Page 33 of An Unexpected Ascension (A War Between Worlds #1)

The Angel

“Inever thought I would see this cave again.”

I groan as we land on our feet.

A spell of dizziness brings me to my knees and my stomach threatens to purge itself at the quickest travels known to exist. All those colors – swirling and blending and twisting – oh Gods...

Luckily, I haven’t eaten since the other night, and nothing comes up.

A hand flattens on my back, rubbing in soothing circles and as good as it feels, I still have the urge to shake it off. Instead, I stand, steadying myself with Hermes’ help. His fingers linger on my elbow as he watches me wearily.

“What?”

I snap, dragging myself away from him and toward the edge of the fall.

“Just making sure you’re okay.”

“Fine. Just fine.”

“Yeah, seems like it,”

he mutters.

I narrow my eyes on him.

“And if I wasn’t, would you care?”

“I don’t need you to screw this up.”

There’s the demon I know. Quick to dismiss his feelings and eager to prove they don’t exist.

Despite the yearning for a much different answer, I ignore him. My mind is just too exhausted to detangle what it means to want something more.

“We should climb down the side. Diving will only bring attention,”

I tell him.

Before I can slip off onto the side of the cliff, he pulls me back and I nearly collide into him.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“What do you mean?”

That navy blue gaze settles on me, etched with an unwarranted concern. I try to avoid letting it heat me from the inside, that blundering cold still aching my bones, reminding me of the nightmares brought on by the Demon of Fear.

An inked hand cups the side of my face, and his thumb brushes my cheek.

I drop my gaze.

“I don’t know, Angel. I kind of thought we had a truce going on, but maybe I'm mistaken.”

His voice is soft, gentle. Unlike the one I keep hearing inside my head before that trigger?—

“I didn’t know you wanted a truce.”

He shrugs.

“I didn’t know I did either, but I was starting to like whatever was happening.”

I finally look back up at him, at the lines between his furrowed brows and the small frown marring his beautifully handsome face. I really hate how beautiful he is. How days can crawl by, and his trimmed scruff never grows out of place. He’s just permanently perfect.

“Hermes, are you admitting that you like me?”

I flash a teasing smile.

“I’ll admit that I like you enough to hate the way my name sounds on your tongue.”

I raise a brow in question.

“What else would I call you?”

“My real name.”

The smile I hold falters and my heart thuds a few beats faster.

“Why?”

“Because you said it yourself. To you, I’m not some soulless demon.”

“And what am I to you, then?”

“Right now? My partner in crime. Let’s go.”

I roll my eyes before my body stills as a firm kiss is placed in the center of my forehead. Confusion clusters behind that kiss, swarming inside my flustered mind, but I don’t dare question it right now.

For we have a truce; the demon and the angel.

This time, we descend on the opposite side of the cliff than we usually do, which will hide us from anyone coming from the way of the Market. One sight of the demon and angels usually run, minding their own business.

There’s only a small distance between the pool beneath the waterfall and the forest leading toward the Garden of Eden, but in that glaringly open land we are completely vulnerable.

Just as we reach the edge of the trees, I hear a voice from behind me. Spinning on instinct, I’m met with a familiar face from across the water. Fear rattles me inside out as Will’s features contort with confusion.

“Briar?”

“This isn’t real,”

I whisper to myself.

I turn back around, Lynx no longer in view, but his voice reaches me.

“It is and he saw you. He might not realize you left, but he’ll recognize me.”

With a subtle nod, I face Will again who’s now running along the edge of the pool.

Fuck.

“Jessie!”

His voice reverberates around the Falls.

Double fuck.

His sister appears wide eyed and stunned. He grabs the edge of her sleeve, and they race toward me. I have no choice but to meet them halfway.

“Will! Jessie!”

I shout back, feigning excitement.

The three of us reach the end of the pool where more green land turns to forest. Jessie pulls me into her, wrapping her arms around me. Wisps of her blonde hair catching in my open mouth.

“Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick!”

“Oh.”

I couldn’t think of how else to respond.

“Sister Mary has been asking about you. It’s so unlike you not to show up for the kids and we’ve stopped by a hundred times.”

Will eyes me wearily, studying me as if he can smell the rot from Hell on my clothes. My face nearly flushes with shame, only I know that isn’t true because shame doesn’t exist here.

“I...”

Pulling away from Jessie, I take them both in with my gaze and consider how much I tell them. Finally, I let loose a sigh.

“I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?”

Will urges softly.

“Did you know there’s a cave behind that waterfall?”

I nod behind me.

“There’s some type of magic in there or something. It’s incredible. I have free reign over my memories and feelings again. It’s almost as if it’s a blind spot that the Gods don’t know about.”

“What?”

Jessie’s face drops.

Will’s brown eyes hold a cautious curiosity.

“I guess I’ve been holed up for a while without realizing it. I-I'm so sorry I scared you guys!”

I force a small laugh, carefully crafting my words to avoid any lies.

“A cave?”

Will presses.

I nod, offering a friendly smile.

“Look, I should really probably catch up with Sister Mary. I didn’t realize I was gone for that long, but you guys should check it out.”

“Wait! We haven’t seen you in weeks and you’re already leaving?”

Jessie whines.

I continue walking backwards, still facing them.

“We’ll catch up in a little bit.”

“Briar.”

My name cuts from Will’s tongue like a demand.

“The orphanage is that way.”

He points behind him, in the opposite direction I’m heading. There’s an uncertainty clouding him, a distrust in the wrinkles near his eyes as I laugh it off and rush past them. Toward the Market and away from Lynx.

Fuck.

With each step through the forest toward a bustling market where I’m sure to be noticed, my heart pounds. Panic lances through me as my mind reels, desperate for a plan.

I chance a glance behind me and through the thicket of the woods, I can see Jessie and Will climbing the side of the cliff. With their attention elsewhere, I take a sharp left and start heading back toward the demon.

A hand wrapping around my mouth startles me, but the tattoos adorning the skin give him away. Lynx presses his body into my back, warming me in places Heaven wouldn’t approve of.

“You gave away our hiding spot,”

he whispers.

I wretch his hand from my face.

“Didn’t really have much of choice now, did I? This should buy us some time.”

“Smart.”

He chuckles, then pulls me along toward the garden.

With a quick pace, we trail through the forest just slightly off path to avoid any more run-ins. If anxiety didn’t claw through my chest and up my throat at getting caught, I would slow down and take in the beauty of these landscapes one last time. Hell just isn’t as pretty.

“It’s not the same,” I mutter.

“What’s not?”

“Heaven? Me?”

I rub at the pain searing my chest.

“I-I thought I’d be safe here.”

Lynx pauses a step, gently grabbing my elbow.

“Why would you think that? We warned you, you’re not welcome here anymore. Give it time and that run-in will cost us.”

I shake my head.

“I know. I didn’t mean it in that sense. I just meant I thought my heart would be safe again. I thought I’d feel dull and numb like I always did before, but it still hurts.”

“What hurts?”

Concern etches between his furrowed brows.

“Whatever happened in that forest.”

He nods, squinting into the distance.

“What did happen?”

“It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been real.”

“No, it probably wasn’t, but your fears are real.”

He drops my elbow, allowing us to keep moving. The more I think about it, the worse I start to feel. The horrible images replaying in my mind on some kind of loop. I’m awake and yet, I’m still having nightmares.

My feet freeze, halting me where I stand as I clutch my chest. My heart, my lungs, they hurt so bad. The pain intensifies as fear’s projections steal my mind.

“Briar?”

I double over, it’s so vivid and real and not at all diluted like they should be. I thought it was over when I woke this afternoon, but the infection lingers and multiplies. As if it only needed a little encouragement to latch on and spread again. My heart pulsates at an unnatural speed, and my vision goes red.

“Bean.”

The name slips from my lips on a wave of a sob.

Time is against us here, but Lynx still drops beside me and pulls my body to him. I don’t want his comfort, fight it even, yet he gives it anyway. He rocks me, combing back fallen strands of my dark hair.

“Talk to me,” he urges.

“He killed her.”

“Who? Tell me, Briar.”

“It’s not real.”

“No, it’s not. We are, though. We’re real. We’re in a forest in Heaven.”

“It feels so real.”

I clutch my chest again, my fingers scraping against the skin beneath my tank top, digging to rip out my aching heart.

Lynx’s hand threads through mine, fisting my fingers with his.

“He was supposed to kill me, but he killed her instead.”

“Who?”

“My daughter.”

Lynx stills beneath me for only a moment before he begins rocking us again. It feels so fresh like it just happened. Like my hands are still wet with her blood and my heart is still shattered to pieces.

“Briar, you don’t have a daughter. You told me yourself. It’s just a delusion.”

I shake my head, the thought of not having a daughter is almost as painful as losing her.

“It’s the fear taking hold of you again. You need to shake it.”

“I can’t,”

I whisper, clenching my eyes shut.

Lynx clears his throat before he speaks, his first couple words stumbling out in a choppy breath.

“When I was young, maybe twelve or so, I took Mercy out into the town for her eighth birthday. It was the first year we celebrated because that summer I picked up odd jobs at our neighbor's farm to earn a little extra money I could save without my father knowing. The neighbor man was happy to oblige, seeing as his wife was withering from old age and his sons hardly visited anymore.

“Anyway, she thought we were just going on a stroll to the old sweet shop. The store owner always treated the kids on their birthday with a saltwater taffy. It was the thing she looked forward to the most.

“And we did end up there, but only after I surprised her by bringing her to the town's market. There was a stand I passed by a few days prior and found the most perfect doll clad in a dress just like the one I knew Mercy would wear on her birthday. She had it singled out in her closet for days.”

He chuckles to himself.

“When we approached, I could see the longing in her face. It was all I needed before I handed over my entire savings. At first, she rejected the doll. Told me I couldn’t buy it for her, that it was too much money, but then I pulled the big brother card.

“The smile on her face was priceless when we walked away, the doll cradled in her arms. She named her after our mother who died to give my sister life. It nearly broke me, my sister naming this gift after a mother she never knew. Yet, it was a blessing all the same.”

I inhale a deep breath, straightening out in his arms.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Just wanted to share one of my happiest memories with you.”

I study him as I sit in his lap, his arms curled around me.

“Did it help?”

I nod, taking inventory of my body and mind. My heart has slowed to a steady rhythm, the pain now manageable and Lynx’s story, his vulnerability, has dragged me out of my own head and centered me.

“Yeah. It did. Thanks.”

His eyes dart to my lips, stirring a frenzy in my lower belly and forcing me to my feet. He follows, pushing to his as well and we both try to ignore how weird this truce is.

As we reach the edge of the forest without any more mental breakdowns, the garden comes into view. The only problem is, we no longer have the protection of the lush trees to hide us.

“You really loved your sister,”

I state as we cautiously approach the arched entryway.

“I did. More than anything.”

My heart sinks.

“I’m sorry.”

He nods, acknowledging my apology with a sadness in his eyes.

With ease, we reach the Tree of Knowledge.

“Let’s do this,”

he says, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me into him.

With that swirling flash, we’re free falling into time and space, spiraling at a nauseating pace. With a thud, our boots drop onto a terrain of grey dust.

My head lifts and before me looms the Tree of Death in all its horrific glory. It’s just as awful as I remember. Snow catches on my lashes, only it lacks it’s obvious cold. Holding my hand out, I collect a flake and smear it between my fingers.

Ashes.

Ashes of burning bodies perpetually falling, death never stilling.

A breath whooshes out of Lynx as he takes it all in. The skeletal body, the roots spearing through its lower half and shooting straight from its unnaturally pried open jaw. The demented branches twist and hiss with malice, up and out as if it yearns to overtake Hell. Its arms reach towards the death that snows upon it, soaking it all in as if it’s the very essence of what gives it life.

There’s not a single sound to be heard for miles, the air sucked out of here replaced with foreboding doom.

It’s a warning.

A threat.

This tree.

Lynx’s voice is muffled, blanketed by the malevolence that simmers from the unholy structure, his words never reaching me and though physical sound is dampened, I can hear it. I can hear the tree talk to me.

It hisses.

“Young one filled with light who wallows in darkness, you may place a hand against my own. For you are deemed worthy of my secrets.”

“Briar?”

I barely make out my name as Lynx shouts it again and again.

I trek over bone jutting like roots from a tree and come upon the skeleton. Though it’s nearly twice my size, I can still reach its hands pressed together in prayer. With my own, I grab hold of the frigid cold bone, and my vision goes black.

It’s a graveyard.

A beautiful, serene graveyard. Grassy hills ripe with luscious vibrant green grass, not a soul to be found.

There’s an overwhelming sense that this is a glimpse of what’s waiting for us all.

The quiet world so at odds with how I came to know it.

The market lies empty, stands abandoned. An array of different fabric sits lifeless, still, that ever-present breeze stifled as if the Gods ceased all effort at keeping Heaven afloat. It’s a forgotten world, empty... desecrated.

The kids!

Running up the stairs in the orphanage, I already know. The usual busy chatter, crying, squealing, it’s all gone. Silence bleeds down the hallway. As I stand at the top of the steps, I glare at the stain-glassed God peering down at me. He’s taunting me with that shimmering light, reflecting so beautifully with all those colors along the wooden floors.

With each step, every silent room I pass, my heart grows heavier.

Behind every door, nothing.

They’re all gone. Every saint, every angel, every friend, child, loved one. Gone.

With a brutal yank, I’m flung backwards, falling into an abyss. The drop never seems to end, until it does and I’m tumbling to a stone ground.

Mom?

She’s here! My mother!

“Mom!”

I call again, but she can’t hear me.

It’s another moment in time where I don’t exist, just forced to watch.

She stands, arms heavy at her sides, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. Her thin mouth is pulled into a grimace. She looks so bleak, like she did when she died.

I take account of the room. I’ve seen it before, this stone tower, and around us sits four thrones – one for each God. It’s the deity with the white gown draped across his body adorned in gold accents. The magnificent crown glitters atop his head, highlighting the dark tan of his skin.

Achaz.

He’s just as breathtaking as he was when I first saw him, but I can never get used to the way his kind features contrast so largely with his arrogance. That soft look in his hazel eyes is all a lie. It’s a lure to calm the souls that sit in front of him before he?—

Shit!

“Gyllian Gayle Sanderson. Over forty years of devotion and yet, on the brink of death you throw it all away.”

There’s a sick amusement in the God’s tone, matching that slow creeping smile.

My mother’s head drops, her gaze finding an invisible spot on the pristine floor. A small tuff of her grey hair blows in the breeze, but she doesn’t so much as lift a finger to fix it.

“Mom?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Do you know what happens to the souls that forget their Gods?”

His fingers drum along the golden arm of his throne in wait.

“Forgive me, my God. My last few years on Earth were hard. I?—”

“Yes, well we have been known to be... forgiving. Haven’t we, brothers?”

Achaz looks to the other Gods.

Kao grunts his displeasure.

Amadeus averts his gaze, narrowly catching mine as if he could see my love like a physical thing stretching between my mother and me.

And Garroway... he only smirks. That wretched God of Mayhem.

“I-I’m not made for Hell, my God. Please, I beg of you?—”

He waves her off, dismissing her pleas like he’s heard this a million times.

“No, no, my dear child. You don’t deserve Hell.”

That horrible, conniving smirk appears again. Trickery entwined with each word he gives her. I know what’s coming, and the look of the other Gods’ faces confirms it.

“Mom, no.”

A tear slips from my lower lash, splashing against my cheek. I reach for her and within the same moment my fingertips find her shoulder, she’s gone.

Ashes in the wind.

Disintegrated into thin air.

Nothing.

I drop to my knees in shock. Particles of my own mother rain down on me, coating my hair and shoulders in a thick dust.

All those days of searching for her, calling her name, they were useless because she doesn’t exist. She was never in Heaven, and I was never going to see her again.

These Gods! These horrible, wretched, unjust Gods!

A cluster of raging hate builds deep in my gut, rolling and rolling, growing at an unstoppable rate that I can’t seem to hold it in any longer. They can’t hear me, they can’t see me, but it doesn’t keep me from screaming until my lungs burn with a fire from the deepest parts of Hell. With each molecule of breath expelled is a promise for their demise.

Upon opening my clenched eyes, I find myself alive again.

“Stop, please! Ben!”

I stand there in my own living room watching as the sound of bone hitting bone deafens me. My face whips to the side, his fist colliding with my cheek. I drop to the floor, curling in on myself and staring back at me is the same man from my nightmare.

This can’t be real. He wasn’t real.

But this isn’t a dream, these are memories and this one in particular is mine.

“Give me your phone.”

“Please, Ben. I promise, I was just?—”

“Give it to me!”

He screams, pulling me up by the collar of my shirt to meet him face to face. A face that’s red, veins pulsing, muscles tensing. It’s so much like the nightmare that it frightens me. Only, I know that wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been.

I slip my phone from the back pocket of my jeans, handing it over with a trembling hand.

Snatching it, he unlocks it with the passcode he’s forced me to share and scrolls through all my messages.

“You deleted them.”

“Deleted what? What are you even looking for?”

“I know you’re sleeping around on me, you whore. Where were you today when you were supposed to be at work?”

With his attention glued to my phone, I retreat toward my bedroom, subtly trying to put space between us. Only, it’s no use, he follows, his presence looming over me like a dangerous tidal wave, ready to sweep me under.

“I’m not sleeping around! I was at the doctor's office, you asshole!”

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

Rage roils inside those insidious black eyes. I’ve only once ever cursed him, and it ended with a swollen eye and a broken nose. I didn’t mean for it to slip, but?—

His fingers curl around my neck, pinning me against the hallway wall.

“Lies!”

I claw at his hand, yanking, pulling, scratching my way to freedom, but my throat still closes. Air becomes scarce and little dots blind my vision.

“I-I—”

sucking in an obstructed breath, I choke out what I can.

“preg-pregnant.”

I look down at myself, my hand rubbing my lower belly.

There’s no way. I didn’t have a child. I know I didn’t. My nightmare... it wasn’t real.

His fingers loosen just the slightest, enough for a small reprieve. My feet finally find the floor again and I watch him wearily, wondering if he heard me.

“What?”

“I’m pregnant.”

His chest expands on an inhale, then deflates. I watch his nostrils flare, his dark eyes trail down my body, thinking... processing.

That thick hand falls to his side, his body slackening. Too afraid to say another word, I let him reel in his own thoughts. Instinctively, I hold my stomach, protecting the little life forming within me.

Then he's gone. Disappears into his office.

With him on the opposite side of the apartment, I rush to my room and grab a suitcase off the top shelf of my closet.

“We’re going to get out of here, Bean. I’m going to keep you safe,”

I murmur, willing it to be the truth.

Bean.

My heart gallops inside my chest as I watch myself in a panic.

“Get out of there,” I urge.

There’s no telling what Ben will do next, so I run frantically around the house packing toiletries, clothes, my secret stash of cash hidden in a book carved out and stored beneath my nightstand.

My heart races and nausea swashes in my stomach as I zip my bag, squashing it down to close it completely. Sweat coats my forehead. Time ticks by minute after minute, but I’m nearly free.

Just as I lift my bag, the door swings open, slamming against the wall. Fear slithers down my spine, crawling inside my veins. I can feel my heartbeat in my throat, choking me just as Ben’s fingers did moments ago.

“What are you doing?”

His voice seems calm, eerily so. I turn, facing him in my doorway, trying to anticipate what will happen next.

Words escape me.

“Are you leaving me?”

I stare at him, unable to form a sentence.

“After everything I’ve done for you? I let you live here, fed you, helped you find a job, and this is how you repay me? You run off with my child?”

“It’s charity.”

I swallow the lie.

“We’ll need to make space for the baby.”

He stalks forward, rips the bag from my hands and tears it open causing the zipper to break loose. The contents tumble out, scattering across the floor. Leaning down, he lifts my toothbrush to my face.

“You’re a fucking liar.”

No, no, no!

Standing, he reaches behind him and reveals a pistol. The black metal glints under the florescent ceiling light, taunting me.

He cocks it.

Devil, save me! Run!

The sound rings inside my ears like alarm bells. It’s here that I die. It’s here that we both die, my bean and me.

Tears drench my cheeks, and my hand cradles my belly as if I have any chance at protecting my child when I so glaringly can’t even protect myself.

“Please, Ben. Don’t?—”

A bright, white light flashes before my eyes and then... nothing.

I clutch at my chest expecting to find blood, the similarities between my nightmare and my death too close. Except, it wasn’t just my daughter that died, I did too this time.

We never made it that far, not to celebrate her seventh birthday. There was no cake, no sweet, innocent smiles. There was nothing in between these two moments with her and yet, I felt I knew her as a mother knows her child.

Pain grabs a hold of every piece of me. My blood heats uncomfortably and my veins burn fiercely. My aching heart breaks, shatters until it’s just dust – irreparable.

I just want to lie here, underneath this Tree of Death. Lie in the ashes of all my loved ones. I want to be the particles that drift down onto this tree, this desecrated land. I want to be nothing and no one. I want to cease existing.

The yearning to die all over again spears through me, straight through my bleeding heart and I wail in pain. My sobs die out as quickly as they’re released. It angers me how my agony is repressed by this horrid place, the thick air rendering my screams nearly inaudible.

I can feel my body writhe along the ground, my spine scraping against the boney roots of the tree. The torment inside of me twists and turns, wringing my guts into knots. The pain forces me to my hands and knees, and I scream again.

I scream

And scream

And scream.

Then I crawl.

With despair in my chest and a plea in my eyes, I grab onto the skeleton and beg for mercy. I beg him with everything I am to take me. To take away all this pain.

Its only answer comes in the form of a bone breaking loose.

Slowly, I withdraw that bone. My fingers curl around the end, forming to a handle-like stub and as I draw it from the tree, the object reveals itself as an alabaster sword. The edges sharp and the tip pointed, all enough to easily cut through anything of my desire.

It’s with this weapon in my hands that I feel a sense of calm overtake me, settling that ramped rage. I assess every inch of the sword. The small, twisted bones wrapping in a tight coil to make the handle beneath my fingers. The large, thick bone cast with length and sharpened with lethality.

This unholy weapon... It’s the end of the Gods.

“Briar?”

My name breaks through a wall of dense air.

I look behind me and find Lynx’s back as he faces a pack of eight Hell Hounds. Their growls muted and distant, but their gnarly, muscular figures too close for comfort.

One beast Lynx can handle, but a horde of them?

I step forward and am met with a vicious snarl. Rows of yellow, pointed teeth glare underneath the descending red sun. Spit flies from another as it growls in warning. I take slow, cautious steps toward the demon.

The beast in the center inches closer as I approach. Its mouth hanging open with drool pooling along its tongue anticipating the taste of its dinner.

I’m close, so close to Lynx that it will only take another few steps, but in that short distance all that’s needed is a quick lunge from just one of the hounds before it rips Lynx to shreds. Then it won’t be much longer before they make me their next target.

So, I raise the sword.

The center hound, leader of the pack, snaps its jaws shut and narrows those yellow eyes. It sniffs before its front claws back up, the beast recoiling.

Okay, this might work.

Another inch closer to Lynx, the weapon in full view, and now the pack follows the leader’s retreat. As I finally take my place beside the demon, one after another, they bow their giant heads before settling on the ground.

“Why are they doing that?”

Lynx asks.

“Maybe it’s the sword.”

I study the thing gripped in my hand.

He looks over at me, eyes wrought with worry, then pure astonishment at the Mortifier.

“You did it, you found the weapon.”

“Yeah. I did.”

But at what cost?

I don’t bother to wipe the tear that slips down my cheek as I allow Lynx to take my hand into his. All that pain sits idle inside of me while I hold tight to this sword, and I wonder if I’ll ever be able to let go.

We disappear from the tree, the Hell Hounds vanishing, and land in the center of Lucifer’s Throne Room. The Devil sits anxiously in his chair of bones, bones that look utterly similar to the Tree of Death.

He jumps to his feet at the sight of us. Dirt and dust coat our skin, our hair, our clothes. The ashes on my cheeks thicken with the tears that wet my face, but I can’t bring myself to care.

“You found it! Briar! You...”

One look and his hands grab hold of my shoulders.

The Mortifier drops, clattering against the tile floor and all that dread comes rushing back, making itself right at home.