Retribution (Redemption Series) (6 page)

I cried out, not because I feared what
Marcas
had just done would cause him to hate me, but
because a sudden, terrifying realization flooded me.
Marcas
was disappearing, his eyes on my hand.

"And
yet you still fear one thing,
" Damon had mocked. In those last
few moments, Damon had used whatever remaining power he had left to force the
ring onto my finger. And the Seal wanted Demon blood.

"NO!" I screamed even as the
pain slammed into me. I could feel the tears pouring down my cheeks as
Marcas's
eyes stared into mine, his fist clenching Damon's
lifeless body as both Demons disappeared.

With that, I fell to the ground, my body
wracked with a pain that can never be described properly. There are no words
strong enough. Because as the ring worked to purge the Demon blood from my
body, I felt my heart crack, the hairline fracture moving down the organ,
widening until the halves fell apart. And as my heart crumbled, I looked up
into the sky and screamed
,
my cheeks wet as I let
oblivion and pain take me away.

Chapter 5

The physical bond is severed. The emotional bond is
far from undone.

~
Bezaliel
~

I awoke on a wave of pain and nausea so
intense, my body didn't just shake,
it
rocked with
spasms. I was nonsensical, the distant sound of voices flowing over me before
darkness took me again. And then . . .

"She will be fine. I know Dayton.
She'll rise above this," a voice whispered.

It was a familiar voice, comforting.

"She won't have a choice," a
male voice answered.
Conor
?

The pain took me again. I think I
screamed, throwing myself against something that felt eerily like a carpeted
floor.

"Hold her!" a deep male voice
ordered, and I shivered uncontrollably.

I'm not sure if the voice caused the
shiver or if it was the ceaseless tremors. All I knew was pain, my stomach
rebelling as hands pushed me upward. I retched.

"I've never seen anything like this
before," a lyrical voice said, and I growled. Sophia.

Hatred suddenly consumed me. Hate for
anyone who had ever hurt
Marcas
, who had ever come
between us, and I threw myself at the Angel's voice.

Darkness again . . .

"
Dammit
, Red!
Pull yourself together!"

Conor's
voice was
there, but I didn't try to find him. I didn't even try to open my eyes. I just
wanted the darkness. I wanted relief from the pain. I wanted relief from the
heartache. I let the darkness have me.
Sweet relief.

"Take the damn thing off of her
already!" It was Monroe's voice, and she was livid. "It's killing
her."

"It is too late," the deep,
male voice answered. It was a familiar voice, and yet it wasn't familiar at
all. "Taking it off now would certainly kill her."

There was a
sob,
and then darkness again.

"Dayton?"

Amber. Her hands were rubbing my
forehead. The pain was less intense, but my stomach roiled, and I beat it with
my fists. The nausea was so bad, I couldn't breathe. I was choking! And then .
. . more hands, more retching.
Darkness.

"She's getting better,"
someone said, his voice low, and I knew it was Lucas. Lucas, my father's
protégé, the fallen Angel sent by
Bezaliel
to protect
me. What a bang up job he had done!

"You're not an easy charge, Fiery
One. You don't let people protect you," Lucas whispered.

I had a moment of irritation as Lucas
read my thoughts before darkness stole me away once more.

"Dayton?"

Monroe's voice
again.
I moved my head to the side. The pain was duller now, bearable, and I whimpered
as a new pain engulfed me, sweeping me away. My chest hurt. It hurt so
physically bad, I wanted nothing more than to cut out my own heart and throw it
away. It was an empty, hollow feeling, a lonely feeling beyond anything I had
ever felt before.

"
Marcas
,"
I whispered.

My lips were cracked, and they hurt. My
throat was dry and raw. A cup was placed against my mouth, and I drank the
liquid, not because I wanted or even needed it, but because it seemed expected
of me.

"Dayton . . ." Monroe began.

I forced myself to open my eyes, my lids
swollen from tears I didn't remember shedding. I was in a large living room
with plush, brown carpet and mahogany leather sofas. The place was painfully
familiar.

"Don't!" I breathed, the word
cut off by a sob. "Don't tell me he's gone."

Monroe leaned over me, her short blonde
hair straight and shining. She was in a pink peasant top and bell bottom blue
jeans, her legs folded beneath her on the floor as she looked me in the eyes. I
was lying on the carpet, and I dug my nails into the fibers.

"He's gone," Monroe
said,
her voice so soft I wasn't even sure she actually
uttered the words. But it was enough.

I was retching again, Monroe's hands
against my back as she pushed me upward. The water I'd sipped a moment before
came back up again into a bowl Monroe shoved under my chin. There were only dry
heaves after that, and I finally pushed the bowl away as I rocked back and
forth.

"Dayton . . ." Monroe
whispered.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. I
was going to be fine.
Really.
But I couldn't talk
right now. I just wanted to curl up in the fetal position and disappear, to let
the Seal take me the same way it had
Marcas
. The
sudden thought made me open my eyes, and I lifted my hand desperately. The Seal
was still on my finger. I gasped.

"He's in there!" I breathed,
my fingers fisting around the ring until the metal was cutting into my skin.

Monroe placed a hand on my back.

"There's no way of knowing that,
Day. We don't know what the ring does to the Demons it traps."

I tried standing up, but I fell
backward. I was weak, and my clothes felt entirely too loose. I was in a pair
of grey cotton drawstring pants and a large black t-shirt. The pants were too
long, and I stumbled when I attempted to get up a second time.

"Take it easy," Monroe said.
"You've been extremely ill for a week now."

A week!

"Where are we?" I asked as I
sank back down onto the carpet.

I looked at the bare, cream walls, the
carpet, and the furniture. There was an entryway to the right of the room and
through it I could see stairs that ended at the front door. Monroe took a deep
breath.

"You don't know?" she asked.

My heart rate picked up. My narrowed
eyes were glued to the partial view of the stairs. I felt nausea engulf me
again, and I swallowed hard. Memories assaulted me. In my mind, I could hear a
series of knocks, the sound of Mrs. Cavendish's irritated voice as she moved to
the front door.

"It can't be," I whispered.

This was my childhood home. It was the
same house where a little over ten years ago my sister and I were told our
parents were dead.

"No."

I closed my eyes and shook my head. I
had spent too many years trying to forget this place. The only thing about it I
wanted to remember was my mother.

"Dayton?" a female voice
asked. Amber. I felt Monroe stiffen behind me.

"Give her some time . . ." Monroe
began.

I opened my eyes, my gaze moving to the
entryway. Amber stood there, her long blonde hair down over her face. She was
in jeans and a red t-shirt.
Behind her stood
Conor
, Lucas, and Sophia.

"I'm fine," I interrupted.

It wasn't true, but it made me feel
better to say it. Sophia pushed through the group at the door, her eyes on my
hands. Her gaze was dark, intent.

"Give me the Seal," Sophia
said gently.

I crawled backward, ran into Monroe, and
then scooted sideways past her toward the farthest edge of the living room.

"No," I whispered.

Sophia's face hardened. Lucas' hand came
to rest on her shoulder as
Conor
edged into the room.
It still surprised me to see him. In Egypt,
Conor
had
looked transformed.
Different somehow.
Older.
The sudden maturity looked good on him.

He came to me and crouched, his eyes
meeting mine as he took my empty hand in his. The hand with the seal was fisted
behind my back.

"I'm sorry, Red,"
Conor
mouthed.

There was sympathy in his eyes, and it
called to me. In Egypt, I'd discovered that
Conor
had
been assigned to guard a girl after I'd disappeared with
Marcas
in Italy. This girl had affected
Conor
. He felt
something for his charge. I had no doubt. What I saw in his eyes now was
compassion and understanding. I gripped his hand hard.

"I won't part with the Seal,"
I told him quietly.

The Seal was my only link to
Marcas
now. I didn't give a damn what King it had belonged
to or how important it was to Heaven. It had
Marcas
trapped. The Seal was mine. A new resolve settled over me.

"Why didn't you come to the
Abbey?" I
asked,
my eyes on
Conor
.

Marcas
and I had
fought Damon alone and, in the end, in his own way, Damon had won. If he
couldn't have his redemption, no one could. The only soul he had cared about
was his own.
Conor
ducked his head.

"It was
Marcas
'
fight.
His sacrifice.
He asked us not to
interfere."

My throat closed up, and I schooled my
features. Open book Dayton was no more. I didn't want anyone to suspect the
amount of pain that swept through me. I barred my thoughts to keep Sophia and
Lucas out of my head. Being unguarded was a weakness.
Marcas
was gone. He had sacrificed himself for me. He was no longer here to protect
me. It was my turn to protect him. There was no room for weakness.

"My
aunt?"
I asked.

It was Amber who answered, stepping into
the room uncertainly.

"She's with the Sisters at the
Abbey. When Damon was destroyed, the Sisters regained their wits. But Aunt Kyra
. . ."

"Your aunt has always wanted too
much. She wanted a pure line of
Sethian
descendants,
and she wanted all Demons destroyed. She sacrificed too much to get it--her own
sister, her nieces, even herself. She will never be the same. She's a broken
woman being cared for by her Sisters. Sister Mary is now the Sect's leader. The
Abbey is a safe house once more."

I knew the voice that interrupted my
sister. I knew the deep, male voice well. It had visited me too often, had
plagued my dreams for years.

"You
bastard."

I whispered it, my eyes moving to the floor.
I felt a moment of guilt, but it was brief. The voice didn't respond.

"Dayton," Amber began, but I
just shook my head.

"
Now
you show up," I
breathed,
my
focus on the faceless man.

"The time was right," he said.

I looked up, my eyes moving toward the
entryway. And there he stood, tall with thick auburn hair that fell to his
shoulders. He was dressed simply, a pair of blue jeans and an un-tucked, blue
button up shirt.
 
He was as young as he
was in my dreams, appearing no older than thirty in human years. He was big and
built. He was awe-inspiring, intimidating even. He was my father. Daniel.
Bezaliel
.
Dad.

"The time was right," I
repeated dumbly.

His gaze moved over me.

"You've come into your powers, the
Seal is safe, the
twin
Demons feared by Heaven and
exalted by Hell are trapped, and your aunt has been removed from power. The
time was right."

My lips parted. It was the only
emotional concession I allowed myself. I was angry, but it was a cold anger.

"The time was right," I said,
my voice breaking on a laugh.

I stood up shakily, the adrenaline
rushing through my body keeping me from stumbling. I missed the fire that had
been
Marcas
' power rushing through my veins. The Seal
had purged me of his blood. We were no longer bound. The only power left was my
own.
Conor
tried to help me, but I shook him off, my
eyes locked on
Bezaliel
.