Chapter 11

Gorgeous accompanies me to Demon Eye. The students of Dark Academy are not as scary as I once thought. They are just like any other students – aside from the orcs, who seem to only practice combat in the courtyards. And the Cherries – the mortal dead enslaved, who spend a lot of time in the church under the courtyard.

But around me, during the day, I’m in a normal classroom.

And I’m learning about Demon philosophy now.

I even sit in the introductory front row, more confident with every class of the day. I’d always been a keen student.

“Hmm. New girl. What is your most unbiased opinion on death? What would you say?” the teacher called Beau, asks me direct, and he is this old withered demon, who apparently is a shapeshifter.

“That it’s… just another door that closes, and another one opens, but we can’t really know what that is – just that a door opens,” I try my best to be unbiased.

For some reason the class snickers.

“Oh, I’m not talking about personal death,” Beau tut tuts me but can’t help a smile, “Demons view death as what we do to another…”

“Funny that. I believe that’s also called murder,” I speak with a dry throat.

I did not expect class to be focused around triggers back to that awful memory I rediscovered last night.

“Murder is used in the Upper, where it’s considered wrong – here it is known as death, and death only… so what is your opinion of death, this time?” Beau asks again.

“I’m c-confused,” I stutter.

“Allow me,” a female student beside me, casually interjects, “Death is nourishment to the undead. It is a food source. The only source.”

“We clean out the rot,” Beau winks at me.

I interject also, frustrated, “But your Dark Academy plans on enslaving the whole world, watching Earth burn to the ground, farming mortals like cows. Am I missing something?” I ask direct.

Everyone bursts out laughing around me.

I look over my shoulder and it’s not a giggle, people are actually falling out of their seats, it’s that funny to them.

“Do you believe everything you hear, girl?” Beau mocks me, but also educates me, “…what you said is a part of it, a tiny part, badness is always fun but not our mission…we kill the ones we must kill… the rot. How else does the rot end? Good mortals struggle to kill one another, even the rotted ones. Often because they’re blind to them. Demon Eye is different.”

“What…do you… mean… by rot…” my throat is closing off again. Because I think I know… I think I know exactly what he means.

“Rot are the condemned – the ones who walk recklessly on the Upper, they’re greedy, they’re merciless, they are parasites born with the ability to do a good deed, but they attempt to be what they think is ‘Demon Eye’, disrespecting our way,” I don’t understand all of Beau’s language, but I understand enough.

I nod, but I also need air.

I start to say I want a break but the bell chimes, and the lectures are over for today.

It’s the last class. I’ve been to Demon Form, Demon Past and Demon Eye. I would definitely say the last class was my favourite. It was the most informing.

I stand and Gorgeous jumps from my desk onto my shoulders. He balances easy as I walk out, but I haven’t made one friend.

I had glanced at the brotherhood at the lunch break – although they all ignored me and watched me eat alone. Jock pricks. Messing with me on my first day.

Now, I head back to our dorms, a blank book in my hand is my only friend. A notebook and a sketchbook.

And, of course… my memories too. I could sketch them in case I ever forgot again.

At this rate, I just needed to keep healing back to full strength, until I could fly again and any other powers returned. My wings were only miniature for the moment, and taking a long time to grow.

I’m glad to make it back to the North Wing ahead of time, and I lounge on a couch alone, while I sketch some meaningless doodles.

The first brother back – is probably my least favoured.

Rough cut black hair, voice as course as a butcher’s knife; Horace enters.

Vampire of Death.

Eats flesh.

Argh.

He is just as surprised to see me as he comes in and throws his bag onto a rack, and narrows his eyes at my note book.

“Am I rot?” I ask Horace, lightly, to see his answer.

Horace waltzes over, and I bend my knees back so he can sit on one side of the brown leather couch.

He silently picks up my foot and puts it near his mouth and lips – I watch thinking he is going to kiss my toe.

No.

He bites it.

“Ow!” I throw my book in his face, as he bites a little too hard.

Drawing a thin line of blood, Horace catches my book in one hand before it collides with his head, and he sucks on my toe greedily, trying to draw out as much blood as possible. Just when I think he’s stuck on like a leech, he releases my toe and stares at me gravely.

“Your silver blood has not rotted,” Horace tells me, serious.

“Great. Um. Thank you. I guess,” I sit up and sneakily cross my legs under me, out of his reach. As I face him and attempt to smile, Horace is looking around, briefly taking in that we’re totally alone. My heart skips a beat and then the door slams open – and in pour the rest.

Good timing.

Fane and Darc try to push through at the same time, Ash next and Solomon slow and relaxed, all throwing up their bags.

“…you rat…” Fane whispers at Horace, “You tried to get her alone.”

“How else am I going to rip her limb from limb if I have three opinions about how I should do it and one not to do it at all,” Horace groans, but I have no idea if he is being sarcastic or not.

“How was your day, beautiful?” Darc ignores Horace and takes a seat on the opposing couch, while Fane sinks into a bean bag, Ash sits next to his twin, and Solomon stokes the fire back to life, picking up an iron prong and heating it while slyly looking over at me.

“My day was fine,” I answer quickly, before snapping, “Do you all really think about murdering me non-stop… you can’t kill me yet, I’m to be sacrificed.”

“That’s a good girl,” Darc seems to be turned on by my obedience, his eyes are hooded and his voice drops an octave. Idiot.

It also makes my loins warm just a bit, but… heheh… what the fuck was I just saying? Thinking? Um?

“I have come to accept your presence,” Fane admits, watching my expression relax considerably, but I watch his twist a bit with disappointment, “…we fuck with you, Wynter…” he murmurs, “…we’re fucking with you… like, all the time. Relax.”

“What.”

“No, I want to tear her to pieces,” Horace starts.

“I’m still there too,” Solomon agrees.

“Shut up,” Darc rolls his eyes.

I look to Ash, who shrugs one shoulder and leans back, stretching an arm out over the back of his couch, “Whatever we desire in the moment, I guess.”

“That is more accurate, yes,” Fane admits, weighing up the possibilities in his palms, “So… what did you dream in that bath yesterday?” he slips it in, the question – and they all go dead silent.

I feel the air go cold.

They all slyly glance to my mouth and my eyes – looking and waiting for my answer.

“It’s okay,” Darc tries to soothe me, “You can tell us.”

I shake my head.

I don’t wish to think of it.

It’s too much.

It’s too painful.

I –

“What is it?” Fane keeps pressuring me. Too fast.

I stand up abruptly, and I snatch my sketchbook back out of Horace’s hand.

I turn around and I walk into my grey lifeless room, with the window jarred open as the curtains float.

I shut the door and I choose to be alone.

Away from them.

The strange thing was the feeling in my chest. When they asked me… about it. I felt…

Shame. Embarrassment.

For being in love with my own murderer.

Armando left me for dead.

And the orc, Gorg, finished me off even quicker and dragged me into the river.

To be hurt in that way was the worst evil in the world.

Not Gorg – but Armando.

Betrayal.

What did I do, to deserve such an end? When I had been nothing but faithful to him as his girlfriend.

That was it; I had done nothing and still been discarded.

And now I was in a pit of real evil, and everything was a mess, with beautiful vampire boys paying me their constant attention – or messing with me. In the Under.

The only problem for Armando is I didn’t ‘die’. I was in a coma up above.

I was working my way back up to flying.

And when I could fly – I wouldn’t die twice.

I’d find a way to escape, to exact justice.

On the real culprit.

The rot.

Armando.

Chapter 12

I keep to myself that night, and I only interact with the brothers the next day. Which is not a study day at the academy. Rather, the next day is a full church day – and it’s something I don’t want to experience. I hated that underground hell chamber. So, I stay out of their strange underground place of death and torment, where vampires seemed to be birthed.

And Darc, surprisingly and rather generously, stays with me, so I am not alone today.

I ask him in the dorms gently, to go for a walk – and we go together. Side by side.

I, dressed in my silver tattered dress.

Darc, in a fresh suit.

We walk around the empty grounds, and I feel the death in the air as the fog creeps in heavy, making it even more eerie. But at least this time I wasn’t alone.

“Can you help me understand? The darkness in you all,” I ask my companion as he kicks stones along some pavement through the Academy’s adjoining gothic buildings and maze like pathways.

Darc replies smoothly, “Well, Wynter, the Academy itself is a place for the students to interact, but it’s who we are beyond this place that matters… would you like to see what that means?”

I simply nod, and Darc offers me his hand out of his pocket.

Without hesitating, I reach over and I take it, strong and confident, and he tugs me along, trying to hide a smile as he takes the lead. But I see it.

I try to keep in my own blush as well. I loved that he seemed to be very attracted to me. It gave me some sense of safety.

“Don’t let go of my hand – or you’ll be consumed by the roiling in your soul,” Darc warns me, stern.

“What does that mean?” I wonder as we power walk to the next locale.

“Twisting of your soul.”

“Then I will not let go of your hand –”

“You shouldn’t, or you’ll…”

“Rot,” I guess, only to have a look of humour pass over Darc’s features as he looks back at me trying to keep up behind him as he drags me along.

“No, sweetheart, you’ll simply lose it – you’ll lose all touch with reality. It’s a dark place,” he raises a handsome well arcing dark brow, and I pretend to understand.

“Oh. Okay,” I shrug complacently.

“So don’t let go of me,” Darc warns me one last time, as he pulls me from the path into an alcove and overgrown vines, covering a well hidden portal in the side of a tower.

I gulp as I reply with, “I understand,” while following him through spider webs and a mess of twigs – to get to this ‘other’ place.

Even holding onto him physically, I feel the foreboding sense of endless nothing start to trickle in, as it tickles my pale skin, making my hairs stand on end.

Darc pulls me through patches of dark fog, until we walk up a rocky incline, then we reach a flat surface after passing a few dead trees.

I stand close by always, our hands tightly intertwined, never loosening.

I look over ashy soft dirt with him, stretching for infinity.

In some places it moves, like water, soft rising and falling of the ash soil.

“What is so special about this place?” I ask Darc.

“It’s a graveyard,” Darc explains passionately, “It’s Sacramental Soil. Extremely pure in demonic frequency. If you experienced this alone the unrested souls buried here would eat away at your light until you were blinded by all manner of strangeness. Will you tell me what happened to you? We are alone entirely here, Wynter…” I am immediately still and silent, so Darc suggests further, and carefully too, “Will you listen to what happened to me, then? My story?” I nod swiftly, eager, and so he recites it to me, “I am a Fallen Angel. Many thousands of years ago, I protected a woman, whom I fell for – but love burns strangely in angels… she was murdered by another and I in turn, hunted her killer. I was banished for eternity for murdering a mere mortal. So, I met my brothers down here, scattered all over. We are all a little different. Fane is fae, if you could not tell by his pointy ears, Solomon is demi-born, Horace is heathen, Ash is my shadow twin, born in the Under, completely opposite. We are all vampire, with very different roots, from across many oceans.”

“But you were an angel, once,” I whisper, barely comprehending that we were once the same, while Darc’s expression remains carefully guarded, “Um. Could you maybe explain those a bit more, those terms you used to describe your brothers?”

“They can show you, in their own time,” Darc is patient in this, staring out over the endless eerie graveyard.

After a while of standing together, I decide to just let loose.

Darc had opened up to me. And I couldn’t take this anymore. I had to get it off my chest.

“Darc. I was murdered by Armando. That’s what I remembered,” I finally admit it, blurting it out loud and clear for him to hear.

Darc has turned stone cold and speechless. His hand tightens around mine, and I meet his red furious eyes as he turns to look down on me.

“Why on Earth would he have done that,” Darc asks of Armando, with great concern. I see the protective angel in him, sparkling through his red eyes, in this spare and rare moment.

“He… was suspicious of me,” I guess, “I don’t know. I’ve lost all senses. Can you give me back my memory? Please,” I ask again, thinking it’s worth a try.

“You know what I want,” Darc murmurs stubbornly, looking at the ash, then back to me, “I want you all to myself… I’m possessive and a little crazy but you’ll have to get used to me… all you have to do is agree willingly to surrender.”

Uh…

Fuck it.

“You’ll have me,” I blurt recklessly once more, catching Darc completely off guard again, “Now tell me who I am.”

“To do that… I wish to tell you in the Crypt,” Darc is guarded, “Do you agree with that?”

I know this will change a lot.

But I was ready to learn more.

And to give over my body… I felt I didn’t have one anyway down here. So I didn’t see the harm. I had lost my body to Armando. I didn’t know it anymore. It didn’t feel like mine. Like I was detached from it.

Perhaps it was a bad thing to think like that, but it was providing me an advantage – of feigned confidence. At least for the moment.

And I needed more knowledge about myself, badly.

So, I tell Darc – “I agree. Do we have a deal?”

Darc turns into me now, and he raises his spare hand to press his nails gently over my cheek, “We have a deal, Wynter.”

“I’m sorry if I ever hurt you or your brothers, Darc,” I whisper it now desperately, truly meaning it, to the point that my eyes water with tears of regret, for trusting Armando so blindly. To the point I hunted them.

“It’s okay,” Darc caresses his finger-tips down my cheek, toward the corner of my mouth, “Because you will be sorry for some time,” he sing songs quietly, demonically, totally consumed by dark joy, “I am not sorry.”

“About what?” I inquire.

“You’ll find out… you’ll know what I mean… after we’ve trained you,” my slightly parted lips, snap shut. I tilt my head a bit, inquisitively, but Darc turns and pulls me along, “Come.”

I follow without a word.

But… my morbid curiosity sure is spiked again.

Whatever could he mean by that?

Train me… to do what?

Chapter 13

Darc’s student form, walks with me into the mountains, until he possesses me and walks me into the Crypt itself, to keep its exact location and entry point still a secret from me.

Once inside… I am actually alone with Darc who stands right with me, while his brothers lie about in chairs or slumped on tables – living in their other college boy forms to escape the boring life in the Crypt.

The older Darc is happy to have me to himself – and fairly polite to begin with, just like a teacher or mentor.

Even as I face him, memoryless, in the middle of the Crypt, I see his red eyes trained well on me intimately, wishing to get straight to the deal.

I also want to get straight to business.

I was sick of having no idea who they really were to me – or who I was to myself. From my own informed perspective.

“To give me your body, Wynter,” Darc tells me, “I want you to really give, to us all.”

“How?” I ask, “B…blood maybe?”

“No. Be free in your thinking,” Darc corrects me, too calm, “You’re welcome to hunt us, to follow your nature, wherever that takes you… but you must sleep with me, just once…” he sounds reasonable.

“You want my virginity that badly, huh?” I joke anyway, trying to lighten the mood.

Darc doesn’t use words, rather walking straight toward me, right into my private nervous space until I immediately back up and stumble down into a seat, upon the chair shaped like a throne with the restraints. I feel like it’s sticky with fresh blood under my bare legs, as Darc grabs my arms on the arm rests as he leans down toward my face.

I’m trapped, that quick.

I gulp my excess saliva, and try to hide my fear as he picks up my arms and he places my hands over the edges of my dress.

Darc wants me to take it off myself.

I close my eyes a bit as I breathe in steady.

I want to know my full past again so badly. I keep reminding myself of that as I lift the dress up over my thighs, near my hips, past my waist, over my chest and over my shoulders and arms.

When it reaches past my eyes – I feel a tightness near my wrists as the dress is hoisted away from my grip. I wait for Darc to take it over my hands, clearly helping me, but instead I feel the material twisting violently – before he’s tied it to the top of the chair.

My wrists are stuck above me. Now my whole body has lost freedom to move much because of it.

Darc stands back, quiet and complacent, as I remain seated with my arms stuck so harshly above me. I’m shocked.

What was I to think?

My G-string is too tight, and the ripped white bra is barely hanging on at the right angle, with one shoulder strap completely severed.

“The river washed away all your blood,” Darc says, speaking of my murder by my ex, and the next words out of his mouth, do also surprise me, “It’s not your fault, Wynter.”

“Why did Armando hate me so much?” I ask in a strained whisper, wondering if Darc knows.

He seems too.

“Envy is far more deadly than hate… hate is calm, compared to envy,” Darc advises me, mentoring me again, “…I’m good at hate… I understand it so well.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Isn’t it,” Darc agrees while allowing his eyes to roam down to my stuck body on the chair.

“You’re just going to stare? I want my memories back now,” I keep reminding him.

Darc’s ‘friendly’ look turns icy in an instant when I snap at him.

Without a word he turns from me, his hand at his mouth as he goes away, wandering the Crypt.

I watch him take out a freaking cookbook and start to read it on the kitchen counter.

I wait, totally perplexed but also waiting for the punchline when I realise… there is no punchline.

He’s actually just switched off from me.

“Darc,” I call out, frustrated, “Darc!” He keeps reading and completely ignores me. “Darc! I want my memories back!” I start to scream at him, “Why am I tied to a chair? DARC!”

By the time I’ve screeched in frustration, I see his dark brow crease with his own frustration – as he slowly looks up and meets my frantic eyes.

“We’re waiting for my brothers,” Darc explains.

“No, no, no, I didn’t agree to that, I didn’t –”

“Sleep,” Darc says the word, bored.

My chin hits my neck.

And that’s the last of that conversation.

---

I awaken like I didn’t sleep at all. There’s sharp claws at my neck, tickling me awake from a slumber based in nothing. There’s more tickling at my wrists and my ribs and my foot – long nails, from hands of demons.

I’m still on the chair, by the way.

My arms ache.

I’ve woken up with a start, to find the older Solomon looking right at me, his nails brushing my skin over the pulse in my neck, as he’s staring at my startled face.

“I suppose I can train you to get face fucked silently,” Solomon drawls bluntly, as if in the middle of a conversation I wasn’t a part of, but was still the centre of their opinions.

“No,” I breathe in a panicked breath, about to scream as I glance to the left and I see the tools Horace is fucking holding – butcher blades – with Fane testing the flexibility of my ear, and Ash holding so tight onto one of my arms, his nails leave small creases.

Darc has one of my feet in his hand, as he licks my big toe like that’s normal.

“Here,” Darc leans forward, his hard eyes relax as he presses his palm to my forehead – and releases some kind of blockage, “Your dues…”

His voice tapers out, as he releases my mind.

I blink, and I understand everything in a split instant. I remember.

But there isn’t much to focus on beyond this very, very, dire moment. Where I am, how I got here, how I was so vulnerable… now that I am really awake.

Even though I’m still technically ‘dead’, simply Revived.

And in the Crypt.

Completely at their mercy.

I speak up, “If I lose my virginity to a demon I will forever be a Fallen Angel, without my powers, you don’t understand, it’s a part of my pure build, no, this cannot be happening, this – shit,” I complain, furious, “I can’t do this. I’ll do anything but this.”

“You agreed –” Darc shrugs one shoulder, like he doesn’t care.

He never did – this ass never showed emotion beyond his selfish soul.

“NO!” I scream, at all of them.

Darc moves so fast I can’t see him, until he’s face is above mine and his hand is on my mouth, shutting me up.

“You’re going to die anyway, when we use you to get us out of here,” Darc threatens me, as he releases my mouth, he adds, still nonchalant and emotionless, “So why do you care?” he genuinely asks me like I should understand how valueless I am.

“A sacrifice? Really?” I raise my own brow, “Darc, I barely know you.”

“Not yet,” Darc, my teacher in college in the Upper, who loved me as a student, lectures me now, familiar to my ears, “You’ll have time to have fun, Wynter.”

“I am not rot and never will be,” I speak through gritted teeth, “I’m not like Armando.”

“But you will rot when you fall,” Solomon answers, cutting me off.

The rest of the brothers? I truly know nothing about. They all have their own story. Darc is the one I almost had an insane romance with back in the Upper. We had this strange pull to one another. To know he was once an angel, explains it. We were celestial, guided to one another. As far as I knew, I might have even been sentenced to guard him or guide him.

I had just been gravely mistaken with Aramando.

I was not meant to protect the wolf.

But the demon.

That was the very purpose of a Virgin Angel. You could lure in and save the Fallen you were assigned to. But you had to seek them out. Well, I think I found my idiot.

“And you’ll be ripe for the taking,” Ash adds, speaking of the possibility of me rotting. Rot was the willing corruption of a soul.

I try to correct them all, “Helpless, I said my body, for sex, you would get my memories… death was not a part of this deal.”

“Then stay in the clouds,” Darc gets my attention with his steady cold stare and unwavering crimson eyes, “Your blood will fill our veins – and you will never fly again.”

I smile, sadistically almost. Angels were not always kind – we knew when to be fierce.

And I was not stupid, either. I had my own innate knowledge.

“All I have to do is remain pure at heart, Darc. There is a way to remain Virgin, even when physically corrupted,” I add, “I know my lore. Even if it’s rare. I will maintain my purity. You will not take it from me.”

Darc smiles back, understanding my stubborn nature as he puts a finger to the corner of my mouth, tracing my lips – and watching them tremble uncontrollably as they part to his touch.

“I know mine too, and you’re a naïve swan,” Darc insults me, as angels have huge amounts of wisdom. I was young, but I was not naïve.

“This was not part of the deal,” I glare at Horace now, sharpening a very precarious looking dagger – the kind you shove into someone’s heart.

I stare at Fane, behind my shoulder, smiling devilishly – as if nothing corrupt here is bothering him.

Ash and Solomon try to keep in their delighted sly and dark smiles. Barely hidden.

When I look back to Darc above me, orchestrating this slow defilement, he’s still staring at me, waiting for me to catch on.

“For my life,” I work it out, “You require another trade, don’t you?”

Darc nods.

See? I was wise.

“What else do you want from me?” I ask.

“Nothing you can give just yet,” Darc adds, patronising me.

“I will not become undead like you if that is what you mean,” I change my tone.

“No,” Darc shakes his head, “I just wish you to be bound by my hand – my touch. It takes time to train stubborn angels like you.”

“By touch?” I’m confused.

“Whenever I touch you, I will possess your will,” Darc tries to keep in a twisted happiness that makes his smile almost bloom.

“But why?”

“Meriment,” Darc answers, “My own. You do not need to know that.”

“Why?” I ask again anyway, despite his impatience growing, “You fucking demons make no sense and have no end goal. You wreck havoc, cause pain – you cause chaos.”

“Distortion,” Solomon answers, his voice eating away at my confidence, because he hasn’t wavered at all in his own patience, “We…mmm… ‘save’ through other means.”

Darc tries not to roll his eyes.

“We eat the dead, not the living,” Horace tries to explain.

“On pain of death,” Fane stands so graciously I don’t see the blade being pressed to my throat, then slid away harmlessly, before returning, pretending to slice my throat again, “…you see the soul…when someone is about to die…” I flinch away from it, but I can’t run. I’m still stuck. This is so ridiculous. I miss my wings!

“I will not hear of your ‘good’ deeds in ‘saving’,” I talk to Solomon, “You have my body promised, and now you want my mind,” I accuse Darc of betrayal, “…do you want my soul, too?” I make a dark joke. What else could I do? I was totally at his mercy, and he already threatened he would be merciless.

Darc is immediately surprised by something however, taking a step back.

“She learns,” Darc drawls to his brothers, “Faster than I thought she would.”

“I – I was joking. About taking my soul,” I try to explain.

They all laugh quietly together, it’s so quick then it cuts off to dead creepy silence.

Fucking vampires.

“Seriously?” I ask a bit more timidly now.

I’m starting to feel exhaustion settle in.

Hopelessness.

I didn’t know what to do.

Darc waves his hand.

“What’s so surprising about that?” Darc drawls, cocking his head too.

“For what will I gain, I wonder, for giving you my soul,” I laugh now too, hysterically and squeaky.

They all notice me weakening.

“Oooo… look at her, she’s already breaking,” Darc growls pleasantly to his brothers, before slow blinking at me like Gorgeous does when I think he wants to love and kill me at the same time, “Trust me, Wynter, it goes a lot deeper than your soul,” Darc speaks of evil so effortlessly, “It’s every single thing you are and own…possession is important to me. To us. As you’ll soon learn.”

“But I’ll be dead soon,” I breathe out, feeling a stich in my abs from my tight position to the chair.

“Follow the rules,” they all speak quietly, rehearsed in this, probably from past victims, “And you’ll survive.”

I look around at all of them – and this brotherhood are all too calm for this to end well for me.

“…at what cost… what do I even get… if you take everything from me…” I feel my throat starting to dry up.

“You’ll enjoy it, darling,” Darc is honest, “It’s a different kind of… love,” he says the word carefully, as if it might hurt him.

“Prove I’ll enjoy it,” I challenge him anyway.

“Would you like me,” Darc begins, “For me to slaughter the dog?” he waits, letting it sink in, before adding, “Would you like us? To slaughter Armando.”

Wait.

What.

That was smooth.

God, he was unpredictable.

“Avenge me?” I whisper, “You would do that for me?”

“Armando?” Darc raises a brow, and tries not to laugh as he leans in, “Trust me. I would do it anyway.”

“…because he can kill you…” I guess, “…you hate him because his venomous bite can end you…”

“One little bite will kill me, yet here I am… safe in a Crypt of your making,” Darc adds, “Do you remember you’re a teacher’s pet?” he is teasing me now.

“I played pretend,” I answer, gulping. The memories of the little moments we had in the Upper… of me submitting to his little orders around the classroom… it’s a little bit embarrassing thinking of it now. Nothing sexual – yet all of it had a sexual energy on the undertone. While obeying his simple commands. I just loved his voice. I was drawn to it. I –

“Pretend? – no, you liked it,” Darc stares at me like I’m stupid for not admitting it confidently, “You like being told what to do.”

“I’m a good student,” I try to defend my honour.

“For your heart,” Horace interrupts us, holding up a butcher’s knife, “I’ll give you mine,” he starts to smile – and I see my angel blood covering his teeth.

I stare in horror, as I look down to see he cut my finger and took a small share, and I didn’t even notice it happen.

I gape.

I – I don’t know what to say.

“Nerve killers,” Darc explains, “…you’re going to need a lot more… don’t worry, I like you, so I’ll give you more than minimum…”

“I miss the Academy and Demon Eye philosophy, ha,” I joke.

“I’m going to miss you,” Darc sighs, trying to appear interested, “When you’re gone.”

“Just don’t do it. Any of it,” I hope I don’t sound like I’m begging, because I feel like I’m about to beg.

“Be quiet,” Ash is polite as he basically tells me to shut up, sick of me talking or asking questions.

I oblige him, while he stands and they all do.

They put the weapons away.

But then I watch the fangs come out.

And on the adults – I’ve never seen such horror emerge for me. I had seen them attack their targets – but I had never been an object of attention. I had sealed them away with stealth tactics.

We had not fought before… not really.

I was sneaky – and I had put them in a Crypt, finding it hard to find the will to decimate Darc. By decimate I mean… to kill. Perhaps because I was meant to save him.

Anyway, enough circling thoughts, I’m done talking.

There’s no need to tell me to be quiet again.

I have no words left to beg.

I’m doomed to fall forever by the way I’m stuck and now the meal idea of five ancient vampires.

I was already submitting in a way… just knowing it was over.

Especially staring into Darc’s flickering eyes – I know he regrets it, as much as he enjoys what will change my destiny forever.

They are all about to take me higher, into a place of forbidden ascent.

A taste of Heaven while in the Under. I would never fly again – but I would fall forever.

Chapter 14

The brotherhood all take their part in drinking my blood to begin their torture of taking my pure soul from me, preparing me for Darc’s turn. Horace supplied the ‘Nerve killers’ which was some kind of special venom they could excrete into their victims. I can’t feel any pain, but I can feel a different kind of strange pleasure from my soul itself. Free of the weight of gravity.

Solomon and Fane have their fangs in my wrists, Ash drinks from my inner thigh, his face boldly between my legs. Horace bites hard into my ankle.

Darc watches on with his fingers in my hair, brushing the wet strands off my face.

I was sweating, my body reacting, even though I couldn’t fight.

I had my memories back.

But this was the price.

“Enough,” Darc speaks to his brothers, but as they pull away from me, I watch the wounds spill some silver blood and then seal shut with my angel strength.

Even though it’s a quick healing time, it’s still horrible seeing my essence being taken by such demonic creatures. They were all lost to a life of taking from another. Of living off other’s souls.

Darc unties my wrists and I still feel nothing, even as he picks me up and carries me to his personal room in the Crypt.

My head lolls back as he lays me down on a hard and large metal table.

This bedroom, wasn’t exactly that.

They didn’t need to sleep, so even though Darc was a specialist in dreams, and the dreaming plane – he owns his very own torture chamber. To interrogate their enemies, but now I am simply laid out naked before him in a room of hell.

Darc is casually standing between my legs, his clothes still on – as he leans over my face and grabs my chin, pushing my chin back. His cheek brushes my jaw as he dives into kiss my neck. He stays in one place, and when I feel my heart beat harder – I know he is actually drinking my blood, I just couldn’t feel him dig in to taste.

I think I’m going to die briefly again like I did on that sacrificial alter in the Temple of Distortion, but out of nowhere, something enters my system.

A wave of his own bloody magic – pulls me into another place.

A dream.

I’m in a black space with endless nothing, no sound, no temperature, just nothing. I feel like I’m floating, which is nice – and I’m not alone.

Darc is right there with me, dancing flush with me, his hand on my waist, and his long slender fingers holding my hand up high as he spins us around, dressed as a teacher once more. It’s how he identifies himself. A teacher.

I remember his passion in guiding students, it’s one of my original pulls toward him, such a typical quality of a guardian angel. And he needed my help now.

It’s such a pretty illusion, as we twirl around and he guides me, while I tilt my head with a question.

“Look up,” Darc suggests.

I glance upward and I see a single star in the black sky.

“What’s that?” I wonder.

“The only thing you need,” Darc sounds adamant about that. And what is that? “I’ll be your guide in the dark, Wynter.”

I finally look back down, from the flickering little light, into Darc’s red vampiric gaze.

Evil.

And comfortable with it.

“I’m at your mercy,” I correct him, “Aren’t I?”

“You were victim to the rot,” Darc explains, “…but I’m not rot…”

“You were an angel, now you serve death… but you also tarnish what’s good – like me. You’re trying to tarnish my sheen.”

“You were already dead. He killed you,” Darc cuts me off, “Once you acknowledge it, you’ll let the light go.”

“I do acknowledge it…” I whisper, “It’s not like I can deny it.”

“No. You don’t see it, you can’t even handle thinking about it – but you must accept it. In all the chaos of your death, you were sent to me,” Darc speaks fluid just like I remember from in the Upper, disguised as a history lecturer in my university. He knows things. But does he want to protect me, or simply use me? Hmm. I shouldn’t get confused with him. He was good at weaving stories, “Now we’re intertwined.”

“You just want my virginity,” I go back to basics, that was a fact that was easy to understand.

“I’m only drinking your blood right now,” Darc smirks, and his fangs are r –.

“…red…” I whisper.

Red blood.

No.

I pull from his arms and I rush back up to the surface.

Darc has pulled his fangs from my neck, but this time – I’m not delirious.

I’m able to fight back.

I’ve pushed him back from me with a scalpel in my hand that I’ve picked up in my unconscious form.

It presses to his throat but doesn’t cut.

Darc holds his hands up in surrender, while his chin drips with silver blood.

“I saw red blood,” I whisper.

“You were falling,” Darc explains, “Then you resisted.”

I’m so sick of his slow torturous game.

“Just take my virginity and get it over with,” I hiss, throwing the scalpel aside and parting my legs crudely, “Go on, since we agreed – stop delaying.”

“Why are you angry?” Darc grabs my thighs – and slams them back shut, while leaning over me, his fingers bruising my thighs as his face hovers over mine, “We made a deal, and you’re emotional?”

“I had no memory when I made the deal –”

“Shut up. In the Upper I was at your mercy, and you locked me away in this limbo, in the Under… and in this place, you’re under direction, without it… you’d have no chance,” Darc explains, “All is fair, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

“Fair? You want to sacrifice me at the end of it all. To really end me. For your selfish path.”

“Don’t believe everything I say,” Darc whispers vehemently, then seems to blush and regret it immediately.

Before I can point it out, he’s stepping back and turning away from me, his giant form is pacing the torture chamber, throwing shadows onto everything. There’s barely a light in this place.

I can’t believe I’m in some freak’s dungeon.

This was so not me.

I remember it was one of the reasons I put him and his brothers and their little hideout – the Crypt, a cursed fucking club – into this locked chamber. It was notoriously dangerous, too many lives had gone missing in this place. No doubt into their blood cauldrons, or sacrifices or Horace’s appetite alone. It wasn’t really limbo, it was a cage, a time warp. I could free them, but probably not if I fell. I would lose almost all my celestial power.

As Darc’s older form paces this room in his moment of solitude, I cross my legs on the interrogation table, and I look around at all the instruments of pain.

“Why don’t we make another trade – for my virginity to stay intact, I’ll free you from the Crypt instead… but you have to wait for my wings to grow back,” I state, and Darc turns to me abruptly, his eyes flashing with desire to get out of here, “Here is the new deal. Take as much blood as you want from me but let me stay pure… and I’ll free you as soon as I can.”

“As tempting as you make it seem; no,” Darc shakes his head, “I won’t have you wander away –”

“I won’t ‘wander’ away,” I cut him off, rolling my eyes, “I need your contract. I need you to kill Armando.”

“I said I already would,” Darc speaks through impatient red eyes.

“I’m making it professional,” I raise a brow, “We’ll be co-workers.”

Darc tilts his head, unbelieving and speechless.

Or perhaps… interested.

I watch as he then abruptly turns and leaves, slamming the door shut to consult his brothers.

I await his return, while I stand up and walk around the room myself. I pick up a large axe and I hold it at my side, just in case I have to find a way to negotiate further.

Eventually, and not too long later, the knob turns and the door creaks open.

I see the silhouettes of the brotherhood. I make my axe known, by holding it into the strobe lights of their club, flashing in.

These fuckers were so bad.

Infamous killers for many millennia, but it was interesting to know they targeted people like Armando – and I was interested in exploring that further with them.

Darc is at the front of the brotherhood, looking in at me and ignoring the axe.

“We’ll agree, on one extra condition,” Darc states, “The Crypt comes free with us.”

“Your slaughter house?” I raise a brow, “…I know you don’t just kill rot…” I test his morals.

“No,” Darc states, “It’s just rot. It’s always been rot.”

“You don’t kill innocents?” I ask, “You swear on your undead life.”

Darc looks back at his brothers, smiling, in a killer way.

He’s still impatient, so I can’t trust him.

Looking back in, he tells me, “…it’s forbidden for Demon Eye to be taught to anyone above… only you would know. Why do you think we joke? People need to believe we’re evil. And in some ways we are… I won’t deny it.”

“So you don’t kill innocence, you don’t target it. So you’re… like anti-heroes of the world?”

“Rot feeds us,” Darc blinks and nods.

“But…” I see it in his eyes… there is more.

“Of course… there is no limit… no limit…” Darc raises a brow, “We can kill whoever we want, Demon Eye is just one sacred philosophy. There is more we can do.”

“You twist your words. Why do you torment me?” I ask.

“Wynter… you torment yourself,” Darc amuses his brothers, but I am not happy with that. It hits too close to a darker truth.

“I’m a good person, I have light in my soul,” I whisper, almost a hiss.

“Yes. And you died for it,” his smug and sly smirk is cruel.

Darc has all the fucking answers, doesn’t he?

“Stop making it seem like it’s my fault that I was murdered –”

“It’s not your fault, you fail to see the power in the dark, such as foreseeing that betrayal. You were blind. And now you’re dead,” Darc doesn’t even blink.

“I trusted him…” my voice cracks, and I place the axe down on the table behind me, simply to hide the lone tear that escapes. I quickly wipe it away before I face them again.

“Then I can give you something he didn’t, the truth,” Darc smiles handsomely, “Don’t ever trust us. Don’t ever think we like you. Don’t assume we’ll protect you without a price. Don’t wish for unconditional love – there is always a poison to be paid.”

No.

“Let me out,” I walk towards him, my heart breaking, “Now. I want to leave.”

“Agree,” Darc grabs my jaw and makes me eye off all of them, rather than searching for the exit. I don’t jerk away, I face them bravely.

“Let me think about it. I have to wait for my wings to come back, it’ll take another week for them to grow,” I’m just being honest.

“You have a week then,” Darc agrees instead, unhanding me and letting me through, they all stand back, “Let us out, and let us have our Crypt – and you keep your precious virginity. Stay pure.”

I walk out while I feel their silent but humoured eyes on me, following me toward the door.

Stay in the light – and I won’t see my next murder either.

And I had a feeling I knew who wanted me next.

Armando might have been a monster hiding behind a wolf’s charm.

But Darc was just a monster admitting to being plainly monstrous.

What could go wrong dealing with a demon like him.

Chapter 15

1 week later

I had two choices.

Let them out of their prison to keep my virginity and purity intact.

Or – the original deal, I had my memories back, so I had to sleep with Darc.

Both options were frustrating. I would most likely fall, my blood would turn red and I would lose my wings if I allowed myself to be wooed by Darc’s charm. To be taken to bed by him, I knew would ruin me forever.

To let them out of their prison, seemed like the jackpot. Darc would most likely kill Armando. His hate was strong for my murderer already in the first place. That was good. But… every other freedom would be granted. Out of their prison, I could become a fun little snack.

All this playing around with me in Dark Academy, was a grande manipulation. To get them out.

They had been willing to kill me, without even asking if I would just let them go. Keeping my memories from me for so long had been torture and a punishment for their original imprisonment.

Merriment and fun for them. Darc was sadistic, as were all his brothers.

I’ve had to rehearse all this, all day, each day this week as my wings grew.

Otherwise? It was easy to be seduced by their easy ways in the Academy.

So while I chanted reminders to myself that they were evil at the core, I buried myself in the study of their ways.

Studying demons was a surprisingly good outlet. I could avoid them all brooding while my wings grew back, and my head hidden in a book.

The problem was the time.

It was soon.

Today in fact.

I had to make a decision today. And I felt no closer to resolution nor clarity.

I needed more information, so I seek out the one I know least, the one who almost hangs back away from me, unless my back was turned. It was something I noticed about Ash as I observed them all closely. Ash was particularly mysterious.

They’ve all noticed my wings, bursting wide this morning. It’s finally a weekend, and I spend it in my guest room window, facing the foreboding forest.

I’m not hungry, I never am down here.

While the fog creeps in and breathes out, in and out, I feel his presence in the doorway – pacing by on his secret rounds. I had learned to look for him in mirrors or lengthening shadows.

Ash watches me while I watch the forest.

“You’re the opposite to Darc. A shadow twin? Born Under? If Darc is a Vampire of Dreams, and you are a Vampire of Dishonour, what is it exactly you do or represent? How are you the same but different?” I speak to the forest, but by the end, I turn and sit my butt on the window sill, my wings out the window in the air, stretching wide.

Ash has entered my room and closes my door, since I’ve invited him forward with a question. I raise a brow at him getting us alone as he leans back on my main exit, seemingly blocking me in.

Ash tells me straight, “To be honourable is to care about your image, to uphold yourself in high regard in another’s eye. But I do not act to prove myself. Darc… he plays with your heart, because dreams come from the heart, more than our mind. I don’t care about that. I’m selfish. I don’t ask. I don’t play games like him. And I won’t warn you, either,” Ash’s smile does that soft inviting trick Darc did briefly warn me about. About Ash and Fane’s sweet quiet persona.

“And Fane… is he as dangerous as you? Darc put you and him in the same category.”

“Fane understands intent. Fane also makes blood work seem pretty. Horace and I just… make a mess. Because I don’t care. Horace, well because it’s Horace,” it’s little bits and pieces, but it’s all information I’ll need to make my decision today.

“And Solomon?” I ask.

“You really want your answers today, don’t you,” Ash states, seemingly patient, but barely so. My time was running out. I just nod, and he sucks in a breath to continue, “Distortion – he’s very twisted, Wynter.”

“I still believe you all want me dead, except for Darc,” I murmur.

“I’m telling you. Darc plays with his food,” Ash explains, simple, “If you want to extend your time alive, don’t stay alone with me,” such a sinister sweet remark, since we’re already alone. So, I ignore him.

“But Fane said you all just fuck with me, is that a joke too? Or do you mean all your threats?” Ash blinks slow and thinks, without speaking. So, I suggest, “We could be friends you know. There is an alternative to all this tension.”

“We should put you on a cross,” Ash ignores me now, as if paying me back, “You know exactly what I mean. It would be funny to hear you scream, a pretty chandelier in the Crypt,” that threat almost makes me shiver. But enough talk.

“Shut up. I’ve heard enough. I’ve decided. I’m going to free you all. Tonight. Because fuck going to bed with any of you,” I stand up, and I flutter my wings rebelliously, “I can handle you alone above in the Upper if you bother me.”

Ash does shut up, he even turns to the door and opens it.

I see – all the brothers had been listening in. Darc is the spokes-person now.

“Freedom, Wynter, for your intact virginity,” Darc smiles handsomely without emotion, but there is no need to remind me.

“And what of my life? What do you plan?” I dare ask all of them, while I look at Ash – who has no expression, “Will you hunt me, when you’re free?”

“I mean… Armando’s first,” Darc says, nonchalant.

“What do you think, Mr. Dishonour?” I ask Ash, almost making fun of him. I want to know what he’ll say with all them here.

“You. I’ll come for you,” Ash suggests, “With Horace,” when my smile drops, Ash’s blooms. Bingo. Horace too, focuses on me in that freaky wide eyed way.

I shouldn’t have asked.

“No funny business now, Wynter, do as we agreed,” Darc murmurs, “And… on a different note, I have one more offer. You can stay with us. If you want. For as long as you want. In that world.”

“…what…” I murmur, trying not to scowl “…stay with us…” I taste the words, distaste.

“Yeah,” Darc scratches his cheek, “Ah – yeah. Do you accept?”

“I have my own place to stay,” I state, like it should be obvious. I cross my arms over my chest, feeling defensive, while my strength ripples through my back and my soul. I had the ability to fly again. I couldn’t wait to do so.

“You must be lonely without your boyfriend – or will be,” Darc tries to reason. As if I survive off a boyfriend. I roll my eyes.

“Cut to it. What’s the trade?” I ask, blunt.

“Nothing,” Darc shrugs, “No trade. You have my offer of a place to stay. Call it generosity.”

“And what happened to possessing my soul, and everything about me, killing, torturing, sacrificing, fucking… hmm?” I state, rubbing it in.

Darc’s red eyes flash with some unnamed emotion, “Wynter,” he looks at me pointedly, “Fane foretold your future – you’re alone,” my mouth pops open but I don’t say anything, and Darc adds on, “You’ll have no one.”

“That is not a prophecy, that is a fucking lie,” I snap. I had friends above. Albeit they were also friends with Armando. But they wouldn’t turn on me. Would they?

It’s Darc’s turn to shrug, as he says casually, “Don’t worry about it then. Offer withdrawn. Let’s get out of here,” Darc turns around, and he’s pissed off.

I feel the heavy weight of something – nothingness.

He cut off from me.

His… interest.

And I feel this moment is important.

“Darc, wait a second…” I whisper quickly, but he’s already walking off.

“That was a test,” Ash whispers over my face as I get closer, “And you failed.”

“Why? I don’t have the right to a free will? To make a choice?” I almost sound desperate, but I am hurt by something, and I don’t know what. I blink repeatedly, trying to clear my head. Looking at the rest of them, they take in my tormented mind.

Ash smiles, “The right? Of course you don’t have the right – your will belongs to us.”

“Mine?” I put my hand to my chest, “Why mine?”

“For one, you died and fell into our palms,” Ash plays with my hair, tugging on a wave of brown dirty mess, “For two. You weren’t sent down to save us. A Virgin Angel is made to bait the darkness. To stoke the fire. Before the slaughter. You were made to seduce us. What is more beautiful than a vulnerable blind Angel who sees us as friends. Murdered for her own heart – you see the light, we see the dark, we’re magnets for one another, Wynter. I hate everything you stand for,” Ash might be honest, as he represents Horace and Solomon and Fane. Darc has already departed to the Crypt, slamming the door on his way out.

“I will free you all, and you can hate me above in the Upper,” I keep my answer short. It was time to go.

Solomon walks off silently, Horace and Fane follow behind, reserved to the fact they would be free soon. Ash watches them go, their murmured voices fade. Upon their journey to our first deal.

They’re on their way with Darc.

Ash turns around and strides back into my room. I step back as he reaches out a slower hand, to place a finger and a thumb over my chin.

He strokes my jaw, while I stay still and quiet.

“Thousands of years,” Ash’s demonic voice filters through now, “I’ve learned how to read my enemies. And those like you.”

“What do you read off me?” I whisper, I just want to know what he has to say.

“Regret. For what you’re about to do,” Ash’s face doesn’t move as he speaks. I don’t like their lack of human emotion. Like none of them feel anything beyond lust.

“Regret?” I inquire, “Why would I regret releasing you all, to keep my wings?”

“Because we’re going to kill everyone you know,” Ash says. I pull out of his finger and thumb, consumed with abrupt shock, to stare into his light brown eyes. He looks like a human, plain brown eyes. Compared to Darc’s red. It’s misleading. Or maybe it’s just the colour of mud and a soiled soul.

“…and why would you do that?” I hiss, feeling too caught off guard.

“To keep you, all of you, to ourselves,” Ash sounds annoyed now, as if that should be obvious.

“Possession again… huh?” I lick my lips, I was starting to understand their logic was always opposite to mine. All I had to do was take any of my thoughts and reverse it.

“Possession is not just important to Darc, it’s important to all of us,” Ash explains, while I remember his threat that he won’t warn me if he attempts to hurt me.

I start to feel antsy.

I want to move.

To get going.

I don’t want to be alone with him much longer. The silence beyond us is getting to my ears. Driving me crazy.

“Why do you want me? Because you’re all lonely?” I ask this anyway, too curious.

“The dark is a pretty place to be, Wynter, prettier when you see it with angels,” Ash finally steps back, toward the door. Good.

“Well, I see the light in you. A little bit of it,” and I don’t lie.

“As I see the dark in you – a little bit of it – you won’t be a virgin for much longer,” Ash glances to the window, realises I’ll be flying up to the Crypt instead, and so he starts to shut the door, leaving me with this, “Dishonour. Don’t tell her, they said. Why not? First you’ll be a prisoner. Then a whore. Then an addict. There’s nothing you can do, babe.”

“W –”

Ash shuts the door and walks off to follow the others.

I don’t bother to contemplate his fucking threat and what he meant.

Because my response to all that was now clear.

I wouldn’t be any of those fucking things.

But you’ll all be dead.

Chapter 16

Decisions, decisions.

Oh, and now temptations too.

While the brothers are waiting in the Crypt, I’m standing on my window ledge – about to fly out in the fog from the North Tower. I survey the surrounds, then I jump and my wings beat heavy.

I sore high.

It’s power in every easy stride of my wings, as I glide and float over the Dark Forest.

I fly to the Temple of Distortion, and I land my feet on the stone alter, looking up at the Schism.

“Not today, not ever,” I smile, then look toward the mountain and the hidden Crypt inside. It’s above me, looming. The door is opened for me, because they know I’m down here.

I smirk.

The plan was simple.

Release them and I would travel with them into the Upper.

Then I would kill Armando – not Darc.

Then I would kill all of them. I was done being threatened by them. They had to go to hell.

Angels had all kinds of elemental powers. Mine was specifically a wand I could summon in my hand, to lock, bind and release. Very, very, simple. So while I could disable evils – I also had to have a lethal element as well. For me that was The Black Sorrow. My tears, wept from devout and holy sorrow. Drop one black teardrop into a demon’s drink, and they would be poisoned as quick as if a werewolf slammed their jaws into their skin.

I didn’t cry The Black Sorrow easily.

It was for a reason. To combat pure evil.

If these fucking vampires made me cry up above, they were in trouble. And if they escaped that, I would find my stored tears and come back to fucking haunt them.

Ash was the final nail in the coffin.

I didn’t want to be their friend anymore. And them cleansing Rot from the earth was simply taking a job they didn’t even need. I was an Angel and my kind did that all on our own. We just called it cleansing the bad.

I say goodbye to this stupid temple and this horrible forest, and I say hello to redemption. For myself.

It was finally time to enter the vault, into their sealed Crypt.

I summon my silver wand, which burned and sparked hot. Holding it like a fairy, I shoot up to their prison.

I enter holding my Angel wand high.

Darc, Ash, Solomon, Fane and Horace are together waiting for me.

No more talking.

Without a welcome, they at least part to let me through. Their curious eyes follow me as I walk around the perimeter, drawing my wand along the cornices.

It would cut them out of the lock, and they could enter their world again.

I could also travel with them.

As soon as I finish the perimeter, I face them as my wand disappears at my will.

The club walls creaks, and a rush of heavy gravity enters this place.

From dream limbo, to reality, everything starts to shift fast.

“Now run,” I whisper to all of them, letting my own darkness out.

Ash was correct on one account, there was a little bit. We all had it.

I harness that little bit of dark now.

I glare at the Brotherhood standing together, arms held behind their backs as they watch the ceiling open. Darc, trying to keep in a devilish smirk at my threat, has a hand in his pocket and one out as he waves at me.

They ascend – my power lights the ceiling and fades at their exit.

But…

I’m standing in the Crypt itself.

In the prison.

I’m still here.

I wasn’t sucked out.

Shit.

I feel a dark presence enter my head, clouding my vision. I’m possessed.

Darc.

You’re dead, so you have a debt, unlike us, we never died – you’re not allowed to leave unless a demon grants permission. I’m the owner of your will, as I took it from Gorg in the Under. So. Here is your permission slip, Wynter. To get out – you have to die. Suggestions. You could have a bath in the boiling cauldron of all the Virgin Angels before you. Or you could use the kitchen knives. Or sit on the chair and starve yourself –

“WHY?” I scream out, I fell for a fucking trick! A trick!

Or, I’ll do it for you. Just call me in.

“Darc –” I whimper but he cuts off from my head, my soul.

I look around me, in this empty space. Totally, utterly alone.

To get out, I had to die. Again. Again.

But to end yourself was to also fall – the exact same price as losing your heart to a demon.

Darc was going to take my fucking wings anyway.

Don’t trust us. Don’t assume we like you. Blah blah blah.

He told me and I ignored him. All of them.

I can’t even look at the freaking virgin angel blood bath, I avert my gaze.

I walk, stoically to the kitchen counter, where Darc left that cook book.

Well, the recipes are replaced.

With information.

All the angels they’d killed before me. Virgin Angels.

It makes me so sick I have to close it and toss it away.

Armando was right!

About ending them.

But I had fallen in love with Darc and I had protected them from Armando in the Crypt. In a bind. In my heart, that was the truth.

And Armando killed me for it.

Did I deserve to be here?

But why had I chosen love.

Why.

I was all alone.

I look around tentatively, and I see a phone. With a note left for me. Call me. And a drawn smiley face with fangs. A blood pen – but it’s the most childish playful thing I’ve seen and I can’t help but smile a bit and snort at it.

Ash wasn’t wrong either.

First you’ll be a prisoner.

What was the rest?

Whore?

Addict?

Perhaps I could stop with Prisoner.

But that’s how it led to the rest. Darc – who in turn would make me fall. The closer we were, the faster I came to the end of my celestial existence.

And Fane predicted I would be alone.

Sucking in a breath, and barely keeping hysteria at bay, I walk over and I pick up the old-fashioned telephone.

There’s no ringing. It’s just a direct call line to Darc.

Darc breaths through it the moment I put it to my ear, “I told you, you’d die to get us out.”

“I let you out, then you trapped me. Stop reversing reality!”

“Virgin’s are stupid, you’re easy to trap. Call me when you’re ready to die. Don’t waste my time.”

Darc hangs up.

He’s changed again.

Now that he’s free I hear it in his voice.

No mercy minus fucking mercy. Why did I let them out?!

“FUCK,” I scream it to the walls and turn around.

There had to be another way.

Darc would not receive another call. Fuck him.

To ensure I don’t fall to another moment of ‘virgin stupidity’, I rip the phone out from the wall and throw it across the room.

I start to pace the area aggressively – if I had to wait eternity I would.

I would not leave.

I would not fucking leave then.

I pace and pace until I collapse in a corner of the Crypt hours later, feeling numb.

I cry, just not the weapon I need.

You needed to be broken to cry that kind of shit.

I was just disappointed in myself.

I cry in self-pity, and then I cry myself to sleep, resting my head on a wall, hands squished between my legs, eyes squeezed shut.

And I fall heavy, into a dark dream.

Chapter 17

The dreams are not hijacked by the demon in charge of my soul and my will. My dreams are my own in the Crypt – and they’ve turned to full blown night terrors.

There was so much death in this place, so I couldn’t sleep sound either.

Unless I wanted to dream of fountains of blood and piles of dead dismembered people.

So, great, now I am exhausted and sleep deprived, as I look around the club and realise even if I beg Darc for mercy, everything would just worsen.

I spread out my beautiful soft wings and I hold the feathers close to me.

I would never see them again if I died to get out of here.

What would become of me… a fallen angel. Disgraced and dejected. Totally alone and cursed to live forever as a failure?

Darc certainly embraced the darkness but I did not want to follow that path.

Yet if I kept my wings, I would never leave this prison of my own creation.

Who knows how much longer passes, but I hear a scratching of claws on metal and a distinct meow. And another meow.

At the vault door?!

Gorgeous! Oh my god!

I stand up in relief simply at the presence of another soul, and I rush to the door and manage to open it. Gorgeous immediately prances in, winding in between my legs, while I look out at a dark cave beyond – filled with staring demons and witches.

And one nasty piece of work – the Lord Veil in all his death induced creepiness, is pointing at me, from down deeper in the cave – just pointing toward me. Not this again.

Except this time, all the demon students outside go from sitting to standing, and I slam the door.

The nightmare would never end, would it?

I spin and I –

Darc.

I gawk.

He’s here. But I didn’t call him back – and he came back anyway?!

Standing in his teacher’s suit, he is a solid figure from reality entering my space. Gorgeous paces around him, tail fluffed out as he stares suspiciously.

I’m just speechless, closing my wings shut tightly behind me as I take in Darc’s unique appearance.

He’s covered in fresh blood.

And he’s also holding Armando’s severed head by the hair, the face absolutely horrific and cut badly as if it was smashed into glass. His werewolf fangs are torn from his mouth, gone, and blood covers his chin and pale dead lips. I shiver as Darc drops the head, and tilts his own head as he sighs.

“I didn’t expect the others to come for you,” Darc drawls, one hand in his bloodied suit pocket, one leg steps forward, and another hand is outreaching toward me, “Come with me.”

He was… he was… letting me out…

Speechless, I don’t hesitate this time at the offer of generosity.

I lunge out and slam my hand over his, locking our fingers together.

Gorgeous quickly winds back around my ankles, stepping on my feet – while Darc simply blinks.

And just like that, he takes me back home.

From the dead fog – to fresh air.

---

Upon return to Earth, I’m pounded by loud jarring music and a crowd of sweating large bodies of people dressed in black gear. Darc stands behind me, hiding my wings as he holds my elbows and leads me through the crowd, lifting my arms and guiding me.

Every step I take and every breath I inhale is so full of the purest freedom, full of real oxygen laced with real world elements in a beautiful burst. It takes me to the greatest heights of joy – and my normal fear is temperately thrust aside.

On the guided walk, I step over Armando’s headless body, being trampled by the dancing crowd who don’t seem to notice nor care. They’re too focused on the dark dreary music.

Darc takes me all the way to a pool table, where four familiar faces lean over a bunch of cards and a bowl of blood punch in the middle.

On the left side where we lean forward, Darc takes my hands and places them on the green emerald table, his hands covering mine and his body keeping me still and in place, as he leans over me to glance at his brotherhood.

All of them are so very different now. And he. Darc is so much warmer, his skin is lovely and hot against mine – while they all radiate warmth of being alive in this perfect realm where we all exist together.

But I don’t think they expected me back so soon.

Horace’s cards slip from his fingers at the sight of me. Fane, Ash and Solomon notice next, silencing their little game.

“You released her,” Horace rips through Darc with a voice that could literally butcher. I kind of find it funny how many more dimensions are added to them just by being alive. I feel it more now that the cold depressing weightlessness of the Under, is gone, and I can recognise the difference.

Being alive was a blessing and a half.

This was worth everything.

Gorgeous pounces from the floor into the middle of the cards, swiping one deck into a mess, before hissing in retaliation and pouncing onto Horace’s face.

Horace throws him aside and faces me with a bleeding cheek that heals before my very eyes in a split second.

“I don’t know why he let me out,” I answer, but my smaller voice is drowned out by the music.

“Change of plans,” Darc calls out instead, making his final decision known. One of his hands lifts from the back of mine to reach up and grab my chin and jaw, holding me back against him as he promises me, “…we’ll do it up here instead.”

As one of my hands is now free, Solomon takes it instead and lifts it up, looking at my pumping full blooded veins. He looks at the veins with great interest.

While Darc’s eyes are doing that thing by the side of my head.

He’s seducing me in this strange way like I’m falling into a black hole.

But I was free, and I could escape now – which was his one reckless mistake in letting me out early.

“I know you saved me from something bad,” I speak for Darc alone, “Let’s not do this here.”

“Why, you’re not fighting this, Wynter… relax,” Darc drawls quietly against my ear.

I feel myself relax back into him, while I feel a blade tease my wrist.

It’s a shock.

Solomon doesn’t cut but he does it to scare me – and the coolness of it is enough to pull me back to my senses.

It breaks me from the trance and I push back properly, knocking my head into Darc’s chin as I grab the edge of the pool table and jump. I give my powerful wings room to flare out and they take me up into an immediate hover.

I’m able to fly above them near their grotesque dagger chandeliers.

I look around for an exit, and I already see security on higher levels blocking the exits, their eyes on me.

I notice the crowd looking up at me – and soon they’re all staring.

As they dance.

And one particular man, old and leathery, creepy and skeleton thin – is hanging by an alter and candles around a piano, boldly staring up at me, dressed in his black robes and strange small bones hanging from chains.

The Lord Veil.

The Dark Academy students were all here.

The entire Crypt room was demons.

Every. Single. One. Of. Them.

That’s why they trampled that dead body like it was nothing. It’s why the Crypt was cursed.

I pulse over and land on the top shaft of the main chandelier, holding onto the chain from the ceiling as it swings with my added weight.

At least I’m safe here for a second.

The weapons on this thing though – an ornament? Not really. The weapons making up the chandelier were covered in dried blood.

I hear a metal grating noise and I feel the chandelier shift, as a security guard starts to turn a cog, while talking into his phone.

I feel for my magical wand and the light starts to spark in my hand.

A warning for all of them.

I had one shot and I could seal them all in here.

As the chandelier lowers with me on it, one inch at a time – I look down to the brotherhood with my threat clear.

I’m met with resistance.

Darc is holding a different kind of weapon.

A gun, lifted with an aim at my head – but his eyes are on mine.

Don’t be stupid, or this bullet will send you straight to hell.

I will not live just to be ripped apart.

Shut up. I will protect you from them – I won’t let them at you. This is my Crypt. They follow my order.

I just want to go home, Darc.

You owe me, Wynter.

Well… what do you want me to do?

First. Surrender.

I make my wand disappear and I watch him simultaneously lower the gun.

Now what, Darc?

Now? Darc smiles at me from the pool table, as I’m let down one inch at a time, closer, Call me Sir and I’ll call you Angel, he looks smug too, you owe me everything.

It goes deeper than my soul… doesn’t it, I repeat his own sentiments, …thank you though, for killing Armando. You avenged me. A compliment can’t hurt right now, I’ll come to you, I agree, just protect me like you promised. I panicked.

I watch Darc turn back to his brothers with a victorious and vicious smirk.

I carefully eye the entry to the club, the vault door.

The chain stops being lowered and as the dried daggers kiss the floor I step from the chandelier. Carefully. No quick movements.

But the moment I’m on the ground.

I run like hell for the exit.

Chapter 18

It’s probably the greatest luck of all time! I burst through the crowd out the vault door into the street! I shove all the drunk and drugged demons out of my way as I flare my wings and fly up into the fresh yet polluted city air.

I fly fast, all the way to the tallest tower, and I look over a city I helped be a guardian too.

I just escaped hell, torture and much worse.

I look to the sky and it extends forever. The clouds shine silver in the moonlight. I could fly up there forever.

But as I stand on the skyscraper’s roof, I feel a familiar pressure on the back my hand. I look to see indents like fingers curling around my palm, twining through mine.

Like before.

Just like Darc is holding my hand on the table.

I lift it up further, and then the distortion is gone, like it never happened. The feeling evaporates, but I gulp as I realise something a little bit… bad. Something that makes my chest twist. Almost like… like… I’ve betrayed him.

Darc killed Armando. Darc freed me from the Crypt. Darc offered me a place to stay. Darc said he would protect me.

I spat in the fact of all of it – an angel hating the demon by instinct. I couldn’t help but feel repulsed. To feel distrust. He said not to trust him, for heaven’s sake.

Going home didn’t seem viable right now.

I glance down to the Quindell river, where a river cruise restaurant is trudging along. The Sweet Devil. Of all names… I shake my head at the irony.

It was the first place Armando ever took me on a date.

As I take off from the skyscraper, I drift slowly around the corner of a building – as I see something else disturbing.

Oh, no.

My woes were not over.

Everyone is exiting the Crypt in droves, disappearing into the streets, going in every direction.

Did Darc send them after me?

Fuck. Obviously he did. He was the top demon. They were at his command.

Flying up high was too obvious, so I quickly descend toward the floating restaurant, landing on the back deck where people on dates speak over candle light.

At my arrival, I smile to try and seem totally normal – until I recognise the looks of horror on their faces are because they are all focused on what I had been too accustomed too.

The dress I died in, ripped and hanging loose and with holes – is still on my body.

“Tough night, protecting the city,” I quickly blurt out, “Anyone have a coat I could borrow maybe?”

Angels were known for their duties, and sometimes you could use that to get a favour.

I feel guilty taking the coat from the man nearest, who offers it with a nod.

“Some thought you were dead,” he tells me, nervous. Some? Hmm.

The deck watch me quickly cover myself with the oversized warm coat, and I gulp as I say, “I was. But now I’m not. You know. Celestial drama. Um – enjoy your dinner, sorry for the intrusion,” as my eyes scan the Quindell river banks I see one person who is staring at me suspiciously, wearing black clothes and smoking a cigarette. Could be nothing, but I try not to panic as I duck into the boat and find a familiar looking waiter.

I remember him.

“Marvin,” I walk up and I grab his shoulder as he’s entering in orders by the front, and he turns to gawk – before backing up a step, his face screwing up, so I try a light, “Hey?”

“Wynter,” he blurts, “Hi.”

“What – why are you looking at me like –” I trail off, watching him move.

Marvin gulps and walks back to the open wine shelves, suggesting we walk between them for privacy. I follow with him, and his hands wring together nervously as he tries to explain.

“You don’t know the rumours circling the city?” he asks.

“What rumours?” I feel my heart hit my gut.

“Wynter… you were exiled from Safe Watch. You betrayed everyone. For… a vampire? Darc of all demons,” he says his name so nervous, “Is that not true?”

“I was – listen, I was trapped. None of that is true,” I shake my head, “Believe me.”

“Well you need to talk to the right people. I – I don’t know you. Not well enough to help. Beyond what I’ve said. Maybe go to the authorities,” Marvin nods repeatedly at me and then ushers me toward the door.

I get the hint.

I turn and walk for the exit, feeling my gut twist further as I look back to the banks.

More black coats watching from the roads.

Fucking demons. Everywhere.

I hold the coat over my arm as I take off and I fly fast to the main police department in the city. I hover up high just long enough to see Darc relaxing back against the corner of the department, on his own too.

Waiting for me.

He hasn’t seen me yet.

I wonder how fast he actually moves. I don’t even understand how he knew to wait there.

I fly over onto a dark balcony for a moment of reprieve.

I was exiled.

I was alone.

As Fane said.

Also, fucking Armando had been spreading lies.

Now the demons wanted me too.

I turn slowly on this stranger’s apartment balcony, and I lean my back against the wall as I sit down, knees to my chest as I decide to think of another plan while hidden temporarily.

I wasn’t sure who to turn too.

A flash of light from the cars passing by, on the windows to my left – makes me glance.

I wish I didn’t.

Just a moment while in the corner of my eye, I can see Ash’s deep brown eyes glancing at me through the reflection of the glazed window. I look out to open air, and back to the window.

He’s not here but… shit. Could he travel through glass? I don’t want to wait to find out. Before he potentially jumps out at me, I quickly abandon the coat as I scramble over the railings and fly out.

When I spin around in the air, Ash is standing right there – arm out reaching, claws curled as he just barely missed me.

I hover as I face him and his disturbed anger, “Can’t you take a hint? Leave me alone. Geez.”

I watch Ash close his eyes but I scoff as he tries to possess me.

What blood remains of me in his system is enough for him to enter my head and close off my power of flight momentarily.

Wings immobile, I shove him out as I’m falling to the road below, and I manage to beat my wings and fly up again just to taunt him with a middle finger and a smile after I’ve won that battle.

I was much stronger.

But now Ash is smiling. And the bang I’ve missed all together in this loud city.

All I see is Ash holding a gun with a smoking barrel – and I see the hole in my wing before I feel the excruciating pain rip through all my nerves.

He took my damn wings off me anyway!

I start to fall heavy this time, and I beat my wings once just to soften the blow, landing in the closest secluded alleyway and crashing into the side of an industrial rubbish bin.

I stumble back into the wall, crying out with the pain, my wing curled up and dripping silver blood.

I hiss through gritted teeth, trying to find my strength.

I had to keep moving. Get it together. Worry afterwards.

I push hard off the wall and I stumble forward with determination, looking for which way I want to run, which road out.

Blocked.

And blocked.

And a conundrum too.

On one end, I see Fane who’s just run forward and throws out his hands, blocking the east exit.

And to the west is dear Horace, also in my damn way.

Above Ash is scaling down the apartment block. He’s going slow on purpose – just to tease me.

He fucking shot me!

“What the hell?” I scream out at Ash, as I let off a war cry, I pick up a steel rubbish lid and I face Horace and run toward him, ready to frisbee the damn thing into his hungry face.

I watch Horace centre himself, his brow twitches as he closes his eyes.

And I feel not one, not two, but three of them – force their way into my head.

I nearly trip as my limp hand drops the lid and I abruptly come to a stop.

Out of my control, and in the control of Ash, Fane and Horace, I stand still and staring forward like a zombie.

It takes three of them to hold me, but they win because of their combined effort.

“Hmmm.”

A dark presence directly behind me makes my spine curl.

Solomon.

I feel a sharp claw as it scratches across the nape of my neck, as Solomon brushes my hair aside, parting it, and his hand lies on my neck and shoulder, “It’s high concentrate Nerve Killer,” he speaks in my ear, as he injects that shit into my neck.

In front of me, I watch Darc step out of the shadows – appearing from the wall untouched by street nor moon light.

Darc walks right in front of me, dressed in fresh new clothes.

Cleared of blood.

He looks at me with disappointment.

“Get out of her head,” Darc murmurs – and the three brothers who took control, slip from me.

“I’m free of you now,” I gasp out as I immediately attack, sending my curled hands for Darc’s face – even with my nerves quickly dying. I can’t feel anything as it all goes numb. I keep throwing my hands anyway, until they lie pathetically across Darc’s shoulder and chest as I’m slumping into him. He just lets it happen. I wheeze in a breath as I try to fight the effect of their venom mixed together in my system, spreading down my spine.

Darc has to support me before I fall, so he reaches up and threads his fingers through my hair, with both hands over my skull, pushing the curly brunette tangles behind my ears, completely clearing my face before he pulls my limp head back up to look at him.

“You just went for a walk, Wynter,” Darc says, quietly and unfazed by my escape, like I am his silly wandering pet, “You’re not free of me. Of us. Of your fate. Or your end from high grace.”

No.

I make a noise of complaint in my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut as I try to fight the sleep coming quick. No.

I’m going under.

I open my eyes once more, to stare at Darc looking for any sign of empathy. Or maybe what’s to come next.

Would I even wake up again? What if they overdosed me? What if they killed me in my sleep?

Darc reads all that fear and more within my eyes, and it fills him with demonic delights.

“Calm down, Angel, don’t be scared,” Darc drawls kindly over my face, his hands still holding my head up. With a velvet voice that caresses my fear into a new warmth in my blood, he coos me to sleep, “You will wake up again… in a soft feather down bed… with gentle hands searching… piercing shredding fangs… magnetic eyes from us all – taking over your body and soul. Sleep. We bite… and fuck… far too hard for you,” that first coo turns into a malevolent snarl with every word Darc chants over me.

It’s that familiar threat again, but it is worse this time.

Always somehow darker than before.

My eyes close, and I’m lost to paradise in my head – and unfortunately, wet panties left soaked for them.

For fucks sake.

Chapter 19

I wake up to being eaten alive.

At least that’s what it feels like.

I wake up sticky, with a strange irritating sensation over my foot.

I peel open my eyes and raise my head to see what they’re all doing to me.

We’re all on a gothic bed.

Horace is deep into drinking blood from my inner thigh, his eyes rolled up to look at me looking at him. Enjoying it. Solomon has my right wrist held high, drinking deeply. Fane is on my left doing the same.

Ash doesn’t do anything but run a long nail down the sole of my foot repeatedly; he was the one tickling me awake.

Either side of me, I see two naked thighs.

It’s him. Behind me, Darc is holding me back against him, his arm under my breasts, hoisting me up while my head lolls a bit even with my effort of keeping it up.

The Nerve Killers were wearing off, and I was starting to feel again slowly.

I’m on silver sheets in a room with black furniture and five swords on the opposing wall.

I stare at them, foreboding, and I wonder of their significance.

Darc answers my thoughts.

“We’ve all killed Archangels,” Darc admits, “They’re the swords we used,” he points to each one, “Straight through their hearts. Like a stake,” Darc whispers that in my ear, “Irony.”

“Mm,” I try to talk, my tongue still numb.

Solomon pulls his long needle fangs out of my wrist, and a disturbing amount of silver blood is dangling between fang and skin – healing slowly. The silver blood is almost as bright as his facial piercings and the silver silk bed sheets.

I raise one leg and try to push my foot onto Horace’s head.

Without looking, he raises a hand and grabs my ankle and tosses it aside like it’s nothing. He keeps drinking.

Fane stops next, lifting from my wrist and coming straight for my face.

He hovers over me, his lips wet with my celestial blood.

Fane reads my eyes as he pecks me on the lips. I’m helpless to fight it. I try to slap him, raising a weak hand, which ends up laying across one of Fane’s handsome high cheekbones. I try clawing in my nails instead and he just blinks slow, staring back at Darc behind me.

“We should chain her to the ceiling,” Fane suggests, in a quiet way, “While her wings are still attached.”

Asshole.

“Or leave her in the spiked cage,” Darc suggests, his voice melting over my head, as if it can leak into and poison my brain.

“Drain all of her lifeblood into a cauldron,” Horace snarls from between my legs, after finally removing himself from feasting.

However, Horace then lowers himself between my legs and dives for my pussy, licking the juice dripping out from within. I spread my legs on instinct, gasping in a happy breath.

It feels so good.

I arc my neck and back simultaneously, and they all silence themselves to watch me react positively.

I squirm a little against Darc’s abs, and try to get comfortable, while Darc runs his hands over my breasts, pinching my nipples and twisting them left to right.

“Fuck her with your tongue, Horace,” Darc’s lips curl, while my eyes are rolled back, looking up at him from below.

Horace obliges, and his tongue dips and plunges.

I gasp out again, focusing entirely on the pleasure from my pussy. Horaces’ deep vibrating snarls of hunger are exacerbating that pleasure.

Fane appears from overhead and captures my attention by cupping the back of my skull, pulling me forward into his mouth.

Fane begins to kiss me slow, then slips his tongue past my lips, to taste me whole. All of me starts to kiss him back, while my squirming starts to intensify.

I feel Ash starts to suck on my toes, his fangs scraping my skin.

Then, just to top it all off I feel a hand covered in sharp edged rings, scrape under my ass, to find my asshole.

Solomon tickles over running pussy cream, then finds the rim of my second hole and shoves his finger up my ass. Fuck.

My hips rise to Horace’s tongue fucking, as he roughly introduces caressing my clit with hard strokes of his tongue on the way out of my pussy.

My lips part wider and I moan a high pitched noise. Fane takes the advantage. He suddenly bites my lower lip, until he’s pierced it with his two needle fangs. My eyes snap wide open. It’s fucking torture but somehow perfect. What the fuck was wrong with me for liking it?

Darc is openly chuckling at my descent to their harsh excruciating treatment of me. My eyes roll up again, full of tears from all my emotions charging through me at once.

Darc keeps twisting one nipple harder, while his other hand swipes over my forehead as he leans down to press his lips to my forehead, whispering over me, “You’re a whore now.”

He was so fucking rude.

I’m distracted, however, as Fane has unpierced my lips. I watch as Solomon comes forward with two open rings, gently pushing them in both holes before the skin heals up on it’s own.

Oh my god.

Snake bite piercings.

Really?

I glare at Solomon, who appreciates his own handy work, smiling a little. He then leans in and kisses me next – expect he doesn’t kiss like Fane.

Solomon presses his mouth to mine just to taste my breath.

Freak –

I’ve lost track of every little thing going on, but I focus on this particular movement now.

Darc’s hand is sneaking its way down my stomach, over my mound – down further – as Horace lifts up my hips, his tongue goes to what’s forbidden. Horace licks my asshole – while Darc squeezes my clit between two fingers slipping forward, and hooking them into my pussy, while his cheek has been sliding down my jaw – until Darc’s fangs pierce my neck and land deep, his lips land across my skin, throbbing against my heart beat.

Solomon breathes in my rising whimpers, while Fane sucks on a cold lonely nipple, all tight and wanting. Fane is teasing me with his sharp fangs slipping across the roundness of my breasts – evil fucker – while Ash is now lightly biting on my toes, harder… but harder still – scaring me forward into an explosive orgasm. Fuck me. It’s hard-core. I feel like it starts in all erogenous zones, rather than just my poor and helpless pussy, already suffering from Horace’s greed.

Darc feels me squeeze over and over around his long invasive fingers, while Horace licks up to my pussy and tastes inside me even with Darc’s fingers shoved in their too. They share the space, while my body contorts and releases pent up pleasure, over and over in beautiful waves of relief.

My legs are naturally wrapping around Horace’s head, holding him to my pussy, while Solomon has stopped kissing me to look into my eyes. His purple eyes shine with brilliant deviance.

But Darc –

He’s sucking the damn life out of my neck.

Wait.

My breaths are getting weaker, and Solomon knows it.

NO!

Is this how they were going to end it?

Just as I worry my heart might give out; Darc jerks his fangs out from my neck, covering the wound with his hand and gathering oozing blood.

The wound closes, my heart stabilises, then Darc drags his blood painted hand over my face, forehead to chin.

The brotherhood all pull out away from me, giving Darc space.

My body still sings from everywhere their fangs, lips and sharp teeth have been.

Darc sits me up, while I’m weak and collapsed back against him, he twists us to look in a mirror off to the left side of this gothic bedroom.

Our reflection is all I can consume.

I see Darc holding me, encasing me completely, this giant vampire in charge of my body. My wings not a bother.

But me.

I’m in big trouble.

The angel blood on my face is glinting a crimson red. Real red.

Darc is holding my face up with his forearm around my neck, holding me back into his chest, as he makes me watch his hand lying between thighs, holding my pussy, playing with the strands of sticky cum, before casually pushing back into my sore and quivering hole, pulsing in and out, two fingers spreading and making it even more intense. My body heats up immediately.

I watch on, breathless and hypnotised.

“How long will you do this to me?” I whisper it out, panicky.

Darc’s rare demonic snarl ignites, gifting me the answer as his fingers swirl inside me, and then rub against my G-spot.

“I’ll torture you forever,” Darc’s poison seeps into my ear, “You’ll beg for me to release you. But you’ll never escape. You’ll become an addict to our needs. Wynter… you’re as weak as all the others who’ve fallen before you. But I… love… your innocence in the dark. The fall will haunt you forever. And I’ll make it hurt. Because nothing is more beautiful than watching you fear the end.”

“I’ll kill you first, Darc,” I find the guts and bravado from literally nowhere, as I hiss it out, as brave as I can be.

Darc stops playing with my pussy, and instead he brings his fangs down to my neck, and threatens me with the tips scraping on my left side – the other side – where the main artery runs.

“Say that again,” Darc asks, daring me. I close my damn mouth, and he adds, out of the blue, “I’m going to fuck you now. And you’re going to watch.”

Something tells me the mirror is going to be involved.

Because Ash is already waiting in the glass reflection. He is Darc himself, but full of dishonour.

Darc stands up and drags me with him.

“We’re going to do it standing up?” I ask, feeling helpless, digging my nails into his forearm, “A-against the mirror?”

“I want you to see it in your own eyes; the light dying,” Darc is smirking, as we reach the mirror he shoves on the back of my head until my face is squished up against my own reflection, “When I’m done my brothers will have you. Dead or alive,” Darc instantly reads the terror in my gaze from that ridiculous threat. So, he chooses to explain himself politely this time while his red eyes sparkle as he presses soft lips to my ear, in a kiss of death itself, whispering his velvet violence straight into my head, “Relax…” a snake’s hiss, “…I tend to fuck my angels so hard you’ll want to die. Or you’ll play dead. Pleasure can hurt you bad. You ready to fall forever? That’s a good girl,” way to answer it for me, “…oh and one more thing… mind the fucking glass,” Darc really snarls that last bit, glaring at me with true menace through the reflection.

Okay then – he liked this fucking mirror. Didn’t want it to break.

Noted.

Chapter 20

When Darc and I fuck against that mirror – perhaps in any other situation it would be an insult but in this moment, it’s anything but.

As I’ve fallen into the entrapment of sleep.

Blood loss.

I wake up in Darc’s arms, dancing with my head on his shoulder, swinging around and around, the dizzy sensations slowly stop as I focus up, on his eyes.

Not red?

Brown.

It’s not Darc.

I’m in Ash’s arms.

In this dreamscape it’s nothing but him and I.

As Ash twirls us and I feel like I’m floating, he unhands me and I float back in the sky – my own wings wide and beating.

And Ash, he has – a wing?

One wing. With a bleeding hole. He smiles as he watches it, then looks back at me to get my reaction.

I look back at my own wings, and the one he shot, is invisible – taken by him, on his back.

“…but how…?” I ask in a whisper.

“Possession is important to us,” Ash snarls with his handsome smile, “…Fane and Solomon control your lips… I, your wings. Horace, your blood and flesh.”

“And Darc?” I wonder.

“He’ll take nothing,” Ash sounds honest, “At least nothing like us – he would rather steal your heart. He’s obsessed with love and dreams.”

“That sounds…” I murmur.

“Like a rather timely venture? Each to his own,” Ash shrugs a shoulder.

“…but I’m not in a cauldron yet… boiling away like the other dead angels before me…”

Ash answers me by coming closer, his hand moves and his wing disappears – and it appears back on my shoulder, given back control. I can beat them properly, while he comes to pinch my chin and look at the snake bite rings on my lips.

“…I think you will survive…” Ash whispers, another admission? Of something unknown?

I blink and he’s gone.

I’m rising back up to reality, gasping in a breath while waking up.

I’m held back against Darc, away from the mirror as I’m dropped on his cock and my orgasm explodes through me as I’m stretched hard.

I’ve come back alive screaming in shock and pleasure, while Darc holds me back against him, fucking me slow while standing.

However, he pauses and turns me toward the bed and throws me down upon it. I land on my stomach. I look over my shoulder to see Darc’s red eyes glaring at Ash, who stands with a smirk to the side of the room.

Solomon, Horace and Fane stand back in a line, hands in their pockets as they sheepishly look on, a little worried as Darc turns on Ash with a rage.

“…you pry all the fucking time…” Darc whispers his snarl so quietly I can’t even hear it.

As he grabs his pants and puts them on, Ash is slowly backing toward the door.

“You’re the fool,” Ash hisses back – and Darc goes chasing him.

Shadows remain in their gothic bedroom, where they once stood.

I scramble up onto the middle of the bed, sitting and getting my breath back.

My face is red with my tainted blood that Darc smeared.

My shot wing is sore but now healed.

I sit naked and confused, while the other three watch me.

“Get out,” I try snarling now.

“No thank you?” Horace snarls back, utterly enraged by my reaction.

“No thank you,” I repeat him, crawling forward to stand, but quickly realising I can’t move much without feeling totally weak.

Before I fall off the edge, I decide I don’t want to stand.

I wasn’t a virgin anymore.

I didn’t feel a thing beyond the orgasm – and nothing in between.

“I’ll start to lose my wings now so leave me in fucking peace,” I speak through gritted teeth.

“You’re wrong – Ash stopped that – you would have lost them already,” Solomon explains – and a wave of crushing relief hits me so hard, I almost face plant into the sheets.

I bury my head in them instead, crying my relief.

Thank god.

“You were right about that one thing… it’s true you can remain a virgin, even cut,” Fane says, “You didn’t fall, Wynter.”

“Let’s remove ourselves,” Solomon whispers – devilish.

I hear them all depart, and as their foot steps fade, I look up and see the door shut and latched shut.

I look around the room and I realise it’s my own prison for the moment.

No clean sheets.

When I’m confident I can do it, I make myself stand and hold onto the post to view the mess – and myself.

I look like an angel almost butchered – bruised and bloody.

And yet all I was fighting off was the tremble of my climax.

I groan out as I turn to an open bath on the other end of the room.

A black marble tub on red ruby legs, I turn on the hot water full blast and try not to picture this as a cauldron.

I climb in to reset and heal and breathe as I clean off all that… all of what just happened.

Ash looked like the shadow of Darc’s former self – an Angel with soft brown eyes and big white wings – a wing. However, I can’t get the full image out of my head. It must be true. It was his shadow self. Ash was a little less like a twin and more like another identity roaming separate from Darc. That was clear.

But of course, they barely told me anything. Their stories of adventure and how they came to be. Darc was fallen, the others from all over the world.

Now all together in a club called the Crypt.

Fucking, murdering and more. Evil handsome bastards.

I hear the door creak and I turn quick, expecting Darc’s eventual return.

However, it’s literally no one.

The door has just been pushed ajar by wind – perhaps they failed to lock it correctly.

I look at the gap between door and frame, an inch to freedom, and I turn my head and shake it, as I sink lower into the hot water.

No.

I was exactly where I needed to be, where the answers were – for my purpose as an angel.

I had to be right here, in the midst of the darkness – and I would bring the light.

I was safe enough – despite being kidnapped. Oh… oh god… Stockholm syndrome? It already felt like a home. Great.

I roll my eyes at myself, then I sigh and feel my celestial strength slowly come back.

I was a demon slayer – I might be new to the game but I wasn’t completely useless.

I close my eyes for a minute, steadying my breaths – until a teacher’s cologne floods my nostrils and I peak through my eyelids to see Darc finally returned, standing at the end of the bath, looking in at me.

He’s clean, not covered in blood for once.

“You didn’t leave,” Darc says, his eyes a little wide.

I just stare back at him, speechless. More so – refusing to speak, “Wynter… good… just… stay there,” Darc holds out a hand and speaks so gently, it’s a little confusing. I watch him turn and walk away, pacing toward the wall of five Archangel-ending swords.

As he observes them, I just relax as I dare to murmur, “Why does Ash look just like you? Where did he come from?”

“I know where, the Under, but I don’t know why,” Darc answers immediately, not looking at me as he stares at the swords, “Some things don’t have answers… and that’s okay.”

“You sound shaken by something,” and I’m just being plainly honest.

Now, there is a meaningful pause.

I look over to see Darc’s back to me, as he is facing the door, head down, his hand on his chin, clearly in deep thought. My heart skips a beat. He was so handsome and I still had that thing for him being a teacher… I bite my lip, hoping he doesn’t glance my wanting reflection.

Darc speaks up, sorrowful, “I’m sorry… but you have to leave. We’re having trouble from the Lord Veil. I’ll see you around… in my class?”

I blink.

Darc doesn’t look back at me.

But he does leave.

Every word was forced out.

What in hell?

I hold my breath and when I do let it out, it rattles from me.

Unexplainable tears run down my face as I step out of the bath and clean off in a towel, looking for a robe to wear to get out of this fucking place.

All that effort to catch me… just to let me go?

When I’ve tentatively put on a robe and turned around toward the door – I get yet another shock.

I freeze.

Darc has been watching me this whole time with his head peeking through a gap in the door.

“You believed me?” Darc slowly tilts his head, smirking.

He disappears and shuts the door – actually locking it this time.

I walk in disbelief toward the door and try opening it. I can’t.

“HAHA!” I fake laugh through the door, “…open it… fucking open it – I’m no prisoner. I’m here willingly now. I decided.”

The door swings open so fast it almost smacks me in the face.

I manage to just avoid it, but next second Darc is stepping into me. He grabs my jaw with his hand.

“You’re staying here,” Darc commands, like a teacher.

“I said I would?” I hiss.

“You run again from me – you’ll stay in this room for a 100 years. A miniscule wait – for me.”

I shrug, not reacting to his theatrics, “No need to threaten me Darc. Unhand my face, please?”

Darc just looks down at me, before he nods – and unhands my jaw.

Oh, thank you.

I step back and smile.

He moves out of my way, out of my face, and back out the door – slamming it shut. Again.

Locking it. Again.

“Not yet,” Darc whispers through the door demonically, a promise in his tone.

Whatever that means?!

At this point I was a willing yet unwilling, demon’s angel pet in a gothic cage. I wish I had a comeback for Darc but I have none. I guess now I just had to wait, while they dealt with their supposed troubles.

Wait. Huh… maybe I was safe in here?

I let out a small lop sided smile for a split second – but by that stage I feel like I’m losing my mind. I don’t know what to think! They were all driving me crazy! And I knew it was on fucking purpose!