Betrayal (The Divine, Book Two) (15 page)

“Yes,” he said. He began to grow agitated.
 

“If he’s returned to Hell, he can be brought back to the mortal realm, untethered by your bond,” I said. “Do you have any idea what that could mean?”

The glow of the runes began to flicker, and more of the demon’s power began to ooze into the room. The hellfire sconces started going out, one by one. Avriel’s eyes grew wide, and he grabbed my shoulder.
 

“Please,” he said. “You made a promise.”

We were out of time. I took hold of Ulnyx’s power and used it to create a single sharp claw. All I needed to do was break the skin.
 

“Hurry,” Avriel cried, spreading his wings wide and holding out his arms to give me a clear opening.
 

I focused, pulling on the air, creating a massive gust that lifted the archangel. It threw him backwards, returning him to his place of impalement on the cross. I located the nails lying on the ground and pulled them up, pinning his wings and hands anew, leaving him in tears.

“You promised,” he cried, his voice soft, hoarse, and filled with despair.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and I meant it. I reached out and took Lylyx by the arm, pulling her with me towards the open mouth of the giant demon skull. Izak was already in the tunnel, running for the rift.

“Light it up,” I said to Izak as soon as we reached the end of the short tunnel. I had half-expected that Charis would have destroyed the rift, and left us to be devoured by Abaddon. Then again, I had a sneaking suspicion that freeing the demon was precisely what the Demon Queen had hoped I would do.

Izak knelt at the rift and began tracing over the existing runes, making a series of harsh guttural sounds in the back of his throat. Cries of extraordinary agony echoed through the tunnel; the demon extracting payment for Avriel’s defiance. I cringed with every terrible vocalization, trying to ignore the guilt I was feeling for leaving the archangel in such a state.
 

The circular set of runes began to flame, and I felt a slight charge of ionized air fill the space. Izak stepped back from the transport rift and motioned me towards it.

“Be ready,” I said. There was no telling what might greet us on the other side.

Lylyx reached out and took hold of my arm. “These things always make me a little dizzy,” she said.
 

I gave a slight nod, and stepped into the rift.

I had only been through a rift one other time since I had visited the Demon Queen and retrieved the Grail. I was chasing a fiend through the streets of Manhattan when he ducked down an alley and into an old, abandoned bar. I followed him into the bathroom, and after shoving my way through the door had found myself in a different abandoned pub in Dublin, Ireland. In the end, I had caught and killed the fiend, and destroyed both ends of the rift. They didn’t make me dizzy, but I hated not knowing what I was walking into.

I was expecting a well-laid trap, or at the very least a poorly laid trap. I thought maybe Charis would be there on the other side, as she had those years before, waiting to gloat and tell me again what a fool I was. I considered that Gervais would be there, his own power brought to bare, ready to strike me down before I could gather my wits.
 

None of that happened. One foot left the rift while the other one entered, and on the other side there was nothing. No Charis, no Gervais, no Sarah, no minions or underlings. Nothing. I had made every effort not to be taken by surprise, and instead I was taken by surprise. I stood there in shock long enough for Izak to bump me on his way through.
 

He stumbled to a stop, looking as confused as I imagined I did. Lylyx seemed out of sorts as well, but that may have been her reaction to the travel.

“Not what I expected,” I said. We were in a simple twelve-foot square room with the rift in the center, an open doorway beyond. I focused on my Sight, reaching out for a sign of an ambush, or at least an indication that there was anyone home. Nothing but nothing. My heart sank. Where was Sarah?

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Lylyx asked, recovering from her disorientation. She dropped my arm and used it to point at Izak. “Are you sure you can trust this one?”

The demon ruffled at her suggestion, rounding on her with flames in his eyes. I stepped between them.
 

“I trust Izak more than I trust you,” I said. I turned to the fiend. “We’re in the right place, aren’t we?”

Izak nodded, waving at the room and giving me the thumbs up. This was where he had planned for us to be.

“Okay,” I said. “We’ll take a look around, and see if we can figure out what’s going on.” Mr. Ross had said Gervais returned to Paris. Sarah had to be here. “Keep your guard up, they may be able to hide themselves from Sight.”

I started towards the door, but Izak put his hand on my shoulder. When I turned back, he pointed at his chest. The brand. He motioned at the floor, and then took a seat.

“What are you doing?” Lylyx asked.
 

“He has to stay here,” I said. “Gervais is his master. He’s been branded.”

Lylyx’s face softened. “How?” she asked quietly.
 

Izak glanced up at her, and then turned away, embarrassed.

“Leave him be,” I told her. “It’s none of our business. Let’s go.”

We headed out of the room, finding ourselves in a long, straight stone corridor that didn’t appear all that different from the sewer we had just escaped. There were a few doors spaced along either side of the hallway, but opening them showed the rooms to be no more than standard household storage – cleaning supplies, sacks of grain, tack for horses, and anything else a rich French noble might need to enjoy the comfort of his chateau.

The end of the corridor brought us to a small, open room that split at a pair of narrow stairways headed in opposite directions.
 

“Up or down?” Lylyx asked. I closed my eyes and focused my Sight, but still there was nothing.
 

“
Which way
?” I asked, reaching out for Josette. I knew she could hear me, but her response couldn’t pierce the solitude. I wanted to search her memories, but the idea scared me. Here of all places, I had no idea what I would find, what I would experience, or what it would do to me.
 

We had determined it was my power, my connection to Purgatory that was obscuring our ability to communicate. It was a river of energy that couldn’t be easily crossed. She had done it on occasion, with help or in moments of strong emotion, and I could always feel both her and Ulnyx’s pulse running just below the surface, fluctuating in and out of reach. It was clear that the key to letting her through was to stifle the connection, to put a finger in the dam, but I had no idea how, at least not consciously. All of my efforts up to now had been to learn to amplify the signal, not suppress it.
 

I opened my eyes and considered the steps. The chateau was huge, at least forty rooms, and that was only the upper floors. I knew Gervais had also built a laboratory somewhere underground, as well as a prison. What else had he constructed beneath the surface that I didn’t know about, but maybe Josette did? I could have used her help.
 

“Down,” I said at last. It was the lab that decided it for me. Just the tiniest sliver of a thought that Sarah could be down there was enough to turn me cold.
 

We descended the stairs, following three narrow flights into the bowels of the chateau. Still, the estate seemed deserted.

The steps finally fed out into a large, unlit corridor that I recognized immediately as the prison. Rows of cells lined the passage, and I stopped to take note of the runes that covered each individual bar. This wasn’t an ordinary dungeon. These were cells designed to hold demons.

All except the last one. The last one had runes too, but they were different. The entire hollow was different. It was three times the size of the others, with a soft pillow-top mattress in the corner, along with a recliner, end table, lamp, and a shelf full of books. It was warmly decorated, and strangely homey. I lost myself at the sight of it.

The demon looks in at me with inquisitive eyes. I’ve seen this one before, I know, trailing along behind Gervais, attending to his needs. I remember chasing him outside of Notre Dame, only to have him vanish around a corner like no more than a ghost.
 

Izak. That’s what Gervais calls him, but when I hear my brother’s voice echo through the dungeon I see the demon bristle, and I know that isn’t his true name. Why does he call him that, I wonder? Does it have meaning, or is the moniker a flaunt? I can see the runes on the fiend’s arms, and I know he has power of his own.

He’s standing there, looking at me, his hands wrapped around the bars that bind me to this place, preventing me from returning to Heaven. He’s been coming around more often lately, and staying longer to stare at me.
 

“Good morning Izak,” I say. I began speaking to him a few weeks ago out of boredom and loneliness. He doesn’t bristle when I say the name anymore. When I say it, he almost looks pleased. “Have you come to check on Sarah?”

He never speaks back, either with his eyes or his hands. I know he cannot use his voice, because he has no tongue. It was taken long enough ago that he doesn’t try.

I put my hand to my stomach, feeling the small bump of it. So much fear at the truth of the pregnancy, but I am a servant of the Lord, and the Lord has seen fit to bless me with this child. She is innocent of the crimes of her father. She is innocent of her heritage. I know the others would disagree, but it is my right to believe in a just, kind, and merciful Lord. It is my right to believe He has a plan for Sarah, or she would not be developing in my womb, the first diuscrucis born in nearly two millennia.

The demon is still standing there, staring at me. He looks sad.
 

“Why don’t you come in?” I offer. “It’s early, and I’m sure your master is still in bed.”

His eyes widen at the suggestion, and he moves to leave, but then hesitates. He looks at me for another minute or so, and then cautiously unlocks and opens the door. His eyes stay glued to me while he enters and locks the cage behind him.

“The Lord has said that the fallen cannot be redeemed,” I say, “for hate that has grown in the heart of an angel is hate that cannot be undone.”

He walks over to where I am resting on the recliner and kneels down in front of me. I reach out and put my hand on his forehead. He jerks backwards, frightened, and then leans back in. His brow is tinder.

“You aren’t fallen, Izak,” I say. “The Lord will forgive you, if you but ask.” I am Calming him, but he is letting me. My ability pales in comparison to his strength.

Tears run from the demon’s eyes, and he shakes his head in disbelief over the Lord’s forgiveness. I take his head and rest it on my lap, singing softly to him. In minutes, he is at rest. I could take the keys and make my escape, but I remain. I will not turn this creature away from the redemption he so desperately needs. The Lord will decide my fate.

“Landon?”
 

My vision returned. Lylyx was there, holding me up from behind while I clutched at the bars to Josette’s former prison. I should have seen that one coming.
 

“I’m okay,” I said, rebalancing on my feet and removing my hands from the bars. There were imprints in the skin where the edges of the runes had dug in. I studied them for the few seconds it took my body to repair.

“That’s the second time you’ve gone dark on me,” she said, letting me go and backing up a step.

“Have you ever absorbed a soul?” I asked her.
 

“Not yet,” she replied. “What’s it like?”

“When you absorb a soul, it becomes a part of you, but it still retains its own sense of itself, its own memories. Ulnyx can see everything I can see, he feels my pain when I’m hurt, and I feel his…uh… happiness, when I look at you. It’s a lot more symbiotic than I expected.” Five years, and I was only now beginning to reach any true understanding of it. “Different things trigger different memories, and sometimes they’re overwhelming.”

I shouldn’t have mentioned feeling what Ulnyx felt. No sooner had I stopped talking than Lylyx’s arms were back around me, and her mouth was pressed against mine. I could feel Ulnyx pushing inside me, practically begging me to return the affection. In that moment I understood that even the most vile of the First Fallen’s children was not immune to love. I opened my mouth and returned the kiss, giving the experience up to Ulnyx in payment for his advice. One kiss, and one kiss only. That was the remainder on the balance.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” I said to her, breaking the embrace. “That wasn’t from me.”

Her smile was lustful. “Tell me there was no part of you that didn’t enjoy it,” she replied.
 

It was a small part. “Come on,” I said, leading her past the prison cells and into a small antechamber. I focused on my Sight again, and started to run.

It was faint, but it was there, the smallest trace of heat, the barest sign of life. It could have been anyone, or anything, the signal was just too slight to know, but even the thinnest hope was better than none at all.
 

The antechamber fed into a separate large room that reminded me of my own place at the Belmont; a wide open space, a rack of various weapons, stuffed practice targets, and singed walls. I noted the piles of ash as we sped by. They could have been incinerated dummies, or they could have been the remains of Divine.
 

The training room exited into another, more gruesome space, most easily described as a torture chamber. I only recognized a few of the evil tools, the most popular standards of the middle ages. An iron maiden, a rack, a scavenger’s daughter, and a host of other cruel devices lay in haphazard order about the space. They all had some measure of staining from the blood of their victims, though the judas chair appeared to be one of Gervais’ favorites. At the end of the room was a metal door, covered in demonic runes that had been painted with blood. Whatever I was chasing, it was behind that door.