Soul Conquered (15 page)

Keira

I’ve ruined everything, and
all for Grace. I have to get out of here.

Struggling against my bonds does no good. Lucifer
removed my powers. He clearly did the same to Grace. She doesn’t look so good,
all pale and cut up.

The killer comes to life the minute Lucifer
disappears. He examines the cigar, and his face lights up. He runs a hand down
my leg, and I jerk it away. If I want to be tied up with a guy then I’ll be the
one to decide that, thank you very much.

Grace is crying, which doesn’t help the situation. But
it does draw his attention, and he moves back over to her side, puffing on the
cigar and examining the knife. “You brought a friend, Scarlet. That was
thoughtful of you. But now I have a dilemma. Do I finish with you? Or do I take
care of your friend first?”

He looks back and forth between us, and I hold my
breath. I’ve met serial killers in Hell before. Lucifer likes to show off the
worst wackos, and this guy definitely fits the bill. They get off on the
struggle their victims put up. Grace is a textbook case over there, reduced to
a pile of blood and tears. Poor kid. I admit, I feel kind of bad for her. She’s
probably never been tortured before. Not like this.

But this is nothing compared to the Pit.

“Go ahead and kill me,” Grace cries. “Just leave Keira
alone.”

Oh, brother. She’s still being noble. Doesn’t she get
that he’s planning on killing us both anyway?

Dickhead smiles and licks his lips. “I’m not leaving
either of you alone, Scarlet.” He moves close to her, puts his face right in
hers, and strokes her hair back from her face tenderly. Grace trembles and
cries in response.

I wiggle my wrists, trying to get my hands through the
rope or at least find something to work against and cut through the damn
things. But Lucifer wouldn’t leave me any such hope.

Psycho holds the cigar over Graces face, the
smoldering end twisting and turning as he lowers it toward her eye. She tries
to move away, but he holds her face firm with his hand. Damn it! I’m running
out of time.

I roll to the right, swing my legs over, and kick him
with every bit of strength in my little human body. Lucky that Lucifer didn’t
leave me with my ankles tied to the bedframe. Guess he thought tying them
together was enough. The cigar falls on the pillow next to Grace’s head, and
Psycho hits the floor.

No time to waste. I swing my legs back over to the
other side of the bed and wiggle my way to standing. I’m ready to hop over to
the door, but Norman Bates is up again, clutching his stomach and blocking my
path with murder in his eyes.

I think I made him mad.

Damn, I wish I had my Demon powers. I’d let my eyes
burn for him, and I bet it’d screw him up real bad. He’s obviously obsessed
with eyes, judging by the cigar and all those pictures he left behind.

“If I were you, I’d get the fuck out of my way,” I
say. It’s important to stay calm and in control. He can sense fear. He feeds on
it.

He laughs. “You’re just like her. You think you can
just dismiss what I want and do whatever the Hell you want. Well, you can’t.
I’ll make sure of that.” He brandishes the knife, and my mind works overtime as
I search the surroundings for anything that could help.

“Such a big strong guy you are. You have to tie up
your victims to handle them? Even a little girl like me? Hell, I knocked you on
your ass already, and I’m tied up. You are weak, aren’t you?”

Yeah, I definitely made him angry. He grabs the rope
around my wrists and yanks me forward off my feet, holding the knife up to my
face. He doesn’t hesitate this time. He presses the tip into my cheek and draws
a quick line up toward my eye.

A sudden, terrifying thought hits me. What if Lucifer
makes me keep whatever scars he gives me? What if I lose my eyes? My beautiful
face?

I scream and pull my head as far away as I can.

“Not so brave now, are you?” he asks, examining the
blood on the knife.

“Let’s see how brave
you
are. Let me loose and
try that again.”

We stare each other down, waiting for the other to
break.

“I don’t have to prove anything to you,” he says,
lowering the knife. “But I will make you sorry you challenged me.”

Crap. That backfired.

I plant myself as best I can and wait. He walks slowly
this time, swishing the knife through the air as he goes. He’s trying to make
me jump and topple over again. I stay put.

Wait for it, Keira
.

He gets close enough to strike. I’m ready when he
swings, and I block his arm with my own. The knife scrapes my arm, and I wince
but keep my focus. I use my head to butt against his chin, hard. He stumbles,
but unfortunately so do I.

I regain my balance by sheer force of will. I have to
get that knife. I grab onto his hand with both of mine and squeeze. It was so
easy the first time to snap his wrist, but thanks to Lucifer, he’s all better
and I’m at quite the disadvantage.

I use my long nails to dig into his flesh, and he
drops the weapon, but he recovers quickly and yanks me back by a handful of
hair with his other hand. I fall backward onto the ground, and he kicks out,
catching me in the ribs.

I try to roll while he turns to retrieve his weapon
and find Grace standing over me, free of her bonds.

She’s holding what’s left of the singed rope. Her
wrists are blistered and red with burns. She must have used the cigar to burn
through her bonds. Impressive.

She kneels down and works the ropes on my wrists
loose. I shake my head vehemently, trying to signal for her to go after Psycho
instead. She’ll take too long. But she keeps going, intent on freeing me, and
manages to loosen my bonds only a fraction before he’s back. She steps in front
of me protectively, and I get awkwardly to my feet behind her. My hands are
still tied.

Psycho twists the knife in the air and pokes it toward
Grace, who cringes and jumps back.

“You got loose, Scarlet.”

“Yes, I did. It’s over now, Corbin.”

“How do you know my real name?” he demands, a smile
playing at his lips. He thinks this is all part of some game.

“Put the knife away, and we can all walk out of here,”
Grace says.

“I can’t let you go. I’m not done yet.” He moves
closer again.

Grace grabs for the knife. They struggle and land back
on the bed, him on top of her.

“Run!” Grace screams at me. “It’s okay. Just go.”

I hesitate. Maybe I could help. If we work together… I
move toward her.

“Get Noah.” She yells while he pins her across the
neck with one arm. He’s straddling her. There’s nothing she can do.

I’m torn. She wants me to go. If I can get word to
Noah, then maybe he can help. I only have human strength and my cellphone seems
more helpful than my bare—and bound—hands. Yet I’m still standing
here. Damn it all! Only an idiot would stay. But clearly that’s what I am,
because I rush toward the bastard as he draws the knife across her throat.

I stop and scream as the blood spills out and Grace makes
gurgling sounds. I waited too long. I should have attacked him sooner. I should
have done
something
.

He stands and moves toward me.

Grace is still twitching on the bed. She’ll “die” and
then be reborn in Hell. That’s how it works. I’ve had it happen once or twice.

But what a way to go.

“You’re a dead man,” I say, and this time something in
my voice stops him in his tracks.

Grace stops moving. The cuts on my cheek and arm
sting. My body feels like one giant bruise, and the skin around my wrists is
rubbed raw. But my hatred for this human is stronger than any of it.

I step toward him and everything turns black. Then bright
lights nearly blind me as I stagger forward into a new place. A male figure
stands before me. I lift my hands up to block some of the light, ready to
attack, until I see who it is. All of the adrenaline drains from my body, and I
start to fall.

Right into Noah’s arms.

Josh

“You look like bloody Hell.” Shona
drops the book on the sofa and comes over to where I sit on the other side
stroking TT, who sits in my lap. She kneels beside me and tentatively touches
the skin on my face.

“Ow.” I wince. “Please don’t touch that. And thanks for the
news flash. I don’t feel much better than I look.”

“What happened? You’re an Angel. You’re in Heaven. Why
hasn’t it healed?” she asks, alarmed. I can tell she’s worried because her
glasses have slid to the tip of her nose and she hasn’t bothered to push them
back up.

“Believe it or not, it has improved a bit. Don’t worry, the
other guy looks worse.” I smirk and wince again from the pain it causes. I
conjure another ice pack and press it against my face.

“Fill me in,” she demands, moving over to the couch and
drawing the dog away to pet. I tell her the whole story, from my attempt to
save Grace, to Keira’s intervention, to my encounter with Noah at the parade.
Admitting my intense rage toward the boy we’re trying to save is difficult, but
I know it’s important. I watch Shona, waiting for her to cringe away from such
un-Angel-like behavior, but instead her eyes fill with understanding and
sadness as she nods.

When I finish, Shona leans forward and brushes a finger over
my bruised cheek.

“Well, now we know the One can certainly touch you.”

I bristle at her touch. “Like I said, he got the worst of
it.”

“And you left Keira with Grace?” she asks softly, sitting
back on the broken sofa.

I swallow hard. “I went back to the hotel where she was
being tortured immediately. There was so much blood, but no Grace. So I came
back here and searched on the screen. She’s nowhere to be found, which means
she’s probably in Hell. I was too late. I should have never left her with Keira.
And all for nothing. I should have killed Noah. I’m an Angel, but we’re talking
about the Antichrist here. I should have followed through and killed him when I
had the chance.”

Shona purses her lips and nods again, thinking. “Should you?
It’s still a life we’re talking about. And not just any life. He’s Grace’s
brother.”

“I wish Mr. Griffith were here,” I say, my throat thick with
emotion. “He always knows what to say—or at least he
used to
know
what to say. I wish he’d try to do something. Anything is better than just
giving up.”

A deep voice answers from the doorway. “You’re absolutely
right, Joshua. It appears I owe you an apology.”

I look up to find Mr. Griffith standing there.

He strides forward and places a hand on my head. I prepare
for pain when he touches my injuries, but instead half of my head is surrounded
in warmth. When he takes his hand away, I touch my face to find my wounds gone.

“You were getting there. I just helped speed it along. It’s
the least I can do.” He looks over at Shona, who must suddenly realize that the
book she stole from him is within sight. She reaches to throw a pillow over it,
but it’s way too late.

“I’m so sorry, sir.” She blushes.

“I knew you took it.” Mr. Griffith smiles, but I do see an
uncustomary crease in his forehead. “I thought perhaps when you saw the words
for yourself—the actual memory of the prophecy recorded—that then you
would understand. What’s done is done.”

I stand, unwilling to listen to any more. “Well, it didn’t
work that way. I’m never going to give up. I gave my word to Grace.”

Mr. Griffith turns his sad obsidian eyes on me. “I know. I
saw what happened—to Grace, to you, to Noah. That’s why I came here.” He
sits on the couch, which finally fixes itself beneath him, broken springs
recoiling and ripped cushions stitching themselves together around him as
though in rewind. “You see, I expected a very different outcome from what I’ve
witnessed. It reminded me that, while I see probabilities, sometimes the
impossible happens when it comes to those who were once human.”

Shona comes around to sit beside him on the couch. “Sir?
What are you saying?”

Mr. Griffith takes a deep breath. “I’m saying that I believe
in the word of The Man Upstairs. However, somehow Josh here was able to
completely contradict His word, which has caused me to question, well,
everything. It is a rather…uncomfortable feeling.”

I stare, unable to form words. I used to see Mr. Griffith as
the one who knew exactly what to do and how to fix things. And then he betrayed
my trust when he banished Grace. But now? Now he seems as lost as I am.

“So what? You’re saying that you were wrong? That Grace
shouldn’t be a Demon?” I try to hold back my anger. If he’s willing to bring
her back…

Mr. Griffith grimaces like he’s in pain and puts his face in
his hands. “No—yes—I’m not certain, but…” He thinks silently for a
moment, staring into the distance, concentrating heavily on something unseen.
Finally, he speaks again. “I’m sorry, Josh. It can’t be undone. Not by me.”

The anger I feel toward Mr. Griffith turns to sadness at his
admission. It’s not just that he won’t do anything—it’s that he
can’t
.
It’s what I was afraid of.

“Then what
are
you saying?” I ask, sitting on the
other side of him.

Mr. Griffith forces a smile and places a hand on the ripped
shoulder of my T-shirt, which is still covered with dirt and Noah’s blood. I
hear a sizzling sound, and Mr. Griffith snatches his hand away, clutching it
like it’s on fire, horror in his eyes.

Shona jumps up and conjures a pitcher of water, which she
pours over his blistering hand until he sighs with relief.

“What the Hell?” I ask, standing and examining my own
shoulder.

“Noah’s blood, I suspect,” Shona says, gently examining Mr.
Griffith’s palm. I’m shocked to see unhealed, blistered skin.

“I’m saying, Josh,” starts Mr. Griffith, “that you shouldn’t
have been able to touch Noah. Look what just happened to me. But you did.
Obviously he still had an unusually negative effect because your bruising was
healing very slowly, but you didn’t die or burn. In fact, you very nearly
eliminated the Antichrist.”

“I couldn’t kill Grace’s brother.” If I wasn’t so concerned
about his injury, I’d be angry again.

“Of course not,” Mr. Griffith assures me quickly. “You did
the right thing, which is exactly what I’d expect. But you still touched him.
You almost
killed
him. No Angel should have been able to do that. Josh…
I believe Noah didn’t hurt you because you’re not completely of Heaven. You
still have a part of your Demon self inside. That protected you from Hell’s
touch.”

My stomach drops. Mr. Griffith has just confirmed my worst
fear: I’m not truly an Angel. I still have my Demon self within me. There were
clues all along: when I didn’t feel as empathetic as Grace when we first
watched the potentials on the screen; when I helped Lucy, whose soul I was
trying to save, plot to murder Ms. Alvarez; when I almost killed Noah. I feel
sick, like a fraud. Like I shouldn’t be here for fear I might hurt someone. I
back away, nearly knocking over a lamp in my hurry to distance myself from them.
Tommy Two barks at my feet.

“It’s okay, Josh. It isn’t a bad thing. In fact, it’s a
very, very good thing. The Man Upstairs created humans to be fallible and have
free will. That was His greatest gift. You are the perfect example of
everything He hoped for in humanity, Josh. You overcame your worst tendencies
to do the right thing in the end. I’m ashamed to admit that I hid behind my
nature. I mistakenly thought that being an Archangel made me better, just like
my brother, Lucifer—when in fact it was an excuse not to do right by you
and Grace. By humanity.”

“I still don’t get it,” I say, feeling confused. “How does
this help Grace? Or Noah?”

“It is time for me to start acting more like a human.” Mr.
Griffith lets his injured hand fall to his side. “Never mind the prophecy. I
may have been interpreting it incorrectly all this time. There may be no way of
avoiding the End Times, but I now understand that without the willingness to
take risks—and break some rules—we will never be sure. It’s time I
righted an old wrong,” he says, “and it’s time to reclaim Grace. I believe
she’s suffered enough.”

“What do you mean?” I ask. “I thought you said you couldn’t
bring her back.”

“Only Lucifer can relinquish her, so that’s who we’re going
to see. We are going to Earth so that I can deal with my brother directly, on
neutral ground. I shall attempt to convince him that we were both wrong about
the end of things. No matter the outcome, we won’t leave until we’ve collected
Miss Howard.”

Shona’s mouth hangs open in shock and terror. I’m not sure
why—this is the best news I could imagine. Mr. Griffith is finally going
to act. Grace is coming home.

Lucifer be damned.