Retribution, Devotion (27 page)

“Who am I? You disrespectful puppet! I am your salvation! I am the Mouthpiece for the Most High!” Anger had Sanna breathing hard as her hair flung around and the room became white in her power. “You Cursed bastard!
I am the Oracle!
And Khamun is his weapon. The Living Sin Eater!”

Silence marred the chambers. Not even a pin drop could be heard before, “Go 'head and pop a Advil because ya gonna to die today. Whoo!” offhandedly sounded behind her from Calvin.

Khamun simply glanced toward her brothers and brothers-in-arms before muttering, “Lock the doors, all of them.”

He regally lifted her into his arms, stood on the edge of the opera box, then snarled.

Ah, how he loved the electrifying tension and chaos that currently was forming among the elite and Houses of Nephilim Society while he strolled into the atrium. It wasn't often that he came to these preliminaries, but today he felt a little intrigued. His work in St. Louis had turned toward his favor. He had played his role well, tipping both sides of the Nephilim races to continue the battle between the Light and the Cursed. His job never seemed to stop.

Ever since the Garden, he had been devising ways to serve both sides yet also serve himself, and today was no different. Jacques Samael Fur'i strolled through a set of silk black curtains and sat calmly in his secluded opera box. He idly glanced at his smart phone. Brandon, his adopted son, flashed across the screen. His son was shown taking down his newest Cursed nanny within his mansion. The boy feasted from the demon's body with a sinister scowl that made Jacques proud. Brandon's tiny dragon fangs tore at flesh but did not break the bone as he played.

Jacques held out his hand to his Phantom attendant and felt his typical tinted glass rest in his palm. The show was about to begin and he was very curious as to how his antics were going to play out to the clueless sheep in society. Taking a sip from his glass, sweet demon blood coated his tongue and he licked his lips while his incisors fought to descend. He felt electrified.

However, a sensation within the building made him glance around anxiously. A familiar taste was forming in his mouth. One that he hadn't savored since his days in the Garden, which had him wondering exactly what is was that had him feeling this way. He let his gaze slowly comb the audience. He glimpsed a couple of his Cursed insurgents, including the weakling, the Dark Lady's second Pet, Gregory Ryan de Mer'ce.

He was such a fool. Jacques enjoyed pointing out the ingrate's flaws every time. The Mer'ce House sat directly under his box in their private section. He believed it ironic that no one in Society ever realized the open declaration of deceit. Nevertheless that was not his concern. His involvement with that House was still hidden and it would stay that way for as long as he wanted. Licking his lips, Jacques continued his scanning, briefly pausing on the riffraff Royal House. It was fascinating.

Jacques turned in his chair to watch as the rebel prince and his vagabond team address the clueless Council. He had noticed the silhouette of feminine forms moving around in the box upon entering the arena. He had to guess that the prince must be up to something new. News traveled about the uproar the prince had caused the Council at previous meetings. How he had annoyingly brought up issues about the Cursed.

His bothersome insurgent Gregory Ryan had reported to the Cursed about the ordeal and it made Jacques smile to see the worm so disturbed by the simple prince. However, now there was something new, yet again, going on with that group. He hated being out of the loop on anything he could destroy. Frowning, he watched the curtains part allowing his eyes to gain a glimpse as his manhood instantly swelled. She was here.

Staring in awe, transfixed on everything that was going on, anger saturated the air. That pure, unabashed anger aroused his hunger for the blood of those around him, both good and bad. They had unveiled the plan of the Cursed King. Had revealed who they really were, and all he could do watch her in her opulent beauty.

It was as if he was back in the Garden when he had first seen her. Naked. Unashamed. Sexually stunted, and oh so naïve.

He had taught her so much. Had her eating the apple of Knowledge from his bare hands when she was his in those moments. His tree of life her downfall. Then later her forever-changed fruit, her mate's downfall. Destiny was blowing full circle. He was blessed to be in her presence again and she would be his again for only a moment.

Jacques cleared his throat then adjusted his black diamond cufflinks against his black-and-white button-down dress shirt. Grinning wide he casually smoothed a hand over his black slacks, stood, then stepped farther back into his box, waiting to secretly disappear. “Now this is interesting.”

Screams sounded in the Council room. Calvin slipped behind the seating areas, locking down every exit as he could with his power. Blood scent prickled his nose, upsetting him in the process. There were a number of Nephilim who were turned or in the process of turning Cursed, which was sickening.

Khamun's booming voice immediately shook pillars. “Blood is now on your hands, Angels. Society is being attacked. Pillaged, and violated. Civilians are being tracked by the Society insignias on their post boxes, or address signs, or auras. Taken down out of their homes to be turned! Made to be erased!”

His fist fisted tightly at his sides and he continued, “Yet unabashed you sit and worry about mundane issues such as my house being supported by our own blood. You shun people because they come from humans, from the gargoyle culture, or were born on the wrong side, but carry more light in their hearts than any of you. Guardian Houses are disappearing and you all sit here as if it's nothing? This is the mighty Society of people who were born from the major five chosen, Arch?”

A deep, sarcastic laugh sounded then paused as if more knowledge just hit him and the speech continued. “I think not. This is a Society laced in Darkness, so it's time you all truly met your Maker.”

Calvin lifted himself up to sit on top of a pillar. He watched Khamun slam his fist down on the railing of their house box. His muscles strained alerting Calvin that he was trying to hold back his power. Mini shuffles began and a chair flew toward Houses of Nephilim that now stood aligned with the Region Prince Khamun.

The commanding rumble of the Region King in everyone's mind drew united Nephilim's attention. “Move everyone to the exiting tunnels now! Bishop . . . I mean, Eammon, my friend, move my family; that means you all through my private tunnels.”

Dr. Eammon gave a curt nod, immediately motioning for Tamar and Eldress Neffer to follow him behind a hidden passageway.

Amit was standing near the King's side; his eyes were the cover of polished black marble, his swirling tattoo now inched up toward his neck, and his hand shook while gripping his gun. “The Cursed King is here,” was all he said. In that moment, doors rumbled, shook, then bowed forward, groaning in pain.

Calvin glared over his shoulder. Sparks of green currents ran over his dress shirt-covered arms while cautiously stepping over heart-snatched Nephilims. Nephilims who were Cursed traitors. The red curls of a woman spilled over the floor before him and Calvin shook his head. Gregory Mer'cer's sister. Frost covered her plump lips while her once-blue eyes were now vacant black orbs. Marco's kill.

Pounding continued around Calvin causing him to remember to connect to his team,
“I didn't get to tell you all but when I found the Nails, it was five of them. Their history hit me and I learned that the touch of a Mystic woman, a disciple would be needed to charge them. Kali, we need you to charge the nails, shawty, since you are the most skilled one; no disrespect baby girl, but, San, you can't do it yet. You still need to learn that level and you're not a disciple, you're more. So we need Kali.”

“None taken and five? I thought it was four,”
San quickly asked him. She stood over a dying Council Elder, the one who had insulted his house. Blood covered her hand; the misting ejection of the man's soul sped to Khamun, who held Sanna's wrist, quickly feeding to regain strength.

“Okay, what do I need to do to charge them?”
Kali asked in a pant. She sent a Nephilim flying with a slam of her Sanskrit-carved hammer, impaling him with her Mystic current. Henna from her hands returned to her, to cover her brown sugar skin as sweat sprinkled her brow.

Sanna's eyes widened. Khamun bowed his head in respect, then placed his fist over his heart to salute Calvin.
“Bro, I have the shroud protected on me; my baby will protect what you asked her to. We got you in this. Thank you for your sacrifice, fam; this war isn't just about Society but it's about all of us. Retribution will be had. Let's get ready because my uncle is coming.”

Marco's low growl:
“
Punta
won't be expecting this one.”

Kali moved like the wind in front of Calvin. She held her hands out toward Sanna. Her eyes locked on Amara and Dare before cocking her head to the side.
“I need our two resident batteries, please.”

Everyone moved around her including the High King, just in case they were being watched.

“I never thought I'd see those again, my children,” High King Omri astonishingly whispered.

Currents of red henna covered everyone before undulating in and out then causing the nails to jolt in power. Calvin watched her furrow her brow briefly before a slow smile crept across her face. The fragile metal softly vibrated, illuminating then multiplying into many pieces, reforming, and shifting into red-tinted silver filigree-scribed bullets. Mystic verses etched the surface as they illuminated in purity. With the sound of the cork popping, the scent of bliss hit everyone, causing tears to fall in remembrance of why they existed.

Calvin watched each metal piece fall into his sister's hand.

“Here, everyone take as many as you can. I was able to form them into what we needed in the moment, which was, ta-da, bullets. My King, here's yours.” Kali cautiously held out several bullets.

Calvin noticed the flicker of sadness in his eyes while he stared at the bullets before taking them with a bow.

“My thanks; now spread out. The war is here!” he yelled, backing away to sit in his throne waiting. “I take my place as Region King, High Elder of the North American Councils. Taint was allowed in and I expel it in holy righteousness. We stand today as the children of the Most High, and you all stand in the rightful armor of your ancestors as Sin Eaters and Disciples, as it should have been. Prepare for anything but don't expect less, my children.”

Moving fast, Calvin glanced around, seeing the hall empty out. Bodies lay in calamity over chairs, tables, and the Council stage. A pricking sensation caused his heart to beat fast at the sound of more banging.

“Happy birthday,”
suddenly echoed in his mind.

Nydia was near. The countdown had started and midnight was approaching. So far, he had stayed out of major fights but the stark realization that the war was now had his skin sparking.

The soft sound of Sanna's voice drew his attention and made everyone, including him, stop mid-step.

“Don't you all feel that?” she worriedly asked.

He noticed Khamun's amber eyes narrow then darken. His finger hooked around his tight collar and loosened it then pulled off his jacket.

“How is this happening? How can they step on blessed land?” Calvin heard Amara whisper.

She stood near San, taking off her rings and earrings. Kneeling down to whisper a spell that changed her clothes into jeans, multicolored pink Nike high-top shoes and a pink tank, she glanced up at her big sister, clearly nervous about her first fight.

Khamun gripped San by her waist and muttered to her, “I can send you back to the comp—”

“No! I'm standing by my family. We all need each other so I'm staying,” she demanded, leaning up to kiss his lips.

Calvin watched Sanna turn to smile in love at her little sister, their hands touching and glowing.

The pounding and vibration of the building drew everyone's attention. Calvin changed his own outfit, opting for his standard Timbs, jeans, and beater. He pulled on his hooded leather and jean jacket, felt for his usual weapons and threw out several healing spells that worked on impact of a lethal injury around his family. Sweat trickled on the edges of his temple and the sharp jolt and hit of replenishing energy made him turn to look over his shoulder.

“I got you, cousin,” Dare replied. His toffee dark skin seemed to illuminate with his power, casting a dark rich golden hue and he smiled placing his iPod ear buds in his ears.

Calvin reached out quickly to give his cousin a familial hug. Popping his ear buds in, twin silver guns appeared in his hands, and he waited for the coming.

“Wait!” San's voice echoed around everyone in the midst of them all changing clothes and the sounds of remaining Houses, who stood ready for war, suddenly murmured, “What is going on?”

“One sec, everyone, I have to ask. So, the second Elder San's father met in his travels gave her family protection. Keeping everyone hidden all this time, huh? Gifting her pops the nails of Nazareth, which Calvin died hiding to help us in this cause.” Khamun studied his father's quiet form.

His fingers ticked off everything that led them all here while he spoke. “We learned in the books that the mythic crown the One Son wore, which was in reality bruises he obtained from being beaten, will always be hidden with the One Son for the true Armageddon. The fact that you said that it's been a long time since you've seen the nails means you're not a Nephilim that was reborn many times. Pops, who are you?”

“What do you see? Do you know who you and San are, my son?” King Omri countered.

“I see the Archangel Gabriel standing before me. A man I had understood to be my father, but who is much more than that: a legend in the flesh. Your aura gives you away, as does those arm tats and your true age, Pops. I also see the truth of my and Sanna's past. Something she unlocked in me recently. Thank you for what you did for us, what you and Michael both did,” Khamun quietly responded.

Dr. Eammon, formally Bishop Steele in a past life, walked forward.

In his hand was a sword he laid over his shoulder. He stood at the High King's side indicating his place as the King's right hand, which was shocking to Calvin but respected. “It was my honor. We will talk later, but right now we all fight! Son, I am and I have never been so proud of my son then I am now,” the King proudly stated.

Shouts from the soldiers who protected the entryway of the Town Hall ceased. Doors that bowed outward, ready to break, finally burst open as bodies of the soldiers flew into the Council meeting atrium. The hulking shadow of the Cursed King spilled across the floor. Dust cleared and Calvin did a double take. Glancing at Marco, then at the man before him, his shook his head then chuckled.

“Yeah, I know, acere, I am my father's seed; get over it,” Marco griped.

Several rounds sounded from his gun, and then he ran forward, flanked by Ryo, who lifted in the air in his full Gargoyle state. Acting as his Protector, Ryo snatched demons, crushing them with his hands. Plumes of smoke mixed with fire turned demons into ash with just a blow from Ryo's mouth. Game time was on. Calvin glanced at his family, searing them in his mind, and then set his watch. His birthday was counting down and he had a fight to win.

“You kill my children for sport and you think that I will not do so in kind? Fair exchange is no robbery correct, brother? Ah, it's good to be home. Warriors, finish the rest but kill what should have been dead the moment I ripped him from his mother's womb!” Caius bellowed.

Damn,
ran through Calvin's mind. Demons plummeted through the various doors. Nephilim warriors pulled back, bracing for impact of battle.

“Fair exchange was lost to you in the first war the moment you all chose to follow our brother Luc. You have no authority here,” King Omri evenly stated, standing to meet the Cursed King head-on.

Calvin dropped down to touch the floor and tap on the spiritual grid to no effect. He inwardly cursed then chose a different route by creating a Mystic net and throwing it on teams of Cursed warriors. The smell of cooking flesh hit his nose the moment it touched them. A smile spread across his face then he pulled out his twin scythe blades, forward flipping to land on the floor in front of him.

“Grid is down here but I found out why!” Kali yelled in everyone's mind.

Calvin could feel his little sister running near the second level. Her power spread out causing him to see her flip over the shoulders of a hulking monstrous demon, big enough to be a rhino but stuck in the body of a man. Gashes appeared on the demon's body, his blonde hair with that of his brain in Kali's hand.

“I checked the monitors; the Cursed Lady used her blood and, get this, the Medusa's to shut the grid down like they did back in STL with San's land. But, check it again, it wasn't on purpose, it was a warning to us. The Cursed King had his Dark Witches and Warlocks kill our people, those missing Houses to break the barrier. I'm working to get it back up as we speak, over and out,”
Kali rushed out.

Calvin gritted his teeth pissed off. After all this, the Medusa was back and helping to bring the house down? Fuck a warning. She helped bring the barrier down, hell naw. Two human cops with peeling skin, disjointed limbs, and demonic teeth stood in front of him. Calvin quietly exhaled ready for battle. Cracking his neck, he flipped his blades in his hand and lunged forward. One shifted in his blind side to appear behind him. Leaning backward, knees bent, a swipe of nails narrowly missed his throat twice from both demons. Carnage flew everywhere. Calvin bounced back up to see how his scythe blades sliced off both arms of his prey. He then swung upward to circle and decapitate their heads. Writhing bodies twitched in front of him then exploded via a Mystic current from him. Chuckling, he patted his own shoulder then wiped the blade off.