Heven & Hell Anthology (Heven and Hell) (14 page)

Hecate paused. I lounged back against the plush seat. “Yes, it is,” she finally replied.

Liar, liar pants on fire. I knew that gleam in her eye. It was the same look that a department sales woman gets when she thinks she can sell me last season’s Prada for this season’s price. When would people learn? Girl plus being really hot does NOT equal stupid.

So that meant the scroll was in this car. Hecate wouldn’t leave something she wanted so badly somewhere she wouldn’t be.

“Turn left here,” I told Bones and he swerved the car to make the turn. Hecate was jostled by the turn and I caught a glimpse of the end of the bronze tube in the folds of her cloak before she quickly adjusted to cover it. I pretended I didn’t notice.

I directed Bones to the street I lived on and when my house came into view, I turned to Hecate. “I’ll try to get the key tomorrow.”

“I will come by to get it.”

Bones pulled into the driveway and sat there, the engine idling while he waited for me to get out. “I’d open the door for you,” Bones said as he turned to look at me, “but I’m not wearing any pants.”

I rolled my eyes.

I opened my door and went to climb out when I made my move. I lashed out with my power, catching Hecate off-guard and causing her to reach up and grab at her throat as she gagged. I pushed harder, using the element of surprise while I could. I used my hand and sent out a gust of wind to ruffle the folds of her cloak to reveal the end of the scroll. I grabbed it and lunged out of the car, falling onto the ground. I got up and began to run, for once wishing I had sneakers on and not heels.

Hecate threw off my magic quickly,, as I knew she would and came after me. I threw up my shield to block whatever she was about to do and was pleased when it worked—her spell bounced off. I made my way to the front door, concentrating so hard on my shield that I didn’t think it was odd the front door swung open when I approached. Grateful, I rushed inside and slammed the door shut. It wouldn’t keep her out forever, but it might for a few seconds. I pulled out my cell and hit the button for Heven. She would know what to do.

“Calling someone?” a voice from the bottom of the stairs asked.

I jerked, gripping the phone and the scroll. There was a man standing there. A man with dark hair and cold, cold eyes. I tried to throw up my shield once more, but it was too late. He had magic too, magic far more powerful than mine. I was knocked off my feet; my cell phone went flying, shattering against the wall. I hit my head on the wall and slid slowly toward the floor.

I still gripped the scroll, unwilling to give up my chance to win back my friends. I was half lying—half leaning against the wall as the man prowled closer. My vision was blurry, but I tried to get up anyway. I was held frozen in place, unable to even access the simplest of spells, but still I tried.

Cloak me til he can’t see

Bring the wind

Blow him away from thee.

Nothing happened. The man reached me, leaned down until his putrid breath brushed my face. I wanted to gag. He smiled. His teeth looked like he smoked six packs of cigarettes a day (smoking is so nasty), and I wanted to close my eyes against the horrible sight. Crest Whitestrips would do nothing for him.

Where is Hecate?
I wondered. Shouldn’t she be in here, trying to stop him? He wanted the scroll too and she had already made it perfectly clear that she thought this thing was hers. He reached down and ripped the scroll from my hand.

“No!” I screamed.

He slapped me. Stinging pain bloomed on the left side of my face. The front door crashed in and Hecate stepped through. She was carrying a long wide bone… a femur. “Apparently, that charm of yours inspires loyalty.” She poked me with the bone—hard.

Had Bones tried to stop her—had he tried to help me get away? Was that his… leg? Indeed, he really hadn’t been wearing pants.

I started to laugh. I laughed so hard that tears leaked from my eyes. Hecate and the man stood over me, watching with vacant stares on their faces. Abruptly, my laughter died away and I began to choke. I felt as if my windpipe was crushing, was twisting within my neck and that I was going to black out from lack of air.

I began to cough, wheezing, dry sounds that hurt. Hecate leaned down, reaching out with blood-red nails. “Betrayal has a price.”

Everything went black.

*    *    *

I awoke in the dark, with a hard cold surface at my back. My throat was raw and my head felt as if it had been hit repeatedly with a hammer. I got to my feet, looking around at the dark room I was in. The last thing I remembered was being at home, trying to get the scroll back and failing. From my right, I heard chanting:

Seal this cell

Make it tight

Turn everyday into night

Keep in the soul

Let the body be whole

Cast the dice

Betrayal has a heavy price

Hecate was standing on the outside of steel bars, holding a torch. She looked upon me with disgust, with satisfaction.

“Let me out,” I begged, my voice barely audible and hoarse. “I’ll do what you want.”

Hecate smiled. It looked sinister as the flames cast shadows over her face. “You had your chance. This is your new home.”

She began to walk away.

“Wait!” I cried, hurrying to the bars, slipping my hands between them. “Please…”

She laughed—a cackle that echoed off the walls and down the long corridor. Long after she was gone and as the darkness pressed in on me, I could still hear her laugh.

I tried to use my powers. They bounced right off whatever spell Hecate cast on my cell. I was trapped.

It was ironic really.

This all started because I had felt betrayed and alone.

Yet, here I was, more alone and betrayed than ever.

I was also bewitched.

Beneath

A Heven and Hell novella

(Heven and Hell #3.5)

By Cambria Hebert

Gemma

Before I Fell

The water here was cold. It rushed through and around my fingers with eagerness, like it was flowing somewhere important and couldn’t be interrupted. The sound it made as it rolled over rocks and against the uneven bank was almost rhythmical, so beautiful that everything else around it grew quiet to leave more room for the song it was singing.

I liked it here.

It seemed that maybe I shouldn’t like it as much as I did, especially when I came from such perfection. There was certainly something to be said about perfect because it was, well, perfect. With perfect, you always knew what to expect; each day was bright and full of joy. There were never any tears; there was never any pain.

But lately, I was beginning to realize something else about perfection.

Perfection was sometimes boring.

I wiggled a little on the fallen tree I was lying on and stretched my arm out farther to plunge my entire hand into the hurrying stream. The cool silk of the water wrapped around me, tugged at me, invited me in. A small silvery fish swam near and I held my fingers out, keeping them still as it swam a little closer. It nibbled at my fingertip, testing me out as a snack, and I giggled. The fish darted away, disappearing into the shallow depths of the stream.

I pulled my hand out of the water and rested both arms against the rough bark of the log and looked up. Trees bright with green canopied the water, growing alongside it and sometimes right out of the bank, and arched up and over, creating an almost secret place. Large rocks of all shapes jutted out of the earth and were covered in blankets of soft, green moss and fallen leaves. The sun’s warm rays peaked through where they could, lighting up sections of the water, and butterflies flapped their brightly colored wings among the wild flowers that dotted the grass.

This place wasn’t perfection. It wasn’t heaven, the place I called home, but it was exciting. Everywhere I turned there was something new to see. I never knew what would be different when I came here. Earth was an ever-evolving place that never stayed the same. It was unexpected, and it was never boring.

Perhaps that’s why I was still here, delighting in everything this place had to offer instead of going back home, where I belonged. Something in the air shifted and I looked up, craning my neck and allowing my head to fall back. Soft strands of my hair brushed against my back and waist as I looked up to the ledge of the hill that created the secret place I was resting in.

I wasn’t alone.

Someone was standing above, towering over this peaceful place, and disrupting it with an uncertain presence. He melded well with the shadows the trees cast, but I was able to make out a strong set of shoulders that tapered down into a narrow waist. He had dark hair—this I could make out because it created even more shadow around him. He shifted and even though I couldn’t make out his features, I was sure our eyes locked. I felt like a million bugs were crawling over my skin and I shivered.

A low growl permeated the air, and I thought I caught a flash of something. I sprang off the log, landing on the other side of the stream, and used my wings to shoot myself up the rocky hillside to the top where the man was standing.

But he was no longer there.

The minute I moved he had, too. He took off, fleeing like he was a criminal and I was his jailor. My heart began to pound with a heavy, quick rhythm. When people acted guilty, it’s usually because they were. Yes, my assignment was complete, but I couldn’t leave this tainted soul here where it could potentially corrupt others. In fact, perhaps it was not a coincidence I’d been delaying getting back to heaven. My Lord worked in mysterious ways, and perhaps today I was given the gift of dalliance so I might catch this man and rid Earth of his vile presence.

Or maybe the large white wings protruding from my back scared him.

I think I would just go with the former. But just in case it was the wings, I quickly folded them against me and called upon the gift of veiling them from site. To my left, I heard a branch snap and I took off, running as stealthily as I could, barely making a sound. He was nowhere to be seen. He seemed to also possess the talent for running through the forest without getting caught.

Something heavy collided with my side and sent me flying to the left. I landed on my back, skidding, churning up the earth, until I finally halted just inches from a tree. I resisted, hating the way my perfect wings were forced into the ground. The person that knocked me down grew still, and my struggles became against myself. Soon, I stopped and raised my eyes, chest heaving.

This wasn’t a person. This wasn’t the man I searched for. This was a beast.

It possessed fur black as midnight, eyes the color of blood, and long thick whiskers that jutted out from either side of an impressive black snout. I glanced down briefly to one of the massive paws pinning me to the ground. It had claws that would rival the dagger strapped to the inside of my thigh. I lifted my eyes from the sight and looked back at its mean, unforgiving stare.

I watched as a long, pink tongue made its way past heavy jaws to lick its lips as if implying I were its next meal.

I reacted, my hand shooting out and snatching the tongue it taunted me with, and I twisted. The black beast howled in pain and flexed the foot that was still pinning my shoulder. I felt the rip of flesh, but I ignored it. I released the tongue to deliver a quick punch to its jaw, and then I knocked it right in the eye, causing it to stumble backward and off me.

I was on my feet, dagger in hand, in seconds. I didn’t wait for an invite. I didn’t wait for a challenge. Instead, I lunged just as it was shaking its head, no doubt trying to clear its vision. It turned, catching me with its long whip-like tail, and pulled my feet out from under me. I landed on my butt, the dagger falling out of my grip. I reached for it only to have it kicked away by the creature. With a cry, I lunged, catching it around its neck and slamming it into the dirt. The surprise that flickered through its eyes made me laugh aloud as we rolled across the forest floor, stopping only when we hit a tree. I landed on top and grabbed one of its large ears in each hand and twisted. The animal bayed, eyes flashing red, and he snapped his great jaws, trying to take a bite out of me. I slammed its head into the ground and lunged for the dagger, which was just out of my reach. Finally, I grasped it and rolled, the animal spinning with me, pounding me into the dirt and showing its teeth like it was grinning because I’d finally been caught.

It arched its back and as it moved, its chest came down toward me, and I brought my arm up, ramming the dagger between its ribs. It hunched forward and then went limp as I pushed it off to the side.

I stood up, pulling down the dress I wore, noting the many stains and tears in the fabric. I sensed movement behind me and I spun, looking down at the animal.

And stood there staring in shock.

There was no longer a fur-covered beast with threatening claws and angry eyes before me. No. In its place was a man. A man with short, matted hair and a dirty face.

He had my dagger sticking out of his chest.

Very carefully, I knelt, feeling for a pulse, every muscle in my body taut and ready for another fight. But there was no pulse to be found. There would be no more fighting this day. He was dead. Of course, I’d heard of shifters, of their evil and blood-thirsty nature, but this was the first time I’d ever encountered one.

Is this what the Guardians did when they came to Earth? We all knew they were fighters, we all knew they banished dark and twisted souls from this world, but I guess I’d never really thought about what kind of evil they were banishing. In that moment, I felt very naïve and silly. As an angel whose job was merely to spread the kindness and love of God, I’d been ill prepared for this encounter.

Perhaps my procrastination hadn’t been the Lord’s work. Perhaps this was my punishment. I looked down at the blood on my hands. I never had to kill anything before. Yes, I carried a dagger because Earth was so unpredictable and primal, but I’d certainly never really thought I would have to use it.

I walked back toward the stream, wanting to wash the blood from my skin and yearning the peaceful sound of the water rushing to nowhere. When I made it to the edge of the hill, I looked down. The place I left was unchanged. It hardly seemed fair that it looked exactly the same when I felt irrevocably different.

I used my wings to float down, my bare feet resting on a moss-covered log as I curled the wings in close and veiled them once more. It wouldn’t do for someone else to happen upon me and see them.

I stepped toward the water’s edge and knelt, allowing the water to caress my fingers before plunging both hands into the icy stream and watching the red completely disappear. There was a splash to my left and I turned my head, expecting to see a jumping fish. It wasn’t a fish.

It was a man.

His eyes were locked on mine, and I watched as he set down the fishing pole he’d been holding and walked unsteadily across the stream toward me.

“Are you okay?” the man called as he drew near.

I stood, thinking about fleeing, not wanting any more contact with anyone else. As an angel, my contact with humans was supposed to be limited. Just as I was about to rush away, the man splashed to my side. Droplets of cool water splattered my legs, and I stepped backwards.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, holding out his palms and keeping his voice low.

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking,” I said, glancing up to the top of the hill. I was so very tempted to release my wings and fly away. Instead, I turned away to walk farther downstream where I’d be out of sight.

“You’re bleeding,” the man said, catching my wrist and pulling me back around.

I snatched my arm away, rubbing where he touched me. The skin was tingling.

“Your shoulder… Did you fall?” he asked, his eyes affixed to the area he mentioned.

I glanced down at my shoulder and realized I was, in fact, all bloody. Probably from where the beast dug in his claws. A glance closer showed that the wound was already healed, but it was so bloody the man couldn’t tell. I realized he was waiting for me to respond so I smiled.

“Yes, I slipped on the rocks, but it looks much worse than it is. I’m fine.”
God, forgive me for my lie.

“Let me help you,” the man offered, pulling off the red plaid shirt he wore unbuttoned over a white T-shirt and holding it out.

I made no move to take it, but I didn’t step back either and so he stepped forward to cautiously lay the folded up shirt against my wound. His bare hand wrapped around my shoulder as his other gently pressed the shirt in place. He had rough skin. It brushed over the bareness of my shoulder and reminded me of the bark covering the tree that I’d been lying on moments ago. His hand was warm and large, covering the entire back of my shoulder.

“Does that hurt?” he asked, his voice hushed.

I glanced up at him. Our faces were close and I could see his every detail. He had a slightly crooked nose, a chip in one of his front teeth, and dark stubble lining his jaw. His hair was long and very dark, confined at the nape of his neck by a rubber band, and when he shifted, a thick, wavy strand escaped and fell forward to brush against his cheek.

“Really, I’m fine,” I said, and suddenly I felt like the butterflies I was watching earlier somehow made it into the pit of my stomach and were trying to break free. The feeling caused me to step backward, my hand coming up to hold the shirt in place. I wasn’t used to feelings like this. Was it normal? I didn’t think it was. Usually, my emotions were calm and even. I felt anything but calm at this moment.