Jegudiel (Deadly Virtues 2)

Noa reached the foot of the bed and placed a soothing hand on Beth’s ankle. She looked so small on the mattress. Beth had always been a complicated case. She was strong and could fight just as well as the rest of the Coven. But the blood disease she believed she had, that the Brethren had convinced her she was cursed with, was a viper, striking her down with its venom. For years, whenever the disease had her in its grip, the Brethren Witch Finder twins had pinned her down and placed leeches all along her body. Week after week, she would be tied down, leeches sucking the blood from her body until it was all her life became.

Color blossomed back into Beth’s cheeks, and Naomi collected the “poisoned” blood into sterile bowls to dispose of. Beth’s blood had been sent to every blood specialist in the US for examination. All had given the blood the all clear.

Dinah caught Noa’s eyes over the bed. Her sister was just as pissed at the situation as she was. Not at Beth. Never at Beth. But at the bastards who’d made such a pure soul believe she was riddled with soiled and worthless blood, so much so that Beth was convinced that if it wasn’t let, she would die an agonizing death. After years of trying to heal Beth, Noa was pretty sure that there was no remedy in existence that would ever take the plight from her. No amount of therapy could convince her that she was clean.

Beth’s eyes closed, and her breathing evened out as she felt the poison draining from her body. Dinah sighed. “We agreed to breakfast with the Fallen.” She checked her watch. “We’re already five minutes late.”

“I’ll stay with Beth,” Naomi said, her soft lisp wrapping around her “s” sounds. Dinah moved to Naomi and kissed her on the head. Then she looked at Noa, Jo and Candace.

“Let’s go.”

“Call us if you need us,” Noa said to Naomi as they left the room. Noa was dressed in her staple black leather trousers and a long-sleeved black top. Dinah, Jo and Candace didn’t look much different. After years of hiding and covertly seeking out the Brethren, they had grown accustomed to being battle-ready, whenever, wherever. That had never been more apparent than last night.

As Noa followed Dinah, Jo and Candace into the tunnels that led to the manor, of course she thought of Diel. She had told him the truth. She had known he was coming for her. She’d seen the look in his eyes when the Coven had arrived at Eden Manor. She knew that tormented glint. One that promised death, in all its painful glory. Priscilla, their wayward sister, had worn it often. But Noa had also seen that look several times in her own reflection. Her brown eyes looking back at her, thirst for vengeance dilating the pupil and making the iris clear and bright.

With each rhythmic boot-step on the tunnel’s old stone floor, Noa thought back to Diel. The crazed fight he’d had within himself before her. She had watched with fascination as he switched personalities like a light being turned on and off at a rapid speed. One second the beast inside triumphed; the next, then did Diel.

Her thoughts lightened when she thought of Diel’s monster. The way it watched her, softened under her touch, like a tamed beast simply needing a moment of rest. Then she recalled Diel fighting back to the surface. The man with the glacial eyes. He acted in total opposition to the monster, recoiling from her touch as though it were a naked flame. Her chest pulled tight. Not in anger, but in deep sorrow.

As if hearing her thoughts, every single scar on her body began to sting; every bone in her body ached as if she been strapped to the rack and yanked apart. But there had always been more that came with the rack, as punishment for her perceived innate sin, for being the devil’s whore on earth.

More than the agonized pain and the muscular tears. More than the dislocations and the burning welts from red-hot pokers singeing her skin while she was bound to the wooden contraption. And if she was correct, the Fallen had been taken sexually by the priests too, just as she and her sisters were. An exorcism of the flesh wasn’t complete without the cleansing of the internal flesh too.

It was relentless. And not one of the Brethren’s “sinners” came away from their respective hells unaffected.

Nausea built in Noa’s throat as she remembered Diel rolling off the bed after lying underneath her. After the monster had pinned her down and wanted to touch her, gain her affection. She pictured Diel writhing on the floor, his voice lethal and dark, but the fear in his eyes shining so brightly it could have blotted out the midday sun.