Chained by Darkness (Sensor Series, Book 2.5) Read online

  “It was necessary,” Lucas replied.

  “For what?” Bartol asked. “Something tells me if you lose, it’s going to cost you.”

  “The what for is not your concern.” Lucas leapt to avoid a strike to his legs. “What I will say is they doubled my sentence in this hellish place for the privilege of the fight. It’s really too bad you’ll be leaving in less than two years, at least I’d have company.”

  Bartol shook his head. “Nothing is worth more time here.”

  “Says the man who has spent nearly a century in this place just to fuck an angel,” Lucas said, swinging his sword at his opponent’s chest. “One day I hope you find someone that’s actually worth that kind of time.”

  Their swords clashed as they met in the middle of the cage.

  “I decided over ninety-eight years ago that no one is worth it,” Bartol said, grimacing.

  “I’ve brought your latest rations,” Kerbasi announced from near the cage gate.

  Both of the nephilim set their weapons down and moved to the far end of the cage. The guardian didn’t take chances with them when they had weapons and no manacles. A system had been worked out over the last twelve days so that everyone’s needs could be met.

  Kerbasi lifted the gate high enough to push a large paper bag through. As soon as it cleared, he dropped it again and fixed the lock. Lucas and Bartol had been spending all their time in the cage since the order came down from Remiel. The archangel insisted on Lucas having every chance at a fair fight. That included food, water, and the opportunity to practice. Who knew Remiel could be so accommodating?

  Bartol went over and ripped open the bag. There were two large containers inside and several bread rolls. Lucas’ heightened sense of smell could pick up on the lasagna inside. There were even plastic forks to use.

  Kerbasi hovered on the outside of the cage. “I still haven’t figured out what bargain you struck with the archangel, but it seems the shaman knows what’s going on and wants you to win. He’s gone to great lengths to get you meals every day that make even me hungry.”

  “Perhaps I bargained for the opportunity to end your life,” Lucas said.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Kerbasi replied, pushing his silver hair from his face. “I suspect it has a lot more to do with that sensor you’re so attached to.”

  Lucas glared at him.

  The guardian gave him an evil smile in return. “We’ve got sixty years for me to figure it out, nephilim. I doubt you’ll be able to hide the information in your head for that long. It’s just a matter of time.”

  During one of the three visits Remiel had made to the cage, ensuring Lucas was getting what he needed and probably checking the place out for himself, that particular topic had been brought up. The archangel had assured him he wouldn’t be held accountable if Kerbasi found out. It was more important people on the mortal realm didn’t know.

  Lucas finished chewing his latest forkful of lasagna before speaking. He needed to enjoy every bite while he still could. “I’m sure you will, guardian, but I’m going to make you work for it.”

  Bartol wasn’t moving through his meal as slowly. The poor guy had gone too long without decent meals and even getting them twice a day for almost two weeks didn’t diminish his need to eat fast in case it disappeared. At least the time away from his cell and Kerbasi’s torture had done him some good. He’d been steadily moving out of the shell he’d been hiding in for so long. His body had filled out enough now that his ribs didn’t poke through his skin anymore either.

  The nephilim was once a large, muscular man, but it’d take more than the two weeks’ reprieve he’d been given to regain his previous size. Still, Lucas almost found the fight worth it just to cease Bartol’s suffering for a little while. Shit, he’d been in touch with his feelings far too much lately if he was giving a damn about things like that.

  After Kerbasi took them for a brief break outside—wearing manacles—so they could wash and relieve body waste, they were left alone in the cage. The one drawback to consuming fluids and food was their digestive systems processed it just like a human’s. It didn’t get used up internally the same way it did for vampires with their blood diet. At least four times a day they had to go out, but they couldn’t complain. They had it better than Zoe, who was still stuck in her cell starving and tortured every day at Kerbasi’s whim.

  Bartol rested on his back on the stone floor, staring at the top of the cage. Lucas moved to the opposite side and settled down in a similar fashion. They always took a break after meals before going back to training. A companionable silence stretched between them. Lucas used it to doze off for a bit.

  He’d been doing extra exercises between their fighting bouts to increase his strength. They took their toll on his body and energy levels. Recovering on earth where there were higher oxygen levels—and full use of his magic powers—would have been faster, but he didn’t have that option. All he could do was train as hard as he could and hope it would be enough.

  “Is this really about that sensor you care about?” Bartol asked sometime later.

  “Perhaps,” Lucas answered.

  Up until now, they’d stayed away from the topic and spoke of other things, but the time they spent together had strengthened their friendship. Bartol was more comfortable around Lucas now than he’d ever been before. Except for their mutual time in Purgatory, they hadn’t been around each other much for centuries.

  It was the way of immortals. They grew bored over time and moved to different places, associated with different people, and found new ways to entertain themselves—always searching for something to break the monotony. Bartol would have the advantage of a whole new world to explore when he got out. It wouldn’t get dull for him for a long time.

  “I thought you hated sensors,” he said.

  Lucas stiffened. “I do, but not this one.”

  A long pause.

  “There’s something I discovered while seeing that angel.” Bartol sat up on his elbows and looked at Lucas. He’d already grown into the habit of positioning his face so that you couldn’t see the burn scars very well. “Didn’t think it was a good idea to tell you until now. Seeing how you feel about that sensor makes me think you might be able to handle it, but if I tell you, I don’t want Zoe finding out.”

  Lucas let out a short laugh. “I wouldn’t tell that woman which meat I prefer to eat, much less anything important.”

  “I assumed as much, but wanted to be sure.” Bartol’s heavy gaze fell on him. “The angel told me a few things while we were together. The biggest revelation I learned is that all the nephilim who haven’t been executed are ones with sensor relatives. She said something about genetics, but I didn’t really understand that part. Anyway, it isn’t by chance that some of us still live and others don’t.”

  Lucas sat straight up. Remiel had just told him about his mother and now this? It couldn’t be a coincidence, but he didn’t have enough pieces of the puzzle to figure it out. There had to be more to it.

  “My mother was a sensor,” Lucas confessed.

  Bartol’s eyebrows lifted. “And you still hated them for all this time?”

  “Let’s just say I didn’t find out until recently.”

  “It was my grandfather for me. Any ideas why they let us live and not the others?” Bartol asked. At least the nephilim was showing interest in life again. Too bad it would probably go away once he was back in his cell.

  Lucas shook his head. “No, but I have a feeling they did it for a reason.”

  “Hmmm.” Bartol lay back down. “It’s been centuries since the inquisition and the angels are a patient lot. Whatever they have planned, it could be a long time before we find out.”

  “I’d prefer to know sooner. Somehow, I think it’s going to affect us all,” Lucas said.

  His mind was too occupied to rest any longer. He got up and started doing push-ups to get his muscles going again. Somewhere around his one-thousandth Bartol lifted his head.

 
“For what it’s worth, I’ll be rooting for you during that fight. If anyone from our race can kick an archangel’s ass, it’s you, but that’s going to be one tough duel to win.”

  Lucas paused from his push-ups and met the other nephilim’s eyes. “I’ll do my best.”

  The odds were strongly against him, but he’d give it everything he had.

  Chapter Fourteen

  They’d brought in stone benches for the duel. It wouldn’t start for another hour, but spectators from around Purgatory had already begun showing up. Excitement buzzed through the air and guards chattered in small groups with each other. Dozens of pairs of eyes kept glancing in Lucas’ direction, studying him where he sat on a bench in front of the cage. They knew his shackles kept him contained and he had a bigger opponent he’d be facing soon. There was no worry of him attacking them. At least not for today.

  Lucas kept his head bowed and his eyes downcast, ignoring all of it. He preferred to visualize the upcoming duel and work out his opponent’s weaknesses. It’d help if he knew what they were. The only time Lucas had seen the archangel fight was with the demon prince. Remiel had started out shaky, but his technique had been almost flawless near the end. He could have brushed up on his skills since then as well. Lucas couldn’t afford to underestimate his opponent.

  “No one thinks you can win,” Kerbasi said, appearing in front of Lucas. “If not for you wisely requesting the cage, he’d probably kill you.”

  Lucas said nothing.

  The guardian took a step closer. “Everyone thinks you’re sitting here praying for redemption. You and I both know you have no hope of that.”

  A hush fell over the room. Lucas almost looked up to see what brought it on.

  “Ahh,” Kerbasi sighed. “Your opponent comes now—and he’s brought quite the little entourage with him. I can’t remember the last time we’ve had this many angels and guardians together in one place.”

  Curiosity got the better of him and he lifted his head. Kerbasi hadn’t been lying. Remiel was making his way into the chamber wearing a thick white robe that extended over his feet—his wings were not visible. He was followed by the other archangels from the trial, plus a few more Lucas recognized from previous visits to court. It wasn’t difficult to guess why they’d all come. They hoped to see Lucas lose. It appeared this fight took precedence over more worldly concerns.

  Remiel nodded at Lucas and moved toward him. Anyone in his way quickly stepped aside. The archangel frowned as he got closer and whispered something to Zadkiel, who walked on the left side of him. They stopped a few feet away from Lucas.

  “Guardian, is this what you give your prisoners to wear these days?” Remiel asked. “I thought we’d moved past such barbarism.”

  The archangel had no idea.

  Kerbasi stiffened. “It provides ease of movement while fighting. It’s perfectly logical.”

  Remiel crossed his arms. “I’m not dueling the nephilim with him wearing that.”

  Did they think Lucas had lost his hearing?

  “The nephilim would prefer a pair of jeans if anyone cares to hear his opinion,” Lucas said.

  “That would be preferable to your current attire,” Remiel agreed. He turned to Zadkiel. “If you could procure them while picking up the other thing we discussed?”

  “Of course,” Zadkiel inclined his head. He disappeared in a flash of light.

  The archangels didn’t need the portals as long as they didn’t have a guest in tow. Lucas would have flashed out of here himself the first time they removed his manacles if not for a magic spell of some sort blocking him. He’d tried from several locations when he was free of his bindings with no success.

  “Has the guardian provided everything else you’ve needed?” Remiel asked.

  “Astonishingly enough, he has,” Lucas answered.

  Kerbasi grunted. “Even I prefer to see the nephilim in the best shape possible for this fight. Wouldn’t want you to win too easily, archangel.”

  Lucas appreciated all the positive energy everyone was sending his way. No one considered that he had any chance of winning. He didn’t care. The more they expected him to lose, the more determined he was to win.

  Several minutes passed while Kerbasi and Remiel traded more barbs with each other. Lucas went back to staring at the ground and visualizing the fight. He, at least, would take this duel seriously.

  When they stopped talking, though, Lucas looked up. He had to blink to be sure he wasn’t seeing things. His twin brother, Micah, strode into the chamber next to Zadkiel—with manacles on—and a stormy expression.

  “What the hell is going on?” Micah asked when he reached Lucas, holding a pair of dark jeans.

  “Let’s give them a few minutes alone,” Remiel said to the others before turning to Lucas. “Your brother is only here for the fight. I thought it fair you had at least one supporter on your side. You may also inform him of the details of our agreement while he’s here.”

  As soon as everyone moved away, Micah handed Lucas the jeans and sat down next to him. “What have you gotten yourself into, brother?”

  “Zadkiel didn’t tell you anything?” Lucas asked as he stood up to slip out of the loin cloth.

  At least without the chains on his manacles he could move more freely. The jeans fit him well after he zipped them up, letting him know he’d gained most of his weight back. The denim might restrict him more, but at least it was comfortable.

  “Not exactly,” Micah answered. “The archangel showed up while I was playing with a band I put together. He compelled them to forget they’d seen us and took me back to the cabin for those jeans. All he’d say is you were about to duel Remiel and that my presence was requested. Next thing I knew he was flashing me to the portal entrance to come here.”

  That explained the black shorts and Metallica t-shirt his brother wore. He’d left his long blond hair down too. Despite them being identical twins, people who knew them had no difficulty differentiating them. Micah looked like a rebel more often than not, though he was actually the more cautious of the two. Lucas was the one with authority problems, but he tended to go with a more urbane and sophisticated look. Put them together, though, and they were a force to be reckoned with—which was why Micah had to be shackled while he was here.

  “I made a deal with Remiel,” Lucas said after sitting back down. Then he proceeded to outline the details while the incredulity on his brother’s face continued to grow. Not all that surprising. Lucas wasn’t known for self-sacrifice when it came to women.

  “I understand you care about Melena,” he eventually responded, “but this is insane. Sixty years? Do you remember how fucked up you were after fifty years here? Six decades with Kerbasi is going to leave you half-mad.” Micah got up and paced back and forth in front of the bench.

  Lucas shrugged. He knew his brother was right, but he didn’t have a choice. “I’ll get through it just like I always do.”

  “What about Melena?” Micah paused. “She’s not going to be happy when she finds out about this.”

  “You will never tell her about the details of this agreement. Do you understand?” Lucas asked, narrowing his eyes. “I’ll decide what she does or doesn’t need to know.”

  “That’s your decision, brother, but assuming you win this she’s going to be the one who’s putting up with your crazy ass when you get back. It might help if she knows why.”

  Lucas preferred not to think about what long stays in Purgatory did to him. “Bartol has been here for over ninety-eight years and he’s managed to stay mostly sane.”

  Well, not exactly, but he’d pulled out of his shell enough while training with Lucas to show hope of recovery.

  “This is where he’s been? I looked for him after I got out of the sleep, thinking we could hang out or something, but I couldn’t find him.” Micah shook his head.

  The sleep was a sort of break immortals could take from the world. They’d go to a fey city where they’d be put under with magic for howe
ver long they wished. If they slept long enough, they came out of it refreshed and able to adapt to current times better than those who didn’t take such breaks. Micah had been asleep for fifty years and only returned in October of the year before. He’d picked up modern ways and speaking rather fast since then. It was almost annoying.

  “He’s here with less than two years left on his sentence,” Lucas replied.

  “What did he do?” Micah asked.

  “Slept with an angel. Kerbasi scarred his face up badly as part of his punishment. I don’t think Bartol is going to want to do much of any socializing when he gets out.”

  “Fuck.” Micah rubbed his face. “I wish you could have challenged the guardian instead. That bastard needs his ass kicked more than anyone.”

  Micah had only stayed in Purgatory one time, but Kerbasi had left an impression on him. The dreams that came to him while Lucas was here only made him hate the guardian more.

  “How’s Melena?” Lucas held back from asking for as long as he could, but he couldn’t wait anymore.

  “She’s…different since you left. Everyone’s noticed, though she hasn’t said a word about what happened.”

  Lucas clenched his fists. “Different how?”

  “Well, she’s always restless. One minute she’s cleaning—which I’m told is unusual—the next she’s cooking, exercising, drawing trees, or whatever else she can find to stay busy. I don’t know what the hell your blood did to her, but I’ve never seen a mortal who could keep going like that all the time. It makes my head hurt just watching her.”

  “How did she take my leaving?” Lucas asked. He was probably better off not knowing, but if he did get to see her, he wanted to know what to expect.

  Micah studied him for a moment and sighed. “The only time I’ve ever seen that woman show any emotion aside from anger is around you. After you left, though, she hardened up. If she’s feeling anything, she’s not showing it. The other day she was out washing her SUV when Emily attacked her with a full blast of water from the hose. Mel just lifted her brows at the girl and kept scrubbing.”