Hell’s Phoenix
Book Two of the Road to Hell Series
By
Gracen Miller
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2012 by Gracen Miller
ISBN: 978-1-61333-219-1
Cover art by LFD Designs
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Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC
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Also by Gracen Miller
Pandora’s Box
Fairy Casanova
A 1Night Stand Story
~DEDICATION~
To all my Hellhounds for keeping this adventure exciting and for making this the best damn road trip ever!
Elena Gray and Kelly Macpherson…thanks for coming up with the coolest Hellhound names ever—FiFi and Devlin! You gals rock!
Mindy “Fangedmom” Janicke…thanks for coming up with a rockin’ succubus breed—Lynx! You’re a great friend and a wonderful Facebook pal!
Kathryn Grimes and Mindy “Fangedmom” Janicke…thanks for coming up with one of my Nix Birmingham slogans…“Nix’s Nectar…sweet home brewed for one helluva buzz!”
Tawnya Peltonen…thanks for coming up with my first Nix Birmingham slogan…“Nix Birmingham, stealing hearts one dead demon at a time!”
Prologue
One Week in Hell
Nix’s soul quivered beneath the fabric of his skin, stinging needle-like sensations that wouldn’t abate. The rendition of misery coming from everywhere blistered his ears with anguish. Crescendos came in the form of screams, followed by tapering moans. Grief as stark as the breath he inhaled shunted against his body.
Micah. Demon of many names…King of Hell, Beliel, fallen angel, and Madison’s husband were among his titles.
Micah struck the cat-o’-nines whip against his leather-clad thigh with a taunting tap, tap, tap. Gut convulsing, Nix fought the compulsion to entreat mercy for the soul the King would soon crush. Mercy wouldn’t be granted. Begging would bring humiliation and a lesson in futility for the damned.
The suffering of others had become Nix’s punishment for his reckless acceptance of a demonic covenant. A week in Hell. An eternity of affliction beat at his empathy. He yearned for death. Regret was his constant companion. He couldn’t even achieve solace knowing Mads was safe and alive because she was dead. Dead at the hands of her best friend, Zennyo Ryuo—Zen.
Micah’s victim jerked and the rusty chains creaked as the whip curled against the soul’s corporeal body. Raw flesh oozed blood and a stench of disease and rot as the condemned swayed slightly.
Physical torture might not be his lot, but the mental torment of others grew tiresome. As a Sherlock, he’d dedicated his life to protecting the innocent. In Hell, he could offer no comfort to any of the damned. The injustice of a loving father abandoning his children to such pain irritated his once-solid faith.
Other souls, out of sight, wailed as if they could hear his desperation and agreed, while confirming the unremitting anguish Hell inflicted.
Did anyone not break?
He wanted to honor Mads’s memory by remaining the just man she’d befriended, but the effort grew burdensome. The recollection of his humanity became as wispy as steam from Hell’s lava pit.
Mads….
Thinking of her spawned the mini-television Micah had set off in his head, a screen that played out her death in minute detail. The King’s first-account experience of Zen annihilating the woman they loved. Micah’s violent and emotional reaction to her demise corroborated how deeply the fallen angel had loved her. A sadistic, stalkerish kind of love to be sure, but a devotion Nix had once mistaken as control.
The reel of her death was like the repeated jabbing of a spear to his heart, a painful reminder that refusing Micah’s wants brought nothing shy of useless tribulation. They had a covenant that must be paid. An agreement he could use to his advantage if he would only accept his eternal lot in Hell.
The whip snapped him out of his reverie. The sound was the worst part, knowing it would soon rip the flesh from bones—
The soul jerked against the restraints, and Nix screamed for the punished until his throat ached. It should’ve been raw and bleeding. Micah glanced over his shoulder at Nix and smirked as he lashed the flogger again. The tails struck the hip of the King’s victim and helixed around to snip across the lower abdomen, not more than an inch shy of striking the male’s crotch. The whip recoiled and the jagged edges of the tails carved away flesh. Blood oozed down the thigh of the condemned.
Breaking the soul was Hell’s ultimate gig, spawning new demons the sole purpose. Nix didn’t know how close this particular martyr was to breaking, but his sanity hung in the balance, in grave danger of giving in to the weakness of his broken mind. One more scream could drag him under for all eternity. Unsure if he cared about that outcome, Nix tensed for the next strike, but none came.
Suspended between an internal struggle to maintain a weak grasp on his former humanity or to embrace demonic freedom, he heard the echo of cries from other tortured souls, reminding him he couldn’t escape Hell’s not-so-tender guardianship. Knowing others suffered worse than he did lent a strange sense of serenity. Silence would have sent him over the edge long ago.
Another crack rent the air and Nix gritted his molars. The whip bit the air beside his head rather than the victim’s, indicating the demon’s playful mood. Abdomen muscles cramping, Nix wished the fallen angel would turn the torture on him. Physical pain would be a welcome change from his mental anguish.
“I say oh-la-la, lover boy, I have nothing but time to play….” Micah crooned the made-up song in a dark, sensual voice.
Micah flicked his wrist and gouged out more of his victim’s flesh. Nix jerked at the resonance, cursed his hatred of Micah and screamed his love for Mads as the damned jerked and cried along with him. Hard to believe Micah once was an angel as his silent orgy of successive whip strikes peeled away the epidermis of his prey like that of an apple skin, the soft, chewy insides soon to be exposed.
Biting back a fit of laughter over the analogy, Nix predicted insanity lingered on the fringe of reality. Lunacy would be a relief, a small, triumphant means of escape.
No wonder new demons were spawned each day. The soul couldn’t endure the constant grief.
Micah shifted to stand in front of Nix, his feet braced slightly apart, the cat-o’-nines dangling from his fingers at his side, blood dripping from the tails and leaving wet puddles on the skin-stitched floor. The King wore the appearance of Madison’s husband. Madison. Mads. Five years ago, Nix had given her the nickname because she’d fought like a madwoman against Micah.
“Your suffering is of your own making, Phoenix.” Micah dragged the crop across Nix’s cheek and he cringed at the warm blood tingling against his skin. “I encourage you to seek revenge with me, as my equal for our woman’s loss.”
“Zen will kill us both if we try.” Nix welcomed death, would embrace it if he could figure out a way to bring about his suicide.
“Wrong, Sherlock.” A swift twist and Micah threw his weight into the snap of the whip, scraping out another chunk of flesh. “The immortal son of a bitch couldn’t kill me as easily as he thought he could.” He chucked Nix beneath the chin with the flogger. “He cannot kill you. Father’s mandate.”
Nix knocked the crop aside with the back of his hand. “He has no clue I’m a heavenly relation.”
“The moment he sees you, he won’t be able to dismiss your identity.” He sniffed as if something stunk. “Since I indoctrinated you with your messianic magic, you reek of divine purity. It cannot be dismissed, even though I would rip it out of you if I could.”
They stared at one another, Nix uncertain if he should place any faith in the archangel that embraced being a demon.
“If you’ve forgotten how much Madison suffered at Zennyo Ryuo’s hands, I could remind you.” He tapped his fingers against Nix’s forehead.
“No.” Nix ground his teeth together. He couldn’t watch her die. Not again. Not ever again. Zen had been her friend, someone she trusted. How could he have betrayed her so callously? Recalling the way she accepted her demise…why had she submit to her death?
Nix shook his head to clear away the haunting questions. He imagined the warmth of sunshine on his skin and squeals of laughter from Mads’s and the King’s son, Amos, to clear the recollection of Mads’s screams from his mind. Her painful death only made him angrier, and that stole his logic. “If I agree to your plan of revenge, will I be required to torture souls?”
Angel eyes smoldered the color of brimstone flames for a brief moment, before dying back out to blue. “No. But I would encourage it. Your genetic inheritance will grow immensely from their pain, and we’ll be able to go after Zennyo Ryuo within half a year.” Micah dropped the crop at Nix’s feet. “I’ll teach you how to focus and use your powers just like I did when you granted life to Gage and Zoe.”
The mention of his cousin and his cousin’s girlfriend wedged a hard knot in his gut, a reminder of those for whom he’d forfeited his life. He would not regret his predicament when they lived because of his decision.
“It’s your choice how far you want to fall, Phoenix, because I only need your lineage to unlock a very special door.”
Already damned to an eternity of torment, what made him hold onto his humanity? Those who came to Hell were just as damned. So why continue to resist the inevitable? Why not let the darkness turn his soul black? What did he have to lose?
Nothing.
The love of his life was dead, his lineage forfeited to the whims of a fallen angel, and he resided in Hell. His situation couldn’t grow worse. But he could man up and avenge Mads’s death. He should do it with gusto, doing whatever it took, shying away from nothing.
“You know I love her?” A warning glare came from Beliel—Micah—for that bit of honesty. “And I know you love her.”
The demon didn’t deny the tender emotion, but folded his arms over his chest, and said in a cool voice, “My cross to bear.”
An odd kinship developed with the creature, their love of Mads a strange, dysfunctional bond. That kinship didn’t comfort him…but kind of did.
Using his toe, Micah nudged the whip toward Nix. “The question is how much do you love her?”
Nix ogled the torture device, the small apparatus nothing like the one he’d used on occasion with sexual play. How much did he love Mads? Nix would wager more than Micah did. And he would prove it. “I love her enough to become the monster you are.” Micah laughed, as Nix swiped up the crop and pushed to his feet. “Anything for Mads.” His stomach turned at the vocal commitment he issued to avenge her death.
“I like your attitude, Phoenix.” Micah nodded at the object clutched in Nix’s hand. “Do you plan to use the whip? Or do I resume?”
Nix glanced at the male victim. Yellow-sulfuric smoke puffed off his body, indicating he’d just been ripped from the wastelands where a soul burned in sulfur until called up for special treatment like the one he currently received.
Could he really do this? Did he have the stomach for it, much less the balls? His palms grew sweaty and the whip slipped in his grip. Stomach churning, it threatened to erupt his last meal. Mads wouldn’t want this for him.
Mads is dead.
No pressure came from Micah, just the intense scrutiny of anticipation. Nix closed his eyes and memories of Mads’s smiling face hit the back of his lids. I do this for you, baby, so I can kill the fucker that killed you. A promise he could keep if he just wielded the whip.
As he drew back his arm, he whispered, “Forgive me, Mads,” and snapped the whip for the first time against his first of many victims to come.
Demons cheered his fall and the merriment of Hell’s denizens disrupted Nix’s momentum. He doubled over as guilt impacted his stomach like a monstrous fist bent on destruction. Nix met Micah’s gaze. He expected to hear a cackle emerge from Beliel. Instead the archangel smiled, an expression of extreme contentment and victory. Pleasing the demon went against Nix’s nature, but the lull of revenge was too sweet to forfeit.
Nix steeled his spine. He repeated his new mantra. Anything for Mads. As he laid lash after lash against his victim—abhorring the tug and slide of the flesh against the whip—a vital piece of his soul died as his victim cried and pleaded for clemency.
Hell never granted mercy.
The condemned screamed for a long, long time beneath Nix’s tutelage, and he hated himself. Hated what he would become.
Chapter One
Four months after Nix’s descent into Hell
Chattanooga, Tennessee
“What the hell is going on, Zen?” Madison turned her computer around on the coffee table so the screen would face him. The headlines on Google News detailed the perplexing deaths of birds that fell from the sky, dead from internal trauma, and not a hailstorm anywhere in their flight path. Two days before fish had bellied up on the banks of the Mississippi River, leaving scientists baffled by the cause. “Are you sure Micah doesn’t have the power to do that?”
Petra walked up behind Zen and peered at the monitor over his shoulder. “Daddy’s power isn’t like that. I know of no demon that can create this type of havoc.”
Madison groaned her frustration and craned her head back against the cushions of the couch. Things had been wonky for over a month. A hundred thousand cats converged on a mall in the middle of the day in Arkansas, all of them hissing and growling at the customers before the felines keeled over dead from organ combustion. The news had captured the oddity on video and it’d been a huge WTF moment for them all.
Madison and her entourage, as Nix had once called them, investigated the bizarre occurrence and came up empty-handed. Nothing pinged hers or Petra’s supernatural radars, confirming demons weren’t involved, or both of them would’ve picked up on the distinct signature. Amos’s prophecies failed, giving no hint as to whom or what could be involved. Even Nix’s psychic aunt, Georgie, was confused.
Other weird stuff included world-wide seismic activity where fault lines didn’t exist. Old Faithful in Yellowstone National Forest geyser failed to blow on schedule, terrifying most of the nation into a panicked evacuation for fear the super-volcano beneath the park would erupt and wipe out half of the United States. A full moon appearing on a half-moon night had the doomsday zealots hysterical.
Zen’s declaration that the occurrences were biblical irritated Madison since it agreed with the doomsayers. The fanatics shouldn’t be fed. She couldn’t halt the progress of holy matters. There would be no point in saving Nix from Hell if the world was pitched on global annihilation anyway.
Zen proclaimed these occurrences weren’t part of God’s plan. When asked how he knew, he grew pensive and moody, cautioned her not to delve too deep and to trust him. She trusted him, but knowing he withheld something vital rankled, especially so when she preferred having all the facts.
“Are you just going to stare at that, Zen, or offer some comment? Dear God!” She jumped off the sofa and stalked across the room. No one had died from these catastrophes—at least not yet—but the very real fear that whatever controlled these anomalies would soon escalate to human victims, burned like acid in her belly.
“At least give us some idea of where to start looking.” Alessa, ever ready to help save Nix from Hell, turned the TV to Fox News. The newscaster speculated with a local bird expert on the likely possibilities of their deaths.
“I already told….” Zen bolted out of his seat and strode toward Madison.
She stopped her pacing and faced him. “What is it?”
“We gotta go.”
Zen’s hand touched her arm, and Madison didn’t even get the word ‘wait’ out before rainbow orbs–the visible proof of Zen’s teleportation—coalesced around her. Zen teleported Madison to the Gulf Coast. Its sandy white beaches were heavily populated with homes and beachgoers.
“I’m sorry, Madison.” Zen aligned his chest against her spine, clasped her wrists, and snatched her arms up, palms facing the ocean. “Focus on Pandora.”
“Wait! No!” Her stomach heaved violently, as she swallowed back the bile, panic surging hard. Tapping into the loathsome power contained in Pandora’s Box, when Madison could barely hold it in restraint, terrified her. “Let’s talk about this first, Zen.”
“No time. Do as I say or thousands will die.”
The urgency in his voice stifled any other questions or concerns. Madison dragged in a deep breath, shaking all over. Over the last four months Zen had been teaching her how to contain the foreign host, probably lending her a false sense of safety knowing he could restrain the entity if it took over. She slowly exhaled and attempted to manage Pandora’s magic, visualizing one bubble of power at a time bursting to the surface. But in the best-case scenario, that would be next to impossible without Zen’s assistance. Without his aid, she couldn’t be positive of her ability to contain Pandora. She figured she’d have a better chance of stopping a runaway train with dental floss.
Too slow. Zen’s telepathic voice touched hers, and he took control.
The rancid magic vibrated on her tongue like metal and dirt, twitched her nerve endings and surged through her. With a cry of pain, she went ramrod-straight and lost her muscle function as Zen finagled the mojo while holding her steady.
Aware of everything, but unable to direct anything, Madison put her faith in Zen as he whispered commands.
“Focus on the horizon. A tsunami approaches. I’ve balanced the power. I need you to throw another tsunami at it to halt it in the Gulf of Mexico.”
Or maybe he spoke in her head. She wasn’t certain, and she didn’t care. She nodded once and focused on grafting a tsunami wall in her mind. Nothing visible occurred, just the liquid presence of a magical tidal wave. She shoved her creation out over the sea and with a wobbly, untrained ghostly eye she followed its path across the span of water.
The two walls of water—one spectral, the other real—came together and exploded like a bomb. Beachgoers hit the sand and screamed as a visible geyser spewed upward toward the sky. Wind whipped her hair and saltwater sprayed her face as Zen cooed words she failed to recognize. For all her knack with tongues, she’d repeatedly failed to pick up his language.
“Excellent job, Madison. Now, pull it back.”
Madison cried as she wrestled with the force in her head. The entity didn’t want to be controlled, but desired freedom.
Madison, Pandora murmured, we work well together. We can make this work.
She shook her head against the alien voice. Zen would never approve!
Pandora latched onto that weakness. Keep just a smidge of me out. You never know when you’ll need my help.
“Don’t listen to her, Madison.”
“My head is going to split.” White exploded behind her eyes, wiping out her sight, a direct attack from Pandora. In a piercing buzz, her hearing went next.
Zen jerked her around in his arms, but she went down, thankful for the blackness that consumed her pain.
***
“My tsunami’s been attacked.” Nix stooped and submerged his hand in the warm sand. A moment later a bang louder than the breaking of the sound barrier vibrated the earth and a mile-high wall of water torpedoed into the air.
“Excellent job in any event, Phoenix.” The resonance of a smile put a growl in Micah’s voice, probably because Nix hadn’t flinched at killing innocent mortals.
Anything for Mads.
Sifting sand through his fisted palm, Nix tapped into his destroyed magic. The taste of the opposing force coated his mind and he looked up at Micah. “Mads?” He stood quickly and scanned both directions of the beach as people screamed and fled in chaos. “I feel Mads in the opposing energy.”
Micah glared at the disintegrating wall of water, his expression turning homicidal. “I know of one power capable of combating yours.” The sea misted his face and Mads’s presence grew stronger in his mind.
“Pandora’s Box.”
“But Mads….”
“The Box would’ve reverted to Zennyo Ryuo’s control upon her death. Pandora most likely still wears the scent of Madison’s soul.”
Nix shook his head. That explanation didn’t feel right. “I’m telling you, it’s her texture. Not Pandora.” He would recognize the difference.
“Madison’s dead, Phoenix. You’re mistaken.” He turned and opened a shimmery portal only the two of them could see. “Let’s regroup and—”
With a hand on Micah’s arm, Nix stopped his departure. A muscle in the King’s jaw throbbed, but Nix refused to back down. “I spent five years breathing her in, worshiping her, adoring her, wanting her. I learned everything about her, the small details, like how she bites her bottom lip when she’s nervous. The way her breath stutters when I kiss her. The small strangled sound she makes right before she climaxes.” Micah’s eyes widened before narrowing. “I know her scent. I know what she tastes like. Every power has a particular sensation to it.” Micah couldn’t discern between powers. They’d discovered that talent was unique to Nix. “I sampled Mads’s mojo when you came for me in the hotel room, both sides of it, her succubus”—it’d been muted—“and later mixed with Pandora. I’m telling you, she was distinctly wrapped up in that power just now.” Nix motioned to the ocean.
Micah’s forehead was gouged with lines as he contemplated the horizon. A moment later, the King’s fingers fisted in Nix’s cotton shirt and yanked him closer. “Madison and Amos are the two most important beings in this universe to me. I had to watch that goddamn immortal blast her with his magic while I could do nothing to save her. You cannot imagine how that feels.”
“Don’t I? I remember trying to save her from you more than once and failing every goddamn time.”
“She died, Phoenix,” Beliel said between clenched teeth. “I don’t wish to relive it.”
“If her life is covenanted to yours as you claimed, why aren’t you dead now? Or at the very least suffering? It’s been four months, Micah.” Nix gripped his demonic friend by the back of the neck. “Four months, and you’ve suffered no ill effect.” The King said nothing, just clasped Nix’s face between his hands as he went on. “I believe she lives. It won’t hurt to investigate. What do we have to lose? We’ve both already lost the most important woman in our lives. The worst that can happen is I’m wrong. The best, we regain her.”
“If she’s alive, I won’t share her.”
“You will share her, my friend.” If he didn’t, Nix would start a revolt in Hell to make the battle in Heaven which led to the angel’s fall look like a military standoff. “If Mads is alive, challenging Zen directly will draw her out.”
The King’s eyes ignited and his slow smile would’ve chilled a normal soul. Nix found comfort in it because he recognized it as a call to action. “You have a suggestion?”
“Yes.”
Micah ran his thumb over Nix’s bottom lip. “You might be the best demon I ever created.”
Nix grinned at the compliment.
Chapter Two
Madison blinked and groaned at the too-bright glare of the sun peeking through the curtains. The hammering in her head had her biting back vomit. At this rate, Zen’s stunts would kill her before she got a chance to save Nix.
“We’ve got problems.” The sound of Zen’s voice stabbed against her temple.
“No kidding,” she whispered, but the tempo sounded way too loud. “And please don’t yell.” Madison rolled onto her side and pulled the spare pillow over her head with a groan, muscles aching from the movement. If she didn’t know better, she’d conclude she’d taken on a recently launched NASA rocket and lost.
“I’m speaking normal.” He tugged the pillow off her head. “We must talk now.”
“My head is splitting open. Can’t it wait?”
“The world has already split open.”
How long had she been out? Shouldn’t she be dead if the world came apart? Shouldn’t they all be dead?
Her eyelids snapped open, and she stared at the immortal. Zen stood beside her bed, returning her scrutiny. No emotions touched his silver eyes or his features. His dark hair lay in disarray over his forehead.
“Split open how, Zen?”
“A sinkhole consumed part of a neighborhood in Birmingham, Alabama.” Madison pushed into a seated position and swallowed back a surge of bile the movement caused. “There is a home located at the center of the sinkhole, surrounded by a two-hundred-foot chasm.”
“Like a moat?”
“Yes. The house remains untouched. The residents were slaughtered. Outside, on the vinyl siding, written in the family’s blood was: ‘Catch us if you can, Zenny.’”
Madison felt the blood leave her face. Birmingham, Alabama…Nix’s last name and her home state. It had to be a coincidence. “Nix didn’t do that. He can’t. He wouldn’t.”
“He’s the only person ever brave enough to call me Zenny.”
She fought not to puke from the pounding in her head. This news didn’t help her upset stomach either. “Maybe Micah knows that and is baiting you.”
“I’m definitely being baited. Prepare yourself, Madison.” Unblinking, he sat beside her and the bed dipped.
“Prepare for what?”
“The sinkhole was supernatural in origin but not demonic.”
Madison leaned against the headboard and closed her eyes. Inside, her succubus prowled, needing sustenance. That’d grown common after each Pandora session. She hadn’t come right out and told Zen that her demon grew stronger after Micah’s last feeding in the hotel room, but she suspected he knew anyway. How could he not know when he spent so much time in her head wrangling Pandora under control?
“Nix doesn’t have supernatural powers, Zen. He couldn’t be involved.”
“Don’t delude yourself. The message implies involvement even if he cannot incite supernatural occurrences. And don’t forget Crow’s warning that he would fall in Hell.”
She opened her eyes. The supernatural creature Crow that’d visited her five years ago had prophesized a lot and none of it good. Crow had warned not only would Nix go to Hell, he’d become a willing participant of its vileness.
Zen had put off the mission into Hell for four months to give her a chance to control Pandora’s power. She’d seen the logic in it. Going into Hell with Pandora exploding uncontrollably from every fingertip—literally!—wouldn’t have been wise. Why did she suddenly find herself doubting Zen’s sincerity to help?
“Is this something you anticipated? And why you wanted me to wait before saving him?”
“No. I’m committed to your mission. You want to risk going into Hell and losing your soul, who am I to stop you? Pandora is a keg of dynamite in your system, but regardless of how lost your soul is, I still maintain power over it.” Which meant he could control her as well. “You received a phone call from Genovela Maxwell an hour ago.”
“Who is she?”
“She claimed to be a friend of Phoenix’s and a fellow Sherlock. She said she possessed information regarding Phoenix that could help you. I took the liberty of calling Georgie.”
“You called someone?”
“Cease your teasing.” A small grin tugged at his lips. “Amos dialed, I talked. Georgie verified Genovela’s identity, but couldn’t confirm if she retained relevant information on Phoenix. They go way back, something about Phoenix saving her from being possessed almost ten years ago.”
“How’d she get my number?”
“Same way Alessa did. Phoenix gave it to her before he went to Hell.”
Madison tucked her hair behind her ears. “What’d Amos say?”
“Says she’s legit, but he’s not picking up anything else.”
She nodded. A call out of the clear blue from anybody invited reservations. They remained one step ahead of Micah by trusting no one. “What do you think, Zen?”
“No idea. Anyone could be a trap at any given moment.” He held out a slip of paper. “This is her cell and where she’s suggested meeting in two days.” Madison accepted the note and read the location as he spoke. “Alessa met her twice, said Genovela is a bit rough around the edges, but she’s an active Sherlock.”
“Delta, Utah is about a day’s drive from here. Alessa and I’ll go meet her, see what’s up. You’re just a thought away if something goes wrong.” Lord knew the man could teleport almost as fast as she could send a mental scream for help.
Chapter Three
Micah returned to Hell with Phoenix, his entire world altered by four simple words: I believe she lives.
The conviction blazing from Phoenix’s green eyes almost convinced him, but hope, no matter how slim, might bury him if they discovered they were wrong. He couldn’t dismiss Phoenix’s point. When he married Madison, they’d covenanted their lives to one another, and it’d been signed in blood. Unaware of its demonic significance, she’d believed it a family tradition, but she’d participated of her own free will. They double-sealed the deal by ingesting one another’s blood in a marriage toast. Her death should’ve brought his. Simple as that. Yet, four months after her demise, he suffered no ill effects.
But I watched her die. So how could she still live?
He shook his head and shoved into Elias’s bedroom, where he entertained a succubus.
“Brother.” Elias licked a nipple. “Something on your mind or do you wish to join us?”
Micah and Elias were twins, the only time two angels emerged from the same divine substance. As the firstborn, Father had given Micah the angelic name Beliel. Elias’s angelic name was similar, but without the B…Eliel. At the prime of their angelhood, they’d been the fiercest archangels, more feared than the leader of Father’s current army.
“We need to talk. In private.” He glared at the succubus.
Elias nodded his dismissal of the succubus with a sigh, sat up, and brushed his dark hair off his forehead. “This better be good, Micah. I anticipated her screams as I fucked her.”
“Madison is alive.”
His brother’s hand arrested mid-air. “You’re sure?”
“No. Phoenix is confident, however.”
Elias grunted and rolled to his feet. “Your new prize possession gives you false hope, zkihtak.” Zkihtak meant brother in the royal dialect. “You should let me fuck your Jesus-toy sometime. I’ll teach him not to play mind games.”
“That would be Phoenix’s decision, not mine.” Micah figured it’d be a long time before Messiah’s heir gave Elias the privilege.
“Explain to me why Phoenix believes our princess lives?”
Micah told him everything, expressing even his fear of hoping too hard.
Elias clambered off the bed and yanked on a pair of leather pants. “His theory has merit. Phoenix has bizarre talent in distinguishing powers. If anyone could differentiate her signature from Pandora’s, he would be the one to know.”
Elias agreeing with Phoenix elevated his optimism. But even the smidge of hope caused his teeth to ache.
“He’s also correct in that you should be dead. Yet, you suffer nothing. Not even your powers are diminished.”
“We have a plan to attempt to flush her out.”
Elias chuckled. “She’ll love that. Wish I could be there when she sees both of your faces. Tell me, if she lives, how do you and Phoenix plan to approach your relationship with her?”
“We’ve not discussed it, but she’s my wife. I’ll be the one to determine the relationship.”
“Not giving Madison a choice was your mistake the first time around. Don’t make the same mistake twice, zkihtak.”
Chapter Four
“How long do you think you’ll be gone?” Petra lay sprawled on the sofa flipping through a fashion magazine.
“I don’t know. A few days maybe.” Madison shuffled through her overnight bag, verifying she had packed everything she needed.
“Why? You got a hot date?” Alessa focused all her attention on Petra. “Demon or foe? Oh, that’s right, demons are your foes.”
Petra glared at Alessa before turning back to her magazine and crossing one ankle over the other. Madison couldn’t pinpoint one specific reason—other than being a demon—why the demon rankled the other woman.
“You sure you don’t want me to join you?” Zen moved a chess piece and smirked at Amos. “Checkmate. Beating you is too easy.”
“You’re just a mental call and teleport away if we need you.” Madison palmed her shurikens, set them aside. Her blade and Taurus pistol rested inside the duffle bag, along with the few necessary articles of clothing.
Holy water. Check.
“You’re a cheater, Zen,” Amos grumbled, showing how big a poor loser he could be.
“I’m just that good.”
They began to reset the game, the high-pitched clacking of marble on marble ringing in the air.
Madison double-checked the clip to her pistol. Full. Her hellish sigil etched into the tip of each bullet would spray demonic guts everywhere and provide her victims a one-way ticket to Hell. She checked to make sure the safety was on before counting out five mags to go along with the weapon.
“Amos, you know what to do if something should happen, right?”
“Yes.” Amos executed his first move in the new chess game.
“Zen, if Micah should show up, you’ll get Amos to safety, right?”
“I know the plan, Madison.” Zen encroached on Amos’s queen. “I don’t forget anything. Ever. I did create the plan.” He placed his hands casually along the arms of the chair and cast a lazy glance in her direction.
Not that Micah would burst through the angel locks at the entrances and windows anyway.
Petra folded the magazine back and twisted a photo toward them. It showed a man surrounded by women ripping his clothes off, his dark hair a disheveled mess and bright red kiss marks all over his rather average, too-skinny features. Madison recognized the ad as one for a popular male body spray.
“Madison, do you think this cologne really drives women crazy enough to attack a man as unexciting as this one?” Her lips puckered as she contemplated the inconsistency of the ad.
“It’s advertisement, Petra. No cologne is going to drive a woman that crazy.”
“Hmm.” The demon cocked her head to the side, staring at the photo, her gaze cloudy with assessment. “I could drive a man that crazy,” she mused, a devilish gleam hitting her features.
Alessa rolled her eyes.
“But you won’t.” Madison flicked a sharp glance in the demon’s direction.
Petra shrugged and smacked her gum. “Don’t forget, Madison, that Genovela girl you’re going after is bonkers.” She made a twirling motion with her finger against her temple and popped a bubble. “Someone should protect you mortals from the psycho bitch.”
Madison zipped her bag and dragged in a choppy breath. “Your ilk drove her to it.”
“She’s weak-minded, or she wouldn’t be unbalanced.” Petra scratched a perfume swatch and sniffed it.
“A hundred demons possessed her. That’s extreme even for them. Jesus Christ”—Petra hissed at the word— “give the woman a break! I’d be nutty, too.” She hadn’t been possessed, and she skirted the fringe of sanity from all that’d occurred. “If she has valid information on Nix, that’s good enough for me.”
I gotta be a little crazy to go into Hell to save Nix. What a death wish to venture into the fiery realm.
Petra hooked her finger in the magazine. “Wonder what Daddy’s going to say when you show up in Hell with a human you own to save Phoenix.”
“I don’t care what Micah thinks.”
“Checkmate.” Zen’s word spoken to Amos summed up her sentiments exactly.
Petra’s eyes narrowed on Madison. FYI, it’s suicide to go into Hell to save Nix yourself. I thought that’s what your mortal sheep, Alessa, was for, leading her to the slaughter to save Nix for you.
Madison shook her head and responded telepathically, I wouldn’t expect a demon to understand.
Smacking her gum, her step-daughter peered at her. It’s doubtful you’ll come out of Hell alive, but you definitely won’t come out the same if you go in.
Madison shrugged and Petra’s lips parted in surprise.
I say we kill the demonic bitch, Petra, Pandora’s lucid thoughts surfaced. Kill her, dine on her blood and scatter her power across the world to wreak havoc on mankind.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped away from Micah’s daughter. Every day remained a struggle to contain the vile power of Pandora’s Box trapped beneath her skin. Sensing the dual emotions—Zen always did when they involved the ancient entity—he caught her hand and she met his gaze.
I’m fine, she spoke mentally. He nodded, released her hand, and returned his focus to the chess game.
This time she was fine. Next time she might not be able to control the vile thing inside her.
“You ready, Alessa?”
The horsewoman nodded as Madison anchored the knife Nix had given her into its sheath on her hip. The weapon made her feel closer to Nix. Four months had been too long to wait to save him. If she could burst into Hell tonight, she would, but just one misstep in their plan would spell disaster.
She couldn’t imagine the horrors Micah put Nix through and worried about the things he’d been forced to endure.
He’ll break. Crow said he would.
Instinct warned she needed to be there as soon as possible after Nix’s fall so his soul wouldn’t become completely blackened by the things he’d be compelled to do. She should worry about her own outcome in this mission, but that didn’t haunt her dreams. What gave her nightmares was wondering what Nix would be thinking when he agreed to give into the King’s whim.
Chapter Five
A soul came through the fire, a polite way of saying the person died, had been judged to have committed deeds so tarnished, they’d been found guilty and re-routed to the pit. Their transgressions could be many, or few. Nix’s belly swirled in anticipation of bringing about pain, but he managed to resist rubbing his hands together in glee. A new soul to train with his tender, unmerciful hands. Life in Hell was good. Better than he could have hoped or expected. None of his family would recognize him now…not that he could recall any of their names. They no longer mattered. Revenge against an immortal that murdered the woman he loved had become his sole focus.
Nix circled his new victim. Beth, a twenty-something dyed redhead, and a little on the chunky side, but cute. As a mortal, he’d have done her and bragged about the conquest.
Nothing’s stopping me from taking her here.
Yes, there is. Broken beyond any hope of future redemption? Probably. He’d embraced evil for revenge, and hadn’t regretted his decision. He’d killed many innocents to amp up his power and hadn’t regretted his actions. The innocent were particularly powerful. But that didn’t make him a rapist. Some morals remained untarnished.
But…why?
“Confess your sins and you can inherit the Kingdom of Heaven.” Nix slapped his palm with a flogger.
“Where am I?” Her voice quivered with terror as her wild-eyed gaze darted about the room.
“Don’t play dumb. You know where you are. Spill your transgressions, little girl, or….” He didn’t finish the sentence. He never did because the victim could fill in the blank so much worse than he could.
“I—I…um…stole a bra from Victoria’s Secret once.” She peered around the room and trembled.
Nix tsked his disappointment and stepped in front of her. He laced his hands behind his back. “You’ve got more.”
“No.” She shook her head hard, her too-bright red hair flying around her face. Black eyeliner and mascara streaked her cheeks.
He caught her chin with his hand and jerked her head back by her hair with his other hand. Their gazes clicked together, and he felt her shudder. In fear? Shit, he hoped so. He hoped to be lucky enough to terrify her into pissing and shitting her jeans.
Beth’s brown eyes flashed around the room. The floors were comprised of stitched-together flesh, the walls a combination of souls gyrating in random acts of lasciviousness and homicide, but her focus lingered where Micah stood in the shadows.
“I see your soul, Beth.” Lie. He could sense the stain of her sins, but not much else. “I know you’ve got more transgressions. If you don’t repent, you can’t join your grandma in the afterlife.” He didn’t even know if she had a grandma in the afterlife, but those words usually procured confessions.
“I kicked my dog.” Tears trickled down her cheeks and dried in salty lines, outlined by makeup.
Nix clucked his tongue. Kicking a dog wasn’t a damning offense.
“Undress.” Voice whiplash-hard, Micah stepped out of the shadows, and he strolled forward. “Secrets are not tolerated. Yours will be revealed, or I’ll take them from your flesh.”
“Where am I?” Her voice wavered.
“Phoenix already told you.”
No, he hadn’t, but the girl nodded her agreement anyway.
Micah crossed his arms over his chest. “Strip now, or I’ll send your soul straight to Hell for failure to obey on command.”
“I’m at judgment?” Her fingers trembled as she slowly began to remove her clothing.
Neither of them replied. Micah quirked his head to the side and watched her disrobe. Not the first time, a twinge of guilt socked Nix in the gut for what they did, what he’d been taught to do to the condemned. Their actions couldn’t be fair. Lying to those that came through the fire was sick and twisted. Cruel to give them hope of entering Heaven when only fire and brimstone awaited their eternity.
Micah forced them all to strip—male and female alike—and fed them all the same spiel about redemption. Confess all and they were promised the Kingdom of Heaven. If they came through the fire, then they’d already been judged and deemed unworthy to enter the Pearly Gates. Micah already knew their sins so having them come clean served no purpose other than as entertainment. Damning them after he’d promised paradise served as icing on the cake.
Micah was a sick motherfucker. And what’d that make him for going along with it? Sick-and-twisted motherfucker number two?
With a pained glance the girl stripped off her panties and stood before them cowering. Micah moved behind her and curled his hands around to the front, cupping a breast in one hand and wrapping his fingers around her throat with the other, pulling her flush against his chest.
A brief flash of memory surfaced from his former life. Madison’s panic when she’d scurried from the stock room after Micah choked her.
The same terror blazed from Beth now, her bottom lip trembling.
Micah rubbed his chin against the side of the girl’s head. “This is my final request for you to confess your sins.”
Intimidation always worked.
The girl began to sob, gasping and choking, and shuddering beneath her cries. “I smothered my ailing mother for her twenty-thousand-dollar life insurance policy.”
“What’d you do with the money?” Nix asked.
“Bought meth.”
Keeping a hand wrapped around her throat, Micah dragged his other hand down her stomach until it rested below her bellybutton.
“Continue.” His voice grew thick with what Nix recognized as desire.
“I gave birth to a baby five weeks early and—”
“Were you taking meth while you were pregnant?” Nix watched as Micah dragged his hellish fangs against her shoulder and shifted into his blue angel skin.
“Yes.” Beth quivered in the King’s arms. “I left her in a dumpster.” Tears hit her cheeks and dried. “It was sleeting. I saw on the news the next morning that she froze to death.”
“Why should I bow to monsters like you?” Micah’s grimace reflected his bitterness. “Why would Father ask it of us when your species is so undeserving?”
Nix beheld the King, who hated God for requiring them to serve mankind.
“Your sins are not forgiven,” Beliel rasped against her ear.
“Please—”
Demon claws sprang forth and punctured her abdomen. Beth gasped as her blood oozed over the fallen angel’s fingers and down between her thighs, hitting the skin-stitched floor. Each droplet of the liquid wrenched screams from the ground. Micah pulled his arm up, slowly gutting her like a deer. Beth screamed and the demon laughed as blood and intestines spilled forth. Micah shoved his hand into her chest and ripped her heart out. The organ still beat after being removed.
The King stepped away and her body thunked against the flooring. Only the soul remained standing, quivering in shock. The demon nudged her carcass with his foot, and she began to scream.
Micah lifted the heart. “Huklejtax jioq vkulh oj mifak.” Tarnished soul grant us power, he said, and took a bite of it. As he chewed, he held the remainder toward Nix. “Finish it.”
Aghast, Nix couldn’t tear his focus off the organ. All the horrors he’d committed, yet the idea of ingesting a human heart disgusted him.
“It’ll give you strength, Phoenix, to kill Zennyo Ryuo.”
He ripped his focus off the object in Micah’s hand. Their stares bolted on each another. Nix couldn’t have looked away if he tried. “What if Mads lives? What’s the point in revenge?”
“He still wields the power to kill her. He knows he cannot kill me, which means it’s unlikely he’ll hesitate to take her life next time we meet. We must protect our woman. The heart gives more power than any other organ. You’ll need to augment yours if you wish to help me defeat the immortal.”
Our woman? Had she ever been his? He didn’t think so, but she had responded to him eagerly, which meant she could be his someday.
Nix took the organ and it jerked in his hand, squirting blood from the ripped valves. He choked on bile and cringed at the squishiness of it.
“Consume it before its last beat.”
Anything for Mads.
“For Mads.” He toasted her husband with the heart and consumed it, gagging only once. He was proud he didn’t succumb to his mortal ew factor.
Chapter Six
Madison parked the car and surveyed the juke joint on the outskirts of Delta, Utah, not that Main Street could be considered a bustling metropolis. She’d seen less rundown establishments, but she schmoozed with the cesspool of creation, so who was she to complain about a little upkeep?
“You think they furnish handguns as you walk into this place?” Alessa scrunched her nose as she peered out the vehicle’s front window.
“No human is as frightening as a demon.”
Alessa snorted. “Spoken from the woman who issues one-word commands and demons bow to her whims. Seriously, Madison, you handle demons easier than cockroaches.”
Madison turned off the car and extracted the keys. “You’ve only seen me do that once and you know how big a fit Zen had.”
“If that was a fit, I have never seen the man have anything but one.”
She chuckled at Alessa’s sarcasm. “Believe me, he was extremely angry. It was all in his eyes.” And in her head, because he’d laid into her telepathically. “You ready to do this?”
“Yeah, why not. I figure Hell’s going to be worse than any backwoods honky-tonk can be.”
Alessa could say that again.
They stepped out of the Land Rover and Madison secured her pistol in the waistband of her jeans at the base of her spine. Blades secured to her ankles, she strapped shurikens to the outside of her thigh. She didn’t want anyone thinking they were two pretty chicks easily intimidated.
“You expecting trouble?” Alessa’s lopsided grin showcased her amusement.
“Aren’t I always?” She straightened, pocketed her keys, leaving the car unlocked in case they needed to make a hasty getaway.
“You have trust issues.” Alessa walked beside her. “Genovela is legit.”
“Maybe, but her call came from nowhere and right after Zen was baited. Coincidence?” Madison shrugged. “I hope. Being Nix’s friend doesn’t make her mine.”
They entered the bar. The outside presented disrepair, but the inside smelled like Pine-Sol. No cigarette smoke blanketed the air and the sense of ‘business’ rather than ‘good times’ permeated the establishment.
“Sherlock bar.” Madison noted at least twenty hunters present. Too many in one place irritated her skin. How many of them were aware of her identity, or just knew her name and sketchy background?
“How can you tell?” Alessa whispered.
“They have a distinct signature to their aura.”
Silence descended on one person at a time throughout. A scuffed-up bar situated to her left seated a dozen gawking Sherlocks.
“Alessa, you should know, there’s not a lot of love lost between me and them.”
She felt the other woman’s attention, but Madison kept her focus on the establishment’s clientele, who one by one turned in their seats to gape at them.
“Madison, they’re really hard to piss off. What’d you do?”
Madison snorted at Alessa’s naïveté. “I was born.” She glanced at Nix’s lover and sent her a teasing grin. “And I may have enthralled one…or two.”
“I always did prefer being the underdog,” Alessa quipped in a singsong voice.
Madison rolled her eyes and strode toward the bar. The bartender, a giant of a man, at least six-six with broad, lumberjack shoulders, scruffy cheeks and brown hair, watched them approach, as did everyone else. With a matching set of dark brown eyes, he surveyed them, hunter-like, a trait common among Sherlocks. Little would get past him.
“Two shots of your best tequila.”
Lumberjack glanced at the hundred-dollar bill she tossed on the bar. Cautious, he watched them as he reached for a bottle of José Cuervo Gold off the shelf. Far from the best as far as tequilas went, but she wasn’t surprised by the selection. A Sherlock bar wasn’t known for its pricey liquor.
“You’re not from these parts.”
Not a question, but a statement. Madison answered anyway. “Nope.”
Alessa grinned. “What was your first clue, sweet cheeks? Her accent or our pretty faces?”
“We have a sassy one tonight, gentlemen.” The barkeep joked to the men strung up at the counter like hecklers at a strip joint. Chuckling, he smacked two shot glasses down in front of them and poured tequila to the rim. “Keep your money. The first drink’s on the house.”
He winked at Alessa, but Madison left the cash on the bar.
“Thanks.” Madison turned sideways on the barstool facing Alessa so she could keep a watch on everyone, including the bartender, in her periphery. Putting the two Sherlocks on her other side, behind her, her senses twitched in protest at turning her back to danger. Something about most Sherlocks rubbed her the wrong way and these were no different. Her best guess, the demon inside her recognized them as enemies.
Beside her, Alessa leaned over the counter, giving the barman all her attention. “My name’s Alessandra.”
“Odd name.” Not a man of many words obviously.
“It’s Italian.” She sent him a saucy grin as she tipped the tequila to her lips.
Uncertain where Alessa was going with the conversation, Madison bit back a smile. She shook her black hair over her shoulders, and ran her fingers through the long tresses. Caught up in Alessa’s antics, Madison forgot to keep a watch on the Sherlocks.
Once Alessa had the barkeep’s undivided attention, she licked her lips and ogled the man up and down like she might a prime piece of steak. “You’re kind of cute, sweet cheeks.”
Madison’s eyebrows flashed upward. She’d never seen the other woman flirt with men, but in the four months she’d known her, Alessa had never needed to. Oh, yeah, she and Nix had more in common than Madison originally thought. Only Alessa could pull off calling a Sherlock sweet cheeks.
“Yeah?” The worker didn’t look as if he believed her, like maybe he waited on the bad punchline. He’d probably heard it all.
“Oh, yeah,” Alessa said in a throaty tone. “You know what they say about Italians?”
He poured her another shot. “What’s that, doll?”
“We are astounding lovers.”
Madison choked on laughter. ‘Sweet cheeks’ blushed. Imagine that, a lumberjack of a Sherlock going pink over such a comment. She decided to save him by getting straight to the point. “We’re here to see Genovela Maxwell.”
The bartender flicked her a ‘go away’ glare, as a lone male off in the right corner caught her attention. Nothing out of the ordinary, except he wouldn’t meet her eyes. Did he recognize her? Likely.
“Genovela is kind of expecting us, sweet cheeks.” Alessa downed her second shot and turned the glass upside down. Madison didn’t feel the need to touch hers. A clear head was required and she’d only ordered the tequila for appearances.
“I haven’t seen Genovela in weeks.” He straightened and poured himself a drink and toasted Alessa. “To Italian lovers.”
Oh, lawd!
“We have a mutual acquaintance. Nix Birmingham. You know him, right? He’s a Sherlock like the rest of you?” Dead silence answered her question. Madison watched a hunter exit the building, sending them a precautionary glance as he went out the door.
“No idea what you’re talking about, little lady.” He glanced at the patron next to Madison as he swigged more liquor. “Unless you’re talking about Sherlock Holmes.” A few snickers surfaced.
“He’s English. Bad lovers there.” Alessa winked. “I sure as hell wouldn’t take him with me to a bar fight.”
“Something’s wrong.” Madison swiveled around on her seat and glared at Lumberjack. “Genovela’s not here, is she?” Her best guess, she never had been, which meant they’d walked straight into an ambush.
She watched him for hints of subterfuge. Strike one: he didn’t even blink at her question. “Are you Madison Wescott?”
“This is a trap, Alessa. Let’s go.”
A beefy hand from her other side slammed a blade down on the bar. The burly fellow leaned toward her, beer breath hitting her face. “Madison Wescott, hmm? I have a good friend that’s a blubbering fool thanks to you.”
“Oh, shit.” Wide-eyed, Alessa gaped at their new, knife-wielding friend. “Dude, you’re asking for trouble.”
Madison peered at the weapon on the counter in front of her before turning to face the man. Grizzled jaw, red hair curled around the edges of a ratty baseball cap. He could’ve passed for any Southern country bumpkin she’d grown up with. She nodded toward the dagger. “That isn’t going to come close to stopping either of us from walking out the door. You’ll only end up hurt.”
A flash of fear hit his scruffy countenance before he manned up and smirked. He went to say something, but before he got out whatever he’d planned, another voice spoke.
“Leave them be, Billy.” Madison froze. “They’re here to see me and Madison would just hand you your ass anyway. That’d be embarrassing.”
She whipped around in time to witness Alessa launching herself against Nix with a squeal. Her excitement died as the devastation to his aura registered. Once gold and green-flecked, it was now interlaced with black zigzags. The stain of Hell couldn’t be dismissed.
He kissed the horsewoman and lifted her off the floor with a growly hug. “Good to see you, Lucky.”
She’d forgotten Nix called Alessa ‘Lucky’ because she’d been his lucky charm. Proof, Alessa could be the woman Georgie spoke about all those years ago, the woman Nix would one day claim as his girl. And watching them together, their affection came easy. The possibility unsettled her, but she’d seek Nix’s future happiness before her own.