Chapter 62
62
Farryn
“He should’ve killed you,” I spat, as Drystan prodded me with his gun, guiding me down a stairwell toward what looked like the basement of the old Catholic church.
Behind us followed three other men, in white robes that bore the Pentacrux symbol stitched in gold. Hoods covered their faces, so it was hard to tell if they were human, or not, but none of the three had portrayed an ounce of sympathy, when he’d dragged my screaming, kicking body into the church. Instead, they moved like the typical acolytes in horror movies--slow, quiet, and purposeful. One carried a sword. Another held one of those pronged flails, like something out of a medieval reenactment.
“Yes. He surely should’ve killed me. He would’ve been banished early on, and you would’ve died, regardless.”
“And my father?”
At the landing, he urged me down another flight. Deeper into the belly of the church.
“Color me surprised to discover that he was the only mortal who could break the code to bring me back from Ex Nihilo. It was fate, wasn’t it? All these years, Jericho thought you were fated to be with him. Your fate was with me, though. Here. Now.”
That repulsive thought curled through me like worms under my skin. “How? How did my father bring you back?”
“Not many are willing to spend an entire lifetime staring at little symbols that mean essentially nothing to you mortals. But your father? The man was obsessed with that little marking on your arm, wasn’t he? He couldn’t leave it alone. And when your mother died, it was all he could think about.”
My mother.
I’d never fully accepted that her death was merely some freak accident, and his words brought to mind a sickening thought. “The bolt of lightning that hit the car. Was it you who killed my mother?”
The stairwell finally hit a long corridor, where fluorescent lights flickered overhead. Still holding the gun to my back, Drystan trailed after me, the three men after him, as I kept on with no idea where he wanted me to go.
“No. I was still trapped in Ex Nihilo when all that happened. The death of your mother was your father’s punishment.” At the sound of his sigh, I happened to glance back, just as he pointed skyward. “The higher powers don’t particularly like you mortals fooling around with things you don’t truly understand.”
“Higher powers? You’re saying the angels took my mother?”
“Yes, she was a minor consequence of his brilliance.”
Hands balled tightly at my sides, I had to swallow back the anger, remembering that he was the stronger one who could squash me like a flea, if he wanted.?Even if the wounds of her death had long since healed, an ache stabbed my chest. That she was murdered was a fate worse than the divine explanations my father had concocted over the years.
“How …. How do you know they took her?”
“I have my sources.”
“Sources? Aren’t you a cambion?”
“And? Oh, right.” His chuckle echoed from behind in mocking. “You still live in the mortal fantasy of thinking there’s some clear and distinct separation between angels and demons. Allow me to enlighten you, angels can be equally as ruthless as demons. They just hide it under their greater good clause.”
“Why her? Why not …”
“You? Your father? Because that is how your fates were written. You serve a purpose in all of this. And, well … let’s just say, I’m not the only one who wants to see Jericho fall.”
“What does that mean?” Over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of his quirked brow and curved lips.
“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
With the path ahead leading toward a windowless wall, the doors at each side of the hallway held the sinister promise of imprisonment. And who the hell would’ve found me in the basement of a church, if that were the case?
Scanning over my surroundings showed nothing but a long, concrete path, bland white walls, and the occasional door. Absolutely zero chance for escape, unless I wanted to duck into one of the rooms, but who the hell knew what they held? I needed Remy’s help. Perhaps he was down in the basement, too. The fallen angel was my only hope at getting away from the whackjob.
“How did my father bring you back?” I asked, trying to keep him talking. “How would he even know to bring you back?”
“It seems my true name was carved into a fossilized stone that bore the sign of the Pentacrux, found by some Romanian archeologist. As your father had some insight into the Pentacrux, the archeologist called on him for translation. Centuries, I waited for someone to crack the code. To chant my true name that would release me from the nothingness, and he did. He was brilliant, your father.”
My breath hitched at that. “Was? So, he’s … dead?”
“Your father fled to Nightshade in the same manner in which you did, so yes. He’s essentially dead here in the mortal realm, but trapped there.”
While my heart ached hearing that he’d met his demise by venturing to Nightshade, I took comfort in knowing there was a small sliver of hope that he could return by time reversal. “How do you know this? That he’s there?”
“A little birdie told me.”
“Who?”
“Cassiel. Took a little coaxing. After your father visited Jericho in Nightshade and was turned away, Cassiel sought him out. Your father had mentioned the Pentacrux to Jericho, and Cassiel was intrigued by it. All Fallen loathe the Pentacrux, after all. It seems Nightshade is where your father fled with a very crucial piece of translation. Cunning little prick tore it right out of his journals. All those years of staring at symbols, and the bastard unwittingly discovered the translation for the Omni on a piece of fucking bubble gum.”
I recalled having seen the torn pages of his journal. “What is the Omni?”
“It is the power of the angels. Immortal fuel, so to speak. And it’s the only thing which can fully restore my wings.”
“How would my father even know what it was? What he was translating?”
“I suspect he doesn’t fully grasp what it is that he possesses. But I am not the only one who has hunted him for it, either.”
“I don’t know where my father is. I wasn’t lying when I told you I hadn’t seen him in fifteen years. If that’s what kidnapping me was all about, you’re shit out of luck.”
“Yes. You’ve proven to be quite worthless. To me. Which is why I’ll have to venture to Nightshade myself.”
“Then, why am I here? What the hell do you want from me?”
“It is not what I want from you. But we’ll get to that in a moment.”
The puzzle pieces inside my head of why Hines had sought me out and what he was looking for, began to converge into a disturbing image. “It was you, wasn’t it? You turned Cassiel into the wingless creature. The Alatum.”
“Yes. Like plucking the wings off flies.” A hand gripped my shoulder, bringing me to a stop in front of a steel door.
“Where is Remy?”
“Funny you should ask. I was just getting to that.” He swung open the door to a small dark room and flipped a light on. Propped in the center of the room was what appeared to be a crucifix, upon which Remy had been strung naked, facing the wooden structure, his hands nailed to the posts. Cables hung from the ceiling, the ends of which held thin hooks that’d been attached to his black wings, prying them out. The angel moaned and writhed, as if in incredible pain.
I lurched toward him, but stopped short when a gun pressed into my temple. “Please spare him.”
The moment I spoke the words, Remy glanced over his shoulder at me, humiliation etched in the expression on his face.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I need him, you see.”
“For what?”
“I’ll get to that in a moment. In the meantime, have a seat.” One hard shove pushed me toward a chair, and with reluctance, I sat down.?Drystan drew my arms behind my back and secured them with a pair of handcuffs. “Does this turn you on, Farryn?”
The question had me curling my lip in repulsion. “Nothing about you turns me on.” I stared up at Remy, where blood oozed down from his hands, undoubtedly from his trying to pull them free of the nails.
Drystan stepped into my line of view and cupped my chin. Abhorrence prompted me to turn my cheek to him, but he dug his fingers into my face. A long, split tongue lashed out, dragging across my cheek, and I let out a repulsed snarl. “I would’ve loved to have ravished you myself, knowing Jericho could do absolutely nothing from where he sits trapped in his cage like an animal. But I made a deal.”
“What deal? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Unfortunately, I can’t just return to Nightshade in my condition. The Fallen would have a very … unfair advantage over me.”
I sneered at that. “In other words, you’re weak there.”
Fingers dug into my cheeks, sending a shooting pain into my jaw. “Careful, girl. You don’t have to be perfectly intact when I turn you over.” When he released me, the ache throbbed, and I shifted my jaw in a poor attempt to abate it.
“Turn me over to whom?”
“As I said, I’m not the only one who longs to hurt Jericho in the most painful way. To break the curse, you must be impregnated by an angel. And it so happens, there is one willing to offer me protection in exchange for you, so that I might cross over to Nightshade and hunt down your father. He intends to ravish you thoroughly, and while I am admittedly jealous, the thought of Jericho losing you forever is music to my soul.”
“Who is he? This angel?”
Drystan leaned forward and whispered, “I’m not telling you.”
“And what if I’m already carrying Jericho’s child?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “Impossible. Your physical body dissolved in the atmosphere when you entered Nightshade. It’s why Remy had to reverse time in order to return you.”
Talk about ignorant. He didn’t know. Remy apparently hadn’t told him that we hadn’t reversed time. His ignorance felt like a small victory, and it took every muscle in my face not to give away the one secret I had over him. Even by the possibility that I wasn’t carrying Jericho’s child.
“Speaking of Remy … let’s get on with this, shall we?” From the wall, he pulled down a long, silver sword that gleamed an ominous threat. He held it up, twisting it around in morbid fascination. “I learned of a very effective way to curse the steel. Who knew that one small concoction could summon an ancient infection that could turn these formidable angels into mindless, snarling beasts?”
“I am begging you, Drystan. I will give myself to you willingly. Without a fight. Please, just let him go.”
Remy shook against the cross, yanking his hands against the nails, and cried out in frustration. He looked over his shoulder, down at me, eyes pleading, the sight of which tore at my heart. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
I squirmed in my binds in a desperate bid to break loose, but it was futile. They wouldn’t give. Tears filled my eyes as I watched Drystan raise the sword. “Remy,” I whispered.
In one fluid swoop, Drystan sliced through one of Remy’s wings, leaving it to swing from the hook. A gut-wrenching cry pierced my ears, and I screwed my eyes shut on a scream, as Drystan raised the blade for the other wing. My whole body shook with fear and shock, while a sickening cold washed over me and crushed my lungs.
Another roar of agony bounced inside my skull, and I desperately wished my hands were free to shield the sound of it.
When I opened my eyes, Remy hung limp from the nails. Two bloody stumps marked the spot where his wings had once stretched.
Tears ran down my cheeks, as I watched him sag and claw against the cross. His body turned a sickly shade of gray. The blond hair on his head fell out in thick chunks, sliding down his body and onto the floor. The severed wings waved in mocking from the chains, oozing his blood.
Sickness in my gut shot up into my throat, and I bent forward to expel vomit onto the floor.
“Humans are such disgusting creatures.” Drystan took hold of one of the wings and gave one hard swing that sent the wing knocking into Remy. When the trembling angel startled, Drystan chuckled.
Another round of tears filled my eyes.
“You cry for him. But it was his kind who severed my wings just as cruelly. For days, I bled out. Weak. Infected. Dying. They made sport of it. Taunting me. Until, at last, they sent me into the everlasting silence. Ex Nihilo.” He circled my chair, careful not to step in the puddle on the floor. “I can’t say if it was merciful, or not. Only that I no longer had to hear their laughter and mocking. All because Jericho handed me over. The coward didn’t even have the balls to kill me properly.”
“I hope he does. I hope he finds you, and I hope you burn.”
“Not likely. Even Jericho isn’t stupid enough to leave Nightshade and risk the wrath of the heavens.”
“Why? Why now? You’ve had years to come for me.”
“Years, yes. I might’ve stolen you away a long time ago.” Lip peeled back, he snarled. “If not for that wretched beast of a woman.”
“Woman?”
“Nelle.”
A beat of confusion struck me at the mention of her name. “What about Aunt Nelle?”
“Aunt? Hardly. She was nephilim. One of the oldest to walk the earth. Do you think it was coincidence that your father insisted she take you?”
Was it? I’d never met Aunt Nelle prior to having gone to live with her. My father had never really mentioned her during all my years growing up. In fact, I couldn’t recall one speck of evidence that the two had ever been siblings.
So many new questions swirled inside my head. “She …. She died, though. Are nephilim not immortal?”
“They are. But immortality comes with a price. You are then subjected to those more powerful. Those who are capable of ripping your immortality from your body like a ragged old shirt.”
“So, you waited until she passed.”
“You think any of this happened by chance?” Resuming his pacing, he clasped his hands behind his back. “You returning to Nightshade. Coming back here. My capturing you. It was destiny, Farryn. All of it, from the beginning, has been the very careful pulling of strings, so that each moment aligns perfectly with the next. You are a pawn in an elaborate game designed to test Jericho’s worthiness.”
“Whose game? The Sentinels? If that’s true, then you’re fated to die. Why would you play along?”
“Because, as I said, I’m not the only one who wishes to watch Jericho fall.”
The door opened, and a short, familiar man walked in with a cane, his eyes a milky white. The priest who’d been taking my confession since I was young. Who’d even performed Aunt Nelle’s burial, for chrissakes.
“Father Bane?” I asked, not entirely surprised after learning significance of the Pentacrux phrase he’d spoken to me.
Ignoring me, he limped farther into the room, carrying some kind of ornate, gold bowl in one hand, as he tapped along the stone floor with the other.
A sound caught my attention, like a swooping noise, and I swung my gaze back to Drystan. From his back, two decrepit wings stretched outward, the feathers of one misshapen. At the tip of the other wing was a small area with no feathers, nothing but what appeared to be skin and bones. I squinted my eyes, studying the surface. The strange stitching pattern of skin, and the odd protrusion of bones. As if they’d been pieced together.
“Oh, my God.” Dread sank to the pit of my stomach with the realization of what made up his wings. “Human body parts.”
“Incredible, isn’t it? I never thought I’d feel whole again.”
The mere sight of him sent a disturbing sensation across my skin, like a thousand cockroaches crawling over me. “The murders … the missing body parts. Alicia Maxson and the nuns. That was you.”
“Yes. Of course, the wings are only temporary until mine are fully restored.”
“I thought cambions didn’t have wings.”
“Most don’t. My father was a very rare and unique breed of demon. A Dalgoth. Not many can overpower an angel, you know. Jericho’s mother didn’t stand a chance against him.”
Father Bane dipped his hand into the bowl and brushed a substance over the surface of the skin still exposed on Drystan’s wings, patting around the full width of it. He then turned to where Remy’s feathers still hung and plucked the plumes one at a time, placing them into the glistening skin.
Growls echoed inside the room, and I turned to see that Remy had fully transformed into the same demonic creature I’d seen in the maze. An Alatum.
A dark and terrifying panic swelled inside my chest, and I tipped my head back, tears spilling down my cheeks. “Please,” I beseeched. “Please help me.”
Drystan chuckled, straightening one of the feathers the priest had stuck crooked. “He has no intentions of saving you. The cursed are not worthy of salvation.”