A Devil Named Desire (20 page)

She was regal-looking, and very beautiful. She tilted her head, which was piled high with dark hair and woven with ribbon, and smiled, seemingly unperturbed by the sight of them, wild-eyed and panic-stricken though they were.

“You poor dears,” she said, in a comforting fashion. “How frightened you must be.” She held out both her hands, flashing with rings, wrists covered in bangles. “Come with me now, quickly, if you want to live.”

Hope looked at Charity and Charity looked at her, the black gag an ugly slash in her pretty face.
Should we trust her?
was the question at the forefront of both their minds.

“Time is of the essence, my dears,” the woman said. “You’ll come to no harm with me, I swear it.”

“Who are you?” Hope challenged.

“My name is Pandora, and I’m one of the good guys. Not as good as your friend Gabriel”—she gave a light tinkle of laughter—“but good nonetheless.”

“You know Gabriel?”

“I’ve not had the pleasure,” Pandora replied, “but I’m quite certain that he’d approve of you doing as I ask.”

Invoking Gabriel’s name had been a smart move on the woman’s part. Knowing they were somewhere in the middle of nowhere, with nowhere to go, and no other options, Hope swallowed hard, and took a step toward her.

“Take my hands,” Pandora said, waggling beringed fingers, “both of you.”

Slowly, Hope reached out a hand, and then so did Charity. She felt the woman’s fingers, surprisingly strong, close around her own. The spangles on Pandora’s golden dress glittered, then became blinding, as the world around them exploded into light.

Chapter Twenty-one

“I
protest,” Nyx said to Pandora, “most vehemently. The master would not appreciate your interference, and neither do I.” He hung the goat mask on the wall, carefully, where it leered at them both, as though finding their squabbles amusing.

“Oh, pooh,” Pandora replied, choosing a plump grape from the platter in front of her. They were in an antechamber near Samael’s private quarters, a place Nyx used for himself when not waiting upon his Dark Prince. “What care I for your protests?” She wrinkled her pretty nose at the black robe he was still wearing, popping the grape into her mouth. “And do take off that robe . . . the smell of blood offends me.”

“What care I for your offense?” Nyx retorted, ripping the robe from his body and tossing it on the floor. “You cannot keep humans like pets, and you most certainly cannot keep them within the inner temple.”

“Why not?” Pandora asked, eyeing Nyx beneath her lashes. “There are plenty of bedrooms, and Samael can deal with them at his leisure when he returns from the Sea of Sorrows.”

“The master will have more on his mind than those two when he returns,” Nyx said with a frown.

“Do you think he’ll be able to save the young princeling?”

“Don’t call him a princeling,” Nyx said absently, missing Pandora’s knowing smile. It was gone from her face by the time he turned, stalking back in her direction. “And of course he’ll save him. My lord can do anything.”

“The Leviathan is older than time,” Pandora mused, “and his ways are mysterious. I worry that he draws Samael into some kind of trap.”

“I worry about that, too,” Nyx confessed, in a rare show of honesty. “But His Infernal Majesty forbade me to follow him, and I must do as he bids.”

“Poor Nyx,” Pandora said soothingly. She patted the seat beside her. “Come, share my couch, and we’ll wait together.”

Nyx turned his head to give her a suspicious look, his red eyes flaring briefly.

“What?” The look Pandora gave him in return was the picture of innocence. She popped another grape into her mouth and chewed it, then swallowed. “We’re on the same side, you know: Samael’s.” A dimple played in her cheek as she smiled up at him.

“You’ll forgive me if I find that hard to believe,” Nyx growled. “In all the years I’ve known you you’ve cared for no one but yourself.”

Pandora gasped in mock dismay. “How you wound me!”

“Would that I could,” Nyx returned darkly, “but that’s something else the master has forbidden me to do.”

“Now, now,” she tutted, wagging a jeweled finger, “there’s no need for threats of violence. I’m quite fond of Samael in my own way, and he of me, which you know quite well.”

Nyx paced, a tall black shadow, unable to stay still. “He uses your body for his pleasure, that’s all.”

“As I use his,” she admitted frankly. “If we have no problem with it, why should you?”

Nyx shot her another red-eyed glare, not deigning to answer.

Pandora selected another grape, taking her time. Once she found one to her satisfaction, she held it between her fingers, eyeing it carefully. “You’re grouchier than usual today, my blackened friend, and I know why.”

Nyx sneered, and continued his pacing.

Pandora popped the grape into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “The Mass was ruined, and you fear it will merely increase the mutterings among the legions that the Great Shaitan has grown weak, allowing emotions to rule.”

A hiss of rage answered her. Nyx stopped, stock-still, and crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Have a care what you say about my master, Pandora.”

Unconcerned by the demon’s display of anger, Pandora shrugged a plump shoulder. “
I’m
not the one saying it, you beast, but we both know it’s being said.”

“It’s not true,” he stated emphatically. “The Great Shaitan always has a plan . . . his mind is like a labyrinth, shadowy and twisting. There is a reason for everything he does, and in this case it was to teach the Lightbringer a sorely needed lesson before handing him over to the Leviathan.”

“What if the reason was mercy?” Pandora asked softly. “What if the reason was love? These are emotions, my blackened friend, and they are emotions that are dangerous to have in Sheol.”

Nyx shook his horned head, stubbornly rejecting Pandora’s argument. “It’s not for me to question the Ruler of the Abyss, nor is it meet for the legions to do so. If I must wreak havoc among the ranks to still such rumors, I will gladly do so.”

“I have no doubt of that,” Pandora agreed, “for you are the most loyal of creatures.”

Turning a suspicious eye once again upon the woman who sat, half reclining, upon a well-cushioned couch, Nyx asked, “And you? Are you loyal to him?”

“More than you know,” she told him tranquilly, “for Samael and I share more than just a bed. We share a common history, that of being monumentally blamed for one teeny, tiny mistake, made in a moment of youthful folly. I understand his pain whether he shows openly or not, and despite the fact that he can be the biggest ass who ever lived”—she arched a perfectly tweezed brow in Nyx’s direction—“present company excepted, of course—he’s always been kind to me. I have nothing but his best interests at heart, which is why I brought the women here.”

Nyx regarded her silently for a long moment. “Your logic eludes me, but I expect nothing less from the female of the species.”

Pandora laughed. “Since I happen to be more female than most, your confusion is completely understandable. Come”—she patted the couch beside her again—“sit with me. I’m tired of you looming over me like the Shadow of Death.”

“I
am
the Shadow of Death,” he snapped in reply.

“So you are, and quite fearsome, too,” she agreed, not the least bit intimidated. “And yet strangely enough, the more time I spend with you, the less fearsomely ugly you appear.”

Nyx made a noise that could’ve been construed as a bark of laughter, if such a fearsome creature as he were able to laugh.

“I’ve noticed the same thing about you,” he told her, and joined her on the couch.

T
he water in the bathtub was warm, soothing, and without a hint of red. Hope stared down at the half-healed cuts she’d made just days before, marveling at how long ago it seemed. She couldn’t believe she’d ever been so stupid as to try and take her own life. After what she and Charity had gone through today, she’d never take the gift of life for granted again.

The bathroom was lavish, and completely unfamiliar. While she couldn’t claim that she felt completely safe in a strange woman’s bathtub, she could, at least, claim to be comfortable. And Pandora was indeed a strange woman; if Hope hadn’t seen stranger things with her own eyes, she’d never have believed that magic existed, much less beautiful women who looked and acted like goddesses
using
magic on her behalf. Yet there was no other explanation, for one moment she and Charity been in a corridor somewhere, and the next moment they’d been in some kind of palace, surrounded by luxury. The three rooms she’d seen so far—two bedrooms and the bathroom—were so exquisitely decorated that if she and Charity hadn’t been on the verge of collapse, she’d have goggled her eyes out.

Pandora herself had been nothing but kind, helping her and Charity to calm down by assuring them over and over that they were safe, though she refused to answer any questions, turning them away with cryptic answers like, “All will be revealed, in time.” Hope suspected that there’d been something in the wine Pandora had given them, because Charity had fallen asleep after just a few sips. Hope had refrained from drinking it, though the idea was tempting, mainly because she’d felt the need to be clean more than anything else. She felt tainted to her soul by what she’d seen today, even after scrubbing herself repeatedly.

Besides, if—by some miracle—Gabe showed up, she wanted to be awake and alert.

Miracle.
Lying there, in the warm, quiet tub, Hope pondered the meaning of the word. These last few days, she’d been certain that being pulled from the brink of death by the Devil himself had been nothing more than a monumental curse, and yet here she was, with her sister sleeping safely in the next room. If she’d slipped into darkness the way she’d planned, she’d never have met Gabe, and that was something she couldn’t bring herself to regret.

Even if she never saw him again, she’d always have the memory of how he’d looked, the sunlight streaming through her window as he sat in her living room. She’d never forget how he’d risen to her defense when the demon showed up, or how he’d tried to shield her from dealing with Sammy on the casino floor. She’d always remember their time in the hotel room, when he’d laid aside all his defenses, and let her touch him the way she’d wanted to since the moment she’d first seen him in her kitchen, wrapped in damp towels.

Laying her head back on the rim of the tub, Hope closed her eyes, refusing, for the moment, to cry any more. It was enough, for now, to know that she’d always have those moments when passion had surged between them—so fierce, so strong—and the tenderness that followed, so gentle.

Whether Gabe had loved her at all in those moments she might never know, but there was no question that she had loved him, and always would.

And then, slowly, as the water cooled, Hope realized that mere thoughts of Gabriel were
not
enough; they would never be enough. She’d been willing to do anything to find her sister, yet for Gabriel, she’d done nothing, and was still doing nothing, because she was weak in all the places where she thought she’d been strong.

Evil wins when good does nothing
, Nicki Styx had said to her.

Hope opened her eyes and sat up. She would take the only course left to her, and do it gladly.

Rising from the tub, she wrapped herself in a fluffy robe hanging from a hook on the wall, and padded quietly into the bedroom Pandora had given her to use.

There, beside the bed, she lowered herself to her knees and folded her fingers together. Scarcely knowing where to begin, for it had been so long, she began to pray to the One who’d always been there, even if she’d been too stubborn to look for Him.

“Help me, please,” she prayed, “for Gabriel’s sake, if not for mine. I know I don’t deserve it after what I’ve done”—she swallowed hard, remembering how she’d agreed to cooperate with the Devil himself—“but Gabriel doesn’t deserve to suffer because of me. He’s served you faithfully all these years, and what happened between us was my fault, not his. Please don’t punish him because of me. Please let him live . . . it doesn’t matter if I ever see him again, as long as he’s alive, somewhere, doing what he was meant to do.”

The room was quiet. Hope leaned forward, eyes closed, hands clasped, and rested her head against the bed.

“He no longer has his flaming Sword of Righteousness. He no longer has his wings, or his powers, but he is still Gabriel, Bringer of Light, Servant of Truth. All he has is You, O Great One . . . all he has is You.”

She stayed there, on her knees, for a long, long time, not knowing if her prayers would be answered, but certain, in her heart of hearts, that they had been heard.

Chapter Twenty-two

T
he Father of Lies stood on the shore of the Sea of Sorrows, ready to sacrifice the one person who’d never—in all these eons—lied to him. He saw no other choice, but lack of choice made it no easier. Out there, beneath the gray waves, his son waited trustfully, while here, on the gray sands, the one he’d once called brother trusted him no more.

The shades of regret had already begun to gather, drawn, Sammy knew, by the emotions within his own blackened, withered soul. They circled him and Gabriel, restless and moaning, their endless misery reflected in the leaden seas and equally somber skies.

“What is this place, and what are we doing here, Samael?”

Gabriel had been subdued since Sammy had let Hope and her sister go. Sammy had released his old friend from his bonds and brought him here, knowing that—unlike Sammy—Gabriel would keep his word and come without a struggle. He knew it the same way he’d known that Hope would offer herself in her sister’s place, and that seeing his beloved about to die, Gabriel would do the same.

Lies, within lies, within lies, and he was so unutterably weary of them all.

“It’s called the Sea of Sorrows.” Aware he could no longer put off the inevitable, Sammy turned and looked his onetime brother in the eye. “We’re waiting for the Nereids,” he told him, “who will take you to the Leviathan.” Coward that he was, he couldn’t bring himself to dive beneath the waves with Gabriel in tow, knowing that, because of Gabe’s now-mortal form, he would drown long before they reached the abyss. Let Galene and her sisters do it, for drawing mortals to their deaths beneath the sea was what they did best, and he would follow when it was done.

“The Leviathan?” Gabe frowned, puzzled. “What has he to do with anything?”

“He has my son,” Samael answered simply, “and he wants to trade him for you.”

Shock widened Gabriel’s brown eyes.

“He’s taken your son? Why didn’t you come to me, why didn’t you tell me . . .” Gabe trailed off, immediately recognizing that there was nothing he could’ve done anyway. Perhaps once, as an angel, he might’ve had some small bit of influence, some power, but as a mortal he had none.

To his shame, Sammy realized that he wouldn’t have gone to him anyway, for he had too much pride to ask for anyone’s help. Gabriel’s offer of help had been instinctive, despite what he’d recently done to him—what he was
about
to do to him—and the knowledge burned like acid in the back of his throat.

If he lived another ten thousand years, he would never be the selfless soul Gabriel was. And now he must live those ten thousand years knowing he was responsible for the death of his first—and only—friend.

“You have returned.” A woman’s voice came from the sea, and they both looked to see Galene’s sleek head, bobbing in the water. “With your brother.”

“He’s not my brother,” Gabriel said to her coldly.

Sammy swallowed, surprised by how much the words hurt, though he’d said them himself, many times.

Galene tilted her head, her dark hair floating in the water around her. “You do not come willingly?” she asked, puzzled.

Gabriel straightened his shoulders, not looking at him. “I come willingly.”

“Ah.” Galene smiled, using her slender arms to tread water. “So the mighty Leviathan was right, and the brotherly bond between you and the Great Shaitan still exists, despite the evil he’s done to you and yours. Love is a more powerful human emotion than even
I
realized.”

Gabriel laughed, but it was a bitter laugh. “Oh, love is a powerful emotion, all right, but it is not for love of Samael the Black that I stand here before you, ready to lay down my life.” He raked Sammy briefly with a scornful gaze. “It’s because of my love for a mortal woman, whose feet he is not fit to kiss.”

Galene frowned, her jet black eyes drawing together. “That was not the bargain,” she said to Samael. “The Lightbringer was to lay down his life on
your
behalf, not for another’s.”

“It makes no difference,” Sammy snapped, annoyed at having the Leviathan’s impossible-to-meet condition revealed. “He was to come willingly, and so he has.”

Beside him, Gabriel made a noise of disbelief, followed quickly by a burst of bitter laughter. “You think to cheat the terms of your own bargain?” he asked mockingly. “How like you.”

Furious, Sammy turned on Gabriel, but Gabriel wasn’t finished. “Nothing is sacred to you, is it? Not life, not honor, not trust . . . you have nothing inside you but hate and hubris, Samael, nothing at all. Your body is a mere shell, your heart a blackened husk.”

Not true
, cried his heart, for in it nestled a young boy, who even now awaited his father’s coming. There, too, was a tiny corner in which Nicki Styx still lurked, judging him in absentia with her kind brown eyes, which had seen the blackness within his soul, and forgiven him anyway.

“Gabriel, I—” The words stuck in his throat, for he knew not what to say. “Cain, he—”

“Cain will die,” Galene said calmly, from her place in the water. “For you, O Great Shaitan, have not the tools to save him.”

The words struck Sammy with the force of a blow, for always—
always
—he’d been able to do whatever he wished, whether by force, persuasion, or trickery. This time, what he wished for was beyond his grasp, and unlike with Nicki Styx, he did not
choose
to let Cain go.

From the rocks above the cove arose the sound of singing, Galene’s five sisters repeating the song he’d first heard her sing, the song that had inadvertently lured his son to his doom:

Weep for the secrets you never revealed

The time you lost while striving,

Mourn the passing of the years

Like the dead, no hope of reviving.

Pearls on a strand were the days of your life

The string now snapped, and broken,

Mourn for the secrets you never revealed

And the words you left unspoken.

Wishing he could close his ears, Sammy closed his eyes instead, for the sea wind made them sting unaccountably. He’d taken his brief time with Cain for granted, thinking he and the boy would have years together, years in which to grow close, to teach his child everything he knew, and how best to avoid the mistakes he himself had made. Instead he’d lost him when they’d barely begun, and there was nothing he could do.

“Farewell, O Prince of Darkness,” said Galene, when the song had ended. “We will see to it that the child does not suffer unduly.”

“Wait,” said Gabriel, and Sammy opened his eyes.

Gabriel was staring at him, a strange expression on his face. Galene bobbed in the water, eyeing the two of them curiously, making no move to go just yet.

“Tell me,” murmured Gabriel, for Sammy’s ears alone, “and for once in your life, tell me true.” His brown eyes bored into his onetime brother’s, challenging him to not look away. “The boy . . . do you love him?”

There was a roaring in Sammy’s ears, much like the waves themselves, yet not of them. “Yes,” he heard himself say. “Yes, I do.” The weight of a thousand suns was lifted off his shoulders at the words, only to crash into his heart. He staggered, and might’ve fallen, had not Gabriel’s arm shot out to grasp his shoulder.

For a moment, the world condensed to nothing but the sea, the sand, and the touch of his brother’s hand, firm upon his shoulder.

“Nereid,” said Gabriel loudly, so Galene could hear. “I go willingly. I go on behalf of my brother, Samael the Fallen.”

The sea wind, treacherous and salt-filled, made Sammy’s eyes water. “No,” he told Gabe hoarsely, but the word was lost to the wind. All he could do was put his own hand atop Gabe’s where it grasped his shoulder, and squeeze, hard.

Gabriel gave him a lopsided grin, one he remembered all too well. “I’m human, now, Samael,” he told him, “which means that one day I’m going to die anyway. I’ve waited eons for your heart to open itself to love again, and I won’t be the cause of rending it asunder. If I’m to die, I might as well do it now, here, for a good cause.”

“But the woman . . . Hope . . .” Shame, that most hated of all emotions, flooded him. “She still lives. You could have a life with her.”

Gabriel’s smile faded, but he didn’t release Sammy’s arm. “She has her sister back, and her own choices to make.” He swallowed, his eyes going bleak. “She’ll forget me in time.”

“You’d do this . . .” Sammy could barely bring himself to say the words aloud. “ . . . for
me
?”

“I will.”

“The Leviathan will be pleased,” said Galene, and her sisters began once again to sing.

Two sides of a coin are love and hate,

One side choice, one side fate.

Which side dross, which side treasure,

Which shines bright, each man must measure.

And there, on a windswept beach, Sammy bowed his head and—for the first time—accepted that some things were beyond his power to control. Removing his hand from Gabriel’s, he reached out and put it on his brother’s shoulder, so they gripped each other equally. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely, “and I’m so very, very sorry.”

Gabriel brushed his hand aside, and without warning, pulled him close. “I know you are, brother,” he murmured gruffly, into his ear. “I’ve always known.”

Unmanned, humbled for the first time in thousands of years, Sammy squeezed his eyes shut and returned Gabriel’s embrace, knowing he would never see him again.

“Father!”

A trick of the wind brought his eyes open.

“Father, I’m here!”

It was not the wind, for Gabriel heard it, too, pulling away to turn toward the sea.

Far beyond where the waves broke, a massive shape was rising from the deep. Water streamed from the head of the Leviathan, and from its coils, writhing behind it for what seemed like miles. And there, upon the creature’s head, sat a small figure, clutching tightly at the scaled ridge of an ear.

“The Leviathan
is
pleased,” said Galene, “for he honors us with his presence.”

As Sammy and Gabriel watched, side by side on the sand, the monstrous gray-green creature made his leisurely way to the shore, using its coils to propel it along like a snake. Water surged, cresting on either side to crash along the rocks that littered the shoreline, yet it slid onto the sand smoothly, with a resounding hiss of scales.

“That was awesome,” cried Cain, and leapt to the ground as though he hadn’t a care in the world. “Father, did you see?”

White blond hair plastered to his head, bright blue eyes shining, he ran to where Sammy waited, heart in his throat. Unable to speak, he grabbed the boy to him, holding him tight against his leg as he stared into the large reptilian eye of the Leviathan.

“Light and darkness, together for one cause,” said the monster, deep inside Sammy’s brain. “What a strange sight to see.”

Beside him, Gabriel inclined his head to the creature in a gesture of respect. “Hail, O Mighty One,” he said.

“Hail and well met, Lightbringer,” returned the Leviathan.

Gabe stepped forward, closer to the creature, partially shielding Sammy and Cain. “Thank you for returning the boy,” he said formally, “and as agreed, I offer my life in return for his.”

“Of course you do,” the monster replied, “for you have spent eons protecting the innocent. In this case, however, there is no need.”

Sammy clutched Cain, already squirming in his grip, even closer, moving to stand beside Gabe once more. Whatever happened to his brother, it would not happen while Sammy cowered behind him.

“You, O Gabriel, Servant of Truth, have done what I hoped you would do,” the Leviathan went on, “and brought Light to the Darkness.”

Dumbstruck, it took Sammy a moment to realize that
he
was—quite literally—the Darkness.

“The Child of Perdition now has a child of his own, and my old friend the One wished him to know the pain of a son gone astray, as well as the lengths a father will go to bring a child home.”

I’m no one’s child
, Sammy started to say, but he knew it was reflex only, and would make him appear even more the child he denied being.

“ ‘Your old friend the One’?” he repeated, his normally agile mind reeling from the events of the last few minutes.

“Of course,” answered the Leviathan. “He is of the heavens, and I am of the Earth, but at heart we are brothers, and always will be.” His monstrous head shifted infinitesimally toward Gabriel. “As are you two.”

Galene’s laughter tinkled in the air, joined by that of her sisters from the rocks above the cove.