Page 23 of Soulmarked (Hellbound and Hollow #1)

22

PRINCE OF HELL

C entral Park was warped beyond recognition.

Trees twisted into impossible shapes, their branches reaching like grasping hands toward a fractured sky. The ground beneath our feet rippled, making each step uncertain.

Sean's boots sank into the distorted earth. “This ain't right,” he muttered, his Irish accent thicker with tension. “I've ganked a lot of ugly SOBs in my day, but this takes the cake.”

“Something's breaking through,” I said, pressing my fingers to my temple as pressure built behind my eyes. The mark on my chest pulsed with the wrongness around us, recognizing something that made my soul want to crawl out of my skin. I tried to analyze what I was feeling, but this went beyond any logical explanation.

We moved deeper into what used to be the Great Lawn, now a nightmare landscape of shifting shadows and impossible geometry. The air vibrated with wrongness.

That's when we saw them.

The hunters hung suspended in columns of dark energy, their bodies twitching. Their skin had gone pale and translucent, stretched too tight over bone. But the worst part was the visible pulse of their life force being siphoned into the center of the field.

“They're still alive,” Skye's voice crackled through our comms. “But not for long. That thing's feeding off them, using their life force to power the gate.”

The pentagram at the field's center was worse than any ritual circle I'd ever seen. Ancient symbols writhed along its edges, drawn in something darker than blood that pulsed with its own heartbeat. The air above it fractured and distorted, warping reality itself.

At its center, darkness coalesced and shifted, a void that somehow occupied space without being part of it. Looking at it directly scrambled my senses - sounds became visible flashes of light, and the stench of ozone coated my tongue like metal.

“Son of a bitch,” Sean breathed, and for once his blasphemy felt like a prayer. “That's no standard demon summoning.”

A fracture in reality hovered at the pentagram's heart, growing wider with each pulse of stolen life. Colors bled through the tear, and whispers curled through the air, promising power and terrible truths.

The mark on my chest burned colder, recognizing something in those whispers. With horrible clarity, I understood what we were looking at.

“The power has to go somewhere,” I said quietly. “All those victims, all that stolen life force...”

Sean's head snapped toward me. “No. Whatever you're thinking, no. We'll find another way. There's always another way.”

But we both knew we were running out of time. The fracture was growing wider with each moment, the whispers getting louder.

Movement flickered between the trees - human shapes in tactical formation.

“Sterling,” Sean growled into his comm. “We've got company. Those are Hallow hunters - I recognize them.”

Sterling's response crackled through our earpieces. “Damn it! That should be impossible. I have all Hallow teams accounted for except...” A string of curses followed. “Alpha-7 went dark three hours ago. Thought they were just out of range.”

“They're compromised,” I said, spotting familiar insignia as figures moved through the trees.

“Confirm status, but exercise extreme caution,” Sterling ordered, his voice tense but controlled. “These are trained operatives. If there's any chance to save them...”

The first hunter came from the shadows. I recognized James Choi, but the thing wearing his body moved wrong, joints bending unnaturally.

“Contact,” Sean growled, but I was already moving. My dagger found flesh that smoked where blessed metal met corrupted blood. James's body crumpled, demon smoke pouring from the wound, but he was breathing. I always felt a twinge of satisfaction when my research on exorcism techniques paid off.

More appeared. A woman emerged from rippling shadows, her movements unnaturally predatory, eyes solid black. Behind her, a massive man blocked our path, darkness seeping from his pores.

“Really didn't want to hurt your people,” I muttered, falling into a defensive stance as the possessed woman launched herself at me.

“Any time you want to get your hands dirty, princess!” Sean called out as he engaged the larger hunter, his blades flashing in the wrong light. “These aren't your research subjects!”

“Working on it!” I caught the woman's wrist before her claws could find my throat, throwing her into a writhing tree. The dagger found its mark, and another demon burned away. “They're still people under there,” I insisted, feeling the weight of every exorcism.

“Always with the saving people,” Sean muttered, ducking under a lethal swing. “Even when they're trying to kill us.”

More possessed hunters emerged from the twisted landscape. Though their faces were strangers to me, Sean clearly recognized them - his former colleagues from Hallow.

“They're trying to slow us down,” he called out. “Classic demon playbook.”

One of the suspended hunters convulsed in their column of dark energy, their life force draining faster. The fracture widened, and something vast shifted in the darkness beyond.

“Move!” I shouted, already running. But more possessed hunters blocked our path, blood dripping from their eyes, their skin cracking to reveal darkness beneath.

The fight became a blur. My blade found demon after demon while trying to preserve their hosts. Sean fought beside me, his style more lethal but no less precise.

We moved like we'd been doing this forever, covering each other's blind spots. When a possessed hunter nearly caught my flank, Sean was there. When three converged on him at once, I had his back.

But they kept coming, and time was running out. I could feel it in the way reality shuddered around us, in the way the mark burned colder. Whatever was trying to come through that fracture was getting closer.

The air turned thick and heavy. Even the possessed hunters staggered back, their borrowed bodies trembling in recognition of something more powerful.

Asmodeus stepped from between trees that bent away from his presence, wearing the shape of a man like an ill-fitting suit.

Every movement was too smooth, as if he existed slightly out of sync with our reality. Shadows slid across his skin, and his glowing ice-blue eyes held centuries of cruel patience.

“The marked child returns,” the Prince said, his voice like velvet being dragged over shattered glass. “We've waited so long for this moment.”

“Let them go,” I demanded, nodding toward the suspended hunters. “They're not part of this.”

His smile stretched too wide, revealing teeth that were simultaneously perfect and wrong. “Oh, but they are necessary. As are you, dear boy. As you've always been, since the moment you were marked.”

“Cut the crap,” Sean snarled, Irish accent thick with fury. “What the hell are you planning?”

The Prince's laugh was like breaking bones. “The demon gate requires a sacrifice to break the walls between Hell and Earth completely. Their deaths will provide the initial surge. But you,” his gaze fixed on me, “you will be the key that unlocks it all.”

My blood ran cold as pieces clicked into place. All those deaths, all that stolen life force wasn't just power. It was preparation.

“So this is it,” Sean growled. “Not just a temporary portal but a permanent breach. A demonic all-you-can-eat buffet with humanity on the menu.”

“Not just a doorway,” the Prince corrected, amusement humming through his voice. “A floodgate that will never close again. My legions will pour through, and this world will become an extension of our kingdom.” His head rotated unnaturally. “And your precious marked one is the perfect conduit for such power. After all, that's what he was made for.”

The mark pulsed at his words, sending ice through my veins. Fear cracked through my professional mask. I could feel the truth in his words, feel the way my mark responded to the power gathering around us.

“I wasn't made for anything,” I managed, but the words sounded hollow.

The Prince's smile turned almost pitying. “Oh, child. You still don't understand what you are, do you? What happened to you that night in the snow?” He stepped closer, reality bending around him. “You were never meant to be a hero. You were marked to be a weapon, a perfect conduit for power beyond mortal comprehension.”

Heaven's Lash hummed at my hip, responding to the darkness. But even its holy power felt small against what radiated from Asmodeus.

Sean moved closer, his shoulder brushing mine in silent support. I could feel the tension in him, the way his hunter's instincts screamed at the wrongness before us.

“Whatever you think I am,” I said, finding strength in Sean's presence, “whatever you think I was made for, you're wrong. I make my own choices.”

“Do you?” The Prince's smile turned cruel. “Then choose now. Help us willingly, or watch as we tear the life from these hunters one by one. Their deaths will fuel our ritual either way, but you could spare them considerable pain.”

For a moment, I saw through Asmodeus' human disguise to something vast and terrible, ancient beyond comprehension. Something that had been planning this moment since before I was born.

My hand found Heaven's Lash before conscious thought could intervene. The weapon hummed to life, its holy power cutting through the wrongness around us.

“Cade, wait!” Sean started, but I was already moving.

The Lash sang through the air, its light cutting through the wrongness like a star being born. But Asmodeus moved like smoke, flowing around the attack with impossible grace.

“One,” he purred, his perfect smile widening. “Shall we count together, marked one?”

I struck again, pouring more of myself into the weapon. The Lash blazed brighter, but sweat beaded on my forehead from the effort. The Prince simply stepped aside.

“Two.” His voice dripped amusement. “Already feeling it, aren't you? The drain. The cost.”

“Stop playing with him!” Sean snarled, moving to flank the demon. Blood ran from a cut above his eye. “Fight fair, you bastard!”

Asmodeus bent backward at an impossible angle. “Three. Oh, but this is such a valuable lesson. He should understand what his father's desperation has wrought.”

The words made me falter. “What are you talking about?”

“Four.” He gestured at the Lash with elegant disdain, sliding between my increasingly desperate attacks. “Such a clever design. Holy silver and celestial fragments, all bound with sacrificial magic. But nothing that powerful comes without a price.”

My next strike went wide, frustration making my movements sloppy. The Lash's light flickered slightly, and a deep ache spread through my chest where the mark burned cold.

“Five,” Asmodeus counted, yawning as he avoided death by inches. “Do you feel it? The way it draws from you with each swing?”

“Six.” His features arranged in mock concern. “Like a battery slowly running dry.”

“He's lying,” Sean called out, but uncertainty threaded through his voice. “Don't listen to him, Cade!”

“Seven.” The Prince's laugh made reality shudder. “Am I? Look how its light dims. How each strike costs more than the last.”

My arms felt like lead now, every movement requiring more effort. The Lash's glow had definitely diminished.

“Eight.” Asmodeus danced away from another attack. “Your father was so desperate to protect you. So willing to pay any price.”

“Nine.” His voice carried centuries of cruel patience. “But he never told you the cost, did he? Never had the chance before they tore him apart.”

The Lash felt heavier with each swing, its light guttering like a candle in strong wind. My breath came in ragged gasps, and spots danced at the edges of my vision.

“Ten.” The word fell like a death knell, and suddenly I understood. This hadn't been a fight, it had been a demonstration. Each strike had weakened the one weapon that might have made a difference.

“Are you quite finished?” Asmodeus asked, examining his nails with theatrical boredom. “As entertaining as your little light show has been, we do have an apocalypse scheduled.”

The shadows erupted into chaos. Possessed bodies surged forward like a dark tide. Juno appeared beside us in a blur of vampire speed, her blade already dripping black ichor.

“Well boys,” she called out, decapitating something that might have once been human, “this is certainly livelier than our usual hunts.”

We fought as one unit, three hunters against an army of nightmares. My blade found demon-flesh while Sean's silver sang through corrupted air. Juno moved like death itself, each strike devastatingly precise.

But for every enemy we cut down, two more rose from the twisted shadows. The ground beneath our feet rippled with wrongness.

Asmodeus watched from his perch, not even bothering to hide his yawns as we fought for our lives.

“We can't keep this up,” Sean gritted out, blocking a strike from something with too many arms. “We need a plan that doesn't suck!”

I looked at the pentagram's writhing core, at the fracture growing wider with each pulse of stolen life force. The mark on my chest burned colder, recognizing its purpose.

“There's no choice,” I said quietly.

“No.” Sean grabbed my arm with desperate strength. Blood ran down his face, but his gaze was fierce. “We'll find another way. There's always another way. Don't you dare go all martyr on me now.”

“Not this time.” I reached up, my hand finding his face. My thumb traced his jaw, memorizing the stubble there. “The mark was always meant for this. I'm the only one who can contain that much power.”

“It'll kill you.” His voice cracked.

I managed a smile, though something in my chest ached at the raw fear in his eyes. “Maybe. Or maybe it'll just send me somewhere else. Either way, it's the only logical solution.”

“How touching,” Asmodeus drawled, finally showing interest. “The hunter and the marked one, sharing one last moment before inevitable tragedy. Almost makes me wish I still had a heart to break.”

Juno appeared beside us, her face grim with understanding. “Whatever you're planning, do it fast. That gate isn't getting any smaller.”

I pulled Sean close, letting my forehead rest against his for just a moment. “I'm sorry,” I whispered. Then, before he could stop me, I shoved him back with all my strength.

The mark blazed to life, creating a barrier between us that even Sean's hunter reflexes couldn't breach. I caught Juno's nod as she moved to hold him back.

“How noble,” Asmodeus mused, standing with liquid grace. “But do you even know how to channel that much power? Or will you just explode, taking this charming little city with you?”

I met his gaze steadily. “Guess we'll find out.”

The Prince's perfect smile widened. “Yes,” he purred. “I suppose we will.”

“You know what's funny?” I called out, moving closer to the pentagram. “For something ancient and all-powerful, you're pretty predictable.”

Asmodeus's smile faltered slightly. Behind the barrier, I heard Sean curse as he realized what I was doing.

“Oh?” The Prince's borrowed form shifted, shadows sliding beneath his skin. “Do enlighten me, little marked one.”

I let power flow through the mark, letting it build visibly. The air around me crackled with energy that made reality bend. “You're so focused on the ritual, on opening your precious gate...” I smiled. “You forgot to ask why I came here willing to die.”

The first flicker of real emotion crossed his features. Behind me, the pentagram's core pulsed faster, hungry for the power building between us.

“Cade, don't...” Sean's voice carried raw understanding of my plan.

“You want a channel for power?” I spread my arms, letting the mark blaze brighter. “Come and get it.”

Asmodeus moved like lightning, his borrowed form dissolving into pure darkness as he struck. I met his attack head- on, letting the mark's power explode outward. The collision sent shockwaves through the twisted park, feeding energy directly into the pentagram.

“Clever boy,” the Prince hissed, his form writhing around mine. “Using our battle to power the ritual. But you've only made our job easier.”

I laughed, though the sound held no humor. “Did I?”

We clashed again, power against power, light against shadow. Each impact fed more energy into the pentagram, making the fracture in reality grow wider. But this time, I was controlling the flow, directing it with purpose the Prince hadn't anticipated.

Sometimes the best way to spring a trap was to look like you were walking right into one.