Retribution (Redemption Series) (9 page)

One moment, I was standing in the living
room of my youth; the next there was only painful darkness. I was getting used
to darkness.

Chapter 7

What the Seal holds within has always been a
mystery. It is a prison. It is dangerous. It is a world of its own that preys
on evil.

~
Bezaliel
~

Whatever I landed on was hard, and I
rubbed at my backside as I fought the rolling waves of nausea and pain that
still moved through me. I couldn't afford to pass out from the pain.
Marcas
was near, and I needed to get him out of the Seal.

The darkness that had cloaked me before
began to recede, and in its place was a strange circular room made of mirrors.
The floor, the ceiling, the walls . . . all mirrors.
There
were reflections of me everywhere.

I looked down at the mirrored floor and
saw my hideous image, my too skinny frame and halo of wild, red curls. There
was blood around my mouth, and I swiped at it with the tail of my shirt before
pushing upward carefully. The pain was ridiculous, but sitting still actually
made it worse.

I should have felt better by now, but I
knew the ring was probably already aware of its mistake and was attempting to
purge Luther's blood. We weren't bound, so the pain wasn't as bad as it had
been when
Marcas
' blood had been ripped from my
system, but it still hurt. I staggered forward, my gaze on the pale, short
figure in the looking glasses surrounding me and I grimaced.

"Seriously?"
I asked as I
threw my hands up in the air.

Mirrors.
What the hell
was I supposed to do with a room made out of freaking mirrors? I walked
forward, my gait slow and awkward as I breathed through the nausea. When this
was all over, I wanted a week of sleep, coffee, sweets, and a huge black
garbage bag full of dumdums.

"
Marcas
!"
I yelled, turning slowly as I
approached the wall.

I paused, staring at myself, at the
green-eyed girl who had changed so much over the past month or so. I reached
out tentatively. There had to be a way out of this room. Was one of the mirrors
a door?

I touched the image in front of me and
gasped when the glass rippled out from my touch, like water.

"Jesus!"

Was this the way through? I began to
reach out again, but dropped my hand when a voice moved through the room.

"NO!" it yelled, and I knew it
was
Marcas
. I stumbled backward, my hand on my
stomach as I pressed at the place where the pain hurt the worst.

"
Marcas
!"
I yelled back.

My heart was in my throat, and I looked
around desperately, but all I could see was
myself
.

"Get out of here,
Blainey
!" he yelled.

He was depersonalizing me. He only
called me
Blainey
when he was trying not to feel
attached, and anger consumed me. I was not leaving without him. If he could
sacrifice himself, then I could do the same.

I marched over to another mirror,
reaching out just as carefully as I had before and tapped the glass. It
rippled, and I stared as the reflection started to piece itself together again.

"Don't!" I heard
Marcas
shout, but my eyes were locked on the mirror and
what I saw made my breath hitch.

The reflection that formed wasn't me. It
was
Lexi
, Luther's Demonic twin sister who I had
killed back in Italy. Her teeth were bared, and she was looking at me, her eyes
filled with accusation. Guilt pressed in on me, and I fisted my hand against my
mouth. I looked away, my eyes traveling to the other mirror I had touched. Its
reflection was different now too. It was Damon, his eyes red, his finger
crooked, motioning for me to come to him. I backed away.

"What is this?" I shouted.

"The mirrors are made to break you,
to show you images of everything you fear. Everything you regret."

Marcas
wasn't shouting
now, but I could still hear him. His voice echoed, and I couldn't pinpoint it.

"How do I find you?" I asked.

"You don't," he said.
"Only one mirror in this room will not move. It's a gateway. But it's not
worth it."

He was wrong. It was more than worth it,
and I wasn't Dayton
Blainey
for nothing. My
stubbornness kept me at the Abbey and got me bound to
Marcas
.
Now he was stuck with me.

I moved to another mirror, this one on
the opposite side of the room, and I tapped it before I had a chance to chicken
out. The surface rippled, and I groaned as the image changed. It was Lilith.
She was inside my head, and I could hear her tempting promises, the promises of
happiness, of safety. I backed away.

"Dayton," I heard
Marcas
say wearily, but I ignored him and touched another
mirror.

It moved
,
transforming to reveal the fire pits of Hell, the roaming, tortured souls
yelling so loudly that I had to cover my ears with my hands as I backed away. I
was on my knees now, crawling to the next mirror. Damon was begging me to come
to him,
Lexi
was accusing me of murder, Lilith was
whispering silky temptations, and the souls of Hell were begging me to save
them.

A tear slipped down my cheek as more
nausea gripped me, and I dry heaved as the ring fought to rid me of Luther's
blood. I was running out of time. I punched the next mirror. It moved.

"Oh, hell!"
I breathed as I
used my hands and feet to move backward along the floor.

The reflection changed too quickly, and
I wasn't able to look away before I found myself hanging from the side of a
cliff. I couldn't tell if it was Petra or the portal in Egypt, but I knew I was
about to fall into darkness, and I cried before looking away. I could hear my
screams behind me, mingling with the other noises invading my brain. It was too
much. I gritted my teeth, standing slowly as I retched again. Blood suddenly covered
the glass, and I watched as smoke lifted from the warm liquid. The ring was
purging me.

"Not yet!" I shouted as I
stumbled to another mirror.

There were only three left if you didn't
count the ceiling, and I punched this one hard.

"Please," I begged.

The mirror didn't ripple, but it did
change, and I shrieked as I suddenly found myself looking into my mother's
dying face. I fell to my knees, tears coursing down my cheeks, my hands lifting
to rest against her image.

"Mom!"
I screamed.

Damon was feeding from her, and she was
in pain. It wasn't long before her face drained completely of color, and her
body fell, Damon laughing as he backed away. I was sobbing now.

"Oh,
God!"
I breathed, my eyes glued to the mirror as I started to back away.

 
I
couldn't look away. Even dead, my mother's face was beautiful.
My mother.
My
heart felt
twisted,
wrung dry. I gulped as I moved, swallowing the bile that rose up in my throat.

"Mom," I whispered.

And then suddenly, she was looking at
me, her dead eyes popping open to stare directly into my face. I
froze,
my heart racing. Her lips moved, and I strained to
make out her words through the noises coming from the other mirrors. I
whimpered as I realized it was pointless. I couldn't hear her. I concentrated
on her lips. They were consistent, slow. Only two words were forming.

"Save
him. Save him. Save him."

I was breathing hard now, my eyes
snapping to the side as I noticed my mother's hand moving slowly. A finger
moved, and I watched as she pointed at a still mirror behind me.

"Save
him."

I stared at her a moment longer,
watching as her eyes closed once more, her hand falling still.
Mom.
I shut my
eyes and forced myself to move, backing toward the mirror behind me until I
felt the cool glass against my back. It didn't move, and I turned slowly to
find myself gazing at a sobbing version of myself, my mother's reflection in
the mirror opposite.

I was suddenly beating the glass,
needing to be out of the room desperately. The sounds and images were too much!

The mirror began to turn, and I breathed
a sigh of relief as it opened to reveal a dark opening. I didn't give myself
time to think. I just stepped inside, turning briefly to look behind me. My
mother's dead reflection was still there, but when I looked at her face, I
couldn't help but notice she was smiling.

Chapter 8

Her mistakes have taught her there are moments in
life when regrets must be swept away, when the only way to move forward is to
take the plunge.

~
Bezaliel
~

Darkness
flippin
'
sucks! I scrambled to use my night vision as the mirror swung closed, drowning
out the noise from the screaming room beyond, and I bent over as I retched
again. Black liquid exited my mouth and spilled onto the ground, and I knew by
the sudden relief in my system that Luther's blood was completely gone now. My
time left in here was up to
Bezaliel
. It was not a
comforting thought.

I straightened, my eyes searching the
space behind me. There were twinkling lights in the sky.
I
paused.Wait
.
Sky?
Stars?
In the Seal?

I moved forward slightly only to find
myself stepping on sand. My eyes widened. There was a full moon above me, a
pyramid in the distance, and I wondered suddenly if this was Egypt again.
Egypt inside a ring?

"What?" I whispered.

I was outside a village, a quiet
village,
men
moving slowly about as they moved from a
half-finished structure I recognized instantly. It was the pyramid
Marcas
had helped build. There were fires in the distance
as well, and the smell of strange foods being cooked.

I didn't know what to do so I began to
walk. I had only taken two steps when I heard the moan. I turned quickly, my
eyes searching the desert. The moan came again. And then there he was.
Marcas
.

"Oh, my
God!"
I exclaimed.

He was chained to a large boulder,
shirtless and shoeless with ripped jeans slung low on his hips. He looked sun
burnt, and his lips were parched. I reached for him.

"Dayton," he
whispered,
his head hanging as I placed a hand against his
arm, moving it up his burning skin carefully.

His powers were useless here, and I knew
from the blistered skin, the parched lips, and his swollen bare feet that the
moon above us was only temporary.

"Where are we? What have they done
to you?" I asked.

Marcas
' eyes met mine,
and I knew by their red glow that he was in pain.
A lot
of pain.

"Set
Maat
,"
he answered.

It was the village he had told me about
in Egypt when I had asked him about his cobra tattoo. I had a hard time
wrapping my head around his words. We were in Set
Maat
.
Set
Maat
?

 
We were standing in ancient Egypt, staring at
a distant village that had once been
Marcas
'
sanctuary after Sophia had chosen Heaven over him. I looked at the village, the
warm fires,
the
shadowy figures moving to and fro.

"The people here didn't do this to me.
They aren't real. It's a mirage. The Seal is doing it. This whole thing isn't
real."

When I looked back,
Marcas
'
eyes were closed, squeezed shut against the scene, and I moved in front of him.
It was the worst punishment imaginable, placing a weak man who thought he had
lost his second love in front of a village he once sought sanctuary in. He
would burn during the day and weather the cold at night all while staring at
the men he had once labored next to, at the fires where he had once sought
warmth and friendship. It was the village that had healed him. It was the same
village being used to destroy him.

"Look at me," I said, my hands
coming up to cup his strong face.

Here was a man who was constantly at war
with himself, with his family, with his own people, and he was still fighting.
Even chained to a rock in the middle of an illusionary desert, I could see the
resolve in his gaze.

"I came to get you out," I
whispered.