Retribution (Redemption Series) (14 page)

"Lucifer will kill you,"
Sophia said simply.

I should have kept my mouth shut, but I
had never been good at standing in the shadows.

"He wouldn't risk making
Marcas
a martyr."

Sophia's eyes narrowed, and this time
when she looked at me, she didn't look away.

"And you feel like you can speak
for Hell now?" she asked.

Once, maybe, I would have shied away. I
was, after all, interrupting a discussion I'm sure they all thought I wasn't a
part of, but none of them had been bound to Lucifer's chosen second, none of
them had been targeted by Damon, and none of them had been thrown into the fire
pits of Hell. And,
dammit
, my mother had been
murdered by a Demon. Hell had a lot to answer for.

"I've gazed into Lucifer's eyes
while he threatened to slice me open on an altar. I say I've been close enough
to Satan to speak somewhat from experience. How close have you been?"

I wasn't being friendly now, and I
wasn't in the shadows. I had moved up next to
Marcas
,
my shoulder barely touching his arm as I rested my hands on the surface of the
table. Sophia stepped forward.

"Your role in this is finished,
Naphil
. You are unbound from the Demon."

Her words hurt more than they should. In
the end, she was right.
Marcas
and I were unbound.
From the beginning that had been the ultimate goal. I should want to walk away,
leave this war to the hybrids it belonged to. But I was having trouble doing
that, and it wasn't just my heart keeping me involved.

During this journey, I had discovered a
lot about myself. I was a hybrid Angel, the only sane
Naphil
in existence. My father said there was a prophecy in Heaven that forbade a
relationship between an Angel and a Demon, but I wasn't an Angel. I was a
Naphil
with a tendency for evil. Lucifer had known it. He
had seen it on the High Place of Sacrifice in Petra when anger had nearly
consumed me. I think, in the end,
Marcas
recognized
it too. My strength came from being able to choose right over wrong despite my
tendencies. I was like Luke Skywalker in
Star
Wars.
It's too freaking easy to give into negative emotions. It's harder to
choose the positive.

"Her role in this is just
beginning."

It was
Marcas
who said it, his voice strong and steady next to me, and I watched as Sophia's
gaze swung to him. The room was deathly quiet. Even with all of the people in
the refectory, we were suddenly the only three present. It was as if everyone
else was nothing more than the background music at a club.

Marcas
leaned forward,
one hand still resting on the table while the other moved to cover my left
hand. Pure electricity shot through me, and I had to fight not to shiver.

"She will be coming with me,"
he said suddenly.

The other people in the room were no
longer just background noise. Their cries were like the winds in a hurricane.
Marcas
and I were the calm in the middle of the storm, his
hand on my hand, his gaze moving to meet mine. I stared at him, my eyes wide.

"
Whoah
,
Craig. Are you asking me to go to Hell with you?"

He held my gaze, the corner of his lips
twitching.

"Only if you're into possible
death, cruel and unusual punishment . . ."

I lifted my free hand.

"You did better stopping at the
whole 'she will be coming with me' thing."

Marcas
chuckled, but
even with the lightness between us, I knew by the way his hand tightened on
mine that he was being serious. He wanted me with him, and although I knew he'd
protect me with his life, the dangers were obvious. I'd been to Hell before. I
knew the dangers. I flipped my hand over, and entwined my fingers with his. I
leaned toward him, my mouth near his ear.

"I'd go to Hell for you,
Craig."

His grip became so tight I felt the
circulation in my fingers being cut off. Sometimes saying 'I love you' doesn't
have the depth other words have. The moment
Marcas
had told me he would never forsake me, I'd known I was in this for the long
haul. Those words had meant more to me than 'I love you' ever could. This was
one of those moments. And I meant every word.

"You can't take the
Naphil
to Hell!"

The outside world was beginning to
interfere again, and I knew by the shrill tone, the interrupting squeal was
Sophia's.
Marcas
and I turned forward, his eyes
meeting Alessandro's and Sophia's across the table while mine met my father's
and Maria's. My dad's face was unreadable, calm. Maria was smiling. There were hidden
secrets in that smile, and I wished, not for the first time, that I could read
her thoughts.

"I'm going with him," I said
quickly before Sophia could protest further.

Lucas stepped away from the wall.

"It's too dangerous and risky. We
could just kill the Demon now, and there would be no quandary."

I saw Luther move to
Marcas
'
other side, his eyes red.
Marcas
leaned forward, and
because my hand was still wrapped in his, I did too.

"Dayton
Blainey
leaves with me. I trust no one else."

Lucas smirked.

"You don't trust
her
own
father?
Her friends?"

Marcas
watched the
fallen Angel, his eyes dark.

"No one.
I trust no
one."

His words were fierce, dark, dangerous,
and I suddenly realized something incredibly disturbing. I didn't trust them
either. They loved me, I had no doubt, and I knew that my friends, especially,
would do anything they thought was best for me. But what they thought was best
was more than likely not what I thought. I wouldn't risk being separated from
Marcas
.

Sophia began to glow, her skin
illuminated as she glared at
Marcas
. Her eyes were
suddenly a shade of blue so light, they almost appeared white.

"The
Naphil
will not go to Hell. Heaven won't risk her interference."

Marcas
' eyes lowered,
the pupils going red. His body heated.

"Let's clear up something now,
Aurelia,"
Marcas
said slowly, using the Heavenly
name that Maria had once told me Sophia used when in Heaven. "The
Naphil
goes with me. If anyone has an issue with this, I
will be glad to show you why Lucifer chose me as his second."

There was silence following his threat,
and I stood straight.
Marcas
was not the type to be
blunt or forward. He was passively dangerous, the kind of predator that liked
to stalk his prey quietly. He studied a situation and used it to his advantage.
I had seen this several times over the past month and a half. Any threat he
made was more than that. It was a promise.

"Let her go," a low voice
said, and I looked across the table at my father.

Bezaliel's
hand was lifted
in a gesture of dismissal. Sophia turned on him.

"To Hell?
She could start
a war!"

Bezaliel
looked me in
the eye.

"She could also end one."

The statement was vague and
Bezaliel
left it at that before turning away from the table
and leaving the room. I stared at the empty space he left behind.

"The Old One is wise. I say we
adjourn on his recommendation," Maria murmured, her eyes on mine and
Marcas
' entwined hands.

Alessandro
nodded,
his gaze on his mother. He trusted her instincts.

"Then in a couple of hours, we will
meet in the courtyard. The
Demonio
will open a portal
to Hell, and we will see
Marcas
and Dayton enter it
safely. Monroe will prepare an amulet for
Marcas
for
added protection against possession," Alessandro said quietly.

Monroe nodded as Luther leaned forward.

"I'll be leaving with them. This is
my fight as well, and I stand with my brother."

Neither
Marcas
nor I objected and Alessandro nodded. There was no point in keeping a Demon
from entering Hell.

"Meeting adjourned,"
Alessandro announced, and everyone moved to the door.

I stood where I was, my hand still
gripped in
Marcas
' as everyone exited the room.
Luther and
Conor
were the last to leave. I expected
one of them to look backward, but they never did. I had made my choice, and
Conor
respected that. Somehow I knew he respected it. As
for Luther, something told me he'd protect me with his life the same way
Marcas
would.
 

The door to the refectory
closed,
the sound loud in the now empty room. Then, and only
then, did
Marcas
release my hand.

"What happens now?" I whispered,
my eyes moving to
Marcas
' face.

He looked down at me, a strand of his
black hair falling over his forehead. His dark blue eyes shone, and his strong
cheekbones were clouded by light stubble.

"We'll enter Hell and ask for an
audience with Lucifer."

"He won't give up the
hybrids," I said confidently.

Marcas
shook his head.

"Not without a fight, but Lucifer
loves a challenge. He will want to prove his dominance over me."

I felt my heart sink.

"He'll use you to prove to the
other hybrids that we can't win."

Marcas
didn't
disagree.

"Yes, which means he'll have to
fight me or challenge me in return."

I watched
Marcas
'
face and wondered at his calm.

"And this doesn't frighten
you?"

He smiled gently.

"No. I'm stronger than he thinks I am.
Even more so now."

Marcas
' hand suddenly
slid upward along my jaw, and I froze. This moment was too real. There was no
death hanging over either of us. We weren't in Hell trapped in Lilith's home,
we weren't in a duel with Lucifer, we weren't in a battle with Damon, and we
weren't trapped in a ring. This moment was just me and him. There was no reason
to feel desperate, no reason to blame the romantic moment on any feelings other
than our own. That time would come, but for now, it was just us in a room with
no obligation. And I suddenly felt awkward and insecure.

"I . . ."

Marcas
placed a hand
over my lips and shook his head, amusement obvious in his gaze. He knew I
tended to talk when I was nervous. I was already chewing desperately on my
tongue.

"Give me a moment,
Blainey
. Just give me a moment to look at my own
downfall."

There was no way to counter that
statement, and he looked. He looked his fill, his gaze moving with agonizing
slowness from my wild red hair to the pink Betty
Boop
sweatshirt and finally to my worn but comfortable Nike tennis shoes. And then
he looked again, his gaze moving back upward until his eyes met mine.

And in the time it took him to look at
me, his gaze weaving a painstakingly slow trail down and up again, I felt my
entire soul slip away from me and mingle with his.
One look.
One single look.
It's amazing the emotion, the energy
that one look can contain.
Just one look.
And when his
eyes finally met mine, the color changing from blue to black to red, I felt my
heart catch on fire. I suppose, considering he was a Demon, saying it felt like
a blazing inferno was a fairly accurate description. One thing was certain.
This wasn't desperation. This wasn't even love. This moment was passion pure
and simple. And when he leaned down, one of his hands moving up my back until
it was at the nape of my neck, I didn't close my eyes.

I stared blatantly into his black
irises, refusing to blink, refusing to miss a single moment. And I let myself
drown in the dark depths because I could, because for that one moment, I didn't
care if I couldn't breathe.

Our noses were practically touching when
he stopped, his face so close I was almost cross-eyed. The hand on the back of
my head tightened, his fingers digging into my scalp. My eyes widened.

"Are you afraid?"
Marcas
whispered, his breath leaving a trail across my
face, and I shivered.

"No," I answered.

Even I could hear the way my voice
trembled, and
Marcas
smiled. His frowns had always
been beautiful in that sad, mysterious, dangerous way that made me want to dig
through his faceted layers to discover what made him tick. But his smiles . . .
those
were sexy. They made any doubt
of his powers vanish because those smiles could set Hell, Heaven, and Earth on
fire.