The Forsaken (17 page)

He ran a tired hand through his bristly hair. “No, for Christ’s sake. Shit, I’m probably not allowed to say that now.”

Meredith laughed. “Say what you want, Gareth. Let me tend to you.” She reached out and gently, placed her hand on top of his. His energy licked her skin, goose bumps of desire shimmed to life, and Meredith forced herself to ignore it all. What she desired could not happen. He needed her and she would do this for him. Without waiting for him, she closed her eyes and started to hum, allowing her healing light to invade his body. He sighed, fell back onto her bed, and looked so much like a Seraphim her voice faltered.

* * *

Izzy walked along the sidewalk leading to the alley where Shea’s soul had been taken. Each step she took had purpose. Clad in her new skinny jeans and new Boston Red Sox sweatshirt, she teetered, looking like she’d had one too many drinks. Inside, she seethed. Her mind, clear as a bell, her goal to get the demon who had destroyed Shea.

Tonight revenge cloaked the air. She inhaled, scenting the immorality of mankind in all its forms. Four teenage males did a double take at her as she swayed into the darkened alley. Not one uttered a word of caution. If she had been human, she should worry. Since she wasn’t, it annoyed her. She put the lack of compassion down to a causality of the times. Pretending to stumble, she ambled fully into the darkened alley, noting the streetlight had been knocked out. Glass still littered the asphalt and the alley reeked of rotting garbage, stale booze, and slimy oil. None of this concerned Izzy. What she sought took blood and her life essence. Smothered in the darkness, she stilled and then quick as a whip, slid the dirk out of her bodice to slice her arm. Calmly, matter-of-factly, she watched the golden liquid of her essence slither down her arm to the grungy pavement.

She counted minutes. Seven. Of course, she thought sarcastically to herself. That blessed number, which was the holiest of numbers in the heavens, seemed to fit with her mood of the night.

Pretending to play with a tie on her shirt, she let evil slide closer. Turning to confront the demon, she played innocent. “Were you looking for me?”

The newly turned demon-man, full of himself, walked closer. “You smell great.”

His breath reeked of pickled eggs, making her gag. “Really? Because you stink.”

His face was poxed with black spots, making him look malformed. His eyes narrowed in annoyance and perplexity. He made a move toward her. Izzy flicked the dirk into the palm of her hand, calculating her aim and distance.

“Demon, back away from the Cherub.”

The sound of the man’s voice slid like oil over Izzy’s senses. The dark voice awoke from further down the alley. Like a puppet, the demon-man moved further away. Drool slid down his chin as he obeyed his master.

A demon glided out of the alley. Demon-red eyes glowed at her, reminding Izzy of the tempting color of a warning sunrise as he bridged the gap separating them. A gasp, unhindered, flew from Izzy. This breathtakingly handsome demon, who didn’t look a thing like the usual demons she ran into, held power. Coal-black wings swept through the blanket of darkness as he approached. He hovered above the ground as if he too found the road of mankind too filthy to step upon.

Izzy’s heartbeat raced. “Who are you?”

“It pleases me, Cherub, that you did not ask, what
are
you?”

His tone mocked. The degrading way he said
Cherub
reminded her of how she’d said
human
. He hovered closer until he stood at arm’s length from her. He caught her bold gaze and smiled. A dimple graced his masculine angelic face. He was no angel.
Or was he?

“What do you want?” asked Izzy, noting how the chill of the night had started to penetrate her defenses. She’d been going on extra adrenaline since Nathanael had claimed her, but that had fizzled.

His gaze flickered. He motioned the newly turned demon-man to leave.

“Ahh, don’t make him leave. I was
soo
looking forward to practicing my new karate moves on him.”

“A Cherub with humor. I like.”

“A demon with teeth I plan to kick out. I like. Guess we’re compatible.”

He took a step forward. Izzy shifted her weight, balancing on the balls of her feet, getting ready for anything and everything.

“You look to fight me, Cherub?”

“I can’t wait to kill you.”

“Touché,” said the demon.

“Wow, a cultured demon. Impressive,” tossed Izzy, waiting and watching his every move.

The demon bowed his head. The move shook Izzy.

“How fares the one I took?” The words, spoken in
scripture
,
cut through Izzy’s heart.

She moved toward him. He stood his ground, looking deadly and dangerous. Izzy didn’t care. “You…you are the demon that did this to her? Why? Wait a sec, scratch that.” Izzy threw the dirk. He caught it, easily, flipping it up into the air to catch it a second time for show.

“We are not all born to our fate, Cherub. I did what had to be done. There was no other way. Shea and I reached a bargain of sorts.”

“What?” said Izzy.
What am I doing, trying to reason with a demon?

“I face your condemnation, but my fate is my own. I believe it was my uncle who said the ends justify the means.”

“Don’t quote passages to me. Coming from a demon, it’s sick and wrong.”

“Freedom—is that not something you strive for, Cherub?”

He took all the fire from her with that one tantalizing word. “How dare you?” she seethed. “Give me back my dirk if you’re going to toy with it.”

He threw it at her letting Izzy catch it easily.

“Is Shea okay?” he asked.

Izzy certainly wasn’t about to tell him a thing about her sister. “As good as can be expected. What did you think it would be like for her?”

He pursed his lips together but did not look amused. “Tell me, Cherub, can you convey a message to the Almighty?”

That stopped Izzy cold. “What?”

“You heard me, Cherub. I need a message delivered, or do you think me so unworthy that what I have to convey to your god is of no importance?” He tsked at her.

Izzy coughed to cover her surprise. “Who are you, exactly?”

“At your service is none other than Ash, Lucifer’s first born.”

This time Izzy gave into the gasp. “And you want
me
to tell something—”

“Something your Almighty will find very important, trust me.”

“Trust you? Charming, coming from a…from you, Ash.”

“I am not asking for you to get to know me. Just for your trust.”

Izzy had enough. She moved into his space, willing a fight. “Trust you? Is that how you made Shea give up her soul? Never. You took something powerful that did not belong to you.”

“That you are correct in, but again, it had to be done and again, what happened between Shea and myself is our business. Will you deliver the message or not? I grow weary of this drama, Cherub.”

Izzy wanted to kick him where it counted. “Fine,” she spat, “tell me your message.”
Not that I can deliver it, but I want to know exactly what you’re planning, spawn of the devil.

“Give me your hand,” demanded Ash.

Izzy looked at him.

“If I wanted to harm you, I would have long ago. We are wasting time. I will only ask one more time. Give me your hand.”

Izzy harrumphed in annoyance and attempted to turn sideways. She longed to be home, but no way was she about to give this demon her back. Without warning, he grasped her hand, hauling her far too close for comfort to his large frame. He forced her to her knees. Pain exploded through her body, and if she hadn’t been on bent knees, she’d have fallen to the cold, unforgiving ground. Searing pain flashed through her mind as the Hellish nightmare he was conveying to her penetrated all her senses.

“Tell the Almighty that the prodigal son plans to return. It has begun.”

With that parting remark, Ash released her hand, swept his wings back in one massive lunge, and took to the sky. Izzy feared to look at her hand, convinced burn marks had been wielded into her palm. Shaking with overloaded images of what Ash had allowed her to see, she knew she was double-damned. She’d agreed to convey the message, but to do that, she first had to get the Mistress to listen to her. Izzy knew that wasn’t about to happen anytime soon.

Chapter Thirteen

Nathanael did not like being played the fool. And played well he had been. He ran through the streets, honing in on the lush scent of Isabella’s blood essence. It flowed through his body, the scent of dewy flowers and innocence streaming through him, urging him right or left.
I know now how the hounds of Hell must feel.

He’d gone to Isabella’s bedroom, expecting her to stay inside, to stop fighting demons. The only thing he’d found was a pile of pillows in her bed. He’d thrown all the pillows to the ground and marched straight into Meredith’s bedroom. He realized again he should have knocked. He hadn’t and she did not take lightly to his invasion. However, Nat’s Seraphim etiquette had been trampled on and he wanted Isabella to pay for mocking him with her disobedience. Seeing Gareth on Meredith’s bed surprised him. Wisely, he said nothing, only giving a curt nod to the human male Mike had previously introduced him to. Meredith claimed at first not to know where Isabella went. Nat hadn’t bought it. Pressing the matter, he warned her of Shea’s outcome. When Meredith speculated that Isabella had gone to see for herself where Shea had been taken, Nat knew he’d gone to his own version of Hell.

He turned into a side alley, catching a dewy hint of Isabella’s life essence. He ignored the filth of the alley, the streets, and the sidewalks. How humans managed to live like this he didn’t understand. Did they not know the gift the Almighty had bequeathed them? Shaking his head, Nat knew he had to focus. Unsheathing the sharp, small sword from his back, he readied himself. Turning into a second darkened alley, he plowed straight into a form. Catching himself, he took great satisfaction in seeing Isabella land on that pretty ass of hers.

“What are you doing here?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that, my
b’iã?
”

Isabella shakily stood. Nat did not offer her help. He wasn’t in the mood to play nice anymore. He tried to recall all she’d been through but it didn’t help. She mocked him.
Tonight, she shall not.

“We have to go,” said Isabella, wiping her hands on her leather pants as she made a move to go around him.

Nat caught her arm and noticed the cuts on her arms. Deliberately she’d sought demons to fight. One could never call his Isabella a coward. The realization she’d rather fight demons than obey him—or for that matter, be with him—left him feeling cold.

“So, did any demons come for you to fight?”

She looked at him, her eyes widened. “Yes. We’ve got to go.”

“Did the demons leave?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I took care of them,” she said, trying to yank her arm free of his hold.

Nat grinned, pulling her tighter to his frame. He used his weight to maneuver her toward the back of a brick building, and only when her back cut into the uneven brick did she truly look at him.

“Look, seriously, you can’t be mad with me about setting you up?”

“I can’t, can I? I believe my instructions had been clear. Stay inside and let me take care of this matter.” Nat knew his voice sounded rough but worrying about her was going to kill him.

“Look, let’s talk about this at the house.”

Nat shook his head, leaning his chest into hers. Everything about her matched him perfectly.

“Nathanael.”

“Nat, call me Nat.”

Her blue eyes flashed at him. “Fine, whatever. Nat, this is not the time or place for this.”

“Really, Izzy, seems to me you left me no choice.” He followed his words with a wandering hand to stroke her satiny-smooth skin, which reminded him of the heavenly warm grass that grew in their realm. He pulled her long hair out of her hoodie, enjoying watching the sheet of strands fall across her shoulders.

“You can’t honestly expect me to wait inside and do nothing? You might have bound me to you, but I will fight you, always. You should not have done it,” she stated, her eyes damning him.

“Is it too much that I’m concerned about your safety? And what about the worry you’re putting your sisters through.”

“Go to Hell, Nathanael,” said Isabella, immediately wincing when the Rashi script burned into her flesh.

“You keep that up and you’re entire body will be tattooed.”

Nat knew it was on the tip of her tongue to throw even more curse words at him but she wisely refrained.

“We are as different as night and day,” she said.

“There you are wrong Izzy. Night and day merge to be one every day in a blessed show that touches everyone in this realm. We are that. You are my day.”

“I’d rather be your night. It’s got more of an edge to it.”

Nat chuckled, allowing the reach of his fingertips to roam higher. He wanted her to claim his lips again but knew she wouldn’t.

Casually, she adjusted her head and looked at him. “So you plan to stake your claim here? Is that it?”

Nat seriously hated when she used her business tone of voice.
She is challenging me.
“I would have come with you. Let me join you in your fight.”

“Are you saying you’d let your
b’iã
fight?”

“No,” he sputtered, knowing that’s exactly what he had said. She made him flustered and that annoyed him.

“I thought as much, and Nathanael you might have said the binding words but I will not acknowledge them.”

“You dare deny the words I have said with the blessing of the Almighty?”

“No…no, it’s just that, I am…”

The tip of her tongue held the word
unworthy,
and Nat knew it. Gently, he captured her chin with his hand. “You are more deserving, more worthy than any Cherub or Seraphim I know. It is with my honor that I have claimed you. You wear your scars like a warrior. I am proud of you, Izzy for all you have done. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”