Page 12 of The Damned (Coven of Bones #3)

M A R G O T

I woke slowly, the pounding in my head making me groan. The sound came out muffled, and the pressure on my tongue was unrelenting as my eyes peeled open. Panic came instantly as the gag tied around my mouth made me call out uselessly.

The room surrounding me was unfamiliar, an ornate and opulent space nearly unrivaled throughout the rest of the school.

The walls were lined with ebony shelves, the ceiling framed into squares to match.

An enormous chandelier had been crafted from selenite, the crystals hanging down in the center of the room as I fought to maneuver onto my stomach.

My hands were bound in front of me with a coarse rope that chafed at my skin every time I moved.

Once I managed to turn over in spite of the pounding in my head, I fought to get from there up to my knees, leaning my weight onto my forearms to do it.

As I knelt on the purple-and-gold woven rug beneath me, I reached up to try to shift the rope and ball of fabric out of my mouth. It was too tight, tied behind my head in a spot that I couldn’t seem to grasp as I fought to untie it.

As much as I cursed the power that came with my voice and my song, having it stripped from me in my time of need made me realize how much comfort the promise of it gave me in my daily life. I was practically defenseless without it.

Practically human.

I wanted to know how long I’d slept, but there was no clock lining the walls.

Only books upon books and vintage portraits in golden frames.

A deep purple sofa sat at the edge of the rug, and a low wooden coffee table was in the center as I scanned the space for weapons I might be able to use in my current state.

Outside of bashing an archangel’s head in with a heavy tome, my options were limited.

Voices came from a door to the right of me, which I recognized as a match for the door in the Tribunal room that led to the Covenant’s private quarters. I tried to shout through the gag in my mouth, the sounds muffled and useless as I forced my way to my feet.

I stumbled over the edge of the rug, stepping onto the smooth stone surface and banging my hands on the door. The knob refused to turn as I fiddled with it, desperately trying to alert someone to my presence within that room.

“Hmmmmm!” I called out, making my voice as loud as I possibly could. The door opened suddenly, the archangel’s tall form filling the gap as he glared down at me. I knew he had to be Michael given his likeness to Lucifer, as the two of them were identical twins according to our histories.

Grabbing hold of my rope-bound hands, he yanked me out of the Tribunal’s private quarters and tucked me into his side, keeping his wings distant and taking care not to touch me with them. I made a mental note of his aversion to having them touched, prepared to use that to my advantage if I needed.

Tears streamed down my face as I took in the sight of Willow bent over the open gate to Hell, her stomach pumping blood from the wound where a dagger protruded from her.

Her eyes finally connected with mine, and I saw for myself just how weakened she was.

Just how much the injury and the opening of the portal had taken from her.

She couldn’t find the energy to fight against Iban, against a boy who was human for all purposes thanks to the sacrifice he’d made.

“You’re going to be a good girl and stay put for me, Willow, or so help me, I will slit her throat and make you watch her die,” Michael said, the warning washing over my skin. My purpose in this became obvious in that moment, understanding dawning on me.

It was never about me.

Willow had shown she cared for me, that she wanted to protect me against those who would do me wrong.

Michael and Iban had decided to use that against her, and it killed me that the knowledge had to have come from the boy I’d considered a friend for years.

That I’d grown up with and lived alongside Iban all my life, only for him to hand me over as a pawn in whatever game he was playing.

I shook my head, my nostrils flaring with anger as I struggled in Michael’s grasp.

I hoped I could convey what I needed to her, even in silence, to tell her not to give up and give in.

Some things were more important than me, more important than she or I could ever dream to be.

Restoring the balance to our home was one of them, and while I understood very little about her relationship with Lucifer, I knew in my bones that they were meant to do this together.

She nodded as if she understood—the movement so minute that the men didn’t see it. They so rarely saw the intricacies of female interaction, so often dismissing them as unintentional and unimportant.

But we knew it for what it was—a relic ingrained in our DNA from the centuries women spent under the thumb of male oppressors. A way for us to look out for one another without being noticed.

Willow released her hold on the knife, sinking into the touch and violence Iban showed her.

Letting him believe he’d won, I realized, playing into the arrogance he possessed about his own unimportant place in this world.

I did the same, letting Michael hold me to his side with the threat of his blade in his free hand to keep me compliant.

Let him think my fear was enough to turn me to a sniveling mess.

Let him fucking underestimate me.

“She shouldn’t be breathing,” Michael said, warning Iban as Willow’s eyes drifted closed.

The boy who had once been my friend brushed Willow’s hair back from her face and turned her to look at him.

There was a softness in his expression that had no business being there while he held a knife in her belly.

“Sweetheart, it’s not too late for you to repent,” he said, his voice gentle.

The words were so unlike anything I’d ever heard from him, as if he was nothing more than a manipulated mouthpiece for the angel in the room.

“You’re even dumber than I thought if you believe that…” Willow snarked back, but the words trailed off. I couldn’t decide how much of the weakness was an act and how much of it was genuine, and the very thought of this world without her in it was horrific to me.

Just as I was about to lunge for Michael’s wings, determined to tear the feathers from his flesh, the Tribunal doors burst open as a male form flew through the air.

Beelzebub landed in the room, staring at Willow and her precarious position.

He took a single step forward, pausing as his gaze swept around the mostly empty room to assess the threats he may need to fight.

His gaze collided with mine, his eyes widening as his body went solid. Caught between the spell I’d placed on him unintentionally and his very carefully curated, intentional loyalty to Lucifer, he froze in place and didn’t know what to do.

He didn’t know who to save, the conflicting needs making his stern brow furrow.

I shook my head, silently pleading with him to go for Willow. She was injured and in need of help. She was important to Crystal Hollow and worth saving for that reason alone.

I was just me.

He looked to Willow, the two of them exchanging a glance before he turned back toward me and lunged toward Michael.

“No,” I gasped, realizing he’d made the wrong choice.

The archangel tossed me to the side violently, sending me careening off-balance.

I flipped head over feet, unable to stop my forward momentum as I rolled.

“Margot!” Willow screamed, trying desperately to tear her hands off the seal.

“She’s your friend!” she shouted to Iban, her voice the only solid thing in the world as it spun.

I caught myself as I fell into the seal, throwing my legs wide with all thoughts of modesty forgotten.

Willow’s blood covered the edges of the seal, pouring out as she thrashed against Iban’s hold and tried to reach me.

I grumbled against the gag, feeling the panic in my own voice as my feet slipped slowly over the stone. I wasn’t going to be able to hold on for long, wasn’t going to stand a chance of supporting my own weight this way.

My only shining light in the darkness of those moments while I waited to fall was the reality that with me gone, Beelzebub wouldn’t be torn. He wouldn’t hesitate to save Willow, and I had to take a little comfort in that.

My right leg slipped, making my entire support collapse beneath me. I fell through the doorway, tumbling out of reach as Willow screamed, “MARGOT!”

My own scream was muffled, but it mirrored Willow’s as air rushed up to greet me. I fell through the air, my legs kicking and lashing out but there was nothing around me. I was weightless for a few moments, unable to see the ground beneath me to know what might wait for me.

I whimpered as I closed my eyes slowly, ready for the end that would surely come on impact. This was the moment I died, the moment that I could never come back from.

Beelzebub dove through the doorway just before my eyes closed, his wings tucked in tight to his sides so he could fit through the hole with ease and gain speed. His arms were outstretched, reaching for me as he fought to get to me in time.

He wasn’t going to make it.

I let my eyes drift closed finally, not wanting to see the devastation on his face in the moment I hit the ground. I didn’t want to see his agony and have that be the last thing I saw before I died, especially not with the bittersweet knowledge that he would be freed shortly after.

The grief he felt would fade with my death, freeing him from my spell and leaving him with only the hatred he felt for the way I’d made him betray his own loyalties.