Chapter 1

 

 

I had to find something, it. That very special magical object. I couldn’t remember if it was a talisman, an amulet, or a charm, but it was special. Goddess Durga had entrusted me with this duty, and I couldn’t disappoint her. No way in hell! I just knew I had to find it. At all costs. The shimmering light ahead of me, farther down the small space that cramped all around, invited me and I went inside. Suddenly, the world spun around, the walls closing in on me, darkness filling the space. I opened my mouth, and a hollow cry came out of it, short and scared. And then the floor under my feet cracked open and I tumbled like a heavy sack. My butt hit the ground with the grace of an elephant in a China shop, and pain surged through my bottom, going up my back and spine. From the impact, dirt spread around, dancing in the dim space like a ghostly chain of smoke. Massaging my butt and back, I slowly stood up, exploring the space. It was colder and dank in here. The sound of dropping water echoed rhythmically in the air, tightening the pit of my stomach. I had to find it. At all costs. I pushed forward, deeper into this strange space. Was it a cave? A few weeks ago, I fought Hades in a similar cave, though a greenish lake popped in the middle of it. As far as my eyes could see into the half-dark room, there was no trace of a lake in here. I kept walking ahead, the silence in here ominous, my discomfort mounting by the second. At one point, I looked down at the ground and saw my feet covered in black paint; or was it tar? I cursed, annoyed, but kept my steady pace. Durga wanted it, so I had to give it to her. No matter what. If we had this object, we would win the war against Drogo and Hades. The deeper I plunged in here, the denser and darker the room became. The vague sound of running water increased and tiny droplets splashed my face from time to time. The thread in my center had gone berserk, though; tingling pain and dread had settled in my stomach, and with each next step my whole being protested me being here. Against where I was heading. A sudden pang shot within my heart and the flash of a wicked smile blinded my eyes. A glowing fireball flew straight toward me, and I ducked, missing iy by seconds, the fiery tornado only scorching my clothes. I looked at them. I was clad in my badass leather jacket, a pair of worn-out jeans and my old sneakers. I inhaled deeply, clenching my fist: this leather jacket was one of my favorite garments, so whoever launched this attack was going to pay for ruining it! I waved my hand, raising it at chest level and was about to hurl a blast into the space where the fireball had come from when another fireball hissed in the air, painting the cavernous space in orange-red hues. Next, some dark magic and fire combusted in my back, pain shooting on my skin. Damn it, I cried internally, who was behind this? My magic and body took the first fireball, yet if this repeated multiple times, it’d weaken my protective defenses and, ultimately, my magic.

“Come out and fight like a man!” I shouted, but the air around me only shimmered, my back still hurting like hell. A piece of my scorched leather jacket fell on the ground, and my heart sank faster than Titanic.

“I need it, and I’ll take it, with or without your cooperation.” I clenched my fists and bit my bottom lip. I had no idea where the attacker hid and how I could strike them. I was contemplating my options when another fireball swished in the air above me, flying right next to my tousled hair. This time I was faster. I summoned a protective wall. It shimmered, vibrating like a strange alien in the dim space. The barrier took the velocity of the scorching flames that hit and spread on its transparent surface. The fire tried to swallow, bend, or get past my protective wall, but the elemental magic had zero chances: my protective walls were solid. The attacks grew more frequent and the cavernous space shook with ferociousness. Fear panged my heart and I worried that these fire blasts could make the whole room collapse. And then, in the midst of the momentary silence and stillness that had fallen over, I saw him: the same unmistakable and murderous eyes the color of a blazing sun, the prominent jawline and sharp chin.

“Hades!” I mumbled weakly. He flashed me a wicked smile and pointed his finger at me. The black clothes that draped off his body fluttered like a raven’s feathers. The space darkened and thunder flashed above my head. The shimmering protective wall disintegrated, and snowflakes rained down on me. I tried to summon something: my magic, a weapon, anything at all, but the thread in my center had frozen, emptiness shrouding it in its wake. Hades hurled his dark magic, which was encircled with dancing shadows, and they all flew straight at me. Before they could hit my body, Drogo’s face flashed in the space, his maniacal laughter ripping the air.

“No-ooo!” I cried out loud, standing upright in my bed. My legs were shaking, the damp on my skin sticking, sweat profusely pouring down my chest and limbs, my clothes soaked.

“It’s okay, darling, here, here. You’re safe and sound. It was just a nightmare.” Next to me, Raphael stirred from his sleep and rose, his strong arms wrapping around my delicate shoulders.

“Pancakes,” he muttered still sleepy, and I jolted from his embrace to turn to face him. Was he sleep-talking or something?

“I beg your pardon?” I asked him. He grinned.

“As I kid, I would have this horrible nightmare of a demon. It’s a long story,” his fingers swept through his tousled hair. “But my mother would make me a plate full of delicious pancakes with strawberry syrup.” He subconsciously licked his lips as the memories flooded his mind. “And my mother would tell me, ‘The same way you enjoy this food, you’ll beat the crap out of your fears. It’ll all go away.’”

“Huh?” For some reason I didn’t believe him.

“Nah, I’m joking. Though, I’d gladly devour pancakes.”

I shoved my hands at him, slamming his naked chest, pretending to be mad. He chuckled, his breath caressing my exposed neck.

“Now tell me, what did you dream about?” His tone turned serious, the joking manner from seconds ago gone. “Whatever you saw in your dream, it has frightened you a lot,” he commented as he observed my face in the dim, morning light.

I glanced at the nightstand and the watch on it: it was a little past 6 a.m. and the morning sun would rise soon on the horizon. I rubbed my temples, fuzzy images and feelings running in my head. My heart still beat faster than normal. I steadied my heartbeat and ran a mental check of the dream.

“Yeah, a silly nightmare,” I agreed and then I recalled the images of both Hades and Drogo. A shiver ran through my body, my limbs twitching in disgust.

“What is it?” Raphael’s strong hand squeezed mine and he pressed his bare chest to my back. The touch of his warm and tempting skin next to mine sent heat down my legs and I was torn between giving in to my desire to kiss him passionately or tell him who I dreamed of. Reason finally won over this mini battle and, sighing, I described for him the specifics of the nightmare. He listened carefully.

When I finished, he remained silent for a few long seconds, then balling his hand into a fist, he said through clenched teeth, “That bastard! He’s messing with your head. But he won’t succeed. We won’t allow this, ever.” His fingers intertwined with mine, his breath hot on my neck. The all too familiar smell of strawberries and vanilla I had grown accustomed to filled my nostrils, his magic dispersing the darkness and heaviness from the dream.

“Who? Which bastard are you talking about?” I asked him. The bad guys had multiplied lately, and I wasn’t sure who he was referring to. In my case, the primary villains were two: Drogo Rothstein and Hades, the Lord of the Underworld.

“Ugh.” Raphael started as if I’d awaken him from a nap. “Hades of course! I think he’s the one who we ought to be more afraid of. Compared to him, Drogo is a pushover, though last year we would have lost against him without your help.”

I recalled the worldly affairs from about a year ago: how an unknown magical plague had erupted, infecting humans and reigning chaos and destruction in their world. Then a high-ranked angel appeared one night in Jeff’s bar and wanted to recruit me for a special mission. After much angst and pondering, I’d agreed to obtain a dark magical object, the Scroll of Lies from none other than Drogo, a dark Nephilim. I, myself, was a Nephilim, but we stood for different things. Drogo had always been obsessed with world domination, control, and supreme power. He even tried to recruit me on his circus team of minions, the majority of them Nephilim, too. In the end, I stole the Scroll of Lies from Drogo, but along the way he’d tried to mess with my mind, too.

“Did you forget our trip to Drogo’s castle? I fainted, collapsing on the ground. Drogo is many things, but not a pushover,” I remarked and scratched my chin.

Raphael furrowed his brows, his face in deep thought. He subconsciously wrinkled his nose along the process. “And yet he fell for the fake skull Durga and Shiva created.”

“True, but he could have never determined if the skull was real or not without starting the ritual. Which he didn’t do immediately.” And yet his attempt of a ritual miserably failed, I thought but said nothing.

A few weeks ago, with the help of the Council of Nine, I had thwarted yet another attempt by Drogo to cause a supernatural apocalypse and open the gates of Hell on earth. He had set his sights on my special magical skull, Leia, to accomplish that ritual. We had fooled him by giving him a fake one while Leia was safely preserved in my home, in the basement.

“I’m not underestimating Drogo, you know that,” Raphael said defensively, yet I discerned traces of playfulness in his voice. I stretched my arms: the sun had already started to rise on the horizon, its first orange hues painting the gray sky in warmer colors, brightening up the sky.

“It’s just that Hades is much more dangerous. And a slyer opponent. Not to mention, more wicked, too,” the archangel objected.

I nodded absentmindedly and went to the wooden chair left in the room at a decent space from the bed. I was at Raphael’s cozy cottage in Angels’ City—a hidden parallel city where the headquarters of the White Court were placed. Raphael’s place was simple, yet comfortable: a white one-story house with two rooms and a kitchen, beside a corridor and a bathroom. I’d spent the night with him here for the first time. It was our first night of intimacy, actually. A rush of warmth flooded my cheeks as I recalled the past several hours before we’d fallen asleep from exhaustion. Raphael had proved to be the perfect lover: gentle yet robust and strong. In any case, he was the best of anyone I’d slept with in the past, even better than the incubus Marcus.

Prior to us coming to his place, we had always met and occasionally even once slept at my place—but only slept, no action involved. But given my ex’s presence at home—the bastard was still dating my sister—I’d offered Raphael to change the scene. As I threw off my pajamas and put on my tank top and jeans, I could feel the archangel’s eyes burning on my back. He didn’t make a movement or try to dissuade me, though. He was simply observing me, and I couldn’t help but find it incredibly sexy. As I fully dressed, he let out a low grunt.

“Do you have to go back?” He drawled the words, his forefinger reached for my thighs and caressed them.

“We have no choice. The meeting with Lucifer and his court is today. Besides, I need to do some housework at home and check on my sister.” I grimaced. She already had issues with her ‘soulmate’ as she had been calling him. Sometimes it felt as if the universe was playing a giant, bad joke on me with that whole situation.

Raphael sighed and agreed, “Yes, you’re right. Do you want me to accompany you or prefer to meet in front of Hell’s Mark?”

I crunched my nose, sorting through my options. Not that I had many. The meeting place was the infamous and highly restricted Inferno Hall: the meeting residence of Lucifer, but we didn’t have access to it. The Dark One had to let us in through something called “Hell’s Mark.” From Raphael’s explanation, it was something like a Black Court’s checkpoint, or maybe a dark portal? I was still sleepy and couldn’t care less. I’d see it in several hours, anyway.

“Better meet straight at Hell’s Mark,” I said as I fixed my hair with my fingers, pulling it into a ponytail.

“Okay, we have a deal. Tell Dara hello,” Raphael said louder as I threw the teleportation charm on the ground, the sizzling magical runes that danced around me toning down the sounds in the room. I barely managed to nod at the archangel when the familiar yellow cloud appeared, taking me through the void into my small town of Santa Theresa.