Shattered (the Spellbound Series Book 2) (10 page)

Suddenly, my senses are going haywire. I can smell my own blood, the metallic scent so strong I can taste it in the back of my mouth. I’m aware of Nick’s heart hammering at a furious pace as loudly as I hear him asking what’s going on. And just under that, I can hear the door downstairs being forced open, boots crunching over broken glass, the crackle of two-way radios as men and women shout orders to ground units.

Apparently, some of Navarro’s enemies must have found his home base.

              I
could
stay where I am on the ground, clutching my bleeding wound and waiting for whoever’s coming. But I’m not about to get caught in the middle of Navarro’s townhouse, surrounded by sensitive information concerning my boyfriend and I.

The first spell I use sets Navarro’s desk on fire, the files scattered on top along with it.

              The second one transports Nick and I to the first place I can think of: home.

10

              The last few things I’m conscious enough to remember happen in rapid succession. The second Nick realizes where we wound up, he lifts me as gently as he can onto my bed, wincing at my cries of pain. Then, my mother bursts into my room, gasping at the sight of her daughter covered in blood, with Nick standing over me. I shut my eyes and try to block out the pain, but I can’t. My shoulder’s burning, and it feels like the fire is slowly spreading down to the tips of my fingers.

              Krystal materializes in the doorway to my room, asking Nick and my mother to stand aside. She kneels down by my bed, and tells me to close my eyes. I do so, and a soothing coolness radiates from my wound to the rest of my body, relaxing me to the point where I can hardly feel anything. Within seconds, the sounds all around me fade to background noise, and cease altogether.

              When I open my eyes next, I’m still in bed, but there’s no one around. I’m in my room, the place I know best, but something feels wrong. I can’t immediately place what; everything is in place, I feel perfectly healthy, and I’m pretty sure I can hear my mom’s soft snores coming from her room right across the hall. I reach behind my head for the necklace my father gave me, like I always used to in younger days. I always feel safer when my fingers stroke the cool metal, since my mind normally skims over tiny details like the pattern of the chain when I’m dreaming. That’s how I know when I’m home, awake, and safe.

              Sure enough, when I reach behind me, I’m greeted by the familiar grooves of the sterling silver chain. However, the pendant on the end doesn’t feel quite right. When my father’s necklace combined with mine, the two pendants together became heavier than they ever were separately. This pendant feels lighter, somehow. As if pieces are missing. I twist in my bed to look over at it, and nearly roll off the edge out of shock. Instead of the winged pendant I was expecting, I’m looking at a pewter pentagram identical to the one Alyssa used to wear.

              “Took you long enough,” whispers a smoky voice from the corner of my room. I sit upright to get a better look at my surroundings, and the lights flick on automatically, revealing a man leaning against my bookshelf. I could swear I’ve seen this man somewhere before; he seems so familiar. His tall, muscular build fills out a charcoal gray suit, as well as the blood red buttoned shirt peeking from the folds of his jacket, the top buttons undone. Light mocha skin shows in the spaces where his clothing ends, otherwise only covered by jet black facial hair that’s been cropped as close to the skin as it can without being completely removed. Glittering, mischievous hazel eyes peek at me from between his lashes, and a smile plays across his lips as I appraise him.

I have no idea who this man is, but he’s beautiful, in an odd way. I want to chastise myself for thinking so, but it can’t be helped.

              “We have a lot to talk about, Heather,” the man says, his perfect white teeth peeking out of his mouth when he speaks.

              I fold my arms across my chest; I seem to be dreaming, so I’m probably not in any danger. All the same, I’m not happy with this man’s intrusion, so I’m not about to be polite. “Of course we do. How about we start with the basics: who the fuck are you?”

              The grin plastered on the stranger’s face widens a little before he answers. “I have too many names to count. Samael. Beelzebub. Satan. Belial. The serpent. The Lawless One. That asshole with the pitchfork. But I prefer to go by the name my Father gave me, so you can call me Lucifer.”

              I nearly jump out of alarm, but I force myself to remain seated on my bed, and try to appear nonchalant. What could
the devil
possibly want from me? A) There’s no way I’m already dead, and even if I am, I’m pretty sure that B) Lucifer wouldn’t be getting his own hands dirty collecting souls. Not to mention C) I highly doubt that I’ve screwed up enough to deserve a spot in Hell. I clear my throat a couple of times, and say, “I was expecting horns and a tail.”

“Don’t believe everything you read.” Lucifer brushes a piece of lint from his sleeve, and adds, “Never forget, the Bible is a fairly well-written book, but at the end of the day, still just a
book
.”

“Noted. So, Lucy-“

              “Lucifer.”

              “
Lucy
, what can I do for you?”

              “Oh no, Heather. The question here is what can
I
do for
you
?” At that, I pause to wonder what he means. Lucifer continues, “I know my brother visited you some time ago, no doubt to give you the rundown of how he wants his big show to go. But I’m sure he left out a few crucial details. Like my side of the story… Michael may be a do-gooder, but he’s always had a habit of withholding the whole truth.”

              I stare wide-eyed at Lucifer for a moment. If Michael is his brother, then… that means my uncle is the devil. The more I learn about it, the more I realize there aren’t adjectives negative enough for how fucked up my family tree is. “There are a few things he neglected to mention,” I say in as even a voice as I can.

              “I bet. Did he try to convince you that your destiny is to find and kill the other Nephilim?”

              “Yes… I still don’t get why. I hardly believe God would want me to actually kill anyone. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s number one on the list of things He tells us mortals NOT to do.”

              “That’s just the first of many lies Michael fed you. There’s no divine plan in this. In fact, there’s no God involved; nobody has seen our Father in millennia. This little game with the Nephilim is all Michael’s design.”

              I elect to ignore the fact that he referred to Michael’s plan as a game, and ask, “Why would he want to turn his own child into a weapon, then? It still makes no sense.”

              “Like I said, God flew the coop a long time ago. Meaning that there’s a heavenly throne that still needs to be filled. Michael and I both wanted to rule so badly at one point, that we agreed to a little wager. We each decided to wait until the time was right, and find a human whose genes would allow our children the greatest chance of coming out as strong as possible. Once the kids are old enough and fully prepared, they’re to have a fight to the death. Then, whoever manages to come out on top gets to rule alongside their father in Heaven for the remainder of their life.”

              “And why couldn’t you and Michael have just fought each other, instead?,” I ask.

              “The obvious answer? He’s an archangel, one of God’s seven finest. Technically the only one left after the rest of them were slaughtered. Even with a handicap, there’s no chance in Hell I could top him in a fair fight.”

              “And the not-so-obvious answer?”

              Lucifer shrugs. “He may be an asshole, but he’s still my brother. Even if I could, I don’t
want
to kill him, and I hope he still has enough of a soul to feel the same towards me.”

              “Okay… but since you’re not as strong as Michael, doesn’t that mean that your kid won’t stand a chance against me?”

              “Not necessarily. Michael was gracious enough to give me first choice, a lovely woman whose latent strength surpassed any others that I’ve seen. And besides, I can’t promise I won’t give my progeny a helping hand.”

              I shrug, and wrap my arms tighter around myself as I stand. I’m not quite as tall and commanding as Lucifer, but I try to look as defiant as possible. “And if I don’t want to play into your little game?”

              “Then don’t.” I raise my eyebrows at Lucifer, who elaborates. “I personally don’t care whether you cooperate or not. I have no interest in the main prize anymore; I have my own kingdom to maintain, and being in charge is
not
all that it’s cracked up to be. I’m much more interested in seeing my perfect brother fall flat on his face.”

              Like I’d already told Michael, I have no interest in killing someone I’ve never met for the sake of my “destiny”, which is starting to sound more and more like design than fate. Then again, the only other information I’m being fed is coming from Lucifer, a
very
widely known master of deception. My head is pounding from the effort of trying to figure out who to trust, so I try to change the subject. “What is it about my blood that’s so special?,” I ask. “Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s sort of been a hot topic lately.”

              “Did Michael tell you nothing of our kind?”

              I shake my head.

              Lucifer shakes his in sympathy, and says, “It’s been said that the blood of an angel can revive you, even if you’re on the brink of death. Back when your boyfriend was a vampire, that’s exactly where he was, right on the border between the dead and the living. And it seems the angel blood within you was just strong enough to tip the scales in the right direction.”

              “I see…” That’s one mystery solved. I almost make a note to let Navarro know what I just learned, until I remember how I wound up in my room, bleeding from a gaping hole in my shoulder. And he’s the one who maneuvered me into the path of the bullet presumably meant for him. If I ever see Navarro again, the people trying to assassinate him will be the least of his worries.

              “I’m sorry to cut this little reunion short,” Lucifer announces, “but I have other things I must attend to.”

              “You’re going?” I frown a little; I’d been hoping for at least a little more information.

              “Sorry… duty calls. I’ll be seeing you, Heather.” Lucifer’s body slowly dissolves into a fine black mist, starting at his feet and creeping upwards. Before he vanishes completely, he glances at my stomach, and whispers, “Congratulations, by the way.” Seconds later, there’s nothing left of him, not even a wisp of smoke.

***

              This time, when my eyes flutter open, I don’t need to check the necklace hanging from my headboard. The dull ache in my shoulder throbbing to the beat of my heart tells me that I’m back in the real world. I try to struggle out of bed, but between the bandaged shoulder and the boy sitting on top of my sheets, it’s more difficult than I originally thought. Nick puts a protective arm over me, and says, “Try not to move around too much. Your wound still hasn’t set.”

              I manage a small laugh, and ask, “The mighty Krystal couldn’t seal it up with a spell?”

              “She tried, but your mom insisted on doing what she could. They had to compromise to avoid a fight. Krystal removed the bullet, your mom patched you up. And I… got to do nothing. Like usual,” Nick adds in a bitter tone. “Krys said she’d heal you properly when she gets the chance.”

              I roll my eyes, and turn over to look at my bedside table. A tiny wooden object lies on top of a bloodstained napkin, and even though it’s vaguely bullet shaped, I have trouble believing that it was responsible for my injury. “Why a wooden bullet?,” I wonder aloud.

              “They’re used to hunt vampires,” Nick explains. “More high tech than a stake, but I think I prefer the traditional way.”

              “Cool.” I lay my head back on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. I don’t know what to say, and Nick is lost in his own world, probably sulking over something. After a few moments of silence, I finally ask, “What’s up with you?”

              “Hmm?”

              “You’re being especially sucky right now, and I’m the one who got shot.”

              “I’m just… worried.”

              “Worried… you’re worried…” I force myself into a sitting position, and fix my eyes on Nick’s. “You’ve got it so easy right now. You’re back to being human, thanks to yours truly. Your girlfriend’s more than capable of taking care of herself, the guy you practically sold me out to is nowhere to be found… Things are pretty alright for you Nick. Your life isn’t anywhere near being in danger, so what, pray tell, are you worried about?”

              Nick averts his eyes as my words sink in. He takes a deep breath, and answers, “I’m worried about losing you.”

              “What…?”

              “The other night, in the park, I got a glimpse of what you’re capable of. And it freaked me out. At first, I couldn’t pinpoint why, but now I can put it into words… When I see just how self reliant you can be, it makes me realize how little you need me. I should be the one protecting you, not the other way around!”

              It’s truly a struggle not to roll my eyes at Nick, or call him an idiot.
That’s
what’s been plaguing him for the past few days? His unsatisfied desire to be the quintessential nice guy? “Sorry to burst your bubble,” I mutter, “but I don’t keep people around because I need them for anything. You’re in my life because I love you, and I WANT you in it. Maybe I don’t need you, but I choose you.”

“But-“

“Besides, I never asked you to be my hero, and when we first met, you specifically said you had no interest in the job.”

              “It’s just frustrating!” Nick pushes himself off of the bed, and rubs his face before continuing, “My instinct is to keep you safe, but now that I’m human, I’m more powerless than ever. You’re just… in a league of your own. And it makes me wonder how long it’ll be before you leave me behind.”