Rise of the Fallen Page 10

  CHAPTER 11

  I opened my eyes, hazily aware of what had just happened. It took me a while to realise that Dorian had caught me. The faded and empty room was familiar; the walls could have been white once, but now seemed pale and yellow with age. There was one medium-sized window in the centre of the wall across from the bed. The burgundy curtains and heavy iron bars across the window gave the room an unnatural feel.

  The door was wide open and pinned back, so trusting. Of course, I doubt Dorian expected me to run this time. Cael had left. Regret ached through my body. I wanted to believe everything he had said to me, that I was powerful and that I could easily take care of myself, but I felt so alone. I was still debating which was worse: watching Cael run from me or feeling that now I had no safe place to return to and no one that I could truly trust. I needed to stay alive and survive this for both of us. I took in a deep breath and closed my eyes, locking away the pain. I hoped everything would be clearer when I opened my eyes, that miraculously my strength would return, but the only thing that returned was Soul’s betrayal.

  Soul had done his job well. He befriended me, made me fall for him and then ruined everything.

  Sure, Soul’s plan failed, but Dorian’s was pathetic. He only kidnapped me and brought me here because he was whipped into doing it. There was no point in that, other than scaring the hell out of me. As much as I hated it though, I was scared. I knew whoever else they were working with were probably in the house too. There was a part of me that hoped Cael really would return for me, but as far as I knew I was alone.

  I got up quickly, walking to the door and looking out into the long hallway. It looked as dull and unnatural as the room, but a thousand times darker. There were no windows at either end, just doors, and at the very end, a staircase. Without another thought, I stepped out into the hallway.

  The brittle floorboards moaned under my weight. I stopped, looking back down the hall. I wondered if anyone had heard me, but I knew I couldn’t just stand there. I took a deep breath and moved closer to the stairs. I passed two doors, both of which were firmly closed. The next door on the right was open.

  I edged further down, stopping a few metres in front of it. A dim light escaped from inside the room and I could hear murmuring voices.

  Something brushed past my leg and I screamed out in fright, jumping into clear view of the open door. I looked down to face my attacker. A small black British Shorthair cat looked up at me, its green eyes taunting. Stupid cats – never liked them.

  “Well good afternoon, Emilie. Nice to see you’re awake.” A playful yet off-putting English voice made me jump.

  Bato. He looked back at me. His dark eyes glinted mischievously in the light.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice abnormally quiet.

  He laughed loudly, “Bringing you back of course, what did you think?” He laughed again.

  “Who else is here?” I studied Bato’s face. His sneering smile and his eyes were confirmation that I shouldn’t trust him.

  He continued smiling, “There are many. Doubt you’d be able to see them though.”

  “I hate you so much. I hope you realise that,” I said.

  “What did I do to you? Did you think we’d let Dor come by himself again? That self-absorbed rodent nearly killed him last time.” His husky smirk of a laugh echoed around the room.

  “By self-absorbed rodent I assume you mean Cael,” I replied, my fists clenching.

  “Oh, is that his name? I didn’t realise.” Bato shook his head, chuckling still.

  I glared straight at him. He had no right to speak about Cael that way. I didn’t even know why he was involved.

  “Where’s Dorian?” I asked impatiently.

  He smirked and gestured to the door. “He’s downstairs, with the others.”

  He grinned and winked at someone behind me and I turned around. The doorway was empty and a quick look down the hallway confirmed we were the only ones upstairs.

  “Who are you smiling at?” I asked.

  “Never you mind.” Bato’s smile fell and he returned to the playing cards scattered across the table.

  I dropped my gaze. It wasn’t wise to tease him, let alone disrespect him. I suppose I had forgotten about the demonic social order. The lack of knowledge wouldn’t help me, and I needed to get a grip on things before I went downstairs to speak with Dorian.

  “You know, Soul meets with us often.” Bato fanned the cards out across the table. “Funny that you always seem to fall for your superiors.”

  I had nothing to say to that. Well nothing smart anyway. If Soul knew they were in town, why hadn’t he told me? Was Soul here? I looked over at the table as Bato gathered up the cards.

  “I was actually busy, so if you don’t mind I would like some … privacy. Take care, Emilie.”

  Bato reshuffled the deck of cards before spreading them out on the table once more. I walked out the door, closing it behind me.

  Staring down the ominous stairs, I could hear voices chattering noisily below. As I took a step forward, I heard Bato talking in a hushed voice. There was someone with him. From what I could hear, it was a woman with a high soprano voice.

  I started down the stairs, hesitating as a dim light shone from the kitchen. As I came closer I could see Soul moving past the crack in the door. He sat down on an old silver chair and leaned back. I stood motionless outside the door, hoping to hear their conversation.

  Dorian’s voice was the most pronounced. “Weren’t you at the same fight I was? She set Andre on fire! We can’t afford to keep her here. We need to get her to him now.”

  Soul disagreed, “I don’t want her to go.”

  Dorian scoffed, “You and Emilie would never work out, for pity’s sake. She belongs with him, not you.”

  “I’ll treat her better …” Soul disagreed, he spoke as though he were merely buying time.

  I had a feeling they wouldn’t be talking about Cael, so I had no idea who they were referring to by ‘him’. And I needed to know. A hand clamped down on my shoulder and Andre glared down at me with the same colour eyes as the Shorthair. It dawned on me that Soul said he was a shapeshifter, but really, he could’ve gone for something more masculine than a cat. He seemed rather angry with me as he leaned down.

  “It’s impolite to eavesdrop,” he growled, gripping my neck and pushing me forward into the kitchen.

  Soul rose from his chair and rushed over to me, pulling me away from Andre. My neck throbbed with pain.

  “I’m so sorry, Emilie …” Soul whispered, wrapping his arm around my waist.

  I shrugged out of Soul’s grasp, “I don’t care.”

  “She was listening to your conversation,” Andre said gruffly, taking a chair opposite to us.

  Dorian looked over at me. “So, my dear, what did you hear?”

  I shrugged and took a step away from Soul who sighed and looked down. Dorian hit one of the chairs in impatience.

  “Tell me what you heard!” Dorian ordered, his fist coming down on the table with a resounding smack.

  “Leave her alone, Dorian,” Soul warned, holding me closer.

  Dorian rolled his eyes. “Oh please, Emilie doesn’t want you and she never will.”

  Soul glared at him and took a threatening step forward. Typical, they’d killed Holly and very nearly done the same to Cael and that wasn’t enough for them, they wanted more blood.

  Taking a life meant nothing to them. They had no respect for anyone that populated the earth. All that mattered was rising above the pointless and archaic morals set in place by humans centuries ago. After all, if it weren’t for demonic intervention none of the horrors in the world would have ever come to pass. Disease, violence, addiction and preoccupation with self-fulfilment were all products of demonic intervention in the human realm. Of course there were the few stories about the angels, beings of pure light to guide humans towards the path of all that is right. Humans were taken from the clasp of demons and saved, for the greater g
ood, but I doubted that the angels had saved anyone recently. Where were they when Sophie died? Where were they when Holly was killed? In my eyes, they’d given up on us.

  There was nothing I wanted more than to believe in a greater good, that we could all have some hope of a better life, but I couldn’t. Cael was the one thing in my life that made sense, and because of me he’d left. I should have listened to him in the first place and had nothing to do with Soul. If I had listened, Cael would be with me and I wouldn’t be caught in this situation.

  I had nothing left to make my life worth living. Lilith knew it when she set the others on Cael. She knew that if she killed Cael, she would have me in her clutches. I doubted she expected me to fight it, and I didn’t feel like proving her wrong. But I wasn’t afraid of her, not anymore. I had absolutely nothing to lose. It was a liberating feeling, though I could barely feel it beneath the grief.

  Dorian threatened me more than Lilith, which wasn’t really saying much about Lilith’s leadership skills. What use is a dictator if no one is threatened by them? I had nothing to be afraid of anymore, yet I was submissive. I couldn’t understand it. In the moment that I had nothing to lose, I had no will to fight.

  “Emilie, you needn’t worry about Dorian.” Soul had calmed down.

  I took a few steps back before a hand reached out and stopped me. Andre pushed me forward into one of the cheap metal seats.

  Andre growled, “My best guess would be that her fight or flight reflex is leaning more towards flight.”

  Dorian smirked and nodded in agreement. Soul crouched down to look me in the eyes.

  “You don’t need to be afraid, Emilie. We won’t hurt you.” His voice was soft and gentle, but I couldn’t believe him. Maybe Soul didn’t want to hurt me, but Dorian and Andre were a different matter altogether. They were probably the most violent demons that I had ever met, and if there were others worse than them, I was sure I didn’t want to know about them.

  I sat in the chair, silently internalising the tears that threatened to break out as Soul gazed at me. When I didn’t reply, he stood up and said with an almost silent sigh, “You see what you’ve done, Dor? She doesn’t trust us now.”

  Dorian looked at him incredulously, “That’s not because of me, Soul. It’s common sense not to trust us.”

  Soul shrugged. “Blaming you is so much more fun.”

  Dorian rolled his eyes and slapped Soul across the head.

  “What did you do that for?” Soul asked, pushing Dorian away with one hand.

  “You know why,” Dorian laughed.

  Soul turned to me with a slightly uneasy smile and I looked down at my shoes.

  “I think she’d prefer it if you and Dorian continued your conversation from earlier,” Andre said gruffly.

  He was right. I really would have liked to hear the rest of the conversation.

  “We were talking about the male elemental,” Dorian said directly to me. I froze.

  My immediate response was to think of Cael, which I realised was a terrible idea as I felt as though my heart was being ripped out. I didn’t look up, not even when Soul decided to add to the conversation.

  “Not Cael, it’s another one. Lilith wants you to meet him …”

  “You two would be a perfect match,” Dorian added with a sneer. Soul glared at him and shook his head, “You’re wrong, Dor.” “That’s your prerogative to say that, Soul.” Dorian said.

  I didn’t speak at first, but when I did my voice came out in a quiet whisper. “Was that sarcasm?”

  I felt Soul’s eyes on me. “The perfect match? No it wasn’t sarcasm,” Dorian said quickly.

  “Okay,” I said, leaning forward and placing my face in my hands. I didn’t want to be here, not with Dorian or Andre. Soul was the only one I could possibly trust, and even that possibility was edging further and further away.

  We sat in silence for a mere moment before Soul stood up and spoke, “I think I’ll find Emilie some new clothes and let her get some rest.”

  Dorian simply nodded towards the door.

  CHAPTER 12

  Soul had left me on my own in the room, telling me to rest up and that he would be back soon to take me out for new clothes. He should’ve known I wouldn’t be able to sleep at a time like this. Cael had just left and now they wanted me to meet a new elemental. I heard a small knock on the door. I sat up straight, hoping it was Soul.

  Dorian poked his head in and I sighed.

  “Thank you for that reaction, my dear,” he said. “I need to tell you something.”

  “So talk,” I said.

  “You need to be careful around the elemental you’ll be meeting.

  You don’t have any control over your powers, you can’t be juggling his as well.”

  “Excuse me!” I said indignantly.

  “You haven’t had the best track record with your powers, and using them puts you at risk. It’s how I found you, and how the petty demons of Legion Five found you when you were a child. You’ll always be easy to find, my dear,” Dorian said as if he were stating the obvious.

  “You’re wrong. Get out,” I said, pointing at the door.

  Dorian closed the door behind him. I tried to shake it off; he was just trying to provoke me. It wouldn’t work … Instead it brought back memories of my childhood, my “human life”.

  My earliest memory was just before my tenth birthday. The children that lived in my small town were just as cruel as their parents. It wasn’t entirely their fault, fear and superstition ruled their lives and I wasn’t like them.

  “Witch!” the red-haired boy sneered as he pushed me backwards into a muddy puddle.

  Several other children had gathered around, staring down at me with a combination of fear and disgust on their faces. At nine years old I knew better than to run to my parents for comfort.

  When I was about six human years old, I told them how I died in my last human form and that I had special powers. My mother turned several shades paler at my words. My father, however, grabbed me by my arm, telling me never to lie about something like that again. He left the house in a fury, slamming the door behind him. My mother leaned down close, I could see the curiosity burning in her eyes but it was far outweighed by her fear and she didn’t press me further about what I’d said. Instead, she gently warned me to never speak of such things again, for all our sakes. If anyone in our town found out about what I’d said or claimed to be, my family would be in grave danger.

  I can’t remember the exact moment when my parents’ fear of me heightened to the point where they locked me in a small room in the basement. During the day they let me out, if only to be rid of me for a few hours.

  As I stared up into the cold eyes of the boy, all inhibitions left me. I jumped up, pushing him backwards into the group.

  “Catch me if you can,” I said, taunting him.

  I could take them. I had my powers after all, and I loved to use them. I ran towards the tall trees of the forest bordering the town. The thudding of their footsteps on the wet earth told me they were following close behind.

  I stopped running and felt the flames’ heat in my fists. I turned to face the children who stumbled to a stop in front of me, their faces full of fear. The flames flickered brightly and I took a threatening step forward, thrusting my hand towards the red-haired boy. He yelped and fell backwards onto the soft leaves on the forest floor.

  “Leave me alone!” I threatened, knowing full well that I could never actually harm them.

  Two of the girls in the group started crying and ran off. The others quickly followed. When I was alone I extinguished the flames and let out a sigh of relief. At least they would leave me be for now. It was exhausting running all the time. All I wanted was to feel accepted by them. Even my parents hated me so what did I expect?

  At the mere age of nine I was more willing to use my powers than I am now. Fear drove me to greater heights back then, now it just holds me back.

  I should’ve known better though, that
the other children wouldn’t just leave me be. And I could never have guessed that it would be my parents that would turn me in.

  Weeks passed without incident. The other children cowered away from me, leaving me to my thoughts and memories. I hadn’t seen any new or significant moments of my last life since I was six, but I dwelled on the things I had seen. None of the memories frightened me, in fact they intrigued me. I didn’t feel like a nine year old, I felt much older and much wiser. But there was still a lot to learn.

  On a chilly winter’s night, I lay awake in my small room. The only bed I had was a rough blanket on the dirt floor. It never bothered me though. Until tonight.

  I could hear my parents speaking in hushed tones, my mother’s voice slightly higher and more distraught than my father’s. They were talking about me. I knew because I’d heard it many times before. There was a loud, pounding knock on the front door. My father’s footsteps ran towards it. Then silence.

  I stared up at the wooden boards of the ceiling, my ears straining to hear what was happening. Had one of the children finally told? What was happening? I was helpless – there was no way out. My door was locked from the outside.

  The door swung inwards, my father was standing in the dim light of a candle, his face blank. Two tall, broad-shouldered men walked in and grabbed hold of my arms. Their faces were covered by thick black cloth, like executioners’ masks. As they dragged me from the room, my mother’s eyes welled up with tears. She mouthed “I’m sorry,” before she turned away in shame. In the hallway one of the masked men handed my father a large bag. My father held it up, weighing it calmly, before ushering us outside and closing the door firmly behind us.

  A small stream of moonlight shone above through a tiny barred window. I knew I was alone. I was always alone. I laid my head on the cold ground and slowly drifted off to sleep.

  I awoke with a start to a shower of water thrown over me from a bucket. The room was filled with light, so it had to be daytime. I stared up at the three men standing at the entrance to my cell. Two were the same tall men who had taken me from my house, but the other just seemed … different. He was slightly shorter than the masked men, but equally muscular. His eyes were the darkest I’d ever seen. His mouth was covered by some sort of cloth and his hands were gloved. He still had the bucket in his hands.