Chapter 5
“I shouldn’t have interfered.” Honor repeated the mantra drilled into her during her mentoring to become a Watcher as she paced the one room structure she called home since her return to the Earthly plane.
The small cottage sat a short distance into the woods that bordered the township of Eastlake Falls. Far enough from the Guard to keep from running into Michael or any of the other immortals lest they recognize her as one of them, yet close enough to Michael’s home and the Guard’s hall to sense Michael’s presence at all times, which in and of itself, had become pure torture.
“No, you most certainly shouldn’t have interfered.”
Honor let out a surprised squawk and whirled around to see Aaron, her angelic mentor in the Hereafter, a deep frown etched on Aaron’s usually pleasant face. Shamed, Honor found herself at a loss of words, where seconds ago she couldn’t stop loudly chastising herself.
“I-I apologize.” Though, in truth when Honor gave it thought, she held no regrets. None. There was no way she would have stepped aside and allowed Michael, or his warrior Donovan, to die when she could have stopped it, which she did. Honor winced.
Hence, the visit from Aaron.
Aaron’s brows tugged together, furrows marring the smooth skin of his forehead. His cerulean gaze narrowed. “It is unheard of for a Watcher to impede the path the Fates chose for their subject, whether human or immortal.”
Honor exhaled in relief. Though Aaron was admonishing her, it was better than she expected. For a brief moment, she had the feeling Aaron was reading her thoughts and knew she not only had no remorse for her actions, she wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.
“It was so fast. I just reacted. I-I didn’t think.” This was in truth. Whether she interfered because of her strange obsession for Michael, or simply because she couldn’t watch Death take the lives of two good and decent immortals, Honor didn’t know. She simply did what felt right, and that meant saving the angels.
Aaron’s brow smoothed and his gaze softened. “Truly, I understand, Honor. But Gabriel is unhappy with your actions.” Honor’s stomach clenched. “He is requesting your presence immediately.”
“B-but… who will Watch Michael?” Honor asked, grasping at any excuse to stay. What if Gabriel removed her as Michael’s Watcher? She thought it possible but when faced with the reality of it coming true, could she go without ever seeing her brave Archangel again?
“Don’t forget, time does not pass in the Hereafter. When you return it shall be as if you never left.”
“I remember.” His words sounded promising. Especially Aaron mentioning her return. She bit the inside of her cheek and gathered her courage. She had to know. “Is Gabriel… I mean, will I be punished?”
Aaron chuckled and took Honor’s hand in his. “Punishment? There is no physical punishment in the Hereafter. And as to anything else, only Gabriel decides if there are to be consequences for your actions.”
Well that wasn’t reassuring at all. Honor blinked and found herself in a familiar white chamber, quite similar to Aaron’s, though much larger. She didn’t feel a thing when Aaron slipped his hand out of hers, but when he turned to leave, Honor wished to beg the male to stay, but he was already gone.
“Honor Ward, Watcher.”
She froze at the rumbling voice, the timbre deceptively pleasant yet still commanding. Honor was certain no immortal could defy an order spoken by the owner of that voice. She flicked her eyes around the white on white room until her gaze landed on the male whose beauty nearly matched that of Michael’s and her breath caught.
Gabriel.
The confident posture of the youthful male seated behind his enormous desk, centuries of wisdom captured in his brown eyes, and the way he held his masculine chin steady and slightly lifted… Despite his shockingly young face, he radiated power. How could she forget the Archangel Gabriel?
The one to decide if she went back to Michael.
“Fear not, Watcher.” Gabriel rose in a motion so fluid, Honor had to hold back a gasp. As he approached, Honor tried to calm her fluttering pulse by focusing on the angel’s stunning hair. She recalled the deep shade of auburn from their previous meeting, symmetrical waves tumbling to his shoulders. Honor had never seen hair as beautiful as his. It was breathtaking. Gabriel stopped in front of her and smiled. The action caused his eyes to sparkle and tiny creases to form in the corners. The small gesture transformed his face from stunning to unforgettable. “You should breathe,” Gabriel said, amused.
Honor hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath and inhaled.
“We meet again, Honor Ward,” Gabriel said. The aura coming off the Archangel was so similar to that of her Michael, she nearly stumbled back.
Her Michael?
Honor turned off the inappropriate thought and focused on Gabriel. “I am sorry for my actions… um, sir.”
Gabriel threw back his head and laughed, a loud, hearty sound that shook his chest to tunnel directly under Honor’s own skin. She didn’t know what to make of it.
“If it pleases, call me Gabriel. We don’t use titles such as sir in the Hereafter. Those are human customs and wholly unnecessary here.” Honor’s shoulders relaxed at Gabriel’s cheery disposition. Maybe I’m not in as much trouble as I thought. “Let us talk, shall we?” He gestured toward a comfortable—even if it was as white as everything else—grouping of furniture. Honor waited for Gabriel to sit first, but he would have nothing of it. “Prithee, after you.”
Honor lowered herself onto some sort of cushioned bench with an upright rest to lean against. She had never seen anything like it, used to crude wooden chairs and benches, or most of the time, sitting on the floor. Disappointment crashed hard when the out of body sensation of the Hereafter prevented Honor from feeling her backside sink deep into the luxurious pillow.
“Thank you,” Honor said to Gabriel who took a seat next to her. She diverted her eyes to the floor afraid to look at the Archangel knowing how epically she let him down by breaking the most important rule of Watchers.
“Fear not, young one. I am not angry with you.”
Honor brought her head up. Gabriel’s expression was so sincere, so… understanding, that her chin quivered and her eyes stung. She had expected to be chastised. The kindness Gabriel showed her was somehow more difficult to accept than punishment. His easy forgiveness made her feel unworthy.
“Worry not.” Gabriel brushed a finger across her cheek. While Honor couldn’t feel it physically, a great sense of tranquility rushed through her at his touch. Her eyelids grew heavy and the anxiety held in her muscles dissipated. “There.” Gabriel removed his hand and placed it in his lap with the other. “However, we must needs discuss what you did.” Honor nodded. She felt so content she would agree to anything right now.
“I-I couldn’t let Death take him,” Honor slurred in her loose, tranquil state. “There was too much life, too much goodness, too much worth to Watch die. It was too… wasteful.”
“I agree,” Gabriel said. “Though it is not your decision to make, nor mine. To appease your guilty conscious, I will divulge that it was not Michael’s fate to die this day. Your interference changed nothing, which is the only reason there are to be no repercussions.” Honor blinked out of her Gabriel-induced stupor and hope surged forth. No punishment? Unfortunately, Gabriel wasn’t done. “Provided it does not occur again.”
Honor immediately agreed. “Of course. I know my role. I understand.” She would say anything to return to Earth and Michael. Honor even ignored the spark of deceit that flickered at the back of her mind. The one that said if push came to shove, Honor would without a doubt, break her oath and choose to save Michael. But worrying about it wasn’t important now. Now, her goal was to get back to her angel.
“Good.” Gabriel grinned. He stood and motioned for Honor to do the same. On her feet, Honor gasped when she was pulled into an insubstantial embrace. Though a contented peace washed over her as her numb body was held in Gabriel’s arms, her ear pressed to his chest. Then, the moment was over. She mourned the comforting wash of warmth but was eager to get back to Michael. Lay eyes on him and verify he lived and breathed, unharmed by Death.
“We will speak soon, young one.”
The ground beneath Honor’s feet transformed from smooth to rough and the air from the perfect temperature to slightly cool on her skin. Dazed, she looked around and found herself back in her single room dwelling on the Earthly plane. Overjoyed, Honor wasted no time demanifesting to Michael’s own roughshod quarters on the other side of the forest, outside the borders of Eastlake Falls. She had been apart from her angel too long.
Only, Michael wasn’t at his home. Or the Guard’s meeting quarters. Or anywhere else she searched. In a panic, it took several minutes for Honor to calm enough to concentrate on the pulsing blue aura of Michael’s soul. When she found it, she traveled there in the blink of an eye. Honor’s stomach dropped when she realized where she was.
This was the infirmary.
Which meant her angel was hurt.
* * *
Not even five minutes into the meeting and Dante’s head already ached, a dull, throb punctuated every so often by sudden sharp stabs at the base of his skull. His eyes stung from lack of sleep, his body weary to the point even his skin hurt. That bastard Asmodeus kept Dante up all night for a massive orgy Dante had no interest in participating in. His saving grace was that his father pretty much left Dante to it, no beatings, no rapes, and no humiliating words. Still, after weeks of his father’s increasingly brutal behavior, Dante hadn’t felt this weak in his entire one and one quarter centuries of existence.
“Shut the fuck up, Dermot, or I’ll pull out your teeth one by one and feed them to a Hellhound.”
“Fuck you, Maximus! I don’t have to listen to your bloody threats.”
“Give that back, Joshua. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you stealing from me?”
“Hmph. If you’re going to leave your things lying around unattended, you deserve to have them taken, Trevor.”
Davin cleared his throat to catch Dante’s attention before performing a spectacular eye roll as their cousins bickered. Nothing ever changed. They got the exact same results whenever the seven cousins all gathered in one place. Dante and Davin got along well enough because their sins, Lust and Pride, went hand in hand. A symbiosis of sorts. Pride and sex met at various crossroads on the spectrum. Putting the combustible Wrath in the same room as Greed or Envy was an entirely different matter. The combination always proved explosive.
Typically, one of the three would do or say something akin to tossing a lit torch onto a pile of kindling, which inevitably led to a cascade of infighting that more often than not turned physical. Maximus, Son of Wrath, being the largest and strongest, with the shortest temper and always one to fight with his hands instead of words, won each and every physical battle.
“Cousins, please,” Dante near-shouted from the head of the scuffed and worn wood slab that served as a table.
The open area of the old mill was a mess, as to be expected. On the rare occasions the cousins convened, they came here. They used to go to Lex’s—the Son of Sloth’s—estate. Mostly because Lex’s apathetic father, the King of Sloth, never bothered to investigate what they were doing or discussing. Until one time, one of the other pitiful creatures that lay around, half-comatose in the fifty-room mansion happened to enter their meeting room and threatened to tell the King. That was that, they met at the mill ever since. Eighty percent of the time, even when the gathering was to be in his own home, Lex failed to show. Fortunately, he managed to drag his carcass to today’s meeting. Dante’s gaze found the disheveled male, matted blond hair, scraggly beard, and filthy clothes, slouched on the far end of the left bench, not paying attention to anyone or anything.
Typical.
“Joshua stole my dagger!” Trevor, Son of Gluttony, yelled.
“Joshua, give Trevor his dagger,” Dante growled as he took a break from grinding his molars. Saints be damned, it was like dealing with children—large, whiney, and often violent, immortal children.
“Fine.” The dagger clattered across the table. Trevor snatched up his blade and sheathed it while throwing Joshua a hateful glare.
“Asshole.”
“Can we get to the reason I called everyone?” Dante interrupted, already tired of the bickering.
Six sets of eyes focused on Dante. He was pleasantly surprised to note Lex came out of his stupor long enough to pay attention.
“Fucking spit it out already, Dante,” Maximus snarled.
Dante slid his gaze to his perpetually angry cousin. The striking male’s brow was furrowed, the muscles in his cheek ticking, and his enormous fists clenched on the table in front of him. Dante was counting on Maximus’s support. Without it, Dante had no chance of defeating the Daemon Kings. They were far too powerful. Fortunately—or unfortunately for Maximus—the male was as abused by his own father as Dante. The King of Wrath, Satan, held back nothing when he battered his son, and Maximus regularly sported a rainbow of bruises and various broken bones to prove it. He was practically a fixture at the Eastlake Falls infirmary.
“All right.” Dante took a deep breath. “I called you here because I want to banish the Daemon Kings to the Underworld, and… I need your help.”
Not a word was spoken. Dante swore he could hear the individual heartbeats of each immortal as the silence stretched on. One or two of his cousins’ jaws unhinged. Others appeared stunned. Dante was beginning to think he made a grave mistake bringing this to them, when Maximus suddenly leapt from his chair, threw his head back, and roared.
“Fuck yes! Finally!” Veins protruding from heavily muscled arms and shoulders, Maximus slammed his fists down on the makeshift table. With a loud crack, the eighteen-inch thick wood split and a jagged fissure traversed the width of the table.
As Maximus stood, a look of triumph on his face, the rest of the cousins all began to talk at once. As Dante hoped, Joshua and Dermot were excited at the prospect of getting rid of the Kings of Greed and Envy and immediately agreed to join Dante and Maximus. Due to the nature of their sins, Joshua and Dermot were forever finagling new ways to manipulate and steal, always craving more and never, ever satisfied with what they had. Taking over their fathers’ estates along with the wealth and power that would transfer to them when the Kings were banished was much too tempting for them to pass on.
“I don’t know about this, Dante.” Trevor. The Son of Gluttony was the one cousin whose loyalties Dante was uncertain of. Trevor was almost as spoiled as Davin, wanting for nothing. Unsurprisingly, Trevor’s gaze turned to Davin. “You’re joining him?” he asked, gesturing toward Dante.
It was natural Trevor would question Davin. Until he agreed to help, even Dante thought it inconceivable Davin would willingly betray his own father. Especially since the King of Pride provided Davin with an unending supply of the most beautiful immortals and humans on Earth as gifts to lavish upon his son. Of course, there was a tiny caveat to the King’s offerings. While Lucifer was generous with handing out material possessions to ensure his son was good enough to add to his own sense of Pride, the King never spared anything close to a kind word for Davin. The King’s inflated sense of pride prevented him from handing out complements lest the recipient believe himself or herself better than the King in any way. Lucifer’s own narcissism and selfish need to be the most admired immortal in Eastlake Falls made it impossible for the King to bestow anything resembling adoration on another. Including his own son.
“I have already joined our cousin,” Davin said. “Keep in mind, Trevor, the others are not as fortunate as us.” Davin gestured toward two of the other males at the table as he continued. “Maximus and Dante in particular suffer at their fathers’ cruel hands.”
Dante was shocked at Davin’s statement. Davin, the Son of Pride, didn’t care what befell anyone save himself. It was ingrained in his very nature. But then, Dante was the Son of Lust, and there were definitely times he felt anything but lustful, so it wasn’t too much of a stretch that Davin could break away from his father’s beliefs. Of course, Dante’s dissent was due to his father’s horrific abuse…
Dante cut off his thoughts. No need to go there now.
Trevor dropped his gaze and his cheeks pinked. “I know I am privileged,” he said quietly.
Dante waited for Trevor to decide, confident his cousin wasn’t callous or unfeeling. The male had a good heart despite his voracious tendencies. While Beelzebub, the King of Gluttony, spent his days with his round physique squashed into his throne whilst servant after servant delivered endless trays of delicacies, Trevor had other goals. He once told Dante he dreamed of opening a tavern of his own to serve his favorite victuals to the residents of Eastlake Falls. Trevor, handsome and slim, got pleasure in watching others enjoy his food, not overindulging himself.
“So… are you with us, cousin?” Davin asked Trevor.
Trevor took a deep breath and nodded. His eyes reflected fear but the tough set of Trevor’s strong chin let Dante know Trevor was determined to do whatever he could to aid in Dante’s quest. Dante’s shoulders relaxed and for the first time in what felt like decades, Dante smiled.
The others were excitedly discussing the takeover when Davin stood and addressed the room. “Be quiet!” The noise tapered off until the other half-daemons gave Davin their full attention. “Good. Now…” Davin paused and went around the table to meet the gaze of each individual daemon. “We need to come up with a plan.”
* * *
“Fuck!” Dante threw himself on Davin’s silk bedspread. “Stupid bickering assholes.”
Davin chuckled and sat on the edge of the bed where Dante was sprawled out, face down. “Cousin, you must have predicted that lot would be difficult. Each one of those self-centered bastards wants their own ideas to take bloody precedence. Well, except Lex and Trevor.”
Dante rubbed his eyes and shifted to sit next to Davin. “I know. I guess I hoped just this once we could put all our shit aside and come together.”
“Keep dreaming. We are all inherently selfish. It is who… it is what we are.”
“Whatever.”
Dante stared at his lap, exhaustion sinking into his very marrow. His dark blue life force was faded and dull. Dante needed to feed his daemon’s lust, and soon. Davin patted Dante’s leg.
“I sense you are hungry, cousin. As soon as we figure out our next move, I shall bring you a female to bed.”
“Many thanks.”
“We’re going to need more help, Dante. You must realize the seven of us have no chance of defeating the Kings.”
Dante shoved his hands in his dark hair. If he could pull it all out, he would. “What else can we do? It’s not as though we are welcome in the village. Michael and his angelen have made it clear what will happen if we enter the densely populated human areas, even to seek other immortals.”
“At the very least, it is essential we find a class nine sorcerer to banish the Kings. Possibly two,” Davin stated.
Dante groaned.
Class nine sorcerers were the highest, most powerful practitioners on the Earthly plane. The best of the best. Unfortunately, they were also exceptionally rare, which meant they were highly coveted and well protected. Class nines could tap into the aether, the very source of power that surrounded everything, both animated and inert, on the Earthly plane. Only a class nine could safely open and close the portal to the Underworld, the largest of which lie directly beneath Eastlake Falls.
“I heard Michael has one,” Dante said thoughtfully as he skimmed through various strategies.
Davin tilted his head toward his cousin, brows raised. “So?”
“Maybe…” Dante jumped off the bed and began to pace. Hope swelled as a plan formed in Dante’s mind. He stopped to face his cousin. “I think we should ask Michael to join us.”
Now it was Davin’s turn to leap off the bed. “Are you insane? Michael despises us. We’re lucky he allows us to remain on the Earthly plane—” Realization sank into Davin’s features. “Michael is the one with the ultimate authority to have someone banished.”
“Exactly,” Dante said excitedly.
“He won’t do it.”
“Why not? Does Michael not want the Daemon Kings out of his village? Off this plane? Away from the portal and the humans under Michael’s protection?”
“Possibly, but to join with us, his enemy?” Davin scoffed. “I don’t think so.”
“Don’t be so sure, cousin.” Dante slapped Davin on the shoulder. “Not all of us have too much pride to look past our differences for a common goal.” Davin scowled but said nothing. “Ha! You know I speak the truth. I shall approach Michael and ask—”
“Don’t you mean we? We shall approach Michael?”
Dante shook his head. “No. I’ll go by myself. I don’t want him to be intimidated.”
“Pffttt. As if Michael would be intimidated by the two of us. The Archangel is thousands of years old. Made by the Fates himself. We are mere youngsters in comparison.”
“I have no plans to approach Michael yet. There is another I must needs speak with, and I think it better I do it alone.” Dante headed for the door. “I shall find you once I’ve spoken with my contact.”
Before Davin could question him, Dante dematerialized from Pride’s estate and rematerialized on the ominous front steps of his father’s mansion. For the first time, Dante didn’t feel the overwhelming weight of hopelessness that pressed down upon him whenever he entered the house. For the first time, he in truth believed his life was finally, after all these years, about to change, and this time for the better. Dante stepped into the King of Lust’s hideous foyer. The scent of lust thick in the air, Dante’s daemon woke and began to claw at his insides, relaying his insatiable appetite. With a sigh, Dante realized he forgot to feed at Davin’s. No problem. There were plenty of attractive females strewn about, kept solely to be at Lust’s beck and call. Dante would simply find one and take her to his bedchambers.
“Son.”
Just like that, Dante’s brief moment of hope was brought to a sudden end. He cringed and his heart stuttered at the sound of his father’s gravelly voice, near identical to his own. Much like Dante and his father’s good looks, their voices were created to seduce, to lure in unsuspecting individuals so that the King and Son of Lust could feed upon his or her sexual thoughts, actions, and desires.
“Hmmm. I see you have yet to feed today.” Dante pressed his lips tightly together, knowing from experience not to speak. “You shall come with me, Dante.” The King’s order was clear, the deep timbre resonating within Dante’s core. That voice meant one thing. He was not able to refuse.
The King spun on his heel and headed toward the chamber. The one that haunted Dante’s dreams. Icy cold dread snaked its way through Dante’s veins and with each reluctant step his feet grew heavier until it felt as if they were blocks of stone. Inside the chamber, where every imaginable horror befell Dante over the course of the last century, stood at least a dozen males and females—all human and all unclothed. Dante released the breath he had been holding and swallowed in relief. Sex with humans he could do without complaint. Orgies were commonplace, and one of the King’s favorite activities, though as of late, fell a distant second to abusing his son for his own sick pleasure. At least for today, Dante was free from his father’s warped perversions.
Dante didn’t bother waiting for instruction. He grabbed the hem of his tunic, yanked it over his head, and crouched to unlace his boots.
“Good boy,” the King said with an evil grin. “Fuck as many as you like, we have all night.”
Dante gave a sharp nod and blindly reached for the hand of the human nearest to him, a stunning young maiden with long, flowing hair of spun gold. The girl’s eyes were cloudy and unfocused, a clear sign she was under his father’s influence. As Dante pressed his nude body against hers and lowered his head for a kiss, his mind continued to strategize. Dante would do anything to get free of this bastard. Joining forces with the angelen would be akin to a leisurely stroll through the estate’s expansive gardens when compared to living under the depraved King’s thumb.
The female moaned and Dante came back to the present. He carefully lowered the girl to one of the many large cushions scattered about the floor. As he hovered over her and caught sight of the girl’s fear, hidden behind the fabricated desire pushed upon her by his sire’s enchantment, a piece of Dante’s psyche splintered off and broke. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed.
Soon. I will be free soon.
Doing his duty, Dante plunged forward and took the girl’s virginity, ignoring her cries of pain. Inside, he flinched as another piece snapped off and shattered.
Fates, I shall have to act quickly. If he didn’t, Dante couldn’t predict how much of his mind would be left intact at the end. As he fucked the maiden hard and fast, his daemon half groaning and reveling in her false pleasure, not caring one whit of the insincerity of the girl’s responses that were manufactured by his father’s influence, Dante’s human half died a little bit more.
Dante could only hang on and hope his fragmenting mental state held long enough to see his plan to the end.