Retribution (Redemption Series) (13 page)

They were large wings, dark and
leathery, that stretched from his shoulder blades to just past his knees. It
was the first time I had ever seen
Conor's
wings
other than quick glances from the corners of my eyes, and I hoped to God that
my mouth wasn't hanging open.

"Freaky,
right?"
Monroe asked as
Bezaliel's
feet lifted off the
ground.

Monroe closed her eyes and held on tight
with one hand while the other stayed wrapped around her amulet. I caught a
glimpse of Luther watching her, his eyes alight with amusement before he too
took to the air.

I took a deep breath and focused on the
spot in my chest I had come to know so well. The light jumped out at me, moving
along my limbs in an electric current that made the hair on my arms stand on
end. It was a comforting feeling, and I settled into it as I felt my feet come
off the ground. It was easier than I thought it would be, flying. Even unbound,
my power was second nature to me.

"Low,"
Marcas
repeated as he lifted.

I nodded at him once, and we were off.
The air was crisp, but it was Mississippi and a warmer winter than usual. I had
showered since my conversation with my father and Amber, and I was glad now I
had chosen to do that rather than using my magic to clean myself. I felt more
put together than I think I would have if I hadn't.

Monroe had given me a pink sweatshirt
with a picture of Betty
Boop
on the front. There was
a halo above her head with wings on her back, and her hands were thrown up into
the air. A tagline underneath her heeled feet simply read,
"Whatever!" The humor in it was not missed, but it was an old shirt,
and I knew by the way it kept sliding off my shoulder that it was Monroe's. She
was taller than me and definitely more built, so the shirt hung, especially now
that I had lost weight. The jeans I had on were better. They were loose, but
they were mine, brought from the Abbey by Amber during my illness.

"You're tired,"
Marcas
said suddenly from beside me, and I looked over at
him.

He didn't look any different now than he
had the first time I had met him. He was dark, his hair midnight, his eyes a
dark blue that shone red when his emotions changed. He was clean now, his jeans
and typical black tee fitted but whole. No rips, no sign that he had just
recently been locked away in a Seal facing Demons no one should ever have to
face.

"And you're not?" I asked.

He didn't answer. I waited for a
sarcastic reply, something about Demons never tiring, but it never came.

"Who is watching us? Lilith?"
I asked.

I was making conversation.
Typical Dayton version of avoiding awkward moments.
Marcas
nodded.

"She fears us," he said.

There was no conceit in his tone, no
superior inflection to his words. He was only stating the truth. Lilith, Demon
queen, the mother of thousands of powerful hybrids, was afraid. And she had
every right to be.

I wanted to fly away from him, maybe say
something that would make him move, but I couldn't. It didn't matter what
Bezaliel
said, my connection to
Marcas
was too strong for that. We had been to Hell and back again together.
Literally.
How do you walk away from that?

"Would it be corny to admit I'm
afraid too?" I asked, my voice light, playful even.

A corner of
Marcas
'
mouth tilted upward.

"Thinking too much again,
Blainey
?"

"Of course," I admitted.

Our gazes locked.

"Overanalyzing?"

I smiled.

"Always."

Marcas
' gaze moved
forward.

"Don't,
Blainey
.
Don't over think it."

We both knew what he was talking about.

"It's easier for me," he said
suddenly, and I looked at him, startled.

"Easier?"

He didn't look at me.

"What I plan to do now will change
things in Hell. It will change the way hybrids think. It will change alliances.
It will give me a place, a purpose."

The wind beat against my face, and I put
a hand against my cold cheek, the warmth seeping from my palm to my face. It
was a temporary comfort.

"That's good, right?"

The landscape below us changed, and I noticed
we were lowering. I had been distracted and hadn't noticed the Abbey's sudden
appearance in the night. It was disconcerting seeing the place so soon after
losing Damon, after losing part of
myself
. My feet
touched the ground, and I gasped as I felt
Marcas
'
lips on my ear, his chest against my back, a hand wrapped around my arm.

"I'm not the one who needs
saving," he whispered.

And with that, he was gone, my thoughts
left in chaos. And when I looked up, it was my father's eyes gazing into mine.

Chapter 13

The moment she was born, I knew she would change the
world.
An aberration.
She was supposed to be an
aberration. Her mother knew better. The day her mother laid her in my arms, I
saw what she already knew. She was my redemption.

~
Bezaliel
~

The Abbey was aglow. It surprised me at
first because the Abbey was always dark, but the moment I saw Sister Mary
standing at the door, her face lit up in a grin, I knew the Abbey would never
be dark again.

"Dayton," she said softly when
I approached her.

I had never gotten to know Sister Mary
that well, and I was glad now that I hadn't. All of the Sisters had been
cheated out of a big part of their lives. They had been controlled for years by
something dark, sinister, obsessive, and they now had to do the same thing the
rest of us had to do
—
start over.

Mary was a smiling woman, a dimple in a
lined, middle-aged face. She had short hair like the rest of the Sisters and it
was dark, a very deep shade of chestnut. She still wore the robes that marked
her as a part of the Sect, but she wore them proudly now, and I could see the
new leadership role she bore in the way she held herself straight and proud.

"Sister Mary," I replied with
a nod.

She stepped back and held the door wide,
her smile faltering only when
Marcas
and Luther
ducked into the room. The Demons frightened her.

"You can use the refectory,"
Mary said brightly. "There's a group already there.
Waiting.
They arrived the day before yesterday."

My confusion was evident.

"Alessandro,"
Conor
said as he moved past me.

I looked at his back, the bat-like wings
gone now with no trace that they had ever been there.

"That fast?" I asked.

Conor
had mentioned
calling in the leader of the S.O.S at my childhood home, but that had been
hours ago. There was no way the S.O.S. could get here that quickly from Italy.

Conor
glanced back at
me, his expression a sheepish one.

"I called him when
Marcas
was trapped in the Seal. It seemed only right they
be involved. The Swords of Solomon have a lot invested in the ring, and in this
whole new wild plan."

Marcas
walked quietly
past me, his hand landing on
Conor's
shoulder.

"You did the right thing.
Alessandro is a strong ally."

No one argued with that.

"It's a good thing I feel the same
way about you,
Demonio
," a deep voice said, and
we all looked up to find Alessandro standing casually in the hallway just
outside the refectory door. Inside, the tables gleamed, food laid out for
anyone who needed it. There were men at the table, most of them I didn't know
and a few I only recognized by sight. No names.

Marcas
and Alessandro
clasped hands, the shake firm but careful. There would never be a fully
trusting relationship between the two of them, but they respected each other.
That much was obvious.

"I have just heard this crazy
little piece of information about a Civil War and Hell," Alessandro stated
evenly as he motioned us all into the room. "I have to admit when
Conor
told me you were trapped in the ring, I didn't expect
to see you again. But we came anyway. Now that you are out, I'm even more
shocked to find you so willing to fight your own people."

People stood as we entered, and I saw
Lucas and Sophia standing along the side of the room, their heads held high.
They had obviously filled the members of the S.O.S. in on
Marcas
'
plan.

"Are you really so surprised,
Ander?"
Marcas
asked, his brow
raised
.

Alessandro laughed.

"Maybe not
so surprised."

"He is a good liar, my son. He
wasn't surprised in the least," a clear, Italian voice said, and I felt my
heart soar. Maria!

Maria was Alessandro's mother, and an
old earthly flame of
Marcas
'. She was an old woman
and wise. She had the Sight, the ability to tell the difference between
mortals, Angels, and Demons. I trusted her implicitly. She was sitting at the
table when we came in, but she stood now carefully before making her way over
to our group. Her eyes met mine.

"You look strong,
Naphil
," she said with a nod of her head.

I wanted to laugh out loud. I knew I
didn't look the least bit strong. Tired, wrung out, too skinny, but never
strong. But I didn't argue with her because I knew she wasn't referring to my
physical appearance. She saw the magic that flowed over me, and she knew its
strength. If nothing else, my power was definitely stronger. Her eyes narrowed
as she gazed at me, and I saw her glance briefly at
Bezaliel
who was speaking now with Alessandro.

"Come,
Naphil
.
Walk a moment with an old woman. Let's leave these men to their negotiations,
shall we?" Maria said as she practically shoved me back out into the hall.

Bezaliel
looked up, his
eyes sharp, but Alessandro just shook his head.

"Leave my mother
be
,
Old One. There is no arguing with her."

The door to the refectory closed between
us. I wasn't sure how I felt about being pulled from the room when I was sure
anything they discussed was something I needed to know, but Maria was
perceptive and she laughed.

"Battle is battle,
Naphil
. They can discuss it all they want, but it will play
out the way all battles play out. People will fight. People will die. I am more
interested in you."

Maria's hand was at the small of my back
now, and she pressed me gently forward. I moved, but slowly. Maria's cane
tapped against the stone floors, and I considered slowing more, but then
thought better of it. I truly believed Maria was much healthier than she let
on. The cane was a ruse I was sure. She liked to have people underestimate her.

"You are very bright now. Your
power is as strong as your father's."

I turned to face her.

"And this is a good thing?" I
asked.

Maria looked up at me. Even as short as
I was, she was still shorter than me.

"Your father is a wise man,
Naphil
. He was one of the first to fall from Heaven. He has
been around since the beginning of time. Do not underestimate his power or
yours."

"I don't underestimate his
powers," I argued.

Maria slammed her cane down on my foot,
and I yelped.

"No, but you underestimate
him
."

I cursed under my breath, which felt
really wrong considering I was in the Abbey and considering the fact that Maria
was playing with one of her many rosaries hanging from around her neck. Her
long bright blue house dress covered her feet, and I watched as she tucked the
tip of her cane just under the edge of her skirt.

"I don't know how I feel about
him," I admitted quietly.

Maria "harrumphed".

"Sure, you do. You feel betrayed,
and you do not trust him, eh? This is okay, no? But remember this,
Naphil
. Everything Heaven does is not always understood.
Your father would not have left you if he thought it wouldn't make you
stronger. What you have endured will give you the strength to do what you will
need to do in the end."

I felt numbness stealing over me. Maria
knew too much. She always did. She saw things, studied things, and understood
things even when she wasn't supposed to know about them.

"And what will I need to do?
In the end?"
I asked.

Maria chuckled.

"Oh no!
I not make
things that easy for you. Just know that I trust you to make the right choice.
There is always a choice,
Naphil
.
Always."

"
Marcas
?"
I whispered, leaning in close. I left
the rest of my question unsaid, but she knew. She always knew.

Maria's eyes met mine, her gaze serious.

"When you feel like you are
falling,
Naphil
, and you think you can't hold on any
longer, remember something," Maria said, her old hand patting mine softly.

"Remember what?" I asked.

Her fingers curled around mine.

"Don't let go. Let him pull you
free."

Chapter 14

He is a strong leader. He will not falter. And in
the end, he will be forced to win.

~
Bezaliel
~

I hated vague helpful suggestions, and
Maria's "Let him pull you free" montage kept ringing through my head
even as we stood back inside the refectory, arguments flying over the way a
Civil War in Hell should be handled. Maria was right about one thing. It was
absolutely pointless discussing battles.

"You're free of the bond now and
the Seal. Trusting you isn't something we can afford to do,
Demonio
.
How do you intend to rally the hybrids?" Alessandro asked.

The S.O.S.'s leader was standing, his
knuckles tapping the table occasionally as he glanced around the room. It was
an annoying habit, and I was seriously considering throwing something at his
hand.
Marcas
was also standing, facing Alessandro.
The only thing separating them was a table.

"I don't intend to rally anyone. I
intend to challenge Lucifer."

The whole room went up in an uproar, and
I pushed away from the wall I had been leaning against, my face aghast. He
intended to
what
?

"Challenge him for power?"
Sophia
asked,
her elegant voice high and shrill.

Marcas
glanced at her.

"Over the
hybrids, yes."

"Challenge?"
Sophia
repeated. "You remember what happened the last time you faced him?"

"He nearly killed
Marcas
and Dayton," Monroe supplied, her voice low.

The people in the room who were unaware
of our confrontation with Satan in Petra gasped, while the rest of us just
stared at
Marcas
.

Marcas
leaned over the
table, one hand resting on the wood.

"You know as well as I do that
Lucifer will be forced to listen. There is too much unrest in Hell after he ordered
the annihilation of the children of Cain."

Sophia laughed. It was humorless.

"Oh, he'll listen, and then he'll
kill you. He doesn't play fair, Marc. And then, he'll possess you. He can now,
you know. You are no longer linked to an Angel. He could use you to destroy the
very hybrids you hope to save."

Marcas
' jaw tightened,
and I could almost "feel" the stubborn glint that moved through his
gaze. He was an unreadable man. He had centuries of practice, but I had once
been linked to his emotions through the bond, and I could still feel him.

I snuck through the S.O.S. members
lining the wall, my eyes on
Marcas
.

"You give me no credit, Sophia. You
forget how close we actually came to overcoming Lucifer's challenge in Petra.
He fears me, and there are ways around possession,"
Marcas
said firmly, his gaze skirting Monroe.

Monroe played frantically with the
amulet around her neck. My best friend was a witch, and a strong one. She had
somehow created a spell that deterred Demon possession and had used it to charm
the amulet she wore. In Petra, Luther had avoided possession because he wore a
similar amulet around his neck. It was worth testing again.

"And so you face him?" Sophia
asked.
"With what?
A challenge
to the death?
A peace treaty?"

Marcas
' gaze met Sophia's,
and he didn't blink.

"With an
ultimatum."
 

I was by
Marcas
now but still mostly in shadow along the wall. I could feel
Bezaliel's
gaze on me, but I ignored him.

"He plans to force Lucifer's hand.
A kingdom of his own for Demon hybrids or face the possibility of war," I
said quietly.

I saw
Marcas
shift slightly, but he didn't turn around. He had known I was moving toward
him. I was pretty certain he was as aware of me as I was of him.

Sophia glanced at the shadows before
returning her gaze to the Demon at the table. She was determined to pick
through any plan
Marcas
made with a fine tooth comb,
and I didn't blame her. Not really. She was the only true Angel present who had
not fallen. She felt a responsibility the rest of us did not feel.