Chloe's Guardian (The Nephilim Redemption Series Book 1) (40 page)

CHAPTER
55

Horatius slid off the mule and fell onto the ground not far from Billy. He pulled himself through the leaves and twigs and gathered Billy’s bleeding body into his arms. Oh, his tiny broken form! He had plans to be his father. They were going to have a life together and he would watch him grow up, giving him all the love he never had himself.

Billy opened his glassy eyes and looked up to Horatius.

“Meant…to kill him. For what…he did.”

“Ah, Billy. Lad,” Horatius had trouble speaking himself, the life draining out with the fluids spilling from his wound. His blood mixed with Billy’s and glistened in the firelight. “I am so sorry, son. I can’t even ask you to forgive me.” He brushed the hair from Billy’s eyes, which shut again. “I had such dreams for us.”

Kaitlyn almost fell on them when she stumbled over. “What can I do? Can I help you?” she said through sobs and tears. “Should I put pressure…somewhere?” She looked at their wounds and the horror on her face told Horatius she would never be able to stop any of the bleeding. She looked as lost as she was—in the wrong century and with her best friend taken away. And now her last hope of a savior was dying in front of her.

Kaitlyn closed her eyes. When she reopened them, her expression had cleared. She put her hand on Billy’s head, the only place not covered in blood. “You aren’t alone, little one. Billy.” She looked up to Horatius as if to confirm she called him by the right name. “I will stay with you.” She reached over and took Horatius’ hand into her own. “I’ll stay with you too, Horace. As long as you need.”

“Cold,” Billy said. “Hard…to breathe.”

Kaitlyn stroked his forehead. “Heaven is beautiful, Billy. I saw it. I know. You won’t be cold there. And you’ll breathe music. It’s in the air. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ll ever hear or feel. Peace washes over you like sunshine. Everything you could ever hope for is there.”

Horatius took Billy’s hand. “Billy?”

Billy’s eyes flickered open.

“What can I do? Your forgiveness would be…so…”
It is too selfish to ask.
“I…love you. Like my own son. Proud to be your da.”

Billy smiled a tiny weak grin, showing the new space and the rest of his baby teeth. He reached his tiny hand to Horatius’ face and laid his palm against his cheek.

“Dinna worry…about forgiveness. ’Tis like love. Already there. No need…to try so hard.”

Billy brushed against his whiskers twice, then his arm fell slack and his face relaxed. His last breath seeped out in a slow leak. The blood pulsing out his wound slowed and stopped.

Kaitlyn used the edge of her skirt to wipe away the blood splattered onto Billy’s cheek. “He tried to save you,” she said. “His tiny little self thrown against that horrid giant. He really loved you.” She moved his arm into a natural position and straightened his tunic.

Then she looked up and screamed.

The witch stood over Horace, a scythe raised high. Her eyes were evil, purple glowing in their depths. The curved blade dropped and fell on Horace’s neck.

When it touched his skin, the air exploded in yellow light, igniting the trees around them in brilliance like a bomb had gone off. A howl like Kaitlyn had never heard, part human, part supernatural, bent the trunks by its power. Horace stood tall and majestic, glowing and throbbing in energy, chasing away all the darkness from the forest. He grabbed the sickle out of the possessed witch’s hand. With a single stroke, he chopped off her head. It dropped with a hollow crunch onto the thick leaves.

Kaitlyn’s scream stalled in her throat and turned to a whimper. The eyes were still open, staring back up at her. They blinked. It was too unreal. Too horrible to process.

Horace kneeled down and laid one hand on Billy’s head and the other on his stomach. He closed his eyes only a second, then dropped his head like all was lost. Then he swept up to his full height. “Stay with Billy. I have to go after Panahasi.”

He was talking to her. What had he said?

“Stay here?”

He grabbed her by the shoulders. “I don't want Billy left alone. You have to stay! Satarel will be here in seconds. I have to go! I can't…. You must stay here. I don't want him left alone. There are wild animals. I must follow Panahasi!”

“But I can’t stay. Not here.” The eyes, watery and shimmering with Horace’s golden light, kept looking at her. They blinked again. Kaitlyn inched closer to Horace, trying to get farther from the head and its stare.

“There is no other option. I can't take you.”

“You can’t leave me!”

“I
must
. I must go
now.
”

“But—”

“There is no time for this.”

“Will you come back for me?”

“I will. Just wait here. Stay with him. You will not even be aware of time passing. And I will be back. Now pray. Pray with all your might that the Celestials hold off Satarel.”

All his light collapsed inward, leaving nothing, and he disappeared. But she wasn’t ready for him to go. After his radiance, the one small circle of yellow firelight wasn’t enough.

At least in the dim light now the eyes were barely visible, yellow and drooping. With the very tips of her finger and thumb she picked up the edge of the scarf that was still partially wrapped around the head and tossed it over the face.

She knelt back down next to the boy but didn’t touch him again. She had never touched a dead body before. For a moment, it looked like his chest was moving, up and down, like he was breathing again.
It can’t be true. Not with his chest open like that
. Though he was gone, it was almost a comfort to be next to him. Better than totally alone in the vast forest, in the middle of the night, in the middle of the wrong century.

Horace said he would be back. Before she knew any time had passed.

She waited.

But time passed.

She waited some more. Hopefully, he would reappear. Any second. She was feeling time pass, even though he promised she wouldn’t. If he didn’t delay another minute that would be good.
Please come back, Horace.

What if Satarel had stopped him? He’d said to pray to hold off Satarel. She could do that. It would be easier than waiting, feeling time, doing nothing. So she started praying. She asked the Celestials to keep Satarel away. She asked that Chloe be kept safe. And she asked that Horace wouldn’t kill Panahasi. Because she knew that’s what he intended to do. It was in his eyes.

She prayed with all her might, like she’d never prayed before. She even stopped noticing the dead boy next to her and how much time was passing without Horace returning.

CHAPTER
56

Horatius transported into a different dimension, blasting into existence with a force so powerful, the atmosphere cracked and boomed like the inside of a thunderhead.

He took flight and shot through the thick, greasy air feeling as though any second he would lose control. The burning fury against Panahasi obscured the feelings that were trying to rear up and tear his insides out. As long as he focused on killing Panahasi, he could keep from thinking about what had just happened.

He roared as he zoomed through a dim cavern, zipping around stalagmites and stalactites that filled the cave like fangs. The rock shook with the energy he released as he rocketed through the space. The cavern sloped steeply and Horatius plunged deeper, rattling the mineral spikes in his reckless descent.

So overcome with murderous rage, he stopped moving around the conical formations and blasted right through them without desubstantiating himself. He wanted to feel and absorb the impact of crashing through the rock. Each collision obliterated all emotions for a moment, distracting his mind from the pain that kept screaming at him to notice, to feel, to acknowledge.

In spite of thoughts too thick to process, something broke through the turmoil in his mind. He listened between the crashes of his body through the stone then desubstantiated so he could hear.

He finally got control of his senses and listened in to the Celestial Chatter and heard Satarel’s ferocious approach into the caverns of Hades, tracking him toward the Gates.

He was not about to let Satarel interfere with his vengeance. He blasted forward with renewed determination. The cavern opened up above the first level of hell, and he burst into the sky above it as though the cavern had birthed him into this new realm. Ahead were the gray mansions that mimicked the most pretentious suburbs of earth, each home created to outdo the next. But none of it was right. No beauty existed, no color, no illumination. When Lucifer had taken occupation of the realm and filled it with his trappings, he could not make matter from nothing. An entire realm couldn't be created by what little matter existed there. Everything was a perverse echo of Creation. It was not good.

A high iron fence surrounded the gray neighborhood, its front gate yawning wide, allowing admission to any who would enter. Horatius swooped in, listening for Charon’s location so he could find Panahasi. He heard an echo of them just as Satarel’s thoughts shot through his brain. He was nearly to the entrance Horatius had just passed.

He flew over his father’s house where he’d had his own bedroom. He skipped the roof and landed in his old room. He transfigured to human form and stood still, listening for indications of Satarel’s entrance. His former belongings still sat on a shelf against the wall, as though he had not been gone. A faded picture of his mother hung on the wall. A dusty weapon he’d won in an ancient boxing tournament was next to a shofar he’d taken as a trophy off the body of a priest he’d killed. Those were the days when life was simple.

In the still silence, images that he’d suppressed of Billy cut into his brain like shards of glass. Cleaved in two, looking up to him, his hand against Horatius’ cheek, feeling his whiskers one last time. Horatius writhed in pain at the thought, doubling over as though a hot iron had cut into his gut. He struggled to control the emotion, to push it down and regain control.

I will kill Panahasi if it is the last thing I do!
So what if the act would undo all his virtuous effort? No longer did redemption or pardon matter.

The pain receded as he concentrated on a new plan.

He would rejoin the easy life of a fallen angel where he’d be accepted, where temptation was not a force to worry about. The strife that had plagued his life had only commenced when he had the ridiculous notion that redemption would bring freedom and joy. But real freedom and joy would come with returning to his roots, to relinquishing his will back to the realm that was comfortable, to the realm that would not pain his soulless heart.

Formulating the new scheme sent the memories of Billy out of his thoughts. Concentrating on hate was the way to stay sane.

Once again taking on the ecstasy of transfiguration, he metamorphosed into his angelic form, elevated past the roof, and shot toward the lower caverns where Charon was taking Panahasi and Chloe. Speed would be his only hope. As he tore toward Charon’s location, he’d make sure he sent thoughts to Satarel that he was ready to rejoin his family.

Within moments, Satarel was on him. Balls of flame blew past him, one grazing his ear, another his foot.

I want back, Satarel. Father.
He needed to convince him he was truly repentant of his betrayal, at least long enough to get to Panahasi and kill him.
I should never have left.

Satarel roared obscenities into his mind.

I will do whatever you want to make it up to you. I have one thing to do, then I am yours.
He didn’t care what happened after that. As long as Panahasi was wiped from existence.

“You think it so easy to undo your treachery?” Satarel screamed back. “How could you have betrayed me so? After all I had done for you.” He was right behind him, and Horatius heard him audibly. But the balls of flame had stopped for the moment, so maybe he was listening.

They were back in submerged caverns, descending deeper into the dimension, dropping toward the core of the realm where Lucifer kept his own mansion. Satarel kept on his heels.

“You left me!”

“I should not have left.”

Satarel passed him, flew in front of him, and turned around to face him as they continued to plunge down into the depths of the cavern. “But you
did
.”

“I am sorry that I did.”

“Forgiveness is not my specialty.”

“I will make it up to you.”

“That may not be possible.”

“I will vow my allegiance to you.”

“What can you even do to prove your intent?”

“I will kill for you.” He pictured Chloe and Panahasi. Satarel would see his thoughts.

“Ah, you would kill the girl,” he said. Satarel turned forward again and led them on. “That might be a start.”

The anger Horatius was trying to control got a hold of him and he thought of killing Panahasi, and Satarel heard it.

“Not Panahasi, too. That would be too easy for him. He tried to usurp me. He betrayed me even worse than you did. He must continue to exist so he can suffer.”

Satarel swooped low and around a petrified pillar where a stalactite had united with a stalagmite. Horatius followed right behind, cutting through the same air.

They passed through a narrowing in the cavern, where the ceiling was near the floor, connected by an increased network of mineral icicles. It was like the old days when they flew together in perfect synchrony. Liquid oozed out of the emulated rock above them and dripped to the ground, leaving fetid pools of slime. The substance was unstable and frequently erupted into small flames and putrid smoke.

Another image of Billy tried to push into Horatius’ thoughts, but he pushed it back. Instead, he concentrated on how familiar it felt to fly with Satarel, how comfortable and easy it was to fall back into the old pattern. So many battles and adventures and escapades they’d experienced together. He could do it again. He
would
do it again, if that would allow him the revenge he sought.

The cavern opened once again and the duo burst forth into a new level of hell. Below another subdivision sprawled out before them. It was darker and murkier, the light separated less, leaving a veil of shadow over the realm. The air stank worse than the previous level, smoldering and popping with sparks and noise, rendered unstable from its inferior genesis. Horatius zeroed in on the cave along craggy hills outside of the suburb. Charon was inside, descending lower to the next level. Satarel flew toward it and Horatius followed.

The dark cave was among many passageways that filled the cliffs bordering the suburb. Horatius knew they were almost to Charon, who was moving downward fast. He had to catch them before they reached the Prince.

They rounded a bend and came upon Charon. They pulled up to a stop and hovered in the air, not touching down on the molten floor. Their group had stopped and Panahasi was standing away from him, trying not to step in a puddle of smoking slime, arguing about something.

Chloe was in Charon’s grasp, her feet and arms dangling like a puppet with its strings clipped. Horatius looked away, unable to stand the hopelessness on her face.

He willed up the anger, the fury he’d been feeling toward Panahasi and pushed down every other thought. He had to complete his purpose before anything thwarted him. He
had
to kill Panahasi. If it endangered the girl, so be it.
Her life is worth the vengeance.
She was already lost anyway. Once past the gates, a human could not go back. That was just the way it was.

“I will take care of him,” Satarel said, putting a restraining hand on Horatius’ chest.
I don’t want him dead
he thought to him with authority, apparently not interested in letting Panahasi in on the plan to spare his miserable life.

But I do
!
And Horatius leapt forward, producing a flaming sword in his hand as he did. Satarel jumped in front of him and grabbed Panahasi.

“You will obey me if you intend to prove yourself,” Satarel yelled. “
I
will deal with your brother.”

“Let me prove myself to you, Satarel. Horatius betrayed you,” Panahasi said.

Satarel lifted Panahasi high, as though he intended to crush him down against the stones. “You failed me!” he roared. “You must be punished.”

“The Prince instructed me to take him with the girl to the holding area,” Charon said reaching out to grab back Panahasi.

Satarel’s eyes flashed evil anger. “Return to your own level,” and he threw out his hand toward Charon. He disappeared through a dark, collapsing hole. Horatius reached out and grabbed Chloe as she fell through the empty air where Charon had been. He cradled her like a baby. In his arms she was a floppy rag doll.

Satarel still held Panahasi high in the air in his outstretched hand. “You kill the girl,” Satarel said to Horatius. “I will return to see your loyalty. Then your fate will be determined. Do not disappoint me again.”

A flash filled the dim cavern and Satarel and Panahasi disappeared.

Chloe looked up at Horatius with clouded, dazed eyes. Chloe who’d had such fire and will to return to her family now had only despair and surrender in her expression. The fear and destruction of evil had consumed her. She could not withstand the terror.

He would make it quick and merciful. Then Satarel would come back, Horatius would prove himself, and then he’d go find Panahasi and annihilate him. And to him he would show no mercy.

Chloe roused and reached up to Horatius. She placed her hand on his cheek. Right where the touch of Billy’s hand had left a permanent sensation. He’d been ignoring it, but with Chloe’s hand there, the scene flashed back into his memory. Billy looking up at him, speaking of love and forgiveness. But Horatius had failed Billy. Why did Billy have to die? It replayed again and again in his memory. Billy’s charge, the blade sinking into his little body, him tottering and then collapsing. His last words. His death. He’d done it all to save Horatius. Given his life.

It suddenly came to Horatius. He had not realized before. Billy had provided everything Horatius needed to live. He’d furnished the pure sacrificial offering to break the curse.

And now Horatius intended to throw that life away, by taking Chloe’s life—Chloe who he vowed to help—and by destroying his own chance at redemption.

Redemption be damned! Panahasi must pay for what he has done.
And Chloe had to die as well. It was too late for her. She, too, was already damned.

A long knife flashed into existence in his hand. The flame burned white hot then became gleaming metal. He would take her head quickly, with the sharpest blade, and not let her suffer. That was what he would do to honor Billy’s memory. Billy would understand. It was what he had to do.

He laid her onto the ground between simmering pools of smoldering slime. She fell into a limp heap, her glassy gaze aimed at nothing. She would not even know. He filled his fist with her hair and put his blade to her throat. “It must be done,” he said.

No need…to try so hard.

“Billy!” He whipped around, looking for him. “Is that you?”

Horatius.
The plural voice.
They
had spoken his name!

What was going on? How could he have heard Billy? Was
They
speaking to him again, just like the night Satarel and Panahasi almost killed him? Was Billy with
They
?
They’s
plural voice rang with such peace and hope. Grace flooded him and melted his rage. He hurled the knife aside and it evaporated before it hit the wall.

He had to get Chloe out of there! But how could he? Once past the gates, she was doomed to stay.
There’s no way back through the gates of hell for humans.