A Reckoning so Sweet (The Reckoning Book 3) Page 3

  Underground, Hellions couldn’t get to us. We tried making camp in a basement a while ago…let’s just say that houses can collapse. So can caves, but we’ve been all right so far. If we have to move, I don’t know what we’ll do, where we’ll go. Everyone here, undead especially, is allergic to the sun, and at night the Locusts are vicious.

  I’m definitely tired of constantly living on the edge of my seat, wondering when it’s all going to end. I’m ready for the next fight, for the next Woe. I’m ready for the apocalypse to be over, and for the next chapter in earth’s story to begin.

  “I thought you enjoyed hunting?” Dagon asks as I lay down beside him, resting my head in the crook of his arm. Heat radiates from him like a sauna, and I breathe in his familiar, woodsy scent. My own personal campfire. If only I had some crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate.

  “It gets us out of this cave, sure,” I say. “But it isn’t exactly my idea of fun.” Plus, the animals that are left are a little…mutated. Bambi meets Mad Max. Less cuddly and more flesh-eating. “I’d give anything for a videogame,” I mumble, turning into his chest. “Or a book. I’d even take a college exam right about now.”

  “I don’t understand the appeal of books and…videogames. I’d much rather live than pretend to live through such things.”

  My hand moves to his chest, and I fiddle with the neckline of his shirt. “You didn’t know what it was like before all this.”

  “And what was it like?”

  I could think of a thousand ways to answer: boring, routine, safe (despite my habit of accidental self-harm). Normal, abnormal, anxiety-filled. A lot of conflicting answers. I say slowly, “Better than this.”

  Dagon tucks a few stray strands of hair around my ear, his face serious as he asks, “Doesn’t my smiling face make it better?” Still testing the uncertain waters of humor. Sarcasm and deadpanning are two things he needs to work on.

  I grin. “You’re not smiling.”

  “But you are now,” he whispers, “and you look like idiot enough for the both of us.”

  A laugh escapes me before I can shoot back a witty response. He got me there. As I quickly formulate a reply, Dagon moves, sliding his arm away from my head—ruining my makeshift pillow—but making up for it with a hot, slow kiss. His mouth on mine, my stomach burns as my hands knot through his hair. Our bodies press together tightly, each of us wanting more, but nearly as soon as it began, Dagon’s lips break from mine.

  He kisses my neck softly, whispering, “We will find a way to break his Mark.”

  As if hearing it, the Mark on my chest burns. Lucifer’s Mark, his reminder that he’ll devour my child. Hah. Joke is on him. I don’t plan on having any kids, regardless of how tempting Dagon is.

  We settle into our normal position: Dagon playing the big spoon, and me the little. I can feel his hard chest on my back, his arm holding me to him, our legs bent together like puzzle pieces. Soon, sleep takes us both. These days, you rest when you can, because you never know when you’re going to have to run for your life.

  Chapter Two

  The next day, I attempt to hunt like I usually do. There aren’t as many animals around as you’d think. The Locusts have done their fair share of decimating the world, and the drought that began months ago also played its role. Used to be a time when I’d stumble across a deer and rabbit with every outing; now I’m lucky if I’m able to bring back even an insect. The deer we caught recently was sheer luck.

  At this rate, we won’t make it long.

  Knowing that, it hurts.

  I can’t let Deb down. Or Eve, for that matter. I suppose, after everything, Mike deserves to live, too, even if he did try to kill me. That was another lifetime, though, and he had his reasons.

  Dagon and I usually split up for efficiency. He can soar in the skies and cover more ground, spot the cannibalistic wildlife from a safe distance. Let’s just say I got too close to a goat once. While I’m sure it was a great farm animal in the past, I don’t think it should be eating its friend, Bessy the cow.

  The sky above me begins to cloud over, and I know what’s coming, yet I hope for the best anyway. The concrete below me is cracked and overgrown with weeds that have prospered on the steady diet of after-the-end rain that only came once a week, if that. It’s a special type of rain, one that stains everything it touches and tints everything a certain red color.

  I walk along a dead road, wind lapping at my face. Farmhouses sit, scattered in the landscape, too far to be of any use to me. I’m about to sigh when I hear something: a rock, behind me, kicked to the side.

  My reflexes are swift; within a moment, I’m twirling, bow drawn, aiming my sights at the last person I expect to see, someone who’s been gone a long time. My breath catches, and a part of me dares to hope, because this isn’t the first time I’ve been tricked.

  Some things stayed the same. Some would remain unchanged, even after all this was over. I thought this particular thought hard, and I knew I’d think it over and over in the upcoming months. Where did this deep, philosophical mumbo-jumbo come from, you ask?

  From watching a deer meander through the woods, waiting as it bent down to drink. Of course, the deer’s body was ragged, its fur mostly gone. Yellow pus oozed from its eyes, flies swarming around its mouth. Three of its hooves were cracked, splintered by its long trek to find any source of water. Its gracefulness was gone, its natural beauty stolen by the apocalypse.

  Everything needed water. At first we thought it was disappearing, but it’s never as simple as it looked. I should know. My life was full of forced choices, vengeful Greek gods and lying Seraphs.

  Crouching near a fallen log, I quietly retrieved an arrow from my hand-made quiver, drawing it back, my fingertips against my cheek. Dagon was scouting the nearby area; it’s up to me to find whatever food I can for the group. A deer wouldn’t be enough for all of us, but it was a start. My breath held, and I began to exhale with intent to let the arrow fly.

  The sound of sudden crying tore me from my focus, and my arrow soared into the deer’s backside, off its mark. The deer shrieked and sprinted away, out of sight in less than ten seconds. “Shit,” I breathed, taking off after it, drawing another arrow. I jumped through the woods, ignoring how brown and dead everything was. I tried not to breathe in the smell of decay, the stench of the world dying.

  My heart pulses as I go, and the crying grew louder. I didn’t linger on the sound, because after the betrayal, I imagined a lot of things. That perfect, heavenly white wing, for example, drenched in Josie’s blood.

  A small, hunched figure stopped me cold. My sweat turned to ice, my veins frozen with something I can only describe as fear.

  The clothes were the same, torn in the same place where the wing punctured her. Her hair was matted and wild. Josie was on her knees in front of me, her big brown eyes full of tears. “Lexie!” she squealed, launching herself into my arms, making me drop my bow and my guard all at once.

  Though only a spirit, the little girl in my arms felt so real. I felt like I was breaking all over again.

  “Don’t let him take me back,” she sobbed into my neck, blood between her teeth.

  I fought tears myself, smoothing her hair. She didn’t tell me who he was. She didn’t have to. Only one man was in charge of the souls of the dead. There was no way I could promise her that he wouldn’t take her.

  A sharp, cruel voice spoke, “Touching.”

  Josie’s wailing intensified, and I turned my glare to Hades. Black cape slung over his shoulder, faces in pain stuck to his chest piece, gauntlets whose fingers were more like claws. Haughty expression, eyes as black as his own soul.

  I was right. Some things never changed.

  “Now come here, child, and get back to where you belong,” he hissed.

  Josie, though screaming violently, could not fight his call. She was wrenched from me, not for the first time, and I watched her vanish back into the Underworld, miserable.

  Hades rubbed his goatee, musing,
“I knew I should’ve locked her in the stones. She was always trying to find cracks in the veil—” His rambling stopped when I reached for my bow and fired a shot. If his reflexes would’ve been two seconds worse, the god of the Underworld would’ve had a crude arrow in his face.

  Too bad, really.

  Instead, the arrow hovered in the air, inches from his pointed nose. Hades heaved a sigh, grabbing the arrow from the air, dropping and stepping on it like it was nothing more than a cigarette he needed to put out. “You mortals never realize you cannot kill a god.”

  I slowly stood. “Don’t be so sure.”

  Hades took a step closer to me, his jagged crown lowering as he whispered, “Bravado is the downfall of men. You will find that out soon enough.”

  “You’d know an awful lot about hubris, wouldn’t you?” I shot back, refusing to back down.

  “You would do well to not speak of things you know nothing about.”

  Images of Persephone flashed in my mind. “I know enough.”

  “You know nothing!” Hades yelled, a rim of fire lighting on his crown. “You think you know loss—true loss, but you do not. You think you know of the cruelty of the Seraphs? You do not.” His voice grew louder and louder until it was practically thunder in the sky. “The time will come—the Reckoning.” He smirked, as all bad guys often did. “And it will be so sweet to watch you fall with him. The Seraphs might have an army; Lucifer might command a legion of Demons—but I will bring unto this earth every dead soul from the beginning of time, and you will not be able to defeat those who are already dead…such as your precious girl and daddy dearest.”

  As soon as he started laughing, I took a swing, heat forming in my hand. No one spoke of my dad or Josie like that.

  With one last chuckle, Hades faded away, back into his own oblivion.

  I swore under my breath. That son of a bitch was going to get what’s coming to him.

  I blink a few times, just to be sure I’m really seeing what I think I’m seeing. With each blink, the person doesn’t go away. I grow more and more startled and confused, even after he murmurs, “Hey there, kiddo.”

  I study the man dressed in clean slacks and a button-down, his brown hair coifed. “Dad?” My voice shakes. This isn’t how he looked when he died, I’m sure of it. I watched the Horseman take him from me, helpless as he played the hero, as he decayed like a mummy in a matter of seconds.

  But, maybe he didn’t die from the decay. The swarm went inside his mouth; so maybe he died from asphyxiation. Either way, I don’t want to think too much on it.

  The hand gripping my bow nearly drops it. “What are you doing here? How? Hades—”

  “Has his hands full right now,” Dad answers. “A lot of us can slip through the cracks when he isn’t paying attention.” He smiles, sad as he glimpses around us. “Though there isn’t much to come back to, I see.” His eyes meet mine. “How’s your mom?”

  “Good,” I say.

  “Is she happy?”

  “Happy as she can be, considering.”

  Another sad, soft smile. “Good. And what about you?”

  I hesitate before saying, “I’m ready for it to be over, Dad.”

  “I have a feeling it will be soon.” Dad glances around again before adding, “There’s something you should know. Hades…isn’t just preparing for a war.”

  Eyebrows coming together, I ask, “What do you mean?”

  “There’s something else. Everyone is whispering. Those in Tartarus are scared, and the ones in the Elysian Fields are nervous. Do you know what can frighten both heroes and villains?”

  “No.”

  “Something big.”

  As he says it, I have a flashback. Falling in pitch-black water, screaming, drowning. With every reach for the surface, I just sink deeper and deeper until I’m at the very bottom. Something cold touches me. Red eyes burn into me, angular and slit.

  I grow cold. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know, Lex. Something old, older than Hades. Older than them all.” Dad takes a step closer to me, both hands gripping my shoulders. “I heard about your trip into the Underworld. I heard you had help. Find your friend among the gods and ask.”

  I lightly touch one of his hands with mine. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, Dad.”

  “Don’t be. That should’ve been my job from the beginning.” He leans in, placing a kiss on my forehead, something he hasn’t done since I was very small. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better father.”

  “Stop it,” I mutter, “you’re going to make me cry.”

  He laughs, stepping away from me. “And we both know how much you hate showing emotion.”

  The sky above lets loose, and as the first drop falls, crashing onto my cheek, I manage a smile, but the smile fades fast with what he says next.

  “When the time comes, don’t dither. He will use us against you, and you can’t let him. Fight for what you have, not for what you lost. Who knows? Maybe my girl will end up saving the world.”

  A barrage of rain falls, coating me in its red, blood-like substance. I spit out what little got in my mouth, and when I wipe my eyes, I see that my dad is already gone. I stand there for quite a while, wondering what on earth he meant. Hades has been preparing for this war for eternity, it seems. Apparently that’s not all there is to the puzzle.

  That’s great. I’ve always loved puzzles like I love gas station sushi—which is to say, not at all.

  I run to the farmhouse, trailing its long, gravel driveway. The blood-rain would pass soon enough. These storms never lasted long. As I go, my stomach twists. I contribute it partially to the accidental taste of the rain I had, and also to what my dad said. It made sense. Until now, I forgot about the beast in the earth, about the rumbling of the world. They were no mere earthquakes—just an ancient thing trying to break free.

  But what did it have to do with the Reckoning? Why would Hades spend any of his energy on preparing to take the beast down when he has to fight not only Lucifer, but also the Seraphs in battle?

  Clearly there’s still something I’m missing.

  Once I reach the wooden overhang, I’m stunned to find the door is locked. Slightly warped, but still locked. I have to kick it open to get inside. With my bow drawn and ready to fire, I do a quick survey of the house—check closets and under beds, peek in the kitchen cabinets for any crumbs left behind. I find a towel and wipe the red from my face and hair, dropping it on the dusty floor. This house, though full to the brim with knickknacks of animals in straw hats and plaid clothes, holds nothing of use.

  I bite my lip as I head to the living room, collapsing on the old loveseat. I run a hand through my wet hair. Why can’t we go back to the days when worrying about staying under the radar was my highest priority? David would scold me for being stupid, and my parents would never call me unless a holiday was coming up, and they thought they’d remind me of my obligation to them. I’d spend my nights cuddling with Xena, my long-lost but never forgotten cat, longing for a normal life. Apparently I’ll never know what normal feels like.

  Yep. Those were the days.

  My eyes lift. Across the room, past the mismatched end tables and couch cushions, a piano sits, its keys gathering nothing but dust. On the wall above it, a cross hangs in the cracked drywall. I notice a small square atop the piano, and I heave myself up. Once I get closer, I see that it’s a bible. I reach out for it, even though I probably shouldn’t. I flip through it.

  Blood stains every page.

  I do my best to overlook the blood, turning to the back of the book. Revelations. Not all of it has turned out to be true. A lot of it is more like prophecy. Was there an entity, a God, up there pulling all the strings? And if there is, why would he let his so-called children die like this? How could Gabriel remain an Archangel so long with rage and spite in his heart?

  I start flipping the pages of Revelations, trying to get to the part about the Woes, but the print is tiny and my mind is fried. Dagon, for his bloodline,
knows little about what’s supposed to happen next and when. All he says is that when the time comes, there’s something he needs to be present for. I’ll be with him, naturally. What this event is, though, and when it’ll happen is anyone’s guess.

  An unexpected thump startles me, echoing in the empty house. I’m sluggish in closing the bible and setting it down. Another thump a few seconds later. I move to the center of the living room. Heat gathers around my hands—a benefit of being forever linked to Dagon and his fiery spirit.

  Thump.

  Right under me.

  I kick away the fraying carpet square to find a cellar door, hidden in plain sight. Demon, I think instantly. Maybe one of the owners of the house parted with his or her soul in exchange for plentiful harvests, or maybe the family was just unlucky when the end began. Either way, I’ve had it up to my eyeballs with those damn things.

  The small metal ring singes when my burning hands touch it, and I heave the door open, staring at nothing but blackness. Since I can’t die and I’m not known for my level-headedness, I jump into the cellar, my eyes adjusting unnaturally well.

  Thump.

  A woman, hanging, banging against the brick wall. Her skin sallow and grey, the rope around her neck covered filth. Her body slowly swings back and forth, turning until I see that her eyes are still open. What’s left of her eyes, anyway. Most of the woman is gone; she’s scarcely more than bones.

  But why is she moving? There’s no breeze down here, nothing that could—like someone fresh off the wagon, I’m tackled by something from behind. Wet snarls fill my ears, and something attempts to scratch me through my leather jacket. I’m caught off-guard for only a moment; in the next I roll, throwing the thing off me and hopping to my feet. The heat that gathered around my hands flickers into small snakes of fire, illuminating the basement, allowing me to better see my attacker.

  An old man, probably in his sixties. Maybe the husband of the hanging woman. And just like her, he’s nothing but bones. I don’t know how he’s still moving, how he had the strength to tackle me. Through his greying beard, he snarls, maroon lining his teeth. His eyes are stained red. The numbers 666 sit on his forehead, carved crudely into his flesh. Judging from his appearance, he definitely shouldn’t be alive and walking around.