Purgatorial

Paradise City hadn't finished playing when everything around me darkened, blackening to a degree I thought the sun had died outside. My hand shook from the weight—a low thud was heard. I felt something fall at my feet but I couldn't see anything. There was Cameron's voice, startled and raw with worry.

I felt my head swimming, a fervent headache built behind my eyes. My eyelids pressed shut as something—someone dragged my mind somewhere else, into a plane I only visited when I had precognitions or visions from the past, somewhere deep and intimate only I existed with my Power. But… there was someone sending something, images. Tendrils wrapped around me, pulling me deeper, gagging me.

I can't scream, I thought, but oh! How I wanted to scream. Cam's voice was growing further away. I knew it was bad, if I stopped hearing—I could probably be lost for a long time in my own mind in the stage someone was setting for me. The force tugging closer was relentless, though. Shouting echoed in my head—my shouts. To be let go of.

The thrashing agony reached a climax inside me as the tentacles of Power dragged me down, to a pit where Cameron's voice was no more.

***

What is that…? Crying?

Slowly, my eyelids flickered open. There wasn't blackness, not only. The lights around me were reddish, like a swanky motel or an old bar. I looked around, finding myself sitting on a lounge. There was a broken mirror in front of me, a splatter of crimson dried on it. I grimaced. It looked like blood.

My head swung left. Another wail. It sounded like… like it was coming from above. I glared around trying to get a reading of where I was—of where I'd been brought to, I forced myself to remember. This was inside my head, but it wasn't being shown to me thanks to my Power, it was someone else showing it to me.

Cain? I thought with dread. Could he have cast some spell? But the thing pulling me here had been Power, if it were Magic it would've been different, like tickles or shudders. Shivering, I steadied myself on the old wall, standing way too close to the smeared mirror. Yuck. The room was broken down, not old. Just trashed. Like a massive hurricane had been unleashed inside this club. Bottles were smashed, glass precariously littered the floor. I did my best to avoid stepping on any of it, but there was just so much…

My hand shot to my mouth. Was it possible to vomit? This wasn't a real body I was walking around in, my real body was out cold back with Cameron, Lucas and Etna. A dry heave left me anyway. Spread eagle on a pool table was a body—it was a guy's, at least I thought so. Because the head was missing. The hands were pinned to the table by kitchen knives, and his legs… Below the knees the man's legs had been broken in several places, bone poked at odd angles. Doing my best not to panic when another sharp cry rung out, I turned to leave the room. A nagging feeling whispered I had to investigate upstairs, somehow I knew that's where I was supposed to be.

Edging toward the staircase I swallowed—or had a reflex to do it. Bodies. Too many to count laid on the stairs, all across them. They were stacked like dead cows after slaughter. It was… it was horrible. I knew this wasn't real or that I wasn't actually in the presence of it—physically—but the smell made it very realistic. Blood and decaying flesh. Shudders racked me as I took a first step forward, climbing a stair…

"Oh, God." I cried quietly as my foot didn't find a firm landing—muscle sunk under my heel, causing a strong wave of nausea to rock me. This isn't real, I told myself, I'm not actually here. Someone is showing me this. They want me to be afraid, disgusted… Those were the words playing and re-playing as I climbed the stairs made of dead people. I refused to look down at them, at their injuries, the white of their eyes—I'd seen bowls spilling from one, though. From a girl whose face reminded me of Vanessa. I pushed on, steadying myself on the railing.

Once my foot stepped onto solid ground I wanted to throw a goddamned parade. I'd made it. Golden eyes shot to where screams hailed from. I was walking before I knew it, I needed to get to that room. The Power that dragged me here wanted me to, I realized. Walking down the short hallway, I found myself pushing open a half-closed door.

The room was roughly the same as the one downstairs. Here the lights were even redder. I squinted at a shadow sitting—more like lounging—on a couch. The silhouette became more accurate as if some sort of fog was lifting. My lips pursed.

"Who are you?"

There was a rough cough from across the room. I saw who'd been screaming—Serena. Instinct made me sprint across the room towards her. Nothing stopped me, but once I was standing next to her she didn't seem to see me. And I couldn't seem to work my hands to free her. She was hanging from the ceiling, suspended. Feet inches off the ground. The shackles holding her weren't Golden Chains and there was nothing written on them. They were iron.

Did iron weaken Witches or their Magic?

"You can't help her. Not from here, anyway." The man on the couch said. Leather squeaked as he moved. "I can tell you where to find her. It's why I've brought you here, really."

Turning my back on Serena, my eyes caught on the man. He was gorgeous. His face was porcelain, untainted, no freckles or other birthmarks. His eyes were a stunning green, the pupils slightly vertical, like a cat's. Fair hair dropped to his shoulders. A straight nose, soft cheek bones and his oval shaped face made him look younger than most Angels I'd seen—wait. I searched his neck, there was no Triquetra. He wasn't an Angel, he was a Fallen. His beauty was asymmetrical, there was no doubt on that front.

"Who are you?" I repeated, hands dropping at my sides. "What have you done to me?"

"One question at a time, little love. We have all the time in the world." I threw him a ferocious glare which he dismissed, smiling. "My name's Azazel, maybe you've heard of me? I know you've spent some time with my former King."

Former King…? It dawned on me quickly, I only knew one King.

"Lucifer," I said, measuredly. He nodded, the smile becoming lazy as he kicked his feet onto a coffee table. "He's never mentioned you." I lied. I remembered Romeo and Lucas mentioned this name—Azazel. It had been about the break-in during the soul switching ritual.

One side of his lips curled, stretching the baby-face into something devilishly sexy.

"Really? Oh well, I'll just introduce myself then. You already know my name—"

"You're a Fallen,"

His eyes grew sharp, a twinge of humor nestled in his pupil.

"Yes, very good! Now, as I was saying…" he paused for dramatic flair. I resisted the urge to scream. "Ah, yes. I was Lucifer's right-hand in Hell. Like Romeo was—is—his right-hand on Earth. My job was to decide punishments, to deal them out. To be the King when he was absent. In the last century and a half—give or take—Lucifer was imprisoned. Incapable of leaving Hell." He explained what I already knew. "I was bored. There were no wars. He decided who got punished and how—I was stuck ordering defenses around Imperial." Those vivid eyes filled with jealousy. "I used to think Lucifer wanted revenge on Michael and the others, for casting us out, but he lost his vision when he met that Nephilim."

Azazel tucked his hands behind his head, eying me squarely.

"A lot of us didn't like it and awhile back someone new came. He never set foot in Domain, he got some lower Fallens on his side. They'd been citizens of Domain, they became spies for this new player. One day, I caught them conspiring, talking about what they would do when Heaven came down and Hell rose from the shadows. I was intrigued."

"They were working for Cain." I whispered, jittery as Azazel chuckled, nodding. "You're working for him, aren't you?"

"Of course," he said breezily. "How would the Rebels get inside Imperial without being let in? It can't be done without outside help. I knew—know—every passageway, every break any guard takes. Cain said he needed you—he said Helena had failed him. I was more than happy to help."

"Only you failed him, too." I smiled bitterly at him, enjoying the show of rancor he carried around for not accomplishing his task. "I killed Helena," I found myself saying. "I slit her throat to the bone."

"Is that supposed to frighten me?"

"She underestimated me."

"Yes, I suppose so. I've heard about you, Nina. Not just about your ability to see into both past and future—of what you've done. You killed a Dominion. Helena. You've escaped unscathed from Hell, bargained with Lucifer for your boyfriend's soul." He broke off, throwing back his head in laughter. It was a silky sound. "It's a shame you don't have more Power, you would've made a great fighter."

I edged back, knocking against Serena. She moaned. Glancing over a shoulder, I saw her eyes were shut.

"Why am I here?"

"For starters, you're very beautiful to look at." Coming from someone like him, the compliment sickened me. "Secondly, I have an offer to make you. On Cain's behalf."

He caught my undivided attention.

"He wants Etna's location. He knows you're here in San Diego, Nina." Hide it, I chanted, don't let him see he's right. Hide it. "It was his plan all along, little love. Uriel tipped you off about San Diego, didn't she? She told us. Now, here you are—well," he glanced around at the broken plaster and red lights. "Not here, per say, somewhere in San Diego. Cain can't pinpoint your location for sure, but he knows you're here. The offer is: you give us Etna's location and we give you her. Your friend."

Azazel nodded towards me and beyond, to Serena. My whole mind tensed. This was something horrible to choose over. If I decided to turn Etna in… I'd be handing my last relative to a madman. I'd reunited her with Lucas only to tear them apart? But… I glimpsed at Serena. She was looking paler, sweat and blood caked her hairline. Angry marks cut her wrists where the shackles bit her. They were torturing her somewhere—a frustrated cry echoed the room. I realized it came from me.

In a swift motion, Azazel was standing there. Five inches from me. My breath caught as he grinned down, amused by how he dwarfed me with his height. Still, I didn't cower. This wasn't real—he couldn't hurt me.

"Think about it. It's a fair bargain." He drawled. Suddenly, his fingers were gripping my wrist—he tugged me forward, collapsing me against the hard expanse of his chest. "You really are a sight," I twisted in his hold but found myself stapled on him. He watched me fuss, like a rabbit trying to escape a lion. "You have a day to decide. When your time's up I'll come again." His lips shaped into a devil-may-care smirk, bending down. "This will make it easy to reach inside your head, little love."

His mouth crashed on mine. Even though this wasn't real I felt the urge to tear his eyes out or throw acid onto his face. It felt… It felt real. It wasn't like Tyler's kiss either. It was forced, I wouldn't cooperate with any kiss besides Cameron's—but it was surprisingly gentle, soft. Slowly, I understood. This wasn't my body—this was my mind. He was tasting and learning it so it would be easier to find next time, to bring me wherever.

He was committing my mind—every turn and sharp edge—to memory.

When it was over, so suddenly, I fell. The floor vanished from under me. I felt Power release me, letting me breathe once more. My body jerked with a start, eyes splitting open and drawing a desperate breath. I was somewhere soft… I blinked—on the couch. A heavy hand landed on my back—I jumped.

Cameron was here, I felt warm tingles dance along my neck. Cam's hand latched for my right arm—his fingers traced my wrist. My eyes widened. My skin was purpled with fingerprints—Azazel's.

"How…" I croaked. "This shouldn't have happened."

"What exactly shouldn't have happened? You passed out." Cam's fingers traced the fading bruises. Right, I could heal now. Still wasn't used to that warmth flowing inside me, easing pain away. He leaned his forehead against my temple, breath spreading across my cheek. "Are you with me?"

Twisting toward him, I opened my mouth, stopping. It felt bruised. Lightly disgusted and embarrassed, I pulled away. I could feel eyes on me, not Cam's. Lucas and Etna were here. I stopped moving. What was I supposed to do? Tell them what happened—what Azazel proposed? Lucifer would probably kill us to make sure nothing compromised Etna's location. Wouldn't he?

My heart was still beating erratically when Lucas moved forward, grabbing my hand from Cam's grasp.

"You got pulled and trapped by Azazel, didn't you?" he said expertly. "That's his ability. He infiltrates people's minds and traps them inside them. Whatever happens in the world he builds, happens to the physical body." A small gasp dropped from my lips. He was holding it too tight.

I couldn't do more than gulp, because Cameron was up and faster than the human eye could track, he ripped Lucas away. He threw him against the wall, denting it.

"I warned you," Cameron breathed the words. His self-control finally broken. "You didn't listen."

Eyes flashing coldly, Lucas seemed to vanish. Cameron was knocked back by a fierce punch to his gut. The force of it sent him flying, knocking over a loveseat next to the big window. Oh, no. This was bad, very bad. Getting up from the couch, I headed toward Lucas not sure why because in his fury he'd blow me to smithereens—a hand grabbed my elbow, stilling me.

Etna shook her head, "Do not get in his way, Nina."

"But Cameron—"

Smiling, she nodded at my still present bruises.

"I can endure more." Huh. I said nothing as she studied them for a few minutes. Cameron was up, glaring viciously at his uncle. Static crackled across his skin. "Boys are so immature," she rolled her eyes and I couldn't help a smile—I'd liked Etna. In her memories. "I swear, I thought now—in this century—they would have stopped being such brainless idiots, at times. I mean, women can even wear trousers nowadays."

Chuckling, I watched her step up when they circled each other. Lucas had the upper hand, obviously he was toying. They became a frenzy of shapes, rushing everywhere. Knocking into walls, falling over on the ground and bumping the L couch. I had to back out of the room for a while. Finally, Etna moved fast—really fast. The scuffle between Cameron and Lucas stopped, or they stopped running faster than I could track. Etna swiped Cam's legs, knocking him down. He landed roughly on his back—I made a pained face for him. Lucas got slapped so hard he staggered to the side, winded.

"She just kicked your asses," their eyes rounded on me. Oh, now they were in agreement. My cheeks puffed out in annoyance. "It serves you right." I muttered.

Etna's long hair swished about as she glared disapprovingly between them. Cameron's face was bruised and a trail of blood stretched from his nose. Lucas was scarcely hurt, only a light bruise on his chin and a quickly healing split lip. He looked down at Cam with contempt once he recovered from Etna's slap—his head snapped left. Again.

"Stop it,"

"I wasn't doing anything!"

"Yes, you were." Etna tilted her head, frowning deeply. "Christ, how old are you? You two are family. You should not try to harm each other."

Cam's eyes were hooded as he rolled onto his stomach, getting up. He didn't look at Etna or Lucas, or at me. He stayed silent, but I knew what he was thinking. Lucas was no family to him.

Lucas changed his demeanor in a pinch, putting on an amicable smile closing the distance between Etna and him.

"Families fight, kitten. I wasn't going to kill him—not really." Lucas was shaking with concealed laughter. Because he knew Cam hadn't stood a chance. Etna placed a hand on his chest, keeping them inches apart. His smile fell, "He's fine, isn't he?"

Etna sighed sadly.

"That is not the point." Lucas said nothing, growing restless again. This time at her. "Are you alright, Nina?"

Blinking, I remembered why this all happened. Because Lucas grabbed me too tightly. Because of the bruises—of Azazel.

"Yeah, I'm good. I…" I still had no idea what to do. There was something here—between Etna and me. Or maybe I wanted there to be. I could see in her tentative smile she wished for it, too.

Cameron all but shoved my phone into my pocket, causing me to jump. I couldn't feel Power—no one inside San Diego could, but it was there. And his Power was being fed anger, I knew. He needed to leave. We… needed to go. I could read it in Cam's fathomless eyes. But I couldn't. This wasn't fair to Etna—even Lucas. That's why I grabbed his forearm—he halted, impassive. In my head, I apologized to him.

"You were right. What happened—it was Azazel." Lucas' eyes darkened. He stayed in place, though. Taking a breath, I explained. "He's working for Cain. That's how the Rebels got inside Imperial when the ritual went down. They wanted me."

"So you could find Etna." He declared and I nodded. "I doubt that's all he wanted. What did he say?"

"He…" Cameron looked at me. I squeezed his arm hard—his eyebrows jumped. I needed to do this, it was the right thing. "He knows we're here in San Diego. He made me an offer: Etna's location for Serena."

Cam's dark eyes swiped across my face, bewildered.

"She's alive?"

"I think so. I saw her—"

"You saw what Azazel wanted you to see. The Witch could be dead in a ditch somewhere, decomposing."

"Lucas!"

"I'm only telling the truth." He shrugged, unaffected by Etna's screech. "What did you tell him?"

"Nothing. He gave me a deadline—one day. When the time's up he'll…he'll pay another visit."

Cameron wiped the blood on his face with the back of his hand. He was looking at it as he spoke.

"Phillip's with them. Serena's alive."

Lucas walked over to the knocked-over loveseat. He grabbed it, easily flipping it back on its "feet".

"Or she's dead," Lucifer said again. "He loved her before. Now, he hates her. Do I need to draw you a picture of how his head works now?"

A low rumble came from Cam. It was a good thing I was still holding onto him. Etna looked exasperated with her boyfriend. Her eyes were soft, a little shaky as they stopped on me.

"I understand if you tell them. This girl—Serena? She is your friend."

Lucas stilled, staring in complete bafflement at Etna. Like he wanted to throw her over a shoulder and disappear forever. Or blast me. His face became weary for a minute, his jaw clamped. There was this expression I'd seen before, once. He'd been in Cam's body, right after my car accident, when he offered to carry my bag. Like he… cared.

"He'll kill you."

Cameron and I had the same stiffening reaction, locking eyes on the Fallen Angel.

"If you don't tell him where we are, he'll kill you. There's nothing you can do—" his chin jerked at Cam. "Azazel will have dragged her into her mind. No one but him and his victims have power there. I told you, whatever he does in that conjured reality will happen for real—if he kills you there, you die."

Silence stretched for a mile, then, Etna said, "You have to tell him, Nina."

I wanted to tell her we'd find another way, fool them somehow, but keys turned. The front door was pushed back, revealing a freshly shaved Romeo. His eyes surveyed the room, dumbfounded. Whether at the state it was in—cracked plaster, knocked over furniture—or because we were standing inside, I had no idea.

"Well," he walked in, a bag of groceries in his hand. He kicked the door closed with a foot. "At least you blocks missed the TV."