Retribution (Redemption Series) (2 page)

"He will bring the world
salvation."

The Sisters said it as one. Damon had
turned them into clones.

"He's a Demon."

I don't know why I kept trying to break
through to them. I guess I hated to see the two women being forced to serve
what they were supposed to hate.

Sister Mary cocked her head.

"He's a Demon seeking redemption.
There is nothing holier than redemption."

They turned as one and moved up the
stairs, their black robes swishing against the floor as they hurried away from
me. And then the basement door snapped shut, and I was left alone.

I scoped out the room, my eyes searching
the area. Three walls were lined with shelves packed with canned foods and
dried goods. Only one wall was bare of the wooden ledges, and it was cluttered
with old furniture, boxes, and a closed chest. I moved toward it, letting
myself slide to the floor, my back resting against the trunk. My head fell to
my knees.

"
Marcas
,"
I whispered.

I wasn't calling out to him. I wouldn't
want him to take the risk of coming here when the ring could trap him. It just
felt good to say his name. It was a promise to
myself
.
I wouldn't let Damon bind me to him. I'd kill myself first. I would never and
could
never be his.

"Dayton
. . . ."

My head snapped up. It was
Marcas
' voice, far away but audible, and I concentrated on
it.

"
Marcas
?"

My name came again, fainter this time.
And then . . . .

"I
love you."

The three words were so faint, I wasn't
sure they were real. More than likely, they were a figment of my imagination,
nothing more than wishful thinking. But I grasped onto them nonetheless. Real
or imagined, those words wouldn't let me die.

Chapter 2

Love can overcome many odds. And while this emotion
is worth many trials and tribulations, it can also lead to death.

~
Bezaliel
~

There is one thing captivity provides in
abundance: time. And time provokes thought.

 
My
lower back burned where I sat against the rough wooden chest in the corner of
the basement, but I barely noticed the pain because I was too busy thinking
—
reliving a million moments in the
space of minutes.

I was in an alley staring at a Demon
whose hand was covered in my blood. I was watching
Marcas
cut himself, my blood suddenly flowing from a similar wound. I was in Italy
following
Marcas
down a pitch black alley, his hands
suddenly coming to rest on my head as he taught me how to see in the dark. I was
at S.O.S headquarters, wrapped in my inner light,
Marcas
standing behind me as he fought the pain my power caused him. I was falling
into a portal to Hell, screaming until
Marcas
caught
me in mid-air, promising he wouldn't let go. I was facing off with Hellhounds,
with Lilith, and being thrown into the pits of Hell. And then I was kissing
Marcas
, my whole body on fire, my back against a wall.

Every thought after the kiss was
different. I was standing in front of a mirror, my eyes shining with vengeance.
I was in a ballroom, my body writhing in pain as
Marcas
shoved our combined powers into my chest. I was in Egypt tracing
Marcas
' cobra tattoo with my finger. I was in Petra,
Marcas
' lips meeting mine, his kiss a promise I wouldn't
die. I was facing off with Lucifer as
Marcas
called
out to me. And I was staring at a ring with the power to unbind us, a fateful
decision already made.

"I love you."

I whispered the words fiercely, my mind
taking over the chant even as my lips quit moving. And I didn't care if
Marcas
heard me. I didn't care if anyone heard me. I meant
the words.

I honestly couldn't say when my feelings
changed. Maybe love works that way
—
sneaking up to
take over the body when one least suspects it. It certainly wasn't supposed to
happen.
Marcas
was undeniably attractive, but good
looks do not make a man. I had loathed him at first, distrusted him.

And then there was
Conor
,
my childhood friend who professed loving me. He was the better choice. But
Conor
and I loved each other in a different way, in a
comfortable, familial way. And then
Conor
had been
ordered to protect me. As wonderful as
Conor
was, I
knew he could easily fall in love with the idea of keeping me safe.
Conor
was a romantic. He'd never admit it, but he was
definitely a romantic. And he hadn't been ready, not for the type of mission
Marcas
and I had been thrown into.

And then
Marcas
had dug his way under my skin, always there, always honest, but never
overwhelming. He had protected me, guided me,
taught
me. And, in the end, he had been willing to be destroyed for me, to be sucked
into the Seal so I could be set free. But love is the chain that binds. The
only freedom I wanted included him.

I stood up, my legs protesting as I
stretched. My clothes were filthy, covered in the dirt, blood, and grime of
Petra, and I focused on my power, using it to dissolve the waste from my body
before producing a clean pair of jeans, a long sleeve navy dolman, and a pair
of Nikes and socks along with the appropriate undergarments. It felt good
dressing like pre-
Naphil
Dayton even if that girl was
different now, forever changed.

A sound at the top of the stairs made me
pause, and I stiffened as the door to the basement creaked open. I gathered my
power around me, mine and
Marcas
' combined strength
humming along my skin as footsteps sounded on the stairs. It wasn't Damon. I
knew this immediately by the hesitancy in movement, the way the person above
tried to quiet their advance on wooden steps too old not to groan under
pressure.

"Dayton?"

The quiet whisper was enough to suck all
of the bravado out of me. I sagged. Amber.

"Dayton? Are you okay?"

The question threw me back in time. I
was a ten-year-old little girl again hiding under a blanket. Amber was my
eleven-year-old savior, her Disney flashlight a beacon. Only I didn't need
saving anymore. The dark was no longer my enemy.

A flashlight beam moved across the
basement floor. I watched it quietly, my breathing steady as the beam found
first my foot and then my pants. It crawled upward until the light was shining
in my face. It would have blinded me if I hadn't averted my eyes.

"Dayton?"

I knew by Amber's troubled tone that she
was trying to differentiate between the dirty kidnapped girl from the refectory
and the clean, weary one standing now before her. My powers had their
advantages.

"You shouldn't be here,
Amber."

I pushed her flashlight down, away from
my face as I gazed up at her. Her eyes were wide.

"Y-you look . . . you're
different," she stuttered.

I met her gaze unflinchingly.

"More than you know."

Amber didn't respond, her eyes traveling
what she could see of me in the dull glow thrown off by the flashlight. I knew
what she saw and fear wasn't part of it. There wasn't even much compassion
left.

Amber came to some kind of silent
conclusion, and I watched as she pushed past me, her flashlight bouncing as she
took a seat on the trunk I'd just vacated.

"I'm sorry, Day."

I didn't have to be looking at her face
to know she was crying. Her breathing was deep, her words broken. I wanted to say
something comforting, to tell her it was all going to be okay, but I honestly
didn't have it in me. I wish I could say I was self-sacrificing enough to just
pat her on the shoulder and say, "It's fine." But, in all honesty, no
one is that selfless. At least I could admit I had faults.

"He's planning to rape me."

There. I said it. The one fear I had
been forcing myself not to give into was now out in the open. And I felt
dragged down by it. My throat constricted, my heart began beating faster than
any human's ever could, and I swallowed convulsively against the bile that
threatened to enter my esophagus. Amber sobbed.

"But you knew that, didn't
you?" I asked.

Amber hiccupped as she tried to bring
herself under control. She couldn't speak. That much was obvious, but she did
nod.

"When?"
I asked, the
question a furious whisper in the dark room.

Amber wiped her eyes with the back of
hand before taking a deep breath.

"Soon.
He needs to
unbind you from his brother, but he won't wait on that."

"
Marcas
,"
I corrected.

Damon's brother he may be, but
Marcas
deserved to be referred to by name. My knees grew
weak, and Amber scooted over as I moved to the trunk.

"We need to get you out of
here," Amber insisted as I sat down.

I looked at her, at her wide, red-rimmed
eyes and her messy blonde hair, and I shook my head.

"How do I know you aren't being
controlled by Damon, that he isn't privy to every thought in your head? It's
obvious he has the Sect possessed."

Amber looked away.

"Some of us are stronger than that.
I'm
stronger than that. He's never
been able to take my mind."

"Amber
—
"

Her hand suddenly gripped my arm, hard.

"Give me a little credit, Day. You
know better. I have as much of our mother's blood in me as you do."

It wasn't hard to believe her.
Bezaliel
may not be Amber's father, but we still shared the
same mother.
Our
mother was a
fighter.
But our father . . . .

"You know, Amber . . . Dad. . .
Daniel
—
"

Amber cut me off.

"I know, Day."

I looked down at my lap.

"Damon reveals a lot when he believes
we're all mind-
sotted
," Amber said.

I felt fear traverse my spine.

"And you've been fooling him into
thinking you are as possessed as the others?"

My words sounded skeptical even to me.
Amber didn't answer me right away, and I looked up to find her fiddling with
her flashlight nervously.

"Sometimes he takes a little
persuading," she mumbled.

I felt my whole body go numb.

"Persuading?"

Amber looked away, her eyes avoiding mine
as she pulled her long blonde hair away from her neck. I took one look and
gasped.

"Amber!"

Her neck was covered in bites. They
weren't gentle wounds, the teeth having dug into her skin in so many places it
was almost like looking at a bone that had been gnawed on by a dog.

I lifted my hand and tenderly skimmed
the area with my fingers. The marks were both old and new, some healing while
others festered, and her skin was varying shades of blue, green, and yellow.

"He likes blood," Amber said
quietly. "If we don't let him feed from us, then he knows he has lost
control of our minds."

I cringed.

"All of Lilith and Cain's children
like blood, Amber."

It was the only thing I knew to say.
Amber's eyes met mine again.

"Lilith and Cain?" she asked.

I just nodded. There wasn't enough time
to fully explain. She would have to piece it together on her own. Amber covered
her neck back up with her hair.

"And
Marcas
?
Does he feed from you?" she asked.

I sat frozen, my eyes still drawn to her
neck despite the veil of hair.

"No. The Demons don't need blood.
They just crave it.
Marcas
refuses to let the thirst
control him."

Amber placed a hand over mine on the
trunk, forcing me to look away from her neck. She lifted the light just enough
to search my eyes.

"You're in love with him," she
whispered.

I didn't disagree.

"Oh, Dayton . . ."

I pulled my hand from hers.

"Don't!"

I stood up and moved away.

"Condemn me all you want silently,
Amber, but don't say it out loud. Out of everyone involved,
Marcas
has always been the most honest. He has the most to lose, and he was willing to
sacrifice everything for me." I poked myself in the chest and held Amber's
gaze.
"For
me
!"