Retribution (Redemption Series) (21 page)

"It'll have
to heal on its own,"
Marcas
said quietly.
"And you will always have a scar. The wound was caused by Hellfire when
you had no power to protect yourself. Hellfire wounds cannot be healed."

Well, that was
comforting. I winced as my damaged jeans rubbed against raw skin, but I didn't
complain. A burn was much better than death.

"And
now?
What do we do now?" I asked.

The Demons
flanking me stiffened, their jaws tightening almost imperceptibly. I saw
Luther's fist clench from the corner of my eye.

"We
fight."

Chapter 23

In any war, big
or small, massive battle or small skirmish, there are always sacrifices. One
can only escape Death so often before Death catches up.

~
Bezaliel
~

My ankle was
really bothering me, a slow constant burn that had me cursing with every small
step. It didn't help that every shadow, every teeny tiny noise made me jump a
mile high, and I bit the inside of my lip to keep from whimpering.

Luther had taken
the lead, and he looked back at me, his brow arched, and I knew by his
expression that I had drawn blood with the whole lip biting thing.

"You have
really got to stop doing that," he complained.

I shrugged. It
helped keep me floored in reality, and it didn't hurt that the slight pain also
took some of the throbbing out of my ankle.
Marcas
was eerily quiet as he followed me, and I looked back to find him scanning the
darkness behind us. He noticed my interest and nodded at the path we'd left
behind.

"He's aware
we survived."

It was the only
explanation
Marcas
gave, and he shared a look with
Luther before lifting a hand, placing it against the stone walls surrounding
us. A portal opened.

"Go,"
Marcas
said to Luther as he stepped behind me and wrapped
an arm around my waist.

I could have
flown on my own, but I didn't fight
Marcas
. It felt
good to be close to him, safe, and my ankle was distracting enough I wasn't
sure I'd be a very graceful flyer to begin with. And once we lifted, we were
flying fast.
Incredibly
fast.

"We can't
just take the easy way out of something, can we?" I muttered against
Marcas
' chest, my teeth chattering as the wind tore at my
ankle. The cool air was both a relief and a nuisance. I was so tired of
double-edged swords.

Marcas
' arms tightened
as we began to slow, and I saw light at the end of the portal.

"When this
is over, I give you free reign to cry,"
Marcas
said softly.

I looked up at
him.

"Cry?
I've spent
plenty of time crying."

Marcas
placed his lips
near my ear.

"Not
enough,
Blainey
. You owe it to yourself."

I hated to cry,
and he knew it. I started to argue, but he shifted, keeping one arm around my waist
while using the other to point ahead of us.

"Look."

The sight that
met us was amazing. Lucas stood at the portal's
exit,
a sardonic grin plastered across his face and behind him stood hundreds of men
and women. Most of them appeared to have a twin and they were built the same,
dark hair ranging from black to chestnut, dark eyes, and tall. It was eerie, it
was beautiful, it was exalting.

"All of
Lilith's and Cain's children?" I asked.

"No,"
Marcas
breathed into my ear."Not all."

It was still
utterly impressive. We landed next to Lucas.

"I'm
considering making a lewd joke about your mother, her hormones, and her ability
to excessively breed," Lucas said as
Marcas
nodded at the crowd gathered.

A cheer went up
as Luther patted Lucas on the shoulder, hard.

"Hardy
har
har
, my dear Exiled
Angel.
Look at it this way, it means her children inherited her sex drive. I,
personally, have had no complaints."

I couldn't
decide if I should blush or roll my eyes.
Marcas
ignored them.

"Has there
been any word on Lucifer's reaction to our little coup d'état?"
Marcas
asked.

Luther leaned
over.

"That's a
fancy word for revolution, right?" he whispered in my ear.

I smothered a
laugh as Lucas looked out over the crowd.
Marcas
was
serious to a fault when faced with any obstacle large or small. Luther, I was
beginning to discover, was the opposite.

"You mean
other than the fact he's pissed?" the Fallen Angel asked.

"His plans,
Luke,"
Marcas
said patiently.

Lucas' face
fell.

"He plans
to see you dead. But for now, I've gotten word that Lucifer is sending Lilith
with an army to the Outer Levels of Hell. It's your chance for a kingdom,
Demon. Take it or leave it."

Marcas
looked out over
the faces of the hybrids in the field before us. It was the first time I really
noticed our surroundings, and I glanced at Luther, my brows raised.

"Are we in
a vineyard?" I mumbled.

Luther gestured
at the green rolling hills before us.

"What? Not
in the mood for a drink?"

I eyed him
dubiously, and he sighed.

"Spoil
sports, all of you. We're in Italy. Look behind you."

I glanced over
my shoulder and gasped at the manor I saw in the distance.

"S.O.S.
headquarters."

Luther nodded.

"Remember
Hell time differs from Earth time. We've been gone two weeks.
Plenty of time for our little group of rebellions to fly here and
set up base.
If there is any fighting on Earth, we want to keep it as
isolated as possible."

Two weeks. I
kept losing days in my life faster than I wanted to lose them. I was standing
at
Marcas
' shoulder, and I reached for his hand. He
took it with no hesitation.

"We'll
fight," he said firmly.

Lucas nodded and
held up his hand, palm out. The hybrids in the field roared. The signal, I
assumed, had been expected, and these hybrids seemed ready and willing to go to
war.

"Prepare
yourselves
,"
Marcas
shouted.

It startled me,
but I stood still, awed as his voice boomed over the field. I had once believed
my father had a large voice. I knew now it was amplified by power, and the
hybrids reveled in
Marcas
'.

Lucas turned,
his back to the crowd, his eyes on
Marcas
.

"Do you
intend to take the Outer Levels? Even if you win, there will be a constant
battle on your border."

Marcas
stared straight
ahead.

"It's been
done before."

Lucas didn't
disagree.

"And she
still fights a constant war to keep control of her kingdom," Lucas pointed
out.

Marcas
turned, his
gaze meeting the Fallen Angel.

"As
do the Exiles for their place here.
We are children of the realms who
conceived us. You will always be a child of Heaven, but you fight a constant
war to remain out of Hell.
One foot in, one foot out.
One wrong
move,
and you will be thrown into the pits
of Hell. As hybrids of Hell, we will fight for our Outer kingdom, and we will
live a precarious life on the edge happier than when we lived it in the
depths."

"And you
will rule this kingdom?" a new voice asked.

I didn't have to
look to know who it was.
Marcas
glanced up, his gaze
landing on
Bezaliel
.

"Damn
straight I will."

It was the words
of a ruler, a Demon ruler, and as I stood next to him, my ankle throbbing and
scarred by Hellfire, my hand clasped in his, I felt the chasm between us open.
Marcas
was fighting to rule a kingdom in Hell. Where did
that leave me?

Chapter 24

Marcas
, the hybrid son of the Demon, Lilith, and the
cursed immortal, Cain, has proclaimed war on Hell. His army is a band of
hybrids. If they succeed in taking the Outer Levels of the Underworld, a new
kingdom will begin. This will mean change. It will cause a division in Hell.

~
Bezaliel
~

I wish I could
say going to battle was like the movies, theatrical, choreographed, and
proceeded by a background of magnificent orchestrated music. In
Braveheart
, for
example, common men painted their faces, lifted crude weapons, and yelled
before charging into a field of soldiers better fed and better prepared and
won, all with an awe-inspiring soundtrack and haunting narration.

In my reality,
there was none of this. There had been no time to convene with members of the
S.O.S, no time to see
Conor
or Monroe, no time to
wonder if this battle would change my life. There had only been a hard look
from
Bezaliel
, and a moment of frenzied whispering
between Lucas, Luther,
Marcas
, and my father before a
portal was opened once more.

It was a thin
portal ,
almost translucent with a field beyond it that
looked identical to the one we stood in now.

"The Outer
Levels share time and space with Earth. It would be good if
Marcas
ruled it," Luther whispered into my ear.

I nodded, but I
didn't really understand. From the corner of my eye, I thought I caught a
glimpse of Sophia moving phantom-like along the edges of the hybrid army. She
was in a dress the color of freshly fallen snow, beautiful, her wings extended
but down, her head bowed. It was tragic. An Angel, dressed in flowing white,
watching the Demon she'd once loved going into battle for his own kingdom. I
have never felt so out of place.

"Dayton,"
I heard
Bezaliel
say from behind me, but I shook my
head.

"No, don't
tell me I'm being left behind," I said as I turned toward him. "I
have done my fair share of killing since this began. I have watched people I
love hurt all because I was bound to a hybrid by a Demon seeking redemption.
I'll see this to the end . . . father."

His eyes met
mine, and I saw an emotion there we both felt, but didn't really know how to
express. I smiled sadly.

"Even if
this ends with nothing more than a new kingdom in Hell and me returning to a
life I don't know anymore, it will be closure. If there's one thing I've
learned, it's that everyone deserves that much. I'll get the chance to say
goodbye."

Bezaliel
nodded,
his gaze soft.

"I'm proud
of you," he said.

Those words were
my orchestra.
The heartbeat in my chest, the drums.
The way he looked at me now, the violins.
The
sound of feet preparing to enter the portal, the wind instruments.
It
was enough.

Bezaliel
placed his
hands on each of my shoulders, his gaze glued to mine.

"Remember,
daughter, who you are. Sometimes we spend so much time trying to believe in what
we think is right, we forget to believe in what is right in front of us."

He released me,
spinning me so that I was facing the portal.

"I believe
in you," my father whispered in my ear before he was suddenly gone.

I knew he was
gone because there was
an emptiness
behind me, an
emptiness filled now with a forgiveness and peace I thought I'd never feel. But
I felt it now. I definitely felt it now.

"Ready?"
a voice asked, and I smiled when I looked up into
Marcas
'
strong, shadowed face.

"You're not
going to try and talk me out of coming?" I asked.

He grinned.

"The battle
would be over before I'd manage to convince you."

I laughed.

"True
that."

His hand took
mine and together we stepped toward the portal, an army of hybrids behind us.
And it wasn't an orchestra that played us through the opening. It wasn't
painted faces that moved into the Outer Levels of Hell. It wasn't even bravery.

It was hope.