Chapter 8
Isabelle
Every movie and book I’ve ever consumed has taught me not to go with a demon down a dark passageway leading to a basement. Technically, this “basement” is a dungeon, so I’m not positive the same rules apply. They feel like they should, though.
Except I’m going to be the woman everyone screams at not to go down.
Because the moment we walk back into the castle and down the hall, Oziel opens the intimidating red door, reminding me of the elusive and scary door from a supernatural horror film I watched years ago.
I have no choice but to follow behind him.
My curiosity has always gotten the best of me.
Even now, when I’m about to face a beast scarier than the demon king.
Oziel is an imposing force. His strength and power radiate off him in waves, nearly suffocating me with his energy.
I have not yet seen his cruelty firsthand, but I believe he is capable of horrific and heinous things.
His eyes carry the weight of his sins. They’re striking and alluring but also hold unspeakable evils.
“Take my hand, Miss Sinclair.” It’s not a request. Oziel grabs for my hand, and I’m tempted to pull it away from him, but his grip on me is ironclad.
I quickly become thankful for his presence as we descend the stairs.
Maybe it’s because I can’t see, but it feels like we move in different directions, and at times, it feels like there’s nothing underneath my feet at all.
That’s when I grip his hand tighter. Surely, he wouldn’t bring me here to kill me. He needs me.
Fuck, I’m not so certain about that anymore.
The air around us heats up, and sweat gathers at my brow. Low hisses and moans of agony drift around me, sounding both far away and right behind me. An acrid odor reaches my noise, and I cough, trying to block the smell out with my arm. It only gets stronger the farther we walk.
A soft glow of fire soon illuminates the path as we walk and the floor levels out.
The cries and screams are louder down here but still masked fairly well.
We’re standing in a large, open cavernous area with torches on the wall, illuminating it the moment we step inside.
A few guards are stationed outside a particular cell, and a familiar face greets us.
“My king.” Garvan raises a brow, the only indication that he’s surprised Oziel is here. Garvan glances at me and bows his head in silent greeting. He offers me a soft smile before turning back to his king. “Is something amiss?”
“What reason do you have to be here, Garvan?” Oziel ignores the other demon’s question in favor of his own.
“It appears we had another casualty to the curse. I was notified ten minutes ago.” Garvan steps aside.
I hadn’t noticed the statue behind him, mistaking it for part of the prison.
But now I can see the obvious features. Horns, smaller in size than both Oziel and Garvan’s, with a pinched expression on his face.
He had been reaching for the blade at his hip but didn’t quite make it before he turned to stone.
Oziel clenches his jaw, eyes blazing with silent hatred.
Hatred for what, though, I can’t be certain.
The curse or his inability to do anything about it.
No, that privilege was set aside for me.
I might be in way over my head here, but it’s too late to do anything about it.
This is better than jail, I remind myself.
But…is it really?
“Should I take him and place him with the others?” Garvan asks.
Oziel gives him a curt nod, but the demon king's attention is on me. “Step up to the cell,” he says, voice low.
My body stiffens. “Why?”
But a loud shriek erupts around us. The sound is high-pitched and feels like needles piercing my eardrums. The demons in the room drop, hands going up to cover their ears.
Even Oziel shrinks, gritting his teeth together.
The sound is painful for me, but unbearable to the demons.
They draw away from the gate, trying to put as much space between them as possible.
Someone shouts my name over the piercing sound, but I ignore it. Despite my better judgment, I step closer to the cage just like Oziel told me to do. Bright blue fire erupts around the cell, encasing the cage and providing enough light for me to see the monster that resides within.
My heart stops.
I scream.
Or I think I scream. The creature tilts its head, soulless sockets where its eyes should be staring back at me. The monster’s mouth is twisted up in pain and anger. Darkness surrounds it. Its massively tall yet slender body is forced to crouch low so its head doesn’t hit the ceiling.
The creature turns slightly, exposing its scarred, mangled back.
What look like two black bones the size of logs jut out of its back, with extra flesh hanging off them.
And…are those feathers? The mutilation on its back might have once been wings, but they are now a far cry from anything resembling that. Just shreds of what once was.
Sadness and pain radiate off the monster. Its screams get louder, but they change too. There’s a desperate plea in them. A need for someone to understand. Almost as…
Almost as if it is trying to communicate.
As soon as the thought forms, I find myself reaching out. “What are you?” My question is barely above a whisper, not loud enough for anyone—or anything—to hear.
Anguish and detestation coat my tongue like a vile poison. Pain shoots up my spine to my head, feeling like my brain is on the verge of exploding. Then a feeling of something slithering wraps itself around me like a snake, holding me in place.
“Nnnephilimmm.”
The word takes up space in my mind. One I’m unfamiliar with in a voice that isn’t my own. It's a deep sound, like multiple voices talking at once, hissing the word in my ear.
“Nnnephilimmm.”
Again. The same word. Nephilim. The word came up in the contract a few times, but I didn’t know what it was. My attention was elsewhere, on James. I cared for nothing but his blood painting the road and the life leaving his eyes.
If I knew these were the creatures…
I still would have done it. I don’t regret it. James deserved his ending. My only regret is that it wasn’t my sister—or hell, even Erin—who pulled the trigger.
“What do you want?” I think I ask the question out loud, but it could have easily been in my mind. Regardless, the pain in my head increases as the creature's answer forms in my head.
“Deathhh…to…allllll…for HIM.”
If I didn’t know better, I would think the Nephilim is laughing, using the fear and anguish around the room to feed some sick part of it.
The same fear threatens to drown me where I stand.
The world feels too much, too heavy. The poignant smell of death surrounds me, not just a few, but hundreds of bodies.
Blood pools around my feet, soaking into my shoes.
“Warrr…cominggg…”
These thoughts of blood and bodies aren’t my own.
They feel like a memory of the past…but not mine.
Clashes of swords strike against metal. There’s something I should understand.
Something more than what the Nephilim is saying.
In the distance, there’s someone perched upon the mountains, letting the chaos unfold before them.
In a trance, I move closer, needing to see who this mysterious person is. So familiar and yet different than anything I’ve ever seen before.
I don’t get a chance to see, though, because in the next second, there are arms around my waist, pulling me back against a solid body.
I scream.