Echoes in Eternity (The Pella Series Book 1) (64 page)

I pu
sh my way forward; or rather my wings carry me while spies of Dité lurk behind me. If my instincts leading me here are correct, they aren’t supposed to be able to follow me outside of their own realm, but I still have to be vigilant. No one can be trusted in Tartarus,
especially
those innocent looking little girls with beady eyes. From the looks of it, they’re twins and about two years old. They’re right at the gate. Something about them is very familiar, yet distant. A vague memory. My soul stirs again with something akin to excitement. Who are they?

The twin toddlers walk towards my flying body their arms raised in that wobbly way th
at little kids walk. What are two babies doing in this circle of hell? Kids aren’t supposed to be punished in Hades. Are they? One of the girls falls scraping her knee. The other one helps her get up. They both start crying. Holding hand in hand they try to make their way to get to me. I continue to fly, but my eyes are fixed on them putting me in a trans-like state. Where do I know these children from? Why are they here?

As my body flies to the gate
of my father’s dungeon, the door that has been locked for over two centuries opens with great noise, hissing and letting out dust and steam. The little girls fall to the ground and start wailing and sobbing.

“Mommy! I want mommy!” they cry out, their tiny hands reaching out to me.

Immediately my soul starts shaking the cage that is my body trying to get to the uncontrollably sobbing children calling for their mommy.

“Mommy loves you!” I
shout in my head automatically as if this is common knowledge in the depths of my mind. “I will always love you!” My body and soul battle to achieve two different purposes. My soul wants to remain behind to hold and soothe the crying toddlers. Somehow my soul is convinced that they’re
my
children. I am tormented. I want to hold those babies. Visions, images flash through my mind indicating I have held, kissed, hugged, nursed, loved and played with those babies. They are mine! My soul pulls my body several steps towards the twins. Their eyes sparkle with hope. Their little lips purse up with the desperate word ‘mommy! I missed you mommy!’

‘
Hades is playing a cruel game!’ my subconscious shouts. The gate is open. Your father is just beyond the stone gate! The Dité’s spies are looking for a way to enter through the gate! Hurry!
’ Is Tartarus really playing a cruel trick on my mind? My body moves three steps distance towards the gate.

‘Of course it is!’ my consciousness reminds my soul.

“
No, mommy! We’ve missed you! Hold you, mommy! Hold you!
’ They both open their arms upwards demanding to be held. Somehow there’s something convincing in their words and their gesture. ‘Hold you!’, not ‘
Hold me!
’

A memory comes to my mind unbidden. “Do you want mommy to hold you?” I remember myself asking the girls.

‘Hold you, mommy! Hold you!’ is their response with their arms raised up at me. My soul slams my body hard, trying to rush me back to the girls. They both look with a glimmer of hope in their eyes. Arms raised, they are sitting on the dirt. They try to stand up and fall back on their tushies again. Their lips curl downward and they start crying. My soul is now beating my body like a linebacker on Superbowl Sunday, trying to fly me back to the girls.

‘Think!’
I scold myself. ‘Think! What would your children be doing here? How did they get here? Children don’t belong in Hades! They’re either illusions or a trick of the
Fallen
!’

‘It’s not a trick!’ my soul
pleads. ‘They look like my babies, cry like them, talk like them, all of their gestures are exactly like my babies! Because they’re mine. A mother recognizes her children in Hades or Elysium.’ My hands automatically reach towards them. My body has an immense desire to hold them and never let go. Yet, my wings force me with renewed determination to get me away from
my
children! My children are more important than my father! Why is he forcing me to abandon my children, again? Anger rises in me.

‘Satan was an angel, too! He can imitate
anyone; anything, any emotion, and can tell you everything you wish to hear. Make you see your heart’s deepest, most hidden desires. But his mask is just that, a mask, a ruse, a lie. Ask them a question first. Just a simple test. Don’t touch them!’ a voice in my head shouts. It is my subconscious or someone else?

“Hi girls! What are your names?”

“Jill, mommy!”

“Agnes, mommy!” they answer.

“What’s my name?”

“El-lie!” they giggle, putting my name in syllables.

“Good job!” I clap my hands. “What’s daddy’s name?”

The girls look at each other, trying to read from one another. The first slip of the mask.

“Daddy!” they shout.

“No, daddy has a name. What’s grandpa’s name?” I ask.

“Marcus!” they reply clapping their hands. Children who have not seen their grandfather could not have remembered his name as easily and forget their daddy’s name. It’s because I don’t know who their daddy is.

“You’re not Agnes and Jill!” I say backing up
and flying. The two toddlers turn into one big serpent, swiftly chasing me.

“Game time is over
mommy
!” it hisses, mocking me.

I fly at the top speed to the gate to cross
into my father’s dungeon. But, the serpent waits at the gate like a seasoned soccer goalie, ready to capture me.

“Have it your way,” I say and my hand autom
atically reaches to my back to the quiver. I pull out arrow after arrow made of light in rapid succession. Just as I stretch the bowstring with one, it flies into its destination with the speed of light, hitting its mark on the serpent.

I have Stella’s bow and arrows! This knowledge floods me as if her name is printed on the bow. I can feel Stella’s presence within every bend and curve of the bow or its bowstring made of light as
if the weapon chose her and became one with its owner, answering her call when the need arose. Somehow, the bow answers no one’s call but the owner’s. Yet, here it is, in my possession. What does that mean? I have no time to think or contemplate it because I have a major problem on my hands here. Finally, the serpent piles itself in a limp coil; my wings carry me through the gate and into my father’s dungeon where he has been imprisoned for two centuries. As soon as I land on the solid ground, the wings dissipate. I hear the rattle of the chains while in movement. One of the
Fallen
has said that my father could have gone crazy being alone all this time. I want to approach with caution. My wings slow me down, bringing me close to the sound of the shackles. Before me is a weary man-angel, chained to the wall with just enough space for limited movement. When he sees me, he looks up and blinks his eyes several times. We gaze at each other heedfully for a long time. He assesses me with his eyes piercing through me.

“This one is better than all the other ones you sent, Azaziel!” he shouts pointing at me with a dismissive gesture of his head. Oh, I’m the ‘
this one
’ he’s talking about.

“Where did you find
it
? You finally got the looks right. She looks like my daughter, smells like her; in fact she has the triple mark from Stella, Gabriel and Nieto. This one
is
good. You finally outdid yourself to get the likeness of my daughter. But you forgot one thing! This one
is
dead! My daughter is
alive
!”

“Marcus…” I whisper tentatively. “Are you really my dad?”

“What? No, ‘
daddy I love you! I’ve missed you so much!’
like the other minions of Azaziel have attempted?” he asks mocking me.

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know who Azaziel is, but the jury is still out on whether I should tell you
I love you or shout at you for prolonging my misery as well as the miseries of others who have been serving to protect me for centuries! You’d have to forgive me if I don’t declare my love for you because I still have unanswered questions about why you left me to discover who I really am on my own! Why I ended up with a murderous mother who tried to get me declared insane to lock me up in a mental institution; why some creature named Phlegethon attacked Antony to get to me! I want to know why I wasn’t aware that my Uncle Gabe and my nanny Stella were angels! And now, I’m homeless, penniless, and desperately in love with the Nephilim you set as my bodyguard whom I want to set free! To top all of that literally thirty minutes before I’m tossed into the abyss by some angelically beautiful woman named Hailey I find out that I was engaged to Duke Courcillion! Finally, I fell nine fucking days to get to this joint!”

“Watch your language! You talk like my sailors!”
Is he really reprimanding me?

“Maybe because I was raised by them!” He narrows his eyes, but doesn’t retort. Just listens.

“Then Nieto catches me during my fall. And before we even hit the solid ground, this giant ass dog, Cerberus attacks us! Nieto tells me we have to collect one fang from each head… oh, and the poison from his barbed fucking tail!” I say without pausing as I stick three fingers into Marcus’s astonished face. As I talk more about my encounter with the Furies and that Nieto had to collect fangs from Cerberus to kill me, Marcus is horrified.

“
Phlegethon, Azaziel and some others were racing to put me to death, but I couldn’t even see them coming because Nieto had to inoculate me with Cerberus’ poison…” this statement widens his eyes with betrayal and fear. “He had to stab me with the three fangs. But when he was fighting with the Hades’ creatures, Phlegethon entombed me in its fire to try to push in the killing plunge into my heart!”

“And here you are… They are tormenting me. My baby is dead!” Marcus falls onto his knees with his shackled hand
s clasping his head rocking back and forth in utter sorrow like I have never seen anyone do, but in a vague memory. The loss of a child… The pain is familiar and unbearable. My unbeating heart aches for him. Angels really do cry. Marcus’s fingers are tangled in his long hair, clutching and pulling harshly in sheer desperation.

“What do I do? Please
, Father! Even you can’t be that vengeful! Hear me! Help my child! You may write me out as worthless after eons of spotless service for falling in love with a human woman, but I’m begging for your help for the first time. Not for me, but for my child. Please save her! Don’t let them take my child away!”

His lamenting freezes me
on the spot. I sink to my knees. I inch my way tentatively towards him. My death state means something else to him, something dreadful. What does he know that I don’t?

CHAPTER XXI
I

BROKEN SEALS

Elissa Cassandra Duncan

“Hush,” I breathe trying to soo
the him. “I’m still here… daddy,” I whisper. Daddy… How strange that simple word I have uttered sounds as I use it for the first time, but it feels so natural and so familiar.

He lifts his
gaze up; eyes crimson with blood. Tears of angels are made of blood? He looks so human; broken, tormented and utterly helpless. At this moment I hate myself. I hate me! I have been the cause of so many people’s and this Angel’s torment. Maybe I didn’t start it, but, I am at the source of it. How can I make this right?