Retribution (Redemption Series) (12 page)

My old bedroom was just as I remembered
it, small and terrifying. If it had ever been comforting, the comfort had been
torn away from it by circumstance.

"It's a miserable feeling, isn't
it?"

Amber's voice was soft when she entered
the room, and I didn't turn around.

"It's like that night happened
yesterday," I answered.

Amber moved up next to me, her shoulder
resting just above mine.

"You know, if she was here, she'd
know what to do," Amber whispered.

I looked up at Amber.

"Oh, she's here. Never doubt
that."

Amber's eyes met mine.

"I don't doubt it."

We both turned forward again. There was
a window just across the room from the door. It was small with a pink lace
curtain that our mother used to knot in the middle. Decorative, she called it.
I didn't know about decorative, but it had been pretty. Now, the curtain hung
straight and pulled together, but the fabric was sheer enough, it was obvious
night was falling outside. We would be leaving for the Abbey soon. It had been
decided that waiting was pointless. Other than Amber and Monroe, none of us
really needed sleep, and
Conor
was trained to do
without it for days at a time.

"You should rest," I whispered
to Amber.

She sighed.

"I don't do much of that these
days.
Nightmares."

She didn't have to say anything more. My
own nightmares haunted me even during the day. Sometimes they were voices,
other times they were images, memories.

"Dayton . . ." Amber began.

She paused, and I knew by the way she
fluttered her hands that she was too nervous to continue. I turned and looked
at her, my eyes finding hers. She avoided my gaze.

"What?" I asked finally.

Amber looked at me, her eyes wide and
terrified.

"What are you going to do?"
she asked.

I knew she was referring to the decision
I was being forced to make concerning
Marcas
. I
didn't have the answer. I knew what I wanted to do. It would have to be enough
for now.

"I saw her," I said suddenly.

Amber looked startled.

"Saw who?"

"Mom."

Amber grabbed me by the arms.

"What?
When?"

I swallowed hard.

"In the
Seal.
It was an image, a vision of her death. Damon killed her, Amber.
Drained her of blood."

I watched as Amber bit back a sob, her
blue eyes shining. The image in the Seal had been a hard one for me, but I had
been somewhat prepared.
Marcas
had shown me in Hell
what had happened to our mother. Amber was learning about it for the first
time.

"Why are you telling me this?"
she asked.

I stared at her.

"Because you said if she was here
she'd know what to do," I
answered,
my face
serious. "And then . . . and then you asked me what I was going to
do."

I looked toward the bed, the same bed
Amber and I had shared as children, a flashlight between us when our sitter had
walked into the room the night our parents had died. My eyes skirted the
frilly, pink comforter. Nothing about the room had been changed, and I wondered
briefly if
Bezaliel
had done something to ensure it
would never be lived in by anyone else.

I followed the flowing lines of lace at
the comforter's edge, letting my gaze move to the floor, past an old lipstick
stain I'd caused when stealing my mother's red tube of Scarlet Heaven lip balm before
moving back to Amber's face.

"There was a moment in the Seal
when the image of mom's death changed. One moment she was gone, the next her
face transformed, her eyes opened, and her lips moved."

Amber leaned forward, sucking in a deep
breath before holding it.

"Did she say anything?"

I nodded.

"Two words.
Only two
words," I said, my eyes locked on hers. "Save him."

Amber exhaled.

"Wow."

I looked away, and neither one of us
spoke after that. At one point, I felt her hand take mine, and we just stood
there that way, hands together, taking a minute to say goodbye to a moment in
our lives that had changed us forever. It was a moment that separated us, it
was a moment that brought us closer together, and it was a moment that renewed
our relationship.

"You two always did have a thing
for this room," a low voice said from behind us, and I cringed.

Amber stiffened.
Bezaliel
might be my real father, but he had taken the identity of Amber's father,
forced himself into her life.

"I always loved you like my own,"
Bezaliel
breathed, and I knew he was talking to
Amber.

She didn't answer him. Instead, she
slid
her hand from mine, gave me a small smile, and walked
out of the room. I didn't want her to go, but I wasn't going to force her to
stay. I didn't turn around.

"You've impressed me, Dayton."

If the words were supposed to make me
feel better, they didn't.

"Why didn't you come?" I
asked. "Why did you leave us behind?"

Bezaliel
sighed.

"It was too dangerous for me to stay.
Especially for you.
If I had remained, the forces who
wanted you would have come sooner. As it was, Lilith wanted you dead from the
beginning. As much as I wanted to take you with me, you were safer at the
Abbey. Your aunt's insanity was a protection in itself. She would not let Amber
or you come to harm, not while you were too young to be useful to Damon."

I turned around.

"And
Marcas
?"

Bezaliel
stepped toward
me. His green eyes looked so much like mine it was scary. His auburn hair was
too long, thick curls touching his shoulders as he shook his head.

"I was not prepared for him. He has
a long history, Dayton. He was a tool used by his mother to kill, to pave a way
for himself in Hell. Then, many centuries ago, he was in a battle with two
Angels, one of them Sophia. In the end, he fell in love with her. The rules in
Heaven about a relationship between an Angel and a Demon are concrete. It is
forbidden. Sophia made the right choice."

Bezaliel
painted an
eerie picture, an image of a murdering Demon transformed by love.

"He isn't evil."

I said it with confidence.
Bezaliel
didn't disagree.

"No, I do not believe he is. When
Sophia refused him, he did not go back to Hell the way many of us expected. He
went to Earth. He turned his back on all orders from Hell. He even swore
vengeance on anyone who attempted to bring him back to the Underworld. It was
not until his mother ordered your death that he returned. You were only a child
then."

He paused, and I looked away.
Only a child.
An image of my parents' burial was suddenly
vivid in my mind, and I remembered the figure at the edge of the trees, the red
eyes.

"He wouldn't let her kill me."

"No,"
Bezaliel
said. "He would not. That is when I knew you were safer at the Abbey. I
never thought Damon would one day bind you to his brother."

"I hated him for it," I said.
"Once."

"It cannot happen, Dayton."

I knew what
Bezaliel
meant, and I ignored him. Instead, I pulled an Amber move. I slipped past him
and left the room. There were noises downstairs.
The sound of
plans being made.
Sophia was arguing with Lucas. Monroe was talking in
low tones to
Conor
. The walls in this house had
always been too thin.

"War in
Hell?
What? He wants to rule now?" Sophia spat.

"He could, you know.
A kingdom of Exiled Demons.
It's not impossible," Lucas
answered.

I moved to the top of the stairs and
looked down. There, at the bottom, was
Marcas
. He was
leaning against the wall, his stance casual,
his
eyes
tinged red. His brother stood next to him.

I felt awkward suddenly. In moments when
death was near, we had both admitted to loving the other. Now, the words felt .
. . impossible maybe?

"Maybe not," Sophia conceded.

"Look at him, Soph. He's been bred
to rule. He's been a rebel of Hell most of his existence.
A
Demon ruler.
He knows how to lead."

I backed away from the stairs. If
Marcas
knew I was there, he chose not to look up, and I was
glad he didn't.
A Demon ruler.
It was right. He was a
born leader. The hybrids deserved a choice. If Angels could choose Exile, so
could Demons.

I looked down one final time, my eyes
skimming the top of
Marcas
' black hair. He still
didn't glance up, but Luther did. And when Luther's dark green eyes met mine, I
saw the challenge there. Luther was a strange one. He didn't fit a mold. He
wasn't a leader, and he wasn't a follower. But he cared. I could sense that,
and I could see the same message in his eyes that I had seen on my mother's
lips in the Seal.
Save him.

I wasn't so sure it was
Marcas
that needed saving. I was actually pretty damn sure
it was me.

Chapter 12

A hybrid war on Hell.
It is a wild scheme with promise. An Exiled kingdom
of Demons would throw the war between Heaven and Hell in Heaven's favor. It
could secure years of peace on Earth.

~
Bezaliel
~

"I couldn't have normal
friends," Monroe mumbled a few hours later as she yawned into her open
palm.

It was just past midnight in November,
and the night was cloudy, cold, and wet. Lucas and Sophia had flown ahead to
the Abbey. Amber had driven herself using Monroe's car that had been parked in
the drive. I didn't ask anyone how her Cadillac had gotten there. When the bond
between
Marcas
and I had been broken, he had been
trapped in the Seal and I had been incredibly ill for a week. There was no
telling what I had missed.

"Oh, just admit you love it. Normal
is boring,"
Conor
said with a wink as he jabbed
Monroe in the back.

She threw him a look before wrapping her
hand around the amulet at her neck. She had been doing that a lot lately. I was
beginning to think it made her feel safe.

Luther stepped out of the shadows, his
figure stoic against the cloudy night, his green eyes shining. Monroe's eyes
followed him. I bumped into her, and she jumped.

"Everything
okay?"
I asked.

Monroe nodded.

"Yeah, he just gives me the
heebie
jeebies
."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. There
were times I felt that way about
Marcas
. Even beneath
the compassion I'd seen in both
Marcas
and Luther,
even beneath the good things they had done, I could sense the danger, the
barely veiled restraint.

"They're Demons. They're supposed
to be scary," I whispered in her ear.

She shot me the same look she'd shot
Conor
.

"Ready?"
Bezaliel
asked suddenly from behind us, and Monroe jumped again.

"Okay, that does it," she
grumbled. "I need sleep."

But, even as she said the words, she
nodded at my father.
Bezaliel
held his arms out to
her, and she stepped toward him. It had been decided that Monroe would fly with
Bezaliel
. After our jaunt in Egypt, Monroe wasn't new
to the "everyone in her life could fly" thing anymore. And after mine
and
Marcas
' fight with Damon, it was a power I was
now somewhat comfortable with myself. I hadn't attempted flying since the bond
had been broken, but I didn't want help.

"Stay low. The cloud cover will
hide you. There is no need to go high," a voice said from behind my
shoulder, and I shivered.

"Good," I grumbled.

Marcas
walked around
me and looked at the sky.

"She's watching," Luther
murmured.

Marcas
nodded, and
Conor
stepped in front of them.

"Let's go,"
Conor
said
,
his back straight as
bat-like wings suddenly unfurled from his shoulders.