Chapter 61

61

Jericho

Under the cover of night, I balanced on the mansion’s parapet, watching the hefty, old Mister Barchiel--or Bishop Venable, as I knew him--hobble into his elaborate home. Was probably futile going there, but I needed answers. Pacing back and forth in my office like a caged animal only served to push me deeper into my dark thoughts.?Every muscle in my body shook, the rage turning me just crazy enough to flay the old man alive, if he pulled any tricks.

Cicatrix watched from where he sat perched on my shoulder, quiet and stealthy. I swooped down to Barchiel’s second-story balcony, sending Cicatrix flying into the air. As late as it was, I expected he’d be retiring to bed soon, so I slipped in through the window into his bedroom and, flattening myself against the wall beside the door, I waited.

Only a few, short minutes passed before the knob turned and the sound of Barchiel’s overexerted, panting breaths filled the room. He flipped on the light, still seemingly unaware of my presence, and limped toward his bed.

Cicatrix landed on the railing of the balcony at the same time I moved in for my attack.

The old man groaned and shooed the bird off, and I lurched from the shadows. From behind, I gripped the man’s chin, tipping it up, and held the celestial steel against his throat.?It was then I noticed the silvery tattooed band which identified him as Dojra. A slave.

“Whatever you want, friend, it’s yours.” His voice shook out the words and his throat bobbed with a hard gulp, wobbling the band.

“I’m no friend of yours.”

“Van Croix,” he whispered.

“You remember my name. How sweet.”

“Yes, of course.”

“How?”

“Upon my untimely death, I was sent to the Infernal Lands where I was made Dojra by a rather … unreasonable demon named Ahsrik. My punishment consisted of keeping all of my memories. Even those endearing final moments of my time on earth.” His eye flinched, as if he could still feel the agony of my blade cutting into his flesh.

From what I knew, humans with the blackest souls ended up in the Infernal Lands where they were branded as Dojra to the higher-ranking demons there, fulfilling all of their most sadistic desires. Had Barchiel tried to remove the band at his throat, or failed to return to his master when summoned, the tattoo would sink beneath his flesh and move like a snake inside his body, consuming him from the inside out. One of the more painful deaths, so I’d heard.

“But I hold no ill thoughts toward you,” he added.

I released him and, allowing the man to turn around, directed him to sit on the bed. “Why have you not made yourself known to me?”

“I’ve no reason to seek revenge. In fact, I should thank you. Through you, I have found everlasting life.” He held out his hands and offered a smile that drew my attention to his lips still quivering. “The earthly realm was only ever a temporary state.”

“Yet, you still believe you are chosen by God?”

“There are many souls here. I’ve long given up the notion that every one of them is worthy of His grace. So do not be troubled. I’ve no more intentions here.”

“I wasn’t troubled. I am no longer the boy so easily manipulated. I could send you to Ex Nihilo as easily as the Infernal Lands.”

“And is that why you’re here? To avenge in the afterlife?”

“No.” Rubbing my finger up and down the flat surface of the blade, I recalled the moments before I’d left the cathedral, when I’d held that very blade to my own throat. Feeling the crushing weight of desolation. Pain. Madness. My reflection in the steel was that of a man walking a very fine thread. One that could snap with the slightest of pressure. “I am here because I want to know what Pentacrux intends. It was you who told me that Lustina would one day be reborn.”

“Yes. And she has. Did you not feel her presence on the day she arrived?”

The shift of my gaze back to his had him diverting his eyes away. “Why did you?”

“Because I was the one who took her life. Therefore, I am connected in some strange way. Perhaps the mysterious punishment of the Holy Father for tainting my soul.”

I sneered at that and resumed toying with the blade. “The Chosen do not end up in Nightshade, though, right? They certainly do not begin their journey in the Infernal Lands.”

“I still have much to atone for.”

“What is their intent with her?” The very question roused a deadly violence inside me.

“It is the night of the blood moon. But rather than kill her this time, they’ve chosen a more effective means of hurting you.”

“What?”

“Drystan intends to have her impregnated.”

Rage clawed my insides at the sound of his name. “I was under the impression Drystan was living it up in Ex Nihilo.”

“He was. He’s come back.”

“How?”

“In the days before my earthly life ended, I had a dream. A very vivid dream of the boy. I’d made love to him on a bed of soft feathers. And as we lay in the sin of what we’d done, he whispered something to me. He told me that he’d been swindled out of his mortality by the fallen angel, Virgil, who I believe you sent to Ex Nihilo. The very place where Drystan was trapped. In the dream, he possessed my body and compelled me to transcribe a series of of symbols, a language I did not understand. His sigil, I’ve since come to learn. A way back from the vacuous hell where he’d been sent. The Nothing.” His eyes turned spacey as he stared off at something beyond me. “When I awoke, the sigil I’d written in dreams had been carved into the rock at the foot of Mount Helios where I lay. Though, I could not recall how I’d gotten there.”

“Drystan.” I spoke the name like a bitter acid on my tongue. “He’s come back, then.”

“Someone would’ve had to interpret the symbols for that to be true.”

Farryn’s father.?That was why they’d wanted him. Perhaps they didn’t originally know his daughter happened to be Lustina reincarnated.

Until recently, anyway.

“And Drystan? What does he hope to achieve by impregnating Lustina?”

“What he’s always hoped for. Vengeance. Once her curse is broken, you will lose her forever.”

“How? Only an angel can break her curse.”

“Yes, that is correct. It is his own curse which led him to the girl. As I understand, he’s lost his wings, and his power is weak. Therefore, he intends to hand her over to a Sentinel in exchange for protection.”

My spine snapped to attention on hearing that. “Who?” I growled.

“I’m afraid I’m not privy to that information. Either way, you lose her. Whether they break her curse, or not, they do not intend to return her to you.”

Hand curled tight around the hilt of the blade, I willed myself to remain calm. To tamp down the urge to see the old man bleed out of a deep cut to his throat. My teeth clenched so hard, a spike of pain speared my jaw.

She’d returned to me, after centuries of waiting. Wanting. How easily she’d slipped through my fingers like the very sands of time that had kept her away for so long. And yet, if I attempted to return to her, the very powers that kept me imprisoned in Nightshade would easily end her life.

I slumped into a chair in front of the fireplace, across from Barchiel’s bed. “She is lost to me, then.”

“Now do you see why I can’t possibly kill you in vengeance? There is no pain I could inflict worse than this.” Sighing, Barchiel rose from the bed and crossed the room, where he poured himself a drink from a decanter set out on a silver tray on the table next to me. He tipped it back, then poured another in a separate glass. “Let us drink to vengeance.”

“I will not share a drink with you.”

“Oh, come now, old friend. There is one saving grace in all of this.”

“And what is that?”

“Drystan may still want to kill you. More than anything. And, if that’s the case, he may use the girl to seek you out.”

I didn’t doubt his hatred. But he wasn’t stupid, either. Coming after me would be detrimental to his life. “You loved him. Why?”

“I don’t know. Why are we drawn to some and not others? I’d always found him deliciously obedient. Unlike you.”

“I refused to be manipulated by a perverted old man. And I suppose it was you who arranged for Virgil’s death.”

“Yes. I sent Tartys. I knew you couldn’t resist. And you did not disappoint.”

I shot to my feet, holding the blade at his throat once more. “I could easily send you after him.”

Barchiel carefully set the glass of liquor down on the table, never taking his eyes off me. “I will impart one small gift in exchange for your mercy.”

“It better be worth having to look upon your face for an eternity.”

“There is a way back to the earthly realm. But it requires one rather modest sacrifice.”

“And what is that?” I lifted the blade higher, watching his gullet bob against the steel that would slice his throat open like butter.

“Your wings.”