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I discreetly scanned the room for a weapon, like an iron bar, something I could wield to smack him down and crack his head on the stone statue behind him. Death wasn’t something I should have the right to grant to anyone, but even without knowing anything real about this guy, I knew he deserved to be buried in the graveyard I’d seen on the way here.
His stare remained.
I moved down the aisle between the rows of chairs, my dress dragging behind me, my wings shifting slightly with my movements. The chandelier above cast a glow on top of the thrones. I stopped several feet away from him, getting a better look at his face. He had deep brown hair, a cleanly shaven jawline, brown eyes, and a powerful build that told me I had no chance against him in hand-to-hand combat. I would need a weapon to defeat him. The oddest thing about him was his attractiveness. He was a handsome man when he didn’t wear that strange smile and when he didn’t speak. Why would a good-looking young man be out here, in the middle of nowhere, claiming to be a demon, when he could join the rest of society and enjoy his youth?
I looked at the white throne, which seemed to be made of birchwood, a pale, smooth color with occasional dark striations, like slices on your forearm from an old cut. The flames from the candles were silent, there was no draft of any kind, and the air felt old, like it’d been trapped inside since the place had been built—along with all the disturbing shit that happened here.
His eyes watched my movements, blinking only on the rarest of occasions. His look was deep, like his eyes were a dry sponge and I was a basin full of water. He absorbed me more the closer I came, but he was never saturated with my appearance. He constantly needed more.
I gripped the armrests and lowered myself into the chair. The large wings behind me made it impossible to lean back, and now I understood why the chair was so large—because it was made for an angel.
There didn’t seem to be any imminent danger, but that didn’t slow my frantically beating heart. It was like a hummingbird trapped in my chest, working hard to fly out of my body and to the sky. I looked at the interior of the room from a new perspective, imagining the Malevolent sitting in the rows starting at the thrones, faces hidden behind their skulls. I stared at everything but him, afraid to look at his face once more.
A part of me was convinced this entire experience was a dream…except for the fact that I never woke up.
He straightened in the chair and leaned forward slightly, his elbows moving to the edges of the armrests, his hands coming together. His eyes were on me, and slowly, that grin stretched on his face. “You are…beau-ti-ful.”
If this chair weren’t so heavy, I would have picked it up and slammed it on his head. I redirected my gaze and didn’t look at him because that smile was so fucking creepy. It was creepier than this room, than the thrones, than the statue. “Touch me, and I’ll kill you.”
“Touch you?” His voice turned low, only speaking loud enough for me to barely hear what he said. “An-gel, all I want is your forgiveness. All I want is to confess my sins and exhume my soul. All I want…is a chance to be human.”
My eyes shifted back to him, relieved that the smile was gone, replaced by his serious expression once more, which was far less terrifying. He looked human again. “You are human.” His smile was demonic and his soul was evil…but he was human.
“I us-s-ed to be. I am no lo-ng-er.” He bowed his head, large hands interlocked, taking a moment of quiet, as if to silently cast his regret.
I felt like a priest in a confessional—but his sins would never be absolved.
Not just because I wasn’t a qualified priest.
But because this wasn’t religion. There was no god here. This was a fucking cult.
They’d paid for the buildings and the statues with money—and they had to earn that money somehow. They were criminals, and not just because they were kidnappers and committing crimes against humanity, but because they had to be selling something to finance this freak show.
I held my silence because I was utterly powerless. He wasn’t snatching my purse on the street and would go down with a swift kick to the groin. I couldn’t scream for help and people would come running. This was much bigger than me, and I had to do whatever was necessary to survive—until I figured out a plan.
“I’ve waited a long time for you.” He lifted his chin again and looked at me. “I’ve waited a long time for a path to redemption. I need the grace of an angel to take me back to the light…and make me into a man again.”
