Chapter Eleven
Chapter
Eleven
Aurora didn’t have a chance to ask Hawkyn what he
meant by saying they were going to Hell. One moment they were baking like
oatmeal raisin cookies in her house, and the next they were standing on some
sort of raised platform in a place that resembled part of an ancient Greek
city.
She looked down at the round stone pad beneath their feet.
“How did you do this?”
“Angels can flash directly to or from this portal. Almost
everyone else arrives via a twin portal in the human realm.”
Okay, but where, exactly, were they? Lush, green grounds
stretched forever, dotted by fountains and forests, streams and paths. A
massive white building with doors that could allow entrance to a dinosaur was
flanked by smaller buildings, temples, and courtyards where people sparred or
practiced with weapons, and seated in a small amphitheater nearby, what
appeared to be a handful of bored-looking students were listening to a robed guy giving a lecture.
“This...this is Hell?”
“Sort of.”
How could someplace be “sort of” Hell? Was it like how his father was “sort of” evil?
Hawkyn squeezed her hand, pressing his palm against hers in just the right spot, and a current of energy sizzled
up her arm, astonishing in its intensity and made even more astonishing
by the fact that she could feel it spilling into the empty tank inside her that
held her power. Usually she had to make
an effort to absorb energy from people, and it was a slow, steady
charge; it never rushed in like water from a broken dam.
When he released her hand, her knees wobbled from the sudden
disconnection from his nuclear-grade fuel. He gave her a brief once-over that
wasn’t remotely sexual, but tingles followed wherever his gaze landed.
“You okay?” he asked.
No. Not at all. Touching an angel running on a full battery
took some getting used to.
“I’m fine. Just a little freaked out about being in Hell,
you know?” Holy shit. “This isn’t exactly what I expected.”
“That’s because this probably isn’t what you think it is.”
He nodded in the direction of a marble statue of two horned, hooved demons
fighting with a trident and a spear. “The demon realm is called Sheoul—it’s
what most people think of when they reference Hell. But Sheoul isn’t where evil
human souls go.” He made an encompassing gesture with his hand. “This is
Sheoul-gra, sort of a sub-realm that houses the true Hell, where the souls of
demons and evil humans are kept until they’re reincarnated.”
She looked around, but it was hard to believe this place was
full of malevolent souls. “I don’t understand. Where are the souls?”
He guided her down a stone path toward a blocky building
with a lot of glass-less windows. “They’re kept in the Inner Sanctum.”
“I see,” she said, even though she didn’t. “So why are we
here?”
“It’s where I live.”
She nearly tripped over her own feet. Angels lived in Hell? Since when? What was happening? Somehow she managed to not blurt any of that out, instead
keeping her cool the way her brother had always taught her and asking just one
tame question. There would be others later. Many
others.
“Why?” she asked. “Angels living in Hell is contrary to
everything I was ever taught.”
Not that she’d gone to church or anything, but seeing how
religion was everywhere, she’d managed to pick up a few things, and one
constant in all the various religions that mentioned angels was that they
resided in the other, less demon-y place.
As they walked through a grassy courtyard, he explained how
Memitim were raised by humans, taken from the human world as young adults, and
trained at various locations around the world, but that they could also come
here to live and train...because apparently, their father, the father of all
Memitim, ruled this realm.
As they approached a building Hawkyn called Hotel Hell,
panic frayed the edges of her control. She was in a strange place full of
strange beings, and she didn’t know nearly enough to be comfortable here in the
least. She needed more information before she went any further.
Planting her feet, she grabbed his arm and pulled him to a
stop. “Wait. I need more.”
He gazed down at her, his brow furrowed. “More what?”
“Information.”
“Such as?”
A bird flew by, a bird that looked a lot like a robin. But
hey, sure, if there were angels living in Hell, why not robins?
Aurora looked around, wondering if all the people milling
about were his brothers and sisters. “You said your father rules this realm?
Who is he?”
Please don’t say Satan. Please don’t say Satan. Please
don’t say Satan.
“His name is Azagoth,” he said, and she nearly giggled at
how foolish she’d been to think, even for a measly second, that a legendary
being as evil as Satan could father angels. “You probably know him as the Grim
Reaper.”
Her knees went wobbly again, but for a very different
reason. She stumbled, but in a blur of motion, Hawkyn caught her, steadying her
against his hard body.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I took too much blood.”
“No,” she said quickly. “No. This is just a lot to take in.
I mean, forty-eight hours ago I wasn’t even sure God was real, and now I’m in...in...Hell. With the Grim Reaper.”
“I get it.” He nodded in sympathy. “I thought I was human
until one of my Memitim brothers plucked me out of a bad situation and dropped
me inside a Belgian castle full of fellow angels.”
“And how did you take it when your world was turned
upside down?”
Winking, he gave her a panty-melter of a grin. “I passed out
cold.”
She laughed, doubting it was true but appreciating that he
was trying to make her comfortable in a freaky situation. But the reality caught up with her again when one of the demons
in the statue she’d seen a few minutes ago moved, curling its lips and
revealing another row of sharp six-inch teeth.
“Thank you for getting me away from Drayger,” she said,
keeping one eye on the creepy statue, “but I can’t stay here indefinitely. I
can stay at a hotel in Portland or in one of the guest rooms at the spa where I
work.” Her boss, Jenna, was always letting employees stay when they needed to,
so it most likely wouldn’t be a problem. Just an inconvenience.
“No, you can’t.” He waved at a group of people talking
around a picnic table. So normal. So weird. “Drayger is dangerous. He
can somehow track his victims anywhere in the world in hours, and until we find
out how, you can’t be anywhere he can easily get to you.”
“This is bullshit.” He’d started moving again, but she
refused to budge. None of this made sense, and if her life was going to be upended, she wanted to know why. “I shouldn’t have to run
from someone who should be in jail, and who would be in jail if I went
to the police. And you still haven’t explained why you’re protecting the bastard.”
He opened his mouth, and she could see it in his face. He
was going to spew more “It’s a long story” BS. No. Just no.
She jammed a finger into his sternum and got right up in his
face. On her tiptoes. Later she’d probably be horrified by her audacity in
going toe to toe with an angel, but in this moment,
for her own sanity, she needed to be in charge.
“I want to know what the deal is.” She poked hard. “Now.”
“You’re right.” Reaching up, he engulfed her hand in his. He
didn’t push her away. He just looked at her, almost with amusement. “I wasn’t
going to do this, but come on.”
He wheeled around and, keeping hold of her hand, which she
angled so he wouldn’t touch the spot near her index finger that would trigger a
download of his nuclear-grade energy, he led her through a side door of the
massive Greek manor. Once inside, he guided her through a shiny, modern kitchen
that could have belonged to an upscale restaurant.
“This kitchen serves my father and his mate, and all his
senior staff. There are more kitchens in the dorm buildings that serve Memitim
and Unfallen.”
“Unfallen?”
“Fallen angels who haven’t entered Sheoul,” he explained.
“When an angel loses his wings, he or she is dropped into the Earthly realm and
has two choices. They can enter Sheoul and complete their fall from grace in
trade for evil powers, or they can remain powerless and disgraced, but still
have a chance of redeeming themselves.” He pushed open a door
and they stepped into an elegant dining hall, its walls covered in tapestries
and art depicting scenes from eras all over the world. And underworld. “They
live here because it’s safe.”
“What do Unfallen angels have to fear?”
“Everything. Since they lose their angelic powers and don’t
have fallen angel powers either, they’re weak. Heavenly angels will kill them,
and fallen angels will drag them against their will into Sheoul, which turns
them evil. Demons have little use for them, either, and
they score a lot of bragging points by being able to say they killed an angel,
even if they’re just Unfallen.” He glanced at his watch. “We should still have
time...”
“Time for what? You were supposed to be telling me why
you’re protecting Drayger.”
He knocked on another door. “I’m enlisting help to do that.”
The door swung open, revealing a smaller room, cozy, with a
couple of sofas, overstuffed chairs, and a coffee table all arranged in a
circle. As they walked inside, two women looked up from the papers and colored
markers scattered on the tabletop.
“Hey, bro.” One of them gave a little wave and tucked a lock
of dark curls behind her ear. “Lilliana and I were just planning next week’s
menu. Any requests?”
“Yeah. How about that New York strip steak you make? The one
with the feta and caramelized onions.” He grinned at Aurora. “It’s awesome.”
His palm pressed lightly on her back. “Suzanne, Lilliana, this is Aurora. I have to summon someone from the embassy, and I was hoping
that while I’m doing that you could fill her in on...well...this.” He made a
gesture that she figured encompassed all the weirdness.
Lilliana seemed to understand, because she looked both