Ruined (The Seraphim Series Book 1) (22 page)

He didn’t answer; instead, he pulled her through the crowd.

Azrael led them outside the club and quickly hailed a taxi. They rode in silence to his apartment, no one sure what to say. Azrael kept a tight hold of her hand, refusing to let her go, which meant Sebastian had to sit in the front.

“That club looked fun,” Rebecca said awkwardly, trying to fill the silence as they pulled up outside the apartment complex. “I mean, it’s no Purgatory,” she carried on when no one else spoke. “But it was cool.”

“Yeah. We should go back sometime. We could bring our old school friends!” Sebastian laughed sarcastically, shaking his head as he got out of the car.

“I was being serious,” she huffed, crossing her arms. “You’re a demon, and she's an angel,” she said, nodding her head in Lilliah's direction. “You can go to places like that now.”

Lilliah smiled, looking over at her friend; she really could lighten any mood without trying. Was it strange that they had just seen someone die and it didn’t seem to have affected any of them? Had they all changed so much that death didn’t bother them at all now?

“You guys should get some sleep,” Azrael cut in.

“What are you going to do with that guy?” Sebastian pressed eagerly. “I want to be there. I want to know what he knows.”

“This isn’t a game, Sebastian.” The harshness in Azrael’s voice made them all flinch. “I'll inform you of everything, but right now, you need to go upstairs.”

Sebastian held his gaze for a moment, clearly sizing up his options. “Right,” he nodded, walking towards the elevator. They all followed in silence.

“How long will it take?” Lilliah asked once they were alone.

Azrael moved around the room, his posture rigid and his features hard.

“Hey,” she whispered, walking up to him to take his hand. “What's wrong?”

“I should be asking you that. You just saw me kill someone,” Azrael said as he turned, letting go of her hand and purposely giving them distance. She didn’t like it. “So how do you feel?”

“I've seen you kill a vampire before. Remember Darius?” she said, referring to the vampire that Azrael had killed in her kitchen.

“This is different.”

“I just—I don't know how I feel.” She thought about it for a second. The truth was that she didn’t really feel anything. What she had just seen Azrael do hadn’t shocked her at all. If anything, it was her own reaction that frightened her. “I don’t feel anything,” she shared honestly.

“It's what I am,” he began, his face still hard and expressionless. “I'm a killer. I’ve killed more people than I can count. I hate that you've seen it, but please don't look at me like I’m a monster.”

She shook her head, feeling confused. He clearly didn’t understand what she’d meant. “You’re not a monster. I don't think you are.” She stopped trying to find the best way to explain it without sounding like a psychopath or really sick in the head. “I know I should have been afraid or scared or even shocked. But I wasn’t. Seeing that didn’t affect me at all. I know what you are. I know what you've done. And I don't care.” She watched his eyes narrow, trying to find out whether she was telling the truth.

“I'm not squeaky clean. I have and I will do things that you will find scary. I need to know you won’t run.”

“I’m not running!” she stressed. “I'm here. I’ve not moved.” He didn’t look convinced, so she carried on. “I know what you've done and what you can do, Azrael. That doesn’t scare me. What scares me is that I’ve just watched you kill a man. I watched a man die and it didn’t change how I feel about you, and it didn’t even affect me at all.” She was pulled into his arms.

“It does affect you, though, Lilliah. You’re just not thinking about it right now. But you will. Soon, you will process what you've seen, and I don't want you to hate me when you do.”

“I will never hate you,” she vowed. “Is there something wrong with me, though? Because I am fine,” she whispered into his chest. “These things should bother me, but they don't.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” He laughed as the elevator pinged and Maliki and Benedict walked through, carrying the unconscious man.

“Put him in there.” Azrael nodded to an open door.

“It's easier said than done,” Maliki stressed, trying to turn. “This guy is huge.”

Lilliah watched with amusement as they struggled.

“Take a seat,” Azrael ordered, walking over to the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Whiskey,” Maliki replied, almost collapsing on the sofa, and unbuttoned his smart jacket.

Benedict took the seat opposite, completely collected and calm. He didn’t look out of breath at all.

“How about we start from the beginning?” Azrael suggested, walking into the room holding two glasses. “I want to know everything you know. How do you know Jonathan? How do you know he's connected to Lilliah’s mother?”

Lilliah watched closely. Azrael’s whole posture was relaxed as he took the seat beside her.

“Everyone has always wanted more power, Azrael,” Maliki began, lightly swirling the liquid in the glass. “Vampires, werewolves, warlocks,” he continued, casting a quick glance at Benedict. “They've always wanted to stay alive longer, to live forever. And they know it’s possible. They know because you have lived forever.”

“The quest for power is hardly new,” Azrael cut in, sounding bored. “I don't want a story. I want the truth.”

“I'm getting there. I’m getting there,” he assured, taking a sip. “It has always been that way, as you've said, but things are changing. The battle lines are moving and things are getting a lot more dangerous.”

Lilliah sat forward.

“What do you mean?” Benedict asked tightly.

“Werewolves have always stayed with werewolves and vampires with vampires. But now, there’s a new group forming. I don’t know who is at the head, but it’s a mix. Werewolves, vampires, even warlocks and witches.”

She couldn’t help but notice as Benedict sat taller in his seat.

“Forming? Forming for what?” Azrael’s voice had suddenly gone harder, colder. He knew there was something in what Maliki was telling them.

“For power,” he said simply, casually crossing his legs. “They want power. I believe it’s these people who have your mother.”

“But why do you think that?” Lilliah pressed. “Did you see her?”

“No.” Her whole body deflated at his simple answer. “There was a game of poker that went very wrong,” he told her, dismissing it with a flick of his hand. “They pulled me aside about the money I owed, and that’s when I heard the phone conversation Jonathan was having. He was talking about the other fallen angel. I believe his orders were to take you. But somehow, he ended up with your mother. I had heard that Jonathan was connected to this new, elusive group,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t believe it at first. Have you seen him? More brawn than brains.” He laughed, taking another sip. “But then when I heard about the whole catastrophe with your mother and how you are the daughter of Michael, well, it all started to make sense.”

The room fell silent as everyone tried to digest the information.

“Did you know anything about this group?” Azrael asked, slightly turning to Benedict.

“Of course he wouldn’t have,” Maliki cut in. “It’s very hush-hush. But people get very talkative when they've had a few and start playing poker.”

“I'll walk you out,” Benedict said, tightly standing.

“Oh, okay,” Maliki said, a little dumbfounded, and he downed the last of his drink. “It really was a pleasure meeting you, Lilliah.” He smiled, reaching for her hand.

“You too.” She watched as he sashayed out of the room. “I like him,” she said, turning back to Azrael.

“Of course you’d like a gambling, alcoholic werewolf.” He smiled, rolling his eyes, and reached over to take her hand in his.

“This is big,” Benedict stressed, storming back into the room. “It all makes sense. The vampire and werewolf attacks—they weren’t done by different groups, but the same one. It’s clever,” he said, not really talking to anyone as he paced the living room. “It threw us off the real scent.”

“I agree. It's bigger than we thought. But we're still no closer to knowing who the hell it is,” Azrael fumed. “How is it possible an entire organisation has formed without us knowing about it? Surely there should have been whispers. Gossip. Anything?”

“Something like that would have been kept under wraps. My guess is only a few people actually know the true leader.”

“I agree. We'll come up with a plan.” He nodded, but his head was somewhere else. “We'll send out more people, try and get any information we can on this new group.” He stood slowly. “Eventually, they'll come to us.”

“Azrael,” Benedict stressed, his eyes skimming to Lilliah then back to Azrael. “I think the best course of action would be to travel to New York and—”

“Do not even finish that sentence,” Azrael warned. “We have spoken about this, and I refuse to do so again.”

“Travel to New York?” Lilliah asked, her interest piqued. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Azrael quickly dismissed.

“There could be a spell to restore your memories.” Benedict had said the words so quickly, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.

“Benedict!” the roar of Azrael’s voice was unlike anything she had ever heard.

“There’s a spell?” she asked, trying to ignore Azrael’s outburst.

Before Benedict could answer, Azrael had flown across the room, knocking Benedict into the wall.

“Holy fuck!” She rushed to Benedict’s side as he lay on the floor. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” He coughed, trying to sit up. “I'm fine, Lilliah.”

“You could have hurt him!” she yelled at Azrael, who didn’t look affected at all. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“He's fine.” He shrugged, turning to walk away.

“Benedict, can I have a minute with Azrael, please?” she asked, helping him to his feet.

“Yeah,” he replied through clenched teeth, limping towards the door.

“Don't think this is over,” Azrael warned, watching him open the door.

Benedict turned, nodding his head only once before leaving.

“Is it true?” she asked as soon as she heard the door lock shut. “Is there a spell that could give me my memories back?”

“Lilliah.” Azrael sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It was nothing. Just forget about it.”

“Nothing?” She laughed, looking wide-eyed at him. “You just flung Benedict into a wall.” She paused to let her words sink in. “For nothing?”

“Yes,” he claimed, looking up at her. “That's what I'm telling you.”

“You’re lying.”

“The spell is dangerous. You could die.”

She started to pace, trying to understand the information.

“What does the spell do? Make me remember who I am?”

“It could bring back your powers. The theory is that if you remember who you are, you will remember your powers.”

The silence filled the room. All she could do was stare back at him.

“Were you ever going to tell me about this?”

“No.”

“This is my decision,” she told him, her anger rising with her voice. “It's up to me if I want to have the spell cast or not.”

“You have no idea what the spell consists of. It's dangerous. You could die. It's never been done before.” He stood and walked over to her.

“It is still my decision,” she replied, stubbornly refusing to let go of her anger. “I want to remember. I want to be able to fight and protect myself. How dare you make the decision for me!”

“Please,” he begged, shaking his head. “This is too dangerous.”

“But it’s up to me,” she repeated. “It's my decision to make. And with everyone who seems to be after me, surely it’s the best option? Surely my being able to look after myself will help everyone?”

The shrill of her ringtone broke the mood.

“Oh, let me guess, your friend Jeremy?” Azrael asked snidely.

“Don’t try and change the subject!” she shot at him, cancelling the call and throwing the phone on the sofa. “You kept this from me. You lied to me!”

“How did I lie?” he asked, his anger finally flaring. “I just didn’t tell you about it.”

“It’s the same thing!” she screamed. “You took a decision out of my hands and made it for me.”

The phone started ringing again.

“Oh, for the love of . . .” Azrael flew across the room and snatched up her phone.

“Don’t!” She tried to stop him but it was too late.

“Hello?” he asked smoothly into the phone.

“Put the phone down, Azrael,” she warned, running up to him and reaching for the phone.

“Who are you looking for?” he asked, holding the phone out of Lilliah’s reach.

“Azrael!” she shouted as he held her effortlessly away with one hand.

“No, Lilliah’s right here, hold on.” He held her phone out to her. “It’s your friend, Jeremy,”

She grabbed it from him and turned around.

“Hey, Jeremy,” she said and took a breath, trying to get her anger under control.