Angel's Curse (33 page)

23.
A Friend

“Drake, I’ve lost my way,” I cried, more blood running down my cheeks.

“Shh,” he said. “Take us back to my chambers.”

I transported us back to his room and he sat on the couch, holding me to him and stroking my hair. Red tears stained his shirt.

“I don’t understand. How could five years have passed?”

“Time is different in the upper and lower realms,” he said.

“I knew it was different in heaven, but hell?”

“You keep measuring things by mortal standards, Helena, and you are no longer mortal.”

I cried for a time, until Drake’s shirt was bright red with blood and I could cry no more. When I was done I placed a hand lightly on his chest. The blood disappeared and his shirt was dry and clean again.

I produced a small mirror and held it to my face. I touched my skin and the blood, redness and puffiness were gone. I widened my eyes and touched each eye in turn, but the fiery red remained.

“Will my eyes stay like this?” I asked.

“That I do not know. Apart from Satan’s, I have never seen eyes like this before. They are lovely, but not as nice as your original eyes.”

He pulled the mirror free of my hands and set it down beside him.

“Tell me, why did you go to him? It was a foolhardy thing to do.”

“I needed his blood,” I replied.

“And did you get it?”

“No.”

“Then it was all for nothing?” Drake asked in disbelief. “I would not have thought
you
couldn’t accomplish something once you had your heart and mind set to it.”

“It’s not over yet,” I whispered. “I won’t let Raphael win.”

Drake rolled his eyes. “Stubborn as ever.”

“What
else
is there for me?”

Drake wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer, kissing my neck and working his way to my lips.

“Stay with me,” he whispered. “You can be happy here.”

“No!” I yelled, pushing him away. “
I can’t do that again.
I can’t lose who I am to an addiction that will drag me so far under there’s no return.”

He placed a hand on my cheek and stroked it gently. There was a look I did not recognise in his eyes, though it was one that would not have looked out of place if it were Danny gazing at me.

“Helena, I bare my soul to you now,” he said softly. “I would be content with you, even if it meant the lust was to be but a distant memory.”

He was willing to give up the one thing he had waited so long to taste, an addiction so powerful and strong it destroyed everything. But it boiled down to one thing, I didn’t love him.

I pulled his hand away from my face and laid it in his lap, holding it there. Here was another life I had ruined. Drake was happy before I came along, I was sure of that, and like the whirlwind I was, I left behind me a path of destruction and devastation.

“I’m sorry, Drake. It was a mistake my coming here. I’ve only raised your hopes.”

I kissed him gently on the cheek and let his hand go.

“Don’t leave —”

I was already gone, back to the La’miere.

I refuse to cry anymore. I have to be strong. Weakness is not an option.

I sat on the couch, gazing out of the window at the city lights I’d always found comforting. This night they were nothing more than cold flashing lights, signalling an end. When the lights faded and the sun came up I retrieved the pile of letters from the table and started reading. Most of them were from Kiana, giving me information on the movements of the immortals. The first letter actually went into some detail about the ambushing of angels on the solstice, over five years ago. She didn’t once mention anything about archangels being killed, or my involvement. Perhaps she thought that, like her, I only passed on information and did not take part in the massacre at all.

One of her letters, from about two years before, told how she was pregnant to David — something she thought could never happen — and she was frightened, for she didn’t know what the child growing inside her would be — varakiana or mortal. She was preparing to run away to give birth to her child in a distant region and return to David afterwards, either with or without the child, depending on the outcome. As such she would not be corresponding with me for a time and hoped I would understand.

Her last letter, less than a year ago, said the child looked like an ordinary mortal, apart from a slight discolouration on her lower back which most people thought to be a birthmark. She had not shown any other characteristics of her mother’s heritage and, breaking with tradition, she’d been named Lucy, which meant
light
. I was glad for them. At least someone had found a happy ending.

The five remaining envelopes — they were a lovely shade of blue — were addressed to me in the same script, and my heart sank — Danny.

I opened the first one and there was reference to a gift, but it was not in the room. It had probably been stolen. Maybe for the first couple of years no one would have touched it, but after that, if they thought I wasn’t coming back, it would have been fair game.

Each of the cards and letters referred to a gift that was no longer here, yet I was grateful, and sad, the letters remained. Grateful because they reminded me of something I was beginning to lose — I realised that not once since descending to hell had I dreamt about Danny — and sad because I was here and he was not.

The last letter, the fifth, was the hardest of them all to read.

My dearest Helena,

I’ve now missed six of your birthdays in body — and for that I am truly sorry — but not in spirit. At the last I was rushed and could not spend the time making preparations for elaborate gifts, the kind I think you deserve. I hope you look fondly on the small tokens I have sent to you over the years.

Six years is a long time by mortal standards, I know, and you are still so new to the world of immortality that I imagine you still measure the passing of time by mortal standards.

I think it’s time to let you go, so you can move on, for if I know you — and I think I do — you will be clinging to me like a life preserver, afraid to let go. You’ll be mad at me for a time, but hopefully one day you can thank me. I’ll still be waiting for you, if the time ever comes, and will welcome you with open arms.

All of my love,

Danny

How could he do this to me? How could he just let go? Wasn’t what we had worth my fighting for?

I crumpled up all of the letters and tore up the cards, throwing them on the coffee table. I flicked my wrist and they caught fire, sending a small cloud of smoke billowing into the air and setting off the sprinkler system and fire alarm.

Great,
I thought.
Just what I need.

I sat and watched as the fire fizzled out, and sent the pile of blackened paper and cardboard away so no trace of my little bonfire remained. Water dripped from my hair into my eyes and as I heard the firemen rushing out of the elevator to my room, I left. The cause of the alarm would be attributed to a faulty sprinkler.

I stood in the lights for a time, as an angel, to see their brilliance once again. How long had it been since I’d walked in the light? I ached to go back to the home I’d once shared with Danny, and found myself in the little clearing. The grass was waving gently in the breeze, the sun shining down and the little saplings now grown tall and strong, green and lush.

At the other end of the clearing, in what had once been the garden at the rear of the cottage, something glistened in the sun. It was so blindingly brilliant I couldn’t tell what it was from where I stood. I walked slowly, apprehensively, unsure of what I’d find. As I drew closer the outline became clearer. Someone had erected a memorial plaque at the exact location the cross had been.

I knelt down and ran my fingers over the words that were engraved into the multifaceted clear crystal —
In memory of Danizriel, an angel who chose not to fall.

I traced the letters over and over again, wondering who had placed the memorial here, as there was nothing to indicate who had done so. As I traced the letters for the tenth time a small shadow appeared to my right. I ignored it and continued my tracing.

“Did you know him?” a voice asked.

I twisted around and saw it was an angel.

He crouched down until he was level with me. “Ah! You did. I am sorry for your loss.”

He reached out to touch my arm and I pulled back.

“You’ve suffered,” he said.

“What do angels know of suffering?” I asked bitterly.

“Personally, I haven’t experienced it, only witnessed it,” he said. “Danizriel was a good angel, better than most.”

“He
was
the best,” I said.

“I won’t argue that point with you, for in your eyes it’s the truth,” he said.

“You’d do well to go,” I said angrily, “and leave me alone with
my
grief.”

Instead of heeding my advice and leaving, he sat crossed-legged next to me, picking at the grass.

“I would have helped if I could, but it was forbidden to interfere. Danizriel came to my assistance on many occasions and in his hour of need I was helpless to assist, but you saved him, didn’t you.”

“Yes,” I whispered. “I saved him and damned myself.”

“No, I don’t believe you’re damned. How can saving another damn you?”

“Because of what I’ve done since,” I mumbled.

“And what have you done?” he asked.

“Killed angels, slept with a vampire and descended to hell,” I said angrily.

“And yet you are here.”

“Yes.”

“You must learn to love and forgive yourself, Helena.”

I looked at him when he said my name — so he knew who I was.

“Danizriel was unique, so full of love and compassion. He would
want
you to forgive yourself.”

I looked back at the plaque and continued my tracing. The angel stood and brushed the grass off his clothes.

“I am truly sorry, Helena,” he leaned over and whispered in my ear, “for I know he loved you.”

I turned to look into his eyes and saw sorrow. He smiled — it was a sad smile — and turned to leave.

“Wait,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“Hael,” he said, and as I watched him walk away, his body faded until he disappeared.

I looked at the plaque once again, and now, at the bottom, three words appeared —
From a friend
.

The words were still warm to the touch and I looked back, half expecting to see Hael return, but all was silent.

I returned to my room at the La’miere, some hours later, more determined than ever. I would give Satan what he wanted, and get what I wanted in return.

I summoned an ugly vase made out of a rock, the very one I had fashioned with my own hands at the cottage, when I’d picked freesias and had nowhere to place them. It was still lopsided and very rough, yet it would serve the purpose I needed it for now. I turned it around in my hands, remembering every gouge I’d made.

“Into the safe with you now,” I said. “It’ll do no good for the housekeeping staff to find you before our work is done.”

The vase disappeared and I heard a muffled
clunk
as it reappeared in the safe.

I wondered what time it was in hell and how long I’d been gone.
Time is different,
Drake had said. Was it barely the blink of an eye, the midday meal, or the evening meal? It didn’t matter, for a plan was forming in my mind, one that would make Satan forget if I was late …

24.
Dance with the Devil

I returned directly to my room in the west wing. I’d found out early on that demons could not transport in Satan’s domain and that I was considered a freak, even among them. Satan was the only other being in his realm that could transport freely within his domain or walk through walls. The others were limited to transporting to the closest entrance, where they must pass through a checkpoint manned by sentries — I referred to them as gatekeepers — to ensure they had permission to enter.

An outfit was waiting for me. It must have been getting close to the evening meal. I bathed quickly and readied myself. Tonight I was to be a dominatrix, in black for a change, with red lingerie. So be it. My lips would be red, in more ways than one. I looked in the mirror at the fiery eyes. There was more of the devil in me than I cared to admit.

I wondered why Hael had not commented on my eyes. Perhaps he’d put two and two together when I mentioned I’d descended into hell. A stranger, he had been kind to me and let a little light into my heart, when all around was black. It was from him I drew strength and courage now.

A bang on the door announced Creature’s arrival. I had been so caught up in my thoughts that I hadn’t heard the patter of his tiny feet. He looked behind me eagerly, hoping for a tail. Each night since the tail, he’d looked, and had been disappointed.