Darkened Soul (When Watchers Fall) Read online

  The words hit me like a bomb blast, and it happens so fast that my gaze can’t even beat the dagger to her. Abaddon’s hand stays suspended in the air, a direct arrow to Nyx, who is clutching the handle in her hands, a look of shock in her face as she stares down at her chest. He teleports to her in less time than it takes me to blink. My breathing turns rough and jagged as I watch him pull the blade out before Hex lowers her lifeless body to the cold concrete.

  But any mourning I might have wanted to do over the chick who landed me here in the first place is over when Abaddon vanishes. The blade’s already slipped between my ribs by the time he reappears in front of me. The steel is hot, slicing through flesh and muscle until the hilt presses into me, and he twists. I stare him down, baring my teeth as the pain rips through me. All the light stored deep inside and just out of my reach ignites. An overwhelming sense of perfection. I feel everything I was—powerful and divine. Everything I’m supposed to be again. Then it seeps out of me, abandoning me and leaving nothing. A void that smothers my cells. I might not have been able to feel it before, but having the light truly gone is worse than anything I could have imagined.

  I growl, thrashing against the chains, a wild animal deprived of oxygen. “I’ll kill you!”

  I don’t feel the blade anymore, barely notice the clink of it hitting the floor beside me, and then icy fingers grip my throat, lifting until I’m once again on my knees, torso stretched straight.

  “No,” Donny says, his face in mine. “I’ll kill you.”

  Then he squeezes, bearing down until I’m truly a wild animal without air.

  About to go extinct.

  Here’s the thing about dying: it gets real old, real quick. And I’ve done it enough to know a thing or two.

  For starters, there’s more than one type of death. The first is physical. The body goes into shock, if you’re lucky. The organs shut down, the lungs stop, and then the heart shudders through a final beat.

  Next comes the death of the mind, which includes a full-life replay. Every moment, good or bad or mundane. Thank God this life only lasted a little over a year because I really don’t have time for this shit right now.

  It starts at the crosswalk, where a drunk driver clipped me and left me to bleed out in the middle of the night. Fast-forward to Hex, the demonic ex, showing up to offer the one thing I couldn’t refuse. Then the vision lingers at the bar, the Watcher Angel watching me, his full lips on my skin while he fucked me against a wall, and then there was the rasp in his voice when he told me I didn’t want to see him again. I can almost feel the heat of his hands on my face. The same way they felt in his charge’s kitchen after I showed up with plan B and again after the car wreck when he tried to erase what had happened between us.

  I wish he could have. Maybe then I wouldn’t have noticed the change in how he looked at me, realizing I’d set him up. It cuts just as much to see the second time around, all the curiosity and heat in his eyes draining away and leaving me haunted. But it still fails to compare to the pain of my own realization. Abaddon’s betrayal plunging into my chest and spilling out over my hands.

  And then I relive the physical death itself, an intake of air as the steel broke through my sternum, the cool handle against my palms, hot blood coating them as he ripped out the blade. Finally, Hex lowers me to the ground with his lips at my ear. “See you soon, love.”

  The words echo until I open my eyes. I’m over my body, not quite here or there. A blue haze covers everything, sounds warble, energies shift. It only takes a glance at the pool of blood surrounding my physical form for the rage to slam into me. Hex might have known what would happen if I died, but Abaddon sure as hell had no idea when he killed me.

  But he’s about to find out.

  The anchor to my physical body weakens by the second, not giving me long in my spiritual form, so I have to work fast. Seeing where my last plan got me, I let the primal need for payback drive me. Abaddon stole my life, so I’ll take away what he wants more than anything—his revenge.

  I seek out Chaz, still on his knees, and I focus on the life pumping through his veins, slowing the longer he struggles against the demon’s hold on his throat. I have little to compare to with him being the first angel I’ve encountered, but the energy inside him feels different than any other I’ve sensed. I latch on to it with everything I have anyway and search for the same inside of Abaddon. The demon’s essence is cold, harsh, and sharp-edged, like Hex’s. When I pull it from him, it’s blacker than black, a void and a complete contrast of the brightness inside the angel.

  The forces repel, fighting to stay apart, but I drive them toward each other. Even though I’m stronger in this form, it takes all my focus to bring them together, and when they finally meet, they detonate. Two volatile chemicals exploding on contact. Pure energy, unlike anything I’ve sensed from life sources, unleashes around me, shock waves pulsing from ground zero until I can’t hold on any longer.

  I concentrate on the body beneath me. My lids fall closed, the rest of me falling right behind as my soul returns to where it belongs. I will myself to feel, to breathe, to live, my mind returning to life. Then the first of my muscles twitch, a hard beat of my heart, and my real eyes flutter.

  Abaddon’s commentary about the pleasure of watching me fade from existence comes in and out. The words are heavy in my ears, and his hand is tight on my throat. Except then his voice cuts off, and I think that’s it. I’m done, gone, a memory. But then coughing and sputtering. He stumbles backward, my vision going from black to red as the pressure on my neck releases.

  I suck in a breath, choking on the rush of air to my starved lungs. Then another and another. Oxygen hits my brain, the ringing in my ears diminishing, and I realize the slack in the chains. I jerk until I can bring my arms in, struggling to my feet. We stare at each other—him grasping his own throat while I run my fingers along mine. After a second, he lunges for me but stops dead at a voice behind him.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  My eyes dart over his shoulder to Nyx, very fucking alive in my blood-soaked sweatshirt. Her brow arches when she pauses on me.

  What the actual fuck?

  Hex sidesteps, putting distance between them, before Abaddon spins around.

  “What did you do?” he shouts, storming toward her. He’s flaming—literally with fire blazing in his hand.

  To be honest, so am I but in the nonliteral sense. It’s one thing to be killed by your nemesis after one of the longest-running feuds in history, but it’s another to be saved by the chick who’d helped him almost kill you in the first place.

  Nyx stands her ground when he reaches her, letting the demon snarl and huff in her face like a raging bull. With her being the center of attention, none of the lackeys notice me dip down for the Dimming Blade. Any movement tugs at the edges of my wound, but I clench my jaw and push up the back of my shirt enough to slip the dagger through the belt loops of my jeans. Nyx glances over, too late to see anything, and her focus jerks back to Abaddon when he clutches her jaw in his non-burning hand.

  “Tell me, princess.”

  “As is one, then so will be the other,” she says, voice unwavering. “Think of it as your new tagline.” Her eyes flash to me. “I bound you—your life forces. If he dies, you die.”

  The entire room stills at her words. His hand slowly falls away from her face. He whips his head around to me, but I’m looking past him, locked on to her and fighting the urge to charge forward and kill her again. Because even when compared with turning to dust or whatever the hell was about to happen to me, being connected to Donny the Destroyer might be the worse fate.

  When I finally tear myself from her, he’s waiting for me. A smirk appears as he turns all the way and comes toward me. I reach behind me for the handle before remembering he can’t do anything to me. Not now anyway. No matter how much he wants me gone.

  By the time he stops in front of me, I’m unwrapping the chains from my wrists. I toss them at his
feet, the links clanking on the concrete floor.

  “Since it looks like we’re done here, someone want to drop me back at my car or…” I flash him a grin, faking the shit out of being back in control of the situation. If I can get the blade to Ros, we’ll figure out a way to reverse the light. Stick it the fuck back inside me and destroy the weapon once and for all.

  Except Donny gives a tsk, shaking his head. “I’m afraid we’re not quite finished, Chazaqiel. But thanks to our little necromancer back there, I will need to keep you on ice while I sort this mess out.” He slaps a hand on my shoulder, and my nostrils flare. I’m ready to kill us both if it means he’ll stop touching me. “You understand, I’m sure.”

  Before I can spit anything back at him, he thrusts me backward. I expect to hit the concrete, but I keep falling. The dank room vanishes from in front of me, and only blackness remains.

  A demon portal.

  Of course.

  My unplanned trip only lasts a second. The ground gives under my back when I land, my eyes clamping shut at the sudden change from doom and gloom to blinding light. Heat beats down on me as I crack them open a slit to scan around. Then I’m on my feet, hands clutching my wound as I rotate.

  “Damn it, Donny,” I shout.

  Sand and sky and bright-as-fuck sun stretch in every direction, and apparently, he’s not the literal type because I sure as hell don’t see any ice.

  The second Chaz vanishes through the portal, I’m slammed back against the wall. I bounce like a rubber ball, hitting the concrete before Abaddon grips the neck of my sweatshirt, dragging me up until I hover off the ground. I grasp his wrist, force-swallowing the panic lodged in my throat.

  “Fix this,” he hisses.

  When he lets go, I fall all the way down. My palms flatten on the hard floor, but Hex shakes his head, warning me to stay down. I set my jaw, only now remembering how furious I am with him for bringing me into this mess in the first place. His word means less now than it did last century.

  “I can’t.” I stare at the blood drying on my skin. “Or I won’t until you give me the Essence of Creation you promised.”

  Abaddon lowers in front of me, grabbing my jaw and jerking my face up to him. “There is no more pure essence. Hasn’t been for thousands of years.”

  I shake my head, fighting against his hold. “But you said there was a way to—”

  “Create more?” he says dismissively. “Yeah, I lied. It’s a myth. No better than the Fountain of Youth or…” He snaps his fingers at Hex. “What’s the name of the cup?”

  “The Holy Grail.”

  “Right. All nonsense.”

  I would slump to the floor if not for being held up by him. If there’s no more pure Essence of Creation, then my last shot at saving Nyla is gone. I can’t stop her from fading away. From permanent death.

  Abaddon studies me while I fight to hide the devastating loss I’m already feeling. His breath is cool on my skin and his touch ice. “You aren’t an alchemist like I was led to believe, or you wouldn’t have resurrected. And a phoenix would hold darkness inside them, not to mention the lack of fire. So, what are you?”

  My eyes dart to Hex as he tenses, looking up from his phone. He pockets it, moving toward the center of the room. “We should kill her for lying.”

  “What?” The word escapes as a disbelieving whisper. He knows what I am, what happens if I die again.

  Abaddon digs his fingers into my face, forcing me to look at him. “Do you have to be dead to unbind us? And choose your answer wisely, princess. My patience is wearing thin.”

  I scramble for a lie, anything that will keep me alive, but before I can come up with anything, he tosses me aside like a doll.

  “On second thought, I’ll do my own investigation.” He looms over me, wiping my blood off his hands with a white cloth. “Fair warning: if I find a solution that doesn’t include you, I have every intention of watching you die until you stay dead. However long that takes.”

  Even though he could easily follow through on his threat, I won’t take his shit lying down. I push up to my feet, ignoring a shuffle from Hex off to the side.

  Abaddon smirks, his regard snaking over me. “Or maybe I’ll find another use for you. Until then, try not to let Chazaqiel kill you and take away my fun.”

  He nods to Hex behind me, and I look back. Hex drags me backward, sparing me a quick glance before he pushes me toward the wall. I stumble forward, but instead of running into the concrete, everything goes black and cold, and a second later, I hit something else hard, different hands on me.

  I squint against an assaulting brightness, leaving my vision white until it adjusts. And then I see the singed black T-shirt in front of me, my chest pressed to his, and when I look up, a set of infuriated blue eyes wait for me.

  Out of one lion’s den and straight into another’s arms. Only this one might end up being the more dangerous of the two.

  As if being stuck in the desert with a gaping wound and my existence tied to one of the most hated demons in history isn’t bad enough, I’m now chest to chest with what landed me here in the first place. And while I’ve never killed a mortal before, I’m seeing no reason not to start with this one.

  My fingers curl around Nyx’s arm, her eyes wide when I reveal the blade from behind me.

  “No.” She struggles against my hold, not gaining any ground. “Please, Chaz. You don’t understand. I had to—”

  “Fuck me over?” I say, calm compared to her and the fight she’s putting up to get away from me. “You had to lure me away from my charges, serve me up to Donny to be gutted, and then connect me to the one being in the cosmos I can’t stand?”

  She manages to pull me with her a few steps backward. “I was fucked over too.”

  “Well, in that case, I still don’t give a shit.”

  I bring the weapon between us, pointing it at the hollow of her throat. As the steel meets her skin, she stops moving and clamps her eyelids closed. I hold the tip there, and each of her breaths becomes more ragged as I press inward until her skin dents beneath the flat side.

  “You need me,” she blurts out.

  I withdraw slightly. “Oh, this should be good.”

  She peeks, checking the proximity of the blade, and then blinks all the way open. She licks her lips and swallows, still breathing hard. “We’re in the middle of the desert as far as I can tell. Between the sand and heat, you’re an infection waiting to happen, but I can heal you.”

  “You’re the reason I’m here,” I remind her. “The reason I won’t feel Kai or Avery and heal from my light.”

  “I know.” Nyx’s voice cracks on the second syllable, her brows angling in. “And I’m sorry.” She looks down at the knife creeping toward her neck and whimpers. “I’m so sorry.”

  I should kill her before she tries to do the same to me again, but the fear on her face, in her tone, and in her eyes when they come back to mine…

  Fuck. Fuck. “Fuck!” I lower the blade and walk away from her, clutching the handle until my knuckles burn.

  I’ve been without my light for minutes, and I’m already losing my shit. My stab wound aches with every breath, not that it compares to the way the rest of me hurts without the faintest flicker of light, but I know she’s right. I’m mortal and susceptible to all the weaknesses that go along with it.

  Stopping, I fish the palm stone out of my pocket. I’m not sure if I’m checking for them or me, but I pull up Avery’s image. A tension eases when I see her with Kai at their apartment. Fucking safe. Given the shadows cast on the walls, the sun will set there in a few hours. That means, I’ve been gone about twenty.

  “How do I know you won’t just kill me to get rid of Donny?” I ask.

  I put the stone away, not turning around even though Nyx doesn’t answer right away.

  “You’ll just have to trust me,” she finally says. The words sound weak. Probably because she realizes how insane they are, coming out of her mouth.

  “Yeah,
that’s never happening.” But I drag my shirt over my head. I tuck it in my back pocket and wait for her footsteps to cross the sand behind me.

  She comes around, wary of the dagger as she stands in front of me. I clench my jaw when she lifts her blood-stained hands, but I let her place them on my chest, her palms cool.

  “Please don’t stab me when I close my eyes,” she says.

  “No promises.” I follow up with a mocking smile, but really, I reserve the right to take her out at any point as far as I’m concerned.

  She momentarily glares before her lids fall closed. She squares her stance and pushes into me. The feeling starts as a buzz where she touches. It spreads over my skin like static, turning to a hum when it sinks into my muscles and a thrum in my bones. My heart beats faster but not in a threatening way. More like she hit the fast-forward button. My eyes fall from her face to her hands and then to the gap between them. A fresh scar spans the space between my ribs where the blade went in, and the burns on my chest are all but gone.

  “What the fuck?” I whisper.

  Her eyes open, dropping to the scar and then connecting with mine.

  “How did you do that?”

  “I aged you,” she says. “About a month.” She must sense a repeat of what the fuck coming on because she quickly adds, “It won’t affect you in any way, I promise. I only transferred enough of my life into you so that your body could speed through the process.”

  “You…” I shake my head, which is having a difficult time wrapping around what I just witnessed.

  She starts to pull away, and I cover her hands with mine to keep her there.

  “What the hell are you, Nyx?”

  The handle of the blade presses between us, panic swimming in her eyes. But with nowhere to go, she takes a deep breath, looking up at me on the exhale.

  “I’m a Descended.”

  My lungs burn, wanting to gasp at the hot air surrounding us, but I force my breaths to stay steady. I’ve only admitted what I am to Hex and only because he somehow figured it out. But this isn’t some Upper killing his way to the top. Chaz is an original Watcher. One of The Fallen. A bedtime story Papa told us when we were little.