Chapter 4
It was another cold night, his breath creating little puffs of white with each exhale.
It was always cold here, in this city nestled far to the north.
Summer practically didn’t exist at all, really.
Two weeks of blistering hot before the cold began to set in again.
He’d seen it snow in August. August. This summer seemed to be even shorter, the nights already growing cold.
He rubbed his hands together, blowing into them as he walked alone down the street.
Just a show, of course; he could not feel the cold much at all right now.
Several dozen Diviners were scattered nearby–all his classmates and every teacher and guardian that lived at the Academy–hidden among the rooftops.
He could feel several pairs of eyes on him.
He sighed, hoping none of them were Leviathan, though he was sure from the lack of pressure and malice that they were only his classmates or his teachers.
This was the last time he would have to do this.
They’d promised him. If it worked, perfect. If not, they would stop using him as bait.
But it was mostly up to Cullen now.
He kept his hands tucked into his pockets, kept a steady stream of Heaven’s power–the thinnest layer of fire that wasn’t even visible to the naked eye– rolling off of his palms and up his arm.
There was a thin layer of it all over his body, blocking the cold from his skin.
Not that that would stop Leviathan, of course. It probably wouldn’t phase him at all.
But once he was close enough…once Cullen distracted him enough…that’s when he would strike with a short sword made of pure heavenly energy, made from his own strength of will. A trick only a few Diviners knew how to do. Even in the past it had been a rare and difficult technique to learn.
But he had been raised by a brilliant man, partially trained in these things already.
And Dom had spent the past few days training him even more intensely, night and day, until Cullen had finally been able to produce the blade shaped flame.
They’d practiced and practiced until he’d been able to do it fairly easily and now…
now they were out here. And Cullen was meant to be the one to end this.
Or at least to weaken him enough so that Dom and the others could finish the job.
And he could sense it in the air around him, in the little particles that brushed his face and tingled on his skin. Leviathan was here. Maybe not watching, not yet, not near enough for Cullen to feel the brush of his gaze like fingertips against his neck, but he was here.
So he was only a little surprised when the world went deadly silent, an intense wave of evil washing over him.
He stilled mid-step and turned to look down a new street.
Dark shadows curled across the ground, spreading out like the tentacles of some enormous sea monster.
He started to slide back a step, but quickly caught himself and stood still, his lips pressing into a thin line as the shadows approached.
The energy along his skin crackled and popped in silent bursts; he pressed his arms a little closer to his body, hoping Leviathan would not be able to sense the power radiating off of him.
The man grew from the pool of shadows, dressed in startlingly human clothes–a black button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and dark jeans with dark shoes–a mirage of shadows and evil. Cullen swallowed hard but held his ground as he approached, just as he had the other night.
“You’re pale, pet.” Leviathan murmured as he came to a stop a few feet away. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” He breathed, trying to keep his hands from trembling.
Fear. He wasn’t used to feeling such fear.
But the aura that rolled off of Leviathan was something else, something more intense than he had ever felt before.
A Prince of Hell. Evil incarnate… The energy wave covering his body wavered, threatening to fall, but he only clenched his hands into tight fists and met Leviathan’s onyx gaze.
“Good.” The demon smiled at him. “I have a present for you.”
He jolted at the words. “What?” This was new.
Leviathan smiled and stepped forward, his sweet, unidentifiable scent wafting over him as he neared.
Cullen gasped softly, terror and…something else tightening his chest. But he did not move as Leviathan reached to brush the hair from his face, did not flinch as his fingers ran along his cheekbone or when they brushed down over his shoulder and the top of his arm through his cloak.
He remained frozen as a statue, his heart pounding wildly and his breaths coming too quick, too shallow.
Leviathan smiled softly at him, as if he were a precious, unexpected treasure–and then his hand shot down to his wrist and flung Cullen’s hand out towards the nearby building–where at least half of his classmates had been hidden.
The energy he’d been collecting shot from his hand like a bolt of lightning–and smashed the building into pieces. Screams pierced the air and he felt his eyes pop wide in shock.
Cullen opened his mouth to say something–or maybe scream, he wasn’t sure–but Leviathan grabbed his throat in a tight grasp and stepped forward, shoving him into a pool of shadows.
Darkness swallowed him up and then he was falling…falling…he had the vague sense that he was traveling much farther than before, that he was being taken somewhere he did not want to be–
He landed hard on a patch of scraggly grass, Leviathan’s grasp on his throat loosening so he could fall to his knees.
He knelt there, his hand pressed to his throat as he coughed and sucked in air.
He’d been drowning in that darkness, with an iron grip locked on his windpipe, and terror had fully seeped into him by the time he looked up at the man standing in front of him.
Leviathan was smiling calmly, looking as if he had all the time in the world.
Though, as Cullen cast a terrified glance around, he realized that they were standing in the courtyard of the school, the buildings devoid of life–because everyone was down in the city below.
He opened his mouth with a gasp, terror bringing pleas to his lips.
But before he could get a word out, Leviathan spoke.
"I think we have a minute before they find us." He murmured, moving closer to him.
“L-let me go.” He choked out, scrambling away from him, his arms strangely weak and shaky. The fear had seeped into his muscles, his bones, leaving him feeling cold as ice.
The demon smiled. “But I haven’t given you your present, yet.”
"I don't want it!" He cried, springing to his feet. His knees wobbled as he stumbled backwards, his arm coming out at his side to call up the energy inside of him.
"I don't care." Leviathan said simply. When Cullen started to slide his foot back again, Leviathan let out a low snarl that made a shudder run down his spine. "Take one more step and I'll rip your leg off."
Cullen froze, his jaw clenching. He thought about calling for help, but he didn't want to piss Leviathan off. So many people had already died tonight because of him. Probably, anyway, with how that building had splintered and exploded in a burst of dust.
The demon hesitated for a few moments, looking thoughtful as he shifted from foot to foot. Almost as if he were…nervous.
“Did you know that demons can be made?” He asked finally.
Cullen jolted at the words.
Made? No, demons were fallen angels. Demons spawned from Hell and from the five princes that ruled it…didn’t they?
“We can create them.” Leviathan said softly, as if he’d heard his thoughts. “They come from our blood, our will.” He smiled and held up a black knife made of bone.
Cullen stared blankly at the blade, his blood turning to ice in his veins. He couldn’t possibly mean…
“I want to show you something first.” Leviathan murmured, stepping closer. He reached towards him; Cullen flinched, his mouth opening in a scream. But Leviathan had already brought his hand down on his head, sending him reeling into darkness again.
But this time the darkness passed quickly. And when he opened his eyes again he was somewhere else. Someone else. A bigger body, with more strength and fire in his veins than he had ever known before.
The sky above reeled with flame and smoke, heavy clouds swirling in dangerous eddies that promised deadly storms. Thunder cracked and when rain began to pour, it pelted them in fierce black streams that pierced his skin.
Nearby, a beautiful blonde man stood above him, his chin raised high and his golden eyes colder than any ice-coated night Cullen had ever seen.
Slowly, as Cullen watched from eyes that were not his, the man took this body’s arm–and snapped it.
The body let out a cry, but Cullen could not feel any pain. Not even when the beautiful man took a tight grip of the shard of bone sticking out of the body’s arm and pulled, yanking it out.
He watched in awe and horror as the man waved a slow hand over the blackened bone, morphing it into a thick blade. It glowed faintly as he lowered it, his other hand–covered in a thick layer of black ichor–reaching for this body’s good arm.
To his shock, the arm raised on its own, his palm coming up as an offering. The blonde man drew the knife across his palm. And then his own, his face calm as the blade sliced into him.
Low words in a language Cullen did not know were spoken, this body translating them instantly.
“Do you swear loyalty to Hell and to me?”
“I do.” His eyes widened when Leviathan’s voice came from this body he was inhabiting.
“Do you swear to never fall prey to heaven’s will again?”
“I do.”
“That is all I will ask of you through this bond. Welcome brother.”
The beautiful man brought the bleeding palm to his lips, kissing his hand gently before he drew away again, giving his own bleeding hand to the kneeling man.
The man–Leviathan–pressed his lips to his palm.
Black blood spilled into his mouth, burning like acid.
He gagged and winced, but raised his face calmly, his eyes meeting the beautiful man’s.
“No longer slaves of Heaven.” The man–his brother, the mind supplied–whispered to him. “None of us.”
“Never again.” He promised, rage flooding his chest.
The vision ended, leaving Cullen gasping, Leviathan’s hand sweeping his short hair back from his face as he gazed down at him with a gentle smile.
Cullen could still feel the phantom ache of the slice on his palm and the shredded arm.
Even the echo of rage. Rage towards heaven itself. It made him shudder in revulsion.
“This blade.” Leviathan purred. “Has magical properties. Bonuses for how it was created. For the power of fallen angels it was crafted with. It can turn you into a demon.”
No… No… This was so much worse than anything he had ever imagined Leviathan wanting him for.
“It will only take a moment.” Leviathan murmured, bringing the blade to his own wrist. It sliced through his skin effortlessly, spilling black blood that dropped to the ground–and burned dark patches into the dying grass. Cullen whimpered and fell back, his hands beginning to tremble.
“Hold still–”
Cullen began scrambling away from him, a scream building in his throat. "No… Get away from me. Dom!" He screamed. "Walker–"
"Shut up!" Leviathan snarled, looking irritated.
He darted forward faster than Cullen could react, grabbing him by the hair and lifting him to a kneeling position again.
Cullen froze in fear, his eyes going wide as Leviathan smiled again.
"Don't ruin this moment between us." His voice was soft now, persuasive.
"No!" He cried. "Please! I don't want this!" He felt some of his hair being ripped out of his head as he pulled at Leviathan's grip.
"Your darkest desire is to be with me, Cullen.
I know it is. This is the only way. Now.
" He yanked his head back, forcing him to look up at the sky–and the cut wrist that moved over him.
The blood splattered onto his face; he clamped his lips closed, shock and terror locking down his body.
"Open your mouth, Cullen." He commanded.
He shook his head, tears streaming down his face.
"Open!" He snarled, a deeper, nastier sound that made Cullen whimper in terror.
But he shook his head again, squeezing his eyes shut.
Leviathan let out a growl and slammed his foot down on Cullen's ankle, snapping it.
His mouth and eyes flew open as a scream tore from him.
Blood flooded his mouth instantly; he swallowed it on instinct and screamed again as it burned his throat.
He coughed and spit as Leviathan held him, not letting go of his hair.
He could feel the blood rush through his system, making his own blood run cold, his insides twist painfully, as if they were being torn apart and rearranged.
He cried out, sure he was either going to vomit or pass out from the pain.
He couldn't move, the poison making his joints lock up.
He could feel himself twitching, his eyes wide, still staring up at the gash on Leviathan's wrist, and the bright stars behind it.
The poison hit his brain, clouding his vision, and making his body arch backwards as it invaded his mind.
His fear for his friends, for himself, it all was replaced instantly with thoughts of death and disaster, rivers of blood and the crunch of bone under his foot.
He could see it all. Hear it all. Taste it all.
And then his vision cleared. He could see Leviathan's arm again, see the night sky beyond it. Leviathan's fist loosened in his hair, no longer gripping it, but running his fingers through it, pushing the wet strands off his face with gentle strokes.
Cullen gasped at the sight of his torn wrist, his stomach twisting again.
He heard Leviathan chuckle quietly. And then he lowered his wrist to Cullen's mouth.
He gasped again as the fresh blood pooled in, and then let out a vicious, inhuman growl, latching onto Leviathan's arm with his teeth, his hands wrapping around the appendage so that he could not pull away.
He moaned, drinking the blood greedily, and chewing on the soft skin of the arm, wincing when he felt his ankle shift and throb, mending in seconds. Leviathan let out a hiss of pain, but only squatted down beside him, continuing to let him chew on his flesh as he pet his hair.
"There now," he murmured. "Doesn't this feel much better than being human?"