliel's
gaze remained
locked on
Marcas
'.

"In the name of retribution, a
relationship will arise between an Angel and a Demon. And, in the end, this
relationship will destroy the world."

I froze, my eyes locked on the
unblinking battle between my father and the man I had come to love.
A prophecy?
Is that why Sophia turned away from
Marcas
? Because a relationship with him could destroy life
as we know it?

"I don't understand," I
whispered.

Bezaliel
turned to me,
his gaze firm but sympathetic.

"Damon was seeking redemption. In
so doing, he believed a child born of an Angel/Demon match would bring
salvation to Lilith's hybrid children. What he never understood is that a match
between an Angel and a Demon will do nothing more than destroy the Angel. She
will have to deny Heaven."

I shook my head.

"She could choose Exile. They could
both choose Exile. In Exile, there is neutrality," I argued.

Bezaliel
stepped
forward, but I moved away, my shoulder going into
Marcas
'
side. His free hand found my shoulder.

"There is no neutrality in a
relationship with a Demon. Both of you would be denying your races and creating
a link between two worlds that should not be connected. Those of us who have
chosen Exile have given up more than you will ever know. You do have the choice
of Exile, but you cannot link yourself with a Demon. On Earth, there is good
and there is evil. There is no middle ground. What happens if that line is
blurred?
Chaos.
What happens if other Angels or other
Demons decided that the rules no longer apply to them, that we can choose mates
from other realms? The Exiles came to be because we chose human love over
Heaven. What happens if an Angel chooses the love of a Demon over Heaven?
War."

Bezaliel's
gaze moved to
Marcas
once more.

"My condition?" he asked.

I stiffened. My father's words were
convincing, strong, but they were his opinion. I wasn't sure I agreed. There
was a lot of blurred lines and middle ground on Earth. And if he was suddenly
trying to establish some fatherly protection slash intimidation, he was a
little late in the game.
Marcas
' hand stayed glued to
my shoulder.

"The choice is hers,"
Marcas
answered firmly.

I felt like I was drowning. There was
not enough air in the room, but I didn't falter. I kept my face even, my
thoughts barred from anyone in the room who could read them. My father was asking
too much. After everything we had been through, after everything we'd done, he
was saying it had all been for nothing. He was asking me to forsake myself.

Someone turned and left the room. I
didn't have to look to know it was Sophia.

Chapter 11

Scars are marks that infiltrate the skin. They are
marks torn into the soul, leaving behind wounds that can never be healed.

~
Bezaliel
~