Page 32 of An Unexpected Ascension (A War Between Worlds #1)

The Demon

Briar’s voice was like a little pinch in the ass, waking me from a short-lived sleep. Only, when I open my eyes, she’s not next to me.

Fuck.

I curse the entire time it takes to don my clothes, already sprinting from the tent before I can slip my sword over my head and across my back. Her panicked voice sounds distant, but I follow after it, searching behind every tree.

It’s a long heartbeat before I find Briar and when I do, it’s a sight that coils my stomach.

Another beast of Hell, the Demon of Fear, looms over her kneeling body. Its claws pierce her skull drawing rivulets of blood to drip down her ashen face. My approach is slow as not to startle the demon into doing something rash, but with my advance I find Briar’s glowing green eyes now fading into the color of sea foam and her lips tinted a pale blue.

Unsheathing my sword, I step towards it.

“Leave her.”

My demand is met with a hollow hood, its talons retracting from Briar’s head. She falls, dropping to the ground, her body shaking.

Looking directly into the face of fear, I raise my weapon readying to tear into the creature, but something stops me. A silent whisper riding on a gust of frigid air. It speaks to me.

“She’s dying.”

My muscles tense as I glance at the angel writhing on the frosted ground.

“She can’t die,”

I say aloud as if having to remind myself.

Fixing my stance once more, that voice continues in a soft, frightening tone.

“With a heart as frail as hers, she will beg your God for mercy.”

The beast speaks in riddles, uttering nonsense. I glance at the angel who’s now thrashing against the forest floor as little currents of pain sear through her. I don’t know what he’s shown her, but in the time I’ve known Briar Fentonelli, she’s been nothing but fierce.

“You’re lying. Fix her.”

“There is nothing to fix. She must face her fears, or they shall overcome her.”

“What are you talking about?”

The hood of the demon ticks to the side in an unnatural movement. It assesses me behind the shadow of its cloak. I raise my sword uselessly, my limbs heavy with involuntary restraint.

It glides closer, the hem of black fabric sewn by death itself drags along the dirt. Its fingers outstretched, reaching for me. I at least have enough sense to back up a step.

“Your fear is alive.”

“I have no fears.”

“Your fear is breathing.”

“What the Hell are you saying?”

The demon sniffs the air, closing in on me. Its stench one of pungent terror.

“Your fear may very well become you too.”

“Fuck you.”

Before its claws can tear into me, I strike. Swiping my sword up and dragging it back down, rendering the beast in two.

Only, I miss.

No, I don’t miss because there is nothing to miss.

The demon bursts into a trillion small particles like a shadowed mist in the air, vanishing.

“Dammit!”

Sheathing my sword, I drop to my knees next to Briar’s spasming body. She’s cold to the touch, frozen even.

“Briar?”

I shake her, but she only whimpers.

There’s a growl in the distance, then another. Hell Hounds and by the sound of it, many. Sitting here, waiting for her to pull herself together will lure the beasts straight to us.

We are nearly half a day away from making it out of this forest, to turn back now would be a setback we can’t afford. But as I look down at the woman now cradled in my arms, I realize I don’t have a choice. To save Briar, I need Lucifer.

Not wasting another second, I blink us back to Lucifer’s manor. Time and space transform around us in a whirl of chaos before we’re righted again.

“Lucifer!”

My shout echoes down the hall from Briar’s room as I snap, igniting a fire in the hearth and laying the angel in bed. Layering blankets upon her, the pink in her lips gradually starts to return.

The God of Hell stands in the doorway, watching.

“What’s happened? Did you retrieve the Mortifier?”

“No,”

I growl.

“Didn’t get the chance. Briar’s been... infected.”

Striding towards us, he assesses her, then me. His brown eyes cloud with a million questions – one of which I will not answer truthfully. No, I have no truth for why my heart ceases in worry for a dead girl.

“With what?”

“Fear. Can you pull her out of it?”

Lucifer places his palm to her forehead. As if her skin is made of ice, he quickly withdraws, shaking his hand in shock.

“She’s nearly frozen,”

he murmurs.

Taking a deep breath, he cradles her face with both of his hands. Eyes closed, brows dipped in focus, a power surges through her. The aftershock pulses in waves off her body, quelling the quiver in her lips and the tremors wracking her body.

I suck in a breath of relief as I watch the flush work its way beneath her skin again and drag a finger down the side of her face, relishing the heat that emanates.

“Lynx.”

“I know.”

He doesn’t need to say it aloud. Doesn’t need to warn me that this girl will only break me to pieces and shatter my sanity. She’s everything I’ve always loathed, my sole purpose for wrathful revenge and it’s all ending with her. With a pretty smile and green eyes.

“Let her rest.”

Reluctantly, I listen, snuffing the fire. Hell is hot enough as it is and with her temperature already returning to normal – for the dead – there is no need for it. With a quiet resignation, I trail Lucifer to the war room, in desperate need of a drink.

Before I can plant myself in a chair at the lengthy metal table, Lucifer has a tumbler of that amber liquor sitting in front of me. I toss it back without so much as a single thought to chase it.

He stands there on the other side of the table, hands tucked into his pocket. His eyes say too much, more than I want to hear.

“What happened?”

“She fell into fear’s trap. Lured by a demon haunting the forest.”

“We’re running short of time, Lynx. Perhaps you make this journey alone.”

“I would, only she had a vision.”

Curiosity sparks his gaze, his shoulders pulling back and spine straightening.

“Oh?”

“Of the tree.”

“Do we know where the Mortifier is?”

“No, but I have a feeling we will once we find the tree.”

He rubs at the shadow coating his chin while his coffee eyes glimmer with thought.

“And to find the tree is to get through the Silva Timoris. Which she cannot do.”

I shake my head.

“We can’t risk running into the demon again. I... it cannot be maimed. I tried, but it turned into shadow, into nothing.”

Lucifer lowers himself into the chair opposite of me.

“Did it speak?”

“It did, but not from a mouth. It spoke inside my mind. Told me that there’s a chance Briar may not overcome her fear.”

The Devil nods.

“Except you’ve fixed her.”

“I merely fixed her body, not her mind. She must do that on her own.”

My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach. There’s no telling how long that will take.

“Lynx, you worry like I’ve never seen before. What words did the demon curse you with?”

“It does not matter. I hold no fears.”

He scoffs in disbelief.

“And this is what it said?”

“It uttered absolute nonsense.”

Lucifer’s eyes darken, a look of demand setting his face to stone. I sigh.

“It said my fears are alive, that they breathe, and they may become me.”

His fingers tap along the surface of the table as he contemplates the ramblings of a ghost.

“Maybe there is meaning, my friend. Perhaps it tells you you’re already living your fear.”

“I told you I have no fears.”

But even as I say it, I know it’s a lie.

So does my God.

“Then why worry so much? Why abandon your quest halfway through when time is short? For a woman you do not care for.”

“Are you inferring that my biggest fear is losing someone I hate the most?”

“That you don’t hate at all.”

My mind rolls. A deafening clink of glass against metal rings through the room as I slam my tumbler down, pushing myself to stand.

“Now settle a breath, Lynx. Sit down, hear me out.”

He waits until I oblige.

“To not hate that woman means to let go centuries of wrath, of a promise you made to yourself while grieving and mad with rage. To not hate her means that perhaps there’s a heart inside of you after all, that your soul isn’t as demented and empty as you wish it to be. That you feel as we all do, that you are capable of love. And to love means to risk everything. To lay your barricaded heart on the line free from its walls, free from safety. And to lose what you love most, that is your biggest fear.”

“I. Do. Not. Love. Her.”

The room begins to cave in, my vision tunneling.

I am sick of everyone around me pretending this useless thing in my chest beats out of anything but memory. This organ that’s plagued me for far too long remains as empty as I will it to.

“No, maybe not, but you do not hate her. At least admit to that.”

Nothing. Not a word slips free. I cannot allow it.

Lucifer leans back in his chair, wearily watching me, the wheels in my head spinning relentlessly. Back and forth, my thoughts warring.

I do not love the woman.

I cannot love the woman.

An endless chant I’ve repeated since the day I laid eyes on her.

“This conversation is over.”

The God of Hell does not stop me when I storm from the war room, enclosing myself in my own quarters. The bloody sun glows dimly this evening and though my stomach yearns for substance as if the pang was anything but a way of petty torment, I forego the meal lain out in the Great Hall.

Instead, I drop into the black velvet chair placed before the hearth in my room and watch a flame ignite with the snap of my fingers. It flickers, emanating a heat that licks at my clothed shins. Dancing merrily, freely, wildly with no care in the world that this is Hell.

My Hell, I realize.

Yes, this war inside my head between lusting after a Fentonelli and wanting to hate her has been my version of Hell. Lucifer was right.

I stay slumped in the chair, letting the fire roar and sway before my eyes, entrancing me into a blissful abyss. My thoughts so still that my eyes flutter shut, and I slip under a blanket of slumber that lasts an entire day.

A startling scream rips through the night, dragging me from the depths of sleep. Sweat coats my skin, the fire still blazing, the heat seeping into my body.

Rubbing the midnight sand from my eyes, I find the burgundy glow of the moon, a red so deep it’s nearly black. It casts shadows over my room as I snuff the flame from my hearth. In the distance, I can hear a faint wailing forcing me to my feet.

Shuffling down the hall toward the West Wing, still half dazed and groggy, the noise grows louder.

Barreling into her room, I find Briar kicking and punching at the air. Her skin slick with sweat and her blankets thrown to the floor.

“Briar?”

I try to wake her, coming to her side of the bed and grabbing her shoulders.

She doesn’t open her eyes.

“Come on, Angel. Wake up.” I groan.

Only she doesn’t. Instead, she whimpers at whatever horrors torment her inside her mind. Doing the only thing I can think of, I crawl into the bed beside her and pull her to me and cradle her in my arms.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. It’s all in your head. It’s not real.”

Though she doesn’t respond, her body sags against me as if my words cut through whatever nightmare she’s living.

“Perhaps I can borrow your powers to get to the tree,”

I suggest again, already knowing the answer.

The early morning brightness has now dulled into a crimson afternoon flood, reflecting in the metal table of the war room. Briar still lies sleeping, curled in a fetal position in her bed, trapped inside her own mind while Lucifer and I have been looking for another way to the Mortifier.

“You know that will leave me defenseless here. The last time you tried, it exhausted me for days.”

“Then I go alone. Can you at least get me through the forest?”

He searches my eyes for the answer as if it will pop out at him.

“Maybe.”

“What if we go through Heaven?”

Briar’s voice sounds behind me.

The femininity a stark contrast to the very purpose of this room. I push to my feet, spinning to face her. The angel’s eyes seem to have gathered their color back, though just a shade duller and the features on her face are just as bleak, but she stands.

“How do you mean?”

Lucifer questions with a curiosity that glints in those dark eyes of his.

“Hermes gets into Heaven with ease all the time. Hardly costs you any power, right?”

She waits for his shrug to continue.

“So, once there, we go to the Garden of Eden because the Tree of Knowledge is parallel to the Tree of Death. The energy it takes to descend on a straight downward path can’t be much.”

The Tree of Death.

Hardly clever, but... suitable.

“It’s worth a shot,” I agree.

“It’s risky as all Hell,”

Lucifer reminds us.

“Briar is no longer welcome in Heaven. If she’s caught, there will be trouble. It could ruin everything we’ve worked for.”

“Then we don’t get caught,”

I say as if it’s obvious.

“Maybe you do this alone, Lynx.”

“No. I’ll be careful. We won’t get caught,”

Briar objects.

“Look, I want to help. It took me a minute to see the bigger picture here, but now that I do, I can’t stand back and do nothing. We’re going to get the Mortifier, we’re bringing your wife home, and then we’re getting revenge.”

Lucifer’s mouth lifts in a slow smile, his gaze lighting with delight at the angel before us. In less than a full week, I’ve managed to turn a worshipper of God into the Devil’s soldier.

“And how do I know I can trust your intentions?”

Lucifer’s brows dip in subtle accusation.

“Because I finally know how I fit into this equation.”

Her eyes find mine and she holds my stare.

There’s an unspoken apology in her gaze and it’s taken me until this moment to realize, I don’t need it. I just need her – to fight this battle with us.

The Devil sighs in what seems like relief. As if it took all his effort to keep my past tucked away and hidden from her. I roll my eyes but knock my body against his in a brotherly gesture.

“Then, I guess, do not get caught.”