Chapter 29 Archer
Chapter twenty-nine
Archer
The light was blinding, a flash so bright and pure that I would have thought it was the Holy Fire itself. As the pulse of light flared outward from the golden orb, it struck me square in the chest, sinking in and stealing my breath, nearly knocking me sideways.
As quickly as it came, it was gone again, leaving me panting as I fought to gather my wits.
The first thing I noticed was that we were no longer in the cemetery, the misty autumn afternoon in New England had been replaced with dry, parched air.
The damp grass beneath our feet was now just packed, gray ash and the soothing sound of the distant bay was now nothing but endless, echoing silence.
Turning in a slow circle, I could see nothing but gently rolling hills of ash and soot, dead trees with skeletal arms reaching to a sky filled with churning black clouds. The otherworldly light that always seemed to just exist with no real visible source was dim, everywhere and nowhere all at once.
There was a light breeze, but instead of being fresh, like the water off the Boston Harbor, it was rancid, with hints of decomposition and smoke that made me want to vomit.
I was home.
I knew it immediately, the familiar sensation of despair and hopelessness permeating down to my very bones.
But how in the fuck had we gotten here?
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I took a look around, trying to better gauge our surroundings. We were in Hell, obviously, but Hell was a very large place. There were any number of minor nobles who could be ruling this district, and not all of them were on good terms with the Brotherhood.
Shaking my head to help clear it, I noticed I still held Helena by the throat, her weight so light it was nearly inconsequential. But, rather than squalling and thrashing as she had been, she now hung limp, her face red and her eyes closed. She was breathing, but that was about it.
Weak.
For someone who thought she could take me on, it was pathetic how quickly her bravado had crumbled beneath my claws.
Grunting in disgust, I released her, ignoring the way her body thudded to the dusty ground, and instead looked for Delilah.
I found her not too far away, on her knees and crouched over what remained of the orb.
The weathervane had fractured, the orb cracked open like an egg, the pieces lying in the dirt.
Whatever magic had held them together was gone now, leaving behind only misshapen hunks of half-melted gold in the ash at Delilah’s feet.
Stalking toward her, I breathed out a sigh, my relief at seeing her alive palpable, and tucked the knife I still held into the waistband of what remained of my pants.
Delilah hunched forward as I approached, her body curling over the remains of the orb as though she was protecting it—protecting herself—from me.
“Go away,” she hissed, her body shaking beneath her filthy cloak.
“Are you alright, witch?” I asked urgently. I couldn’t see her, but I could hear the rapid beat of her heart, the way the air sawed raggedly in and out of her lungs.
And I could smell her blood where it trickled down her throat, causing a growl to build low in my chest.
“It’s mine! You’re just trying to take it from me.”
As her distress increased, so did her heart rate, the scent of iron and salt catching my attention as the blood continued to seep down her neck.
“She cut you,” I rasped, my anger palpable as I rested a hand on her shoulder, trying to turn her to face me. “Let me see it.”
“Leave me be!” she insisted, attempting to shake me off.
Her focus was on the thing laying in the ash before her, the relic that all this bullshit had started over.
From what I could see, it appeared to be a diamond, multifaceted and glimmering, it seemed to pulse soft inner light that beat like a heart.
The artifact that Asmodeus had sent me hunting for which I couldn’t give a single solitary fuck about, because my witch was bleeding and she wouldn’t let me help her.
“Delilah, just let me—” I coaxed, reaching over her shoulder to pluck the small diamond from the ground, but she swatted at my arm, hissing like a cat.
“I said it’s mine!”
“Alright,” I relented, the venom in her words surprising me. “It’s yours.”
“You can’t take it from me.”
I could, but not without hurting her, and for some ungodly reason, I was most reluctant to do that. Instead, I simply stepped back, trying to show her that I wasn’t a threat.
“Finally,” she breathed, her delicate fingers hovering over the diamond where it lay on the ground. “After all this time.”
When her fingers connected with the relic, she gasped, her whole body going stiff for a moment before she shuddered in relief. Letting out a sigh, Delilah shook her head, the rage and vitriol that had been pouring off of her a moment ago seeming to vanish in an instant.
It was as though all the fight had left her, and I wondered just how much influence the piece of the Fallen Key had been exuding on her.
“Please don’t take it,” she whispered dejectedly, sounding so very tired.
“I won’t take it, little witch, I just want to know if you’re alright.”
“I’m fine.”
She wasn’t. The blood running down her neck from where fucking Helena had cut her proved that, but it appeared to be slowing, so I let it go.
For now.
“Witch,” I growled, my words quiet in the strange silence that surrounded us. “Look at me.”
Delilah finally raised her head, and I could see the exact moment she registered what she was looking at.
Me, in my true demon form.
She started at my feet, no longer encased in the expensive loafers I’d been wearing.
Now, they looked animalistic, the thick tendons tracing down my ash-colored skin and ending in claws on each toe.
Looking higher, she caught sight of my claws, the darkened skin she was already familiar with now reaching nearly to my shoulder as the thick black nails gleamed in the low light.
Her eyes widened as she finally looked at my face, taking in the very obvious horns that now sprouted from my skull.
“You...you’re—”
“A demon,” I finished flatly, trying not to let her shock wound me. “You knew this already.”
“I—I know, I just never expected...” She trailed off, licking her lips and swallowing heavily as she continued to stare at me.
It took everything I had not to fidget under her gaze.
I hated that I didn’t know what she was thinking.
Was she disgusted by me? Did seeing my true form make her want to run screaming into the night?
Or was I imaging the way her pupils dilated and her heartbeat began to quicken?
Needing to know for certain, I stretched my wings, widening them behind me with a sharp snap.
“Fuck,” I groaned, the sensation foreign after so long earth-side. While I could access my demon form on the earthly plane, it wasn’t something I did often. It felt good to finally work those muscles again, and I arched my back, letting the feeling of having my wings free again fill me.
As I worked them, Delilah let out a soft gasp, her mouth popping open, and my gaze zeroed in on it.
I’d been thinking of almost nothing else since the kiss I’d stolen only hours earlier, my mind not ready to relinquish the memory of the taste of her plump lips against mine.
How had I become so fucked up over her in such a short time?
And what the fuck was I going to do when she rejected me?
“Archer,” Delilah breathed, but instead of the revulsion that I had expected, her words were filled with quiet awe. “You’re...beautiful.”
I froze, wings still wide, my mind not fully registering her words.
Beautiful? Was it possible? In all my years, in all my interactions with partners of differing genders—and several of different species, as well—I’d been described many ways, but I didn’t recall beautiful ever being one of them.
Rolling the word around in my mind, I found I liked it.
A lot. Especially coming from her.
Before I could reply, a noise from behind me drew our attention.
Helena had begun to stir, slowly climbing to her knees as she moaned in pain.
As I watched, she felt around the ash and dirt until she located her knife, then gripped it tightly as she stood, staring around wide-eyed at our new surroundings.
Turning to face me, she swallowed, her other hand coming up to rub her throat where I’d gripped her.
“What happened?” she croaked, voice ragged, one hand against her head as she narrowed her eyes. Before her, the knife wobbled in the air, her hand unsteady as she attempted to look threatening. “Where the hell are we, demon?”
“Hell, actually,” I drawled, arching an eyebrow. “Or as close to it as possible since the ways were closed. This is what you would call Purgatory.”
“No.” The terror on her face was potent. Turning to Delilah, Helena pointed one gnarled finger at her, the scar that stretched across her face causing her expression to twist asymmetrically, looking almost painful. “You did this. You’ve cursed us all.”
“What?” Delilah was as dumbfounded as I was. Standing, she clutched the relic against her chest, squinting at Helena in confusion. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You did. You brought us here!” Spinning in a circle, Helena staggered around, looking disoriented as she took in the bleak, barren surroundings. “The rumors are true. The balance must be restored. You’ve ruined everything and doomed us all!”
“What are you talking about, woman?” I snarled, my wings twitching with irritation. “Speak plainly.”
“Samhain approaches, and the Veil must be destroyed!” Helena raised the knife she still held, lips drawn back from her teeth in a grimace. “The Everwood Witch must belong to the Order!”