Her Black Heart (The Dark Amulet Series Book 2) (18 page)

CHAPTER

FORTY-SEVEN

Jeremiah

Fires raged up from the pools of molten rock as Jeremiah raced over the narrow path toward the portal to Earth. Flames lashed at his furry legs and naked tail, threatening to catch him on fire. Damned souls and other creatures of Netherworld jumped out of his way. Some were bulldozed into the hot liquid ore. Their screams abruptly stopped when the lava swallowed them. He didn’t look back; he forged ahead, sweat raining down his face, his cloven hooves beating the terra cotta colored trail. His long hair whipped behind him.

Jeremiah glanced at his arms as they pumped with each stride. The red skin sickened him. Oh, Deus, he’d had horns too. He had once been handsome with majestic white wings. A Sacred one who welcomed humans to Arcadia. Born to Elliott the Redeemer and a female Warrior. The conception had been Sanctioned. He’d only met his father once. Well, twice if you counted his birth. Neither of them recognized each other in the torture chamber. A smile crept on his face. Elliott had called him a princess. He needed to find him; there was no one else who he could go to for help.

He reached the entrances to the six tunnels. Only one of them led to the gateway between worlds. Berus stood in front of the far right passageway. The bullheaded brute grunted his version of “It’s this way,” and stepped aside.

Why the Netherworld is he being so helpful?

Was this a trick and Abaddon had sent him? Of course, the Ruler had placed Berus, but why? He’d have to figure that out later. Right now, it didn’t matter. He glanced over his shoulder as he passed by the bull demon who stared back, unmoving. Unsettling him.

Jeremiah easily scaled the wall. He ran a short distance then something crunched beneath his hooves. The dim lighting from the fire sconces high above his head offered little illumination and didn’t reach the ground. He tromped forward; a hoof kicked an object. Reaching down blindly, he felt around for what he nudged. He brought the hard, rounded…oh, Deus, what was it…
skull
, up to his face for a better look. Jeremiah threw the cranium sans jaw onto the pile and bolted.

The shards of bone thinned. Everything around him had become pitch black.

“Oh, shit.”

His words echoed off the cavernous walls. This space was huge. He trotted until he saw pinpoints of light. At a distance, a small area shimmered and the edges of the three-foot circle warped the rock formations beyond it. He was so close to the portal he could almost feel the sun’s rays and cooler air. A whisper of movement to his right in his peripheral vision propelled his hooves forward. He’d better keep moving
.
Shadow demons were bound to be all over this place. Faster, he sprinted toward his freedom. More movement. Eyes appeared, but he didn’t stop.

“Stay out,” a voice tormented him. “You’re not welcome here anymore,” a shadow demon hissed.

Not planning on coming back
.

Ten feet. Seven feet. Four feet…

Jeremiah held his breath and leapt through the porous membrane. “Ahhhh!” The ground was a longer drop than he’d anticipated. Even with his hands outstretched to break his fall, he landed in a heap on a pile of dirt, leaves and…sticks. A sharp twig impaled one of his palms. He rolled onto his back and pulled the small branch out with a grunt. The fallen angel lay still, breathing hard with his eyes closed. He basked in the moonlight. The forest wasn’t safe; he smelled humans the second the portal breached. Angels could teleport, but in goat demon form, he honestly didn’t know. Jeremiah thought about Elliott the Redeemer. His long white hair, black as tar eyes. He disappeared from the woods.

CHAPTER

FORTY-EIGHT

Ra’zael

Ra’zel planted a kiss between her shoulder blades and Julia shivered.

“That tickles.”

Raz slipped himself free of her body. She stayed on the floor, a smile on her face.

“Mmm…more, please.”

He chuckled. “Not right now.” His eyes roved over her curves, the roundness of her bottom. He swallowed hard. One second he was reminding himself to keep his hands off her and the next second, the angel was kneeling next to her. He ran his hand over her ass. She spread her legs, offering easier access to her sex. With two fingers, he pushed past her pink feminine folds.

“Oh, yes…”

Raz teased her G-spot. Leaning down, he nipped at her ass, careful not to break the skin.

She purred.

“You like that?” he drawled.

“It feels funny. Tickles.” Her butt cheeks clenched. “Do it some more.”

“All right, you asked for it.” He worked his fingers in and out of her core. Positioned his mouth to nibble on her again. This time he did more than bite, he sucked until he left a mark. Her body tensed as waves of pleasure rolled through her. Julia arched and writhed on the floor, calling out his name over and over. After he released her and she finally quieted, Raz left her side to take a shower.

“Where are you going?”

Without a word, the angel went inside the bathroom and locked the door. Studiously ignoring what had just gone down, he picked up the complimentary shaving cream can from the vanity. He shook the gel, squirted a glob onto his palm and covered the lower half of his face. He shaved, drawing the razor down his cheek then back up. He rinsed his face when he was done. He only cut his neck once. Okay, twice, but he’d not shaved in forever.

Staring at his reflection, he spoke to himself. “You’re weak. Stop doing her every chance you get, moron. Look at your track record with females. You know this isn’t going to end well.” Her obsession for the amulet may be both of their undoing. The amount of cash he calculated they had left wasn’t enough to cover the cost of this hotel. And Elliott hadn’t given him much. Angels weren’t known for having a lot of money to spare.

After he finished showering, he left the privacy of the bathroom. Julia sat nude on the bed, propped up against the headboard. She kept her eyes on the TV with the remote in her hand, flipping channels. “There’s absolutely nothing interesting to watch.”

“Well, I’m not surprised, it’s like—what time is it,” he glanced at the alarm clock, “almost two-thirty in the morning.”

Julia switched off the boob-tube and yawned. “I’m tired anyway.” She looked at him for the first time since he entered the room. “Wow. You shaved.”

Raz rubbed his jaw. “Yeah.”

“I like it.”

He stretched out on his side next to her. The feathers still hadn’t filled in and they probably should have by now. She swiveled her head toward him. His lips formed a thin line.

“What’s that look for? Whatcha thinking about, all serious?” Julia made the same face.

“Nothing.” He flopped to his back. His wings added a soft layer of comfort to the bed.

“Fine. Don’t tell me,” she said and rolled to her side, facing the wall.

“Thank yo—”

“You really aren’t going to tell me?” The bed bounced as she turned back over.

He threw his hands up. “You just said not to. I got news for you, reverse psychology doesn’t work on me.”

“Look, just tell me.”

“Your feathers should’ve grown in by now. And this makes me think you’re hiding something from me.”

***

Julia

That’s because I am.

Julia missed Raz’s former absentmindedness. Her mind focused on the wad of bills in her sweatshirt. Abaddon’s blood money was less than ten feet away. If she thought about it, she wondered when the black spot would appear on the sweatshirt like on the wooden box that housed the Ark of the Covenant in
Raiders
as it was wheeled into the warehouse. She rubbed her chest. “Why does that make you think I’m hiding something? Maybe they’re slow growing.”

He shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Explain it to me then.”

“Angels heal quickly, and that includes new feather growth.”

“So what are you saying? I’m not an angel?”

Raz sighed and put his hands behind his head. “I don’t think so. You’ve been given the opportunity to make things right. Change your fate. So far, I think you’re doing everything in your power to make sure you wind up in Netherworld.”

She sat upright. “I’m not…I didn’t…I w-won’t,” she fumbled over her words. The color drained out of her cheeks. “I mean…”

A corner of his mouth perked up. “Julia,” his voice seemed to deepen, “do I need to remind you that you were already murdered trying to protect that amulet? That piece of shit, Tainted scrap of meaningless garbage. All it does is make you believe things about yourself that aren’t true. And in this case gives the wearer false confidence.”

“It does not!” she blurted then slapped a hand over her mouth.

Raz chuckled under his breath. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Do me a favor and at least stop lying to me. You can lie to yourself all you want, but spare me your bullshit.”

Without a rebuttal to his accusations, she yanked a handful of feathers from his wing. Except when she threw them back at him, the tips were graded from gray at the root to white at the ends. Julia noticed them fading before, but now the difference in color was predominate. In a blink, Julia was on her back. Raz pinned her wrists to the mattress and straddled her legs with his knees. He growled like an animal.

“How many times do I have to tell you that
hurts
!” His irises flickered orange, red, and yellow.

Her pupils flared. The excitement she felt in her soul traveled to the needy place between her legs. She lifted her head and tried to kiss him; he counteracted her advance by pulling his head back. Defeated, her head fell back against the bed. Those eyes raked over her features.

“What are you waiting for? Fuck me!” The heat between them dissipated. The hunger in his voice she expected to hear was gone. “Get some sleep.” He settled into the same spot as before she had plucked the feathers. A salty droplet formed in the corner of her eye.

Ra’zael played with one of the loose plumes, sliding the silky quill between his fingers, over and over.

CHAPTER

FORTY-NINE

Amalya

Amalya gasped. A shadowy figure stood at the foot of the bed. She knew from the smell of soot and sweat, whoever it was came from Netherworld. Recently.

“Elliott…Elliott.”

“What’s wrong?” He bolted straight out of bed and lunged at the demon, grabbing him by the throat. They grappled around on the floor. The dresser banged the wall when a cloven hoof kicked the front. A glass of water hit the floor. The beast grunted.

“Do something, Virgil!”

“Like what? Sounds like Elliott has a handle on things.”

She shoved his shoulder. He gasped and threw or flapped himself sideways off the bed. A whoosh of air blew her hair back. Yep, he flew. The bedside lamp was pulled down. The light came on and Virgil set the lamp back up on the table.

Amalya scrambled to the edge of the bed. Elliott managed to get the goat demon underneath him and his hand on the back of the red-skinned creature’s neck. He ground its face into the carpet.

“What are you doing here?” he gritted between clenched teeth. “Who sent you?”

“No-no one.” The demon’s cheek puffed in and out.

“I don’t believe you.” The goat’s face went from red to purple as Elliott gripped tighter.

“No…one…I…s-swear.”

“Perhaps, the goat demon is telling the truth,” Virgil pointed out in his ever calm manner.

Amalya stared at the angel like he was the one with red skin in the room. “Are you insane?”

“What’s your definition of insanity?” Virgil curled his wings around his hips.  

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve already seen you nake—”

BOOM!

A hoof struck the floor.

“Let’s listen to what he has to say,” she said.

Elliott glared at her. He hauled the goat onto its hooves. His arm cranked around the throat, locking the prisoner in a chokehold, but allowing enough air to pass for breathing and speaking. “Why are you here?”

The goat hesitated and looked at Amalya, eyed her wings before answering. “I left Netherworld on my own, escaped from Darkness. I-I know what I am.”

Elliott snorted. “What?”

“S-S-Sacred one.”

Amalya looked shocked. “How do you know this?”

“I dunno. Abaddon sent me to Earth to pass a message on to a female, and, and, I…remembered after the second trip.”

“What’s your name?” Elliott asked.

“Jeremiah. I don’t expect you to recognize me, Pater, especially like this.”

Elliott released his hold and staggered backward. Virgil inhaled sharply. Jeremiah dropped to his knees and rubbed the back of his neck.

Amalya furrowed her brow. “Will someone tell me what’s going on here?” Virgil averted his eyes. “Elliott?”

“He’s my son.”

Amalya laughed without humor. “Of, course he is. Why wouldn’t he be?” She ambled back to her side of the bed, got in, and pulled the covers over her head. No more surprises for the week. She was past her quota. When no one moved, she flipped the sheet down. “Everybody out.”

“Amal—” Elliott started.

“Nope. Out.” The males shuffled through the door and shut it behind them.