Cataclysm (Alternate Earth Series, Book One) (13 page)

I don’t know a lot about such devices, but I have seen pictures of them. I understand what they can do to a body.

“Maybe I should do it with you,” Nina says, offering to take my place. “I’m stronger, and the doors are heavier than they look.”

“Stand in front of it, Jess,” Mason instructs. “He may float out of it, depending on the interior design. You might need to catch him.”

“He won’t float out,” Nina says in a voice filled with certainty. “But if he’s still conscious, it might help if the first thing he sees is a friendly face.”

I keep my position in front of the doors, and brace myself for what I know I’m about to see.

“Ready?” Mason asks Nina.

Nina nods and they both yank their respective doors open at the exact same time.

Even though I tried to prepare myself for what I knew was inside the iron maiden, the sight of Jered’s naked body pinned within the torture device makes me audibly gasp in horror. Mercifully, Jered is unconscious. Not only did Jered have to endure the torture of being stabbed by the knife-like protrusions on the inside of both doors, but his body was also impaled on the spikes studding the back of the iron maiden. Since the room lacks gravity, a sphere of blood from his open wounds has collected around his head. With the opening of the doors, this ball of blood slowly disperses into the room, rising to the ceiling as a red amorphous cloud. Mason quickly pulls Jered’s body off the spikes and out of the chamber.

“We’ve got company!” we hear Brand yell from the hallway, just before a clash of swords is heard.

“Ahh, right on time,” Ravan says, peering out the doorway to view the fight with mild interest. “It looks like my escorts have arrived.”

“We need to leave!” Brand yells to us as the hallway is quickly filled with Watchers who are obviously on the wrong side of this war.

“Go on,” Ravan tells us with a small, underhanded wave of her hand, as though she’s shooing us away. “They won’t follow you. I got what I wanted.”

“This isn’t over between the two of us,” I warn her.

“If that’s the way you want it, Jess,” Ravan says with a disappointed sigh. “I came here to resolve this matter peacefully. I see now that it was a mistake, but I thought I would give it a try.”

“You might have the world fooled into thinking you’re some kind of peacemaker, but I know your real agenda.”

“Do you?” Ravan asks with a tilt of her head, looking skeptical. “I have a feeling you only see a fraction of the masterpiece Lucian and I are painting. If you actually knew what we have planned, I feel sure you would be returning to your reality with your tail tucked tightly between your legs.”

“I don’t run,” I tell her. “And I certainly don’t run from bullies like you.”

Ravan lets out a harsh laugh. “I’m no bully, Jess. I’m simply following my destiny.”

“Jess, we need to leave,” Mason tells me urgently as he holds Jered’s body to him.

I turn my back to Ravan and walk over to the doorway to join the others so we can make our escape.

“See you later, Jess,” she calls out behind me.

“You can count on it,” I promise, without looking back at her.

In a low voice, I hear Ravan say, “Until next time…”

CHAPTER TWELVE

When we phase back to headquarters, Mason lays Jered down on the dining table.

“Get Rafe,” I tell him.

Mason phases.

“Why Rafe?” Sophia asks, as she quickly walks over to the couch to retrieve a pillow and a blanket.

“Rafe has the power to heal,” I tell her. “He can heal Jered’s wounds faster than Jered can regenerate them on his own.”

“How come he doesn’t heal your hellhound wound?” Nina asks Malcolm.

“His power isn’t made to heal that type of injury,” Malcolm answers, leaving the explanation plain and simple.

Sophia hands me the pillow, and I place it underneath Jered’s head while she drapes the blanket over his naked body. I don’t think it’s meant to keep Jered’s body warm as much as it’s supposed to shield us from having to look at his injuries. The action turns out to be a pointless one, though. The blood from his open lacerations quickly turns the blanket dark red.

Mason promptly brings Rafe back with him, Moses’ staff in hand.

“Dear God, what happened to him? He looks like he was used as a pin cushion,” Rafe says, aghast, leaning his staff against the table beside him as he reaches out to pull the blanket away from Jered’s body in order to examine the full extent of the damage.

I avert my gaze from what the blanket reveals and contemplate Jered’s blood-smeared face instead.

“He was locked inside an iron maiden,” Mason explains.

Rafe picks up his staff and holds it horizontally over Jered’s chest. The blue glow of Rafe’s power shines brightly as he runs the staff down Jered’s frame, slowly healing the wounds.

I force myself to watch Rafe’s ministrations, because I feel as though I owe Jered at least that much respect. I’m the one who brought him here. Ultimately, I’m the one responsible for what happened to him.

“Don’t,” I hear Mason say, drawing my attention to him directly across the table from me. “This isn’t your fault.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” I tell him, not wanting to have an argument in front of the others.

Of course, he’s going to do his best to convince me that everyone who came with us knew the risks involved in coming to this reality. Logically, I understand that, but I know in my heart that they are only here because of me. All of them have stood by, helplessly witnessing my slow mental and physical deterioration during my quest to return to this Earth. They’re my friends, my family. They would have jumped off a cliff for me if they thought such an action would have saved me. No, I needed to feel my guilt. I needed to hold onto it like a piece of armor. It added to my determination to see us all safely back home.

I return my gaze to Jered, and see that Rafe has already healed his wounds. I also notice something else.

“Why isn’t he breathing?” I ask in alarm, seeing no noticeable rise or fall of his chest.

“God, I’m such an idiot!” Nina says, sounding angry with herself. “Roll him onto his side. His lungs are filled with his own blood.”

We do as Nina suggests.

“Hit his back,” Nina instructs Mason.

Mason gently hits Jered’s back where his lungs are, but nothing happens.

“Come on, Jered,” I encourage as I study his face, keeping my hand on his exposed arm to hold him steady on his side as Mason continues to hit his back, a little harder each time. “
Please
…”

Suddenly, Jered opens his eyes wide and his lips part as if he’s about to speak. Unfortunately, words aren’t what pass between Jered’s lips. Instead, a continuous stream of blood spews out, landing directly on me.

When we were young, Faison dared me to watch
The Exorcist
with her. Jered’s retching reminds me a lot of a particularly gruesome scene from that movie, except with blood. Obviously, Jered didn’t only breathe in his own blood. A great deal of it must have been swallowed as well.

“I’m…sorry,” he says, in between uncontrollable bouts of coughing as his lungs try to expel the remainder of the blood in them.

I’m drenched from the chest down, but I don’t care. I’m just relieved that Jered is conscious and able to speak to us coherently. The pain he must have endured at the hands of his torturers would have driven a lesser person completely insane.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” I tell him soothingly. “They’re just clothes. They can be washed.”

As I look down at my once-white leather outfit and t-shirt, I begin to doubt my own words. I can feel the blood slowly seeping through the leather and coating my skin. I have a feeling my suit of armor has been permanently ruined.

I’m vaguely aware of Brand going to the kitchen area as I try to comfort Jered with my words, letting him know that he’s safe and with friends. Brand comes to stand beside me. In one hand, he’s holding a glass bowl filled with water and in the other a folded washcloth. After he sets them on the table in front of me, I dip the towel in the warm water and gradually begin to wash the blood from Jered’s face.

“Where are we?” Jered asks in a hoarse voice, looking around the room with his eyes but keeping his head still as I tend to it.

“We’re in the headquarters of the resistance here,” I tell him. “It’s safe.”

“Where’s Tristan?” he asks urgently.

I hesitate before answering, because I don’t want to cause Jered any more pain or distress. When he turns his head to look me in the eyes, I know I have to tell him the truth.

“I don’t know where he is,” I say. “He wasn’t in the room with you when we got there.”

“The other me took him somewhere just before I passed out,” Jered says, rolling his head back straight and closing his eyes. “I wasn’t exactly in any position to help him at the time.”

“Did you happen to hear anything that might help us figure out where they took him?” Mason asks.

Jered shakes his head slowly from side to side. “No. I didn’t hear anything before I passed out.”

“We’ll find him,” I vow, having no doubt that we will. “Right now, we need to get you cleaned up, and I don’t think this washcloth is going to be enough to get the job done.”

“Give me a minute to regain my strength,” Jered sighs wearily, closing his eyes.

“When you’re ready, I can take you to a room you can stay in while you’re here,” Sophia offers. “You can take a nice long shower there.”

“Thank you,” he replies, opening his eyes to look at me. “I’m afraid I lost my bag, and, obviously, the clothes I was wearing.”

“I can give you some of my clothes to wear for now,” Brand offers.

“Thanks.” Jered sits up straight on the table. He looks over at me with a guilty expression. “Looks like I’m not the only one who will need a shower and change of clothes.”

“Don’t worry about me,” I tell him. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

Jered swings his legs over the edge of the table and stands, keeping the blood-soaked blanket around his hips to maintain a little dignity.

“I’m ready to go to my room,” he tells Sophia.

Without being squeamish about the blood still covering Jered’s body, Sophia places one hand on Jered’s right shoulder and phases him away.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, too,” Mason says, coming to stand beside me. “Then we can come back.” Mason looks at Brand and Nina. “I assume the two of you have news to tell us about what you found at the sites you visited.”

“We know a little bit more, but not much more than what we expected,” Brand admits. “We can discuss it when you return.”

Mason nods, placing one hand on the small of my back before phasing us to our room.

“I’m not sure the blood can be washed out of this leather,” I tell Mason as he helps me remove my jacket.

“I don’t think it can be,” he agrees, tossing the now-ruined jacket into a wastebasket by the door.

I strip out of the rest of my clothes and hop into the shower to rinse Jered’s blood off my skin. I take special care of the locket my father gave me for my birthday, making sure all of the blood is rinsed off it, inside and out. I’m thankful my dad thought ahead and had the pictures of Max and Brynlee etched in glass. It definitely made clean-up easier. As I gaze at my children’s faces, I kiss their pictures because that’s better than nothing.

When I step back into the bedroom, Mason has already laid out the extra clothes I brought with me, on the bed. In hindsight, I realize I probably should have had JoJo make me a backup outfit. I file that idea away for later use. It might be a good idea for JoJo to make a few replacement outfits, actually.

From what Gabe was able to show us about Caylin’s descendant, I knew the bloodlines of our families would eventually mix. The girl who is meant to deal with our princes of Hell was seen wearing one of my white outfits in the future. It makes sense that she might run into trouble and have something happen to the one she wears. When we get back home, I plan to ask JoJo to make a small number of extra outfits just to be on the safe side. As it is, I will just have to make do with the jeans, black t-shirt, and black leather ankle boots I have packed in my messenger bag.

When we return to Brand’s living quarters, we find him cooking pancakes, making me realize it must be close to morning. Josh is beside him, frying up some sausage links. My tummy growls, letting me know that their efforts won’t go to waste. Rafe and Nina are sitting on the couch in the room, speaking to one another in low voices. From what I can hear, Rafe is telling Nina about his work with Doctors Without Borders in Sierra Leone. She seems truly interested in what he’s saying. Though, from the way she’s looking at him, it’s hard to tell if she is interested in his story or simply interested in Rafe himself.

Malcolm is sitting at a freshly-cleaned dining table with Isaiah and Baruch. I notice Malcolm absently rub the thigh of his permanently injured leg as he speaks to them. I’ve witnessed him do that countless times over the past few years, and often wondered if he realizes he’s doing it. Even if my relationship with Lucifer wasn’t so strained, I knew he would never take Malcolm’s hellhound curse away just because I asked him to. I don’t have that kind of influence over him. Perhaps, one day, Lucifer and Malcolm can find a reason to put away their old grudges against one another. I highly doubt I will ever live long enough to see such a miracle take place, but I can still hope for the outcome to happen sometime in the future.

“You look a hundred percent better,” Malcolm says to me as Mason and I walk into the room.

“I feel it,” I admit. Even though I tried to act as though having Jered spew blood all over me wasn’t a big deal, it totally grossed me out. I would never willingly admit it to Malcolm, though. He would use it to tease me, and I would rather let him think I have a strong stomach than allow that to happen.

“What did you guys find out at the sites you visited?” I ask Isaiah and Baruch as Mason and I sit down at the table with them.

With the change of topic, Nina and Rafe end their conversation so they can join us at the table.

“Well, we know one thing for sure,” Isaiah says, sitting back in his chair. “They’re definitely searching for something. Each of the places we went to ended up being a major dig site.”

“Were you able to overhear or see anything that would indicate that they’re searching for the Ark of the Covenant?” Mason asks.

“I wasn’t able to get very close to the dig site at Khirba en-Nahas,” Isaiah admits. “It was too well-guarded.”

“By whom?” I ask.

“It was a mix, really,” Isaiah says. “There were a few rebellion angels, and a scattering of fairies in their animal forms.”

“That’s the way it was in the Great Rift Valley, too,” Nina adds.

“Same at the Timna Valley location,” Baruch confirms.

“I saw Malik at the Dome of the Rock,” Brand says as he brings over a plate stacked with buttery-smelling pancakes to the table.

“Is Malik still king of the fairies in this reality?” I ask, remembering Brand mention it the last time we were here.

“He was,” Brand tells me, “but he abdicated his right to the throne when he chose to marry a human.”

“Is he married to someone named Tara here?” I ask, excited that I might get to meet an alternate version of my friend.

“Yes,” Brand tells me. “They met on an archeological dig in Cairo about five years ago, and fell in love. They’ve been together ever since. Since they’re both world- renowned archeologists, it makes sense that Lucian is using them to do the excavations for him.”

“Are they doing it willingly, or are they being forced into it?” I ask, hoping for the latter.

“I’m sure they’re being forced into it,” Brand replies. “I knew Malik before the Tear appeared, and we always got along well with one another. I was sad when he decided to give up his leadership of the fairies, though. I don’t care for the person who replaced him.”

“Who’s in control of the fairies now?” Mason asks warily, as if he might already know the answer to his own question.

“Do you know a fairy named Izzi in your reality?” Brand asks, practically spitting out the woman’s name, as if it physically caused him pain to let it pass over his lips.

“Yes,” Mason says, sounding disappointed by Brand’s answer. “A long time ago, she tried to kill your wife in our reality and was sent into exile for the crime.”