Voluptuous Vindication (3 page)

Ian mulled over what he knew, the man's words ringing true within him. He'd fought countless wars and battles over the years, never seeing anything like what he'd just seen. He narrowed his eyes before asking, “You don't practice the dark arts, do you? I am a Christian, and I won't align myself with anyone that delves into black magic.”

“Absolutely not,” he replied, his tone firm. “Travel with me. Once you've heard what I have to say, your fate is still yours to decide. You'll join with us of your own free will, or not at all. This I vow.”

Ian sighed, pulling the sword free from the ground. Stowing it on the second horse, he swung up on its back. “What should I call you?” He asked, his tone resigned.

“My name is Arch,” he replied, swinging his horse around to the gate. “I'm the leader of a group of immortal men. We call ourselves the Endurers.”

Chapter 1

Las Vegas

Present Day

The thick, wet snow drifted slowly down from Heaven, the late night air frigid. Moonlight illuminated each flake brightly, bestowing a peaceful, magical feel to the otherwise unremarkable night. It was nothing but an illusion. There was nothing peaceful or magical about the world anymore, not since the hell of the apocalypse had begun. 

The intense cold didn't bother the silent man sitting on the slick, metal arm of the tower. He was nonchalant and unconcerned, even though the ground was a thousand feet below. A fall from his perch would be nothing compared to the daily pain he carried within his scarred soul. A bottle of whiskey sat next to him, forgotten, as he stared down at the snow-covered parking lot beneath him with a haunted expression in his green eyes.

Las Vegas was no longer the busy city it had once been. The casinos were still open, the lights flashing and reflecting off of the pure, white snow, but the streets were scarce and isolated. Between the blizzards, demons, and lack of proper heating and nutrition, the population had dwindled at an alarming rate. The world simply hadn't been prepared, the population ignoring the warning signs that the end was coming.

This was the result, and it was a bitch.

The Endurers were doing everything they could, but there simply wasn't enough of them to fight the demons, provide for the mortals, and convince the unbelievers. Hell was seeping into the mortal realm, its creatures running rampant as their numbers increased.

They were finding humanity to be easy pickings. The party was on, but nobody seemed to be enjoying it but them.
It figured.

Ian Bauer sighed, wrapping his long, elegant fingers around the neck of the ice-cold glass bottle. He brought it to his lips and took a long swig, enjoying the smooth warmth as it slid down his throat.
Even cold it was hot.
Alcohol wouldn't intoxicate an immortal like him, but he could still remember the days of his past when it did.

For the first time in hundreds of years, Ian regretted his immortality. Mortality was simple, even predictable. People were born, lived, and died, effectively ending whatever torments life, and Hell, had thrown their way. Immortality didn't contain that escape clause.  It was complicated, an existence that would never end... And neither would the memories...

He took another swig, grimacing at the coldness of the bottle against his lips. It was winter in Las Vegas, but a winter unlike anything the area had seen before. Gone were the mild conditions the city was known for, replaced with temperatures that rarely went above a single digit. Combined with intermittent electricity and several feet of snow, it was turning Las Vegas into an icy dead zone.
Similar to him.

Ian looked back down at the parking lot, his expression... Wistful. It lasted a tad too long for comfort, easing the door open to a thought in his mind that had no business being there. Despite the horror of his circumstances.

“It wouldn't kill you, you know?” A man's voice broke through the silence, his tone calm and controlled. Ian turned his head in surprise.

Arch sat next to him on the metal surface, his large, powerfully-built frame making the area appear much too crowded for comfort. His blue eyes glowed in the moonlight, his expression serene as he added drolly, “It would hurt like hell, though.”

Ian cast a disbelieving glance down to the world below before snorting, “Boy, you guys sure thought of everything, didn't you?” He shrugged his shoulders. “Not that I was considering testing my immortality against a thousand-foot drop.”
What was the point if it wouldn't end it all?
The last thing Ian wanted was more pain.

Arch sighed, running a hand across his buzz-cut hair. His hand was extremely large, but so was his entire body. Arch was the size of two men, without an ounce of fat to be found anywhere on his muscled physique.

He was also an angel, and the kindest being Ian had ever seen. Arch had been the one to save his life, so many years before, and he was also the one to deliver him immortality. Up until his New Orleans assignment, it had been a pleasurable existence. Immortality had been a blessing until Hell had made it personal. Now he was desperate, trying to make sense of the life he was living... And looking for a reason to keep living it.

Arch's kindness was the reason why he'd avoided him since his time in New Orleans. Ian wasn't fit to be around anymore. His anger, helplessness, and hopelessness made him bad company. He didn't want to talk about what had happened to him... And he didn't want to take it out on the ones that didn't deserve it. Some wounds were better left alone, and he had the mother of them all.

“What do you want, Arch?” He finally asked, taking another sip of the stout whiskey. It burned down his esophagus and into his gut, immediately warming his body. He grimaced and shook his head, waiting for the bite to pass, before looking back at the other man. “Don't you have someone out there that needs rescuing?”

Arch shot him a bland look in response. “Who says I'm not doing that right now?”

Ian chuckled, without humor. “If you're talking about me, I hope you're able to cope with failure.”

They fell silent. Ian shifted uncomfortably, wishing Arch would leave. He didn't bother asking how the other man had found him. The Endurers were used to Arch doing things that defied rational thinking.

“This isn't you, Ian,” Arch said, grabbing the perpetual bull by the horns. “This defeatist attitude is not the man I know. What happened to you sucks, but you can't let it destroy you. There aren't many that would have sacrificed themselves to save another pain, but you made that choice. It was a selfless act you did, but now it's destroying you. You've got to come to terms with this.”

“I don't want to talk about it, Arch,” Ian snarled, slamming the bottle down next to him. It shattered, glass falling over the edge to the ground below. Neither man acknowledged it, each determined to have their say. “Leave well enough alone. If you came to nag me, just leave. We have nothing left to say to each other.”

Arch crossed his arms, a determined expression on his pale, luminescent face. “I gave you space this last few months, as did the others, hoping it would give you what you needed to work through what you went through. No more. Instead of helping, time alone has only hurt you. None of us think badly of you, Ian. What happened doesn't make you less of a man, or an Endurer, in any of our eyes. They won't get away with this. There isn't a one of us that isn't itching to get a hold of that group of demons, and I can promise you one thing. When we do, there won't be nothing left of them.”

“When you do, they are mine,” Ian corrected, his blood turning ice cold. Talking with Arch was bringing the memories of that night back to him, in a way that wasn't pleasant. He couldn't bear speaking of it any longer, so he changed the subject. “Was there anything else?”

Arch sighed heavily, but he let it go. “Actually, there is. I need to pull you back on duty. I really don't have any choice. Things just keep getting worse and worse. At this point, the worldwide population is only half of what it was before it started.”

Stopping to roll his eyes, he continued, “Want to know the most ironic thing of all? Humans are in survival mode, but still they doubt that the end of the world as they know it is here.”

“I'm not surprised,” Ian answered, his voice revealing nothing. “How are the new recruits coming along?”

Arch scoffed. “You mean the handful we've been able to add to our ranks?” He shook his head, looking out into the dark night. “I miss the old days. Back then, men were warriors and use to hard work.  Most of you were deeply traditional, raised with a strong work ethic and a deep sense of right and wrong. This generation simply doesn't have that. The men are weak. Out of thousands of them, there might be one with Endurer potential.”

He looked at Ian, his lips twisting into a grimace. Arch looked as if the weight of the very world was resting on his shoulders. In a harsh voice, he continued, “And I do mean might. We've only acquired a few with the strength of character needed to fight evil. Most of them wouldn't last five minutes before falling to their own selfish desires or weaknesses, not to mention the temptations Hell would throw in their paths.”

“Damn,” Ian grunted, temporarily distracted from his own thoughts. “No wonder there were so many single women available the last forty years.”

Arch chuckled, looking pleased at Ian's words. “It's nice to see you thinking about the opposite sex again.”

Ian froze immediately, his face blanching. “No, not really.” He couldn't stomach the thought of anything sexual and wasn't sure he'd ever be able to again. In the past, there had been two things Ian loved more than anything. Women and food. Now he couldn't care less about either one of them.

Arch wouldn't let it go, his blue eyes missing nothing. He leaned back on his hands before saying, “You've gained quite the reputation among the Endurers as being a ladies' man. I've heard more than one groaning about your infallible luck with the opposite sex.”

He stopped and grinned ruefully. “Remember back in the 1950s?  With those long, blond curls on top, you couldn't even walk out the door without being mobbed by women that thought you were that singer. Too bad you sing like a dying horse. You could have made thousands,” he mused.

Ian shot him a dirty look. “The singer looked like me,” he bit out. “Just not quite as handsome. And you're one to talk about bad singing. I couldn't hear right for a week after listening to your shower ballads in New Orleans. What in the hell are you doing when you bathe? Trying out for the leading role in an opera?”

Arch rubbed the snow off of his head as he grinned in amusement. Arch loved every moment of their banter, capable of working any conversation into a great source of fun. At least, for him. He could be very mischievous for an angel, and there was nothing he loved better than stirring up shit... Especially, when it came to his Endurers. 

Ian stared at him in reproach, still offended by the caterwauling he'd had to wake up to daily in New Orleans.  Arch cleared his throat, his blue eyes still amused. “Back to what I was saying, though. I need to pull you back on duty.”

“What do you want me to do?” This time Ian sighed, resigned. There was no stopping Arch once his mind latched onto something. Returning back to work didn't bother him, though. Maybe staying busy would keep his mind off of more unpleasant thoughts.

“There's a woman named Sara Abbott on a train right now. She's important to our cause, and Hell has gotten wind of it. In thirty minutes, demons are going to descend on that train, killing her and the humans that are on it. It's our job to make sure that doesn't happen.”

Ian shot him an incredulous look. “Trains are still running?”

Arch nodded. “In some areas. They are working with skeleton crews, though.”

A scream broke through the night, easily reaching their sensitive ears. Peering down, Ian tensed when he saw a group of three demons cornering a mortal man and woman. “Should we go down?” He asked Arch as one of them grabbed the man.

“No,” Arch replied, watching the scene below them. “Jeremiah will take care of it.”

As Arch predicted, Jeremiah jumped out of an alleyway, his long sword glinting in the moonlight. A fellow Endurer, he was especially known for his skill with his sword. Recently relocated to Las Vegas, Jeremiah had been a welcome addition to the short-staffed team. True to his reputation, he ended the demons quickly and escorted the humans away.

“Are the demons still masking themselves?” Ian asked curiously, turning back to Arch.

“Sometimes. They don't seem to care anymore if the humans know they are real or not. Besides, most people that see a demon never live to tell it.” Arch frowned, his dark eyebrows drawing together. It's not just that, though. A lot has changed in the last several months. With electricity so intermittent, most people aren't aware of what is happening outside of their houses. None of them really comprehend that this isn't temporary. When the demons get a hold of them, it's simply too late.”

“I would have thought after all these months they would have caught on,” Ian said slowly, lost in thought. “Hell must be getting souls by the thousands now.”