Death of a Demon (The Dark Angel Wars 3)

“We’ve got Gabe in the other room,” Luke told them, indicating the private patient room at the end of the hall. “He’s still got a faint pulse, but he’s non responsive. We’re not sure what caused this.”

Ben steadied his wife and glared at Luke. “Well, then, he’s still alive. He’ll pull through. Our Gabe always pulls through.”

Even from this distance, I could see the pain on my father’s face as he rested an arm on Ben’s shoulder. “I’m afraid brain scans show no activity.”

“No.” He jerked away from his touch. “It’s not possible.”

I closed my eyes again. This didn’t feel real. Like a dream, I wanted it all to fade away. No more pain.

“You!” Georgia’s abrupt cutting voice caused me to snap open my eyes. She was glaring at me and holding out a bony finger in my direction. “You! What happened to my son?”

“Georgia, please...” Luke held out his hands.

“It’s alright.” I pushed myself up to sitting and cleared my throat.

They deserved to know what happened. All of it.

“Tell me.” She pushed past my father’s protective stance and stood next to my bed, towering over me.

I didn’t have the energy to look her in the face. Instead, in a monotone voice, I recounted the events of the last few days. The demon attack during the games. How the ferals had gone for the box but we’d fought them off. Gabe’s mysterious disappearance and his meeting with the Prince. And all the events since then. When I got to the part about Mona taking over my body, I felt Luke by my side, his hand grasping for mine. He was shaking his head, muttering to himself. But I didn’t give it another thought. If I paused in my story, I might not be able to finish it. Instead, I barreled on through the tough parts, until it was over.

“That was when Seth placed a hand over his chest and took his soul. That’s it. That’s what happened.” I stared down at the sheets and blinked hard, expecting tears to come to my eyes. But there was nothing. Just emptiness.

A long, heavy silence followed my story.

I took a chance and looked up at my audience. Ben had tears in his eyes and grasped the back of a chair in a white-knuckle grip. My father had closed his eyes and wrapped my hand tightly in his. Meanwhile, Georgia stood motionless at my side, staring just over my head with wide eyes. Little splotches of red speckled her neck and cheeks. Her hands trembled as she brought them to her face.

Luke slowly released my hand and stood. “I’m so sorry, Georgia.”

She brought up a hand and held it in front of her. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

Her intense blue gaze fell on me once again. I knew what she was thinking. She hadn’t been a fan of our relationship from the start. I was a danger and she was right. I’d gotten her son killed. It was my fault. Gabe should’ve stayed away from me. None of this ever would’ve happened if he’d just let me burn that day on the pyre. He would still be alive, the Hell Gate would’ve remained shut, and the Prince of Hell wouldn’t be releasing Hell on Earth. She had every right to hate me.

“I want to see my son,” Georgia said. “Now.”

“Of course.” I could feel Luke’s heavy gaze upon my face. “Follow me.”

I laid back down and rolled over in bed, pulling the sheets over my shoulder. Luke’s warm hand patted my back and tucked me in a little tighter. As they proceeded into the private room, I squeezed my eyes shut, releasing the tears that had been held back for too long.

Chapter Twenty-One

I wrapped the oversized sweater tighter across my body and tread carefully down the empty stairwell to the lower level of the manor. It had been two days, six hours, and nine minutes since Gabe’s soul had been harvested by the Prince of Hell. And it had been nearly as long since I’d taken up the habit of wandering the back passages of the manor, staring down at the floor and my bare feet.

Even now, I could feel Luke’s overwhelming worry for me. I saw it in the deep lines on his face every time he looked at me. Heard it in his voice when he spoke to me in quiet whispers, never directly asking me about Gabe. Never probing. Just letting me be.

His quiet and constant concern was grating on my nerves. I wanted him to lecture me. To shout and scream at me, telling me I’d put them all at risk. That I wasn’t worth it. But those words never came. Instead, he treated me like a porcelain doll that was about to break.

I spent my time wracking my brain for ways to bring Gabe back. He was still lying in that medical room, motionless. A vegetable, in all senses. As the heart monitor slowed down over the passing minutes, so did my waning hope to bring him back. None of Luke’s books held an answer. We’d both scoured through them during the long night. The board didn’t know what to do.

No angel had lost his soul before now. None had dared to make a deal with the devil. Only my beautiful Gabe and his selfless heart. He’d given himself up for me and what did I do? Fail him, time and time again. I didn’t deserve him. And he didn’t deserve to rot in Hell.

My limbs lost the will to carry on somewhere between the third and fourth floors. They deposited me on a step where I huddled and breathed between my knees. The soft creak of the door below alerted me to an approaching stranger. Despite the urge to run away, my body wouldn’t cooperate. Instead, I remained deathly still until a dark figure appeared on the landing beside me.

“I figured you might like a bite,” Noah Brown said, shoving a plate of food in my lap.

There were mountains of mashed potatoes and golden gravy, succulent vegetables in a buttery sauce, and fruit that the very gods would desire. Still, nothing caught my fancy. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. My stomach had

forgotten how to yearn for such nourishment. I set the plate on the floor beside me and ignored Noah as he sat down and picked at it.