Stellar (The Halo Series Book 3) Read online

  She ladled porridge into her bowl and covered it with a layer of brown sugar, mixing slowly as she kept her narrowed eyes on Lilith. She wanted the demon woman to know she wasn’t afraid of or intimidated by her. Queen of the Underworld, or not. She was just another evil bitch Aurora had no time for.

  “Would you like some more tea, Grayson?” Lilith purred, reaching across him and wrapping her long-fingered hand around the handle of the teapot. She poured the steaming liquid with her right hand while pressing her left into his thigh. Gray’s jaw clenched, and the rising and falling of his chest ceased as he held his breath.

  Aurora had to refrain from rolling her eyes at the pathetic display as she turned to Michael, who surprisingly looked nearly as uncomfortable as Gray did.

  “Did we make a decision last night?” she asked him. “I’m sorry. I mean, did you make a decision. We poor Halos aren’t able to handle such extraordinary tasks.”

  Michael fixed her with a look of mingled guilt and disapproval. “We did.”

  “And?”

  Lucifer cut in, turning to speak to Aurora. “I decided I would grace the angels with my presence and help. At first, I wasn’t going to agree, but Michael managed to convince me last night.”

  Aurora wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the lavender-colored light, but she could’ve sworn Michael was blushing.

  “Well, that’s great,” Aurora stated unfeelingly. “So, when do we fight?”

  Lucifer took a drink of an amber-colored liquid. “What’s the rush?”

  Aurora let anger color her words for the first time that morning. “I need to find my son. Before it’s too late.”

  Running a finger along the rim of her glass, Lilith simpered. “Soren is part Horn. I’m afraid it’s already too late for him, Love.”

  Aurora stood abruptly, her chair slamming backward onto the floor. “Keep my son’s name out of your filthy mouth.”

  Lilith threw her head back in a laugh. “There’s the emotion I wanted. For a moment there I was afraid you were as heartless as me.”

  “Now, now, girls,” Lucifer said with the hint of annoyance and exasperation in his bored voice. “Let’s leave the cat-fighting for later.”

  “Have you ever seen cats fight?” Aurora shot at him. “Particularly lions? It’s not as delicate and womanly as you might think. As opposed to men who fight like a pair of grunting orangutans.”

  A spark of approval lit Lilith’s eyes, and Lucifer sighed as he looked to Michael. “You didn’t tell me half of your Stellar pair was so maddeningly outspoken.”

  “Drop the sexist bullshit, Devil,” Aurora spat. “When are we leaving.”

  He glanced obliquely at her. “Now.”

  “Good. Let’s go.” She moved to leave the table, yet no one else stirred. She whirled around to look at them. “What are you waiting for? Caducus could be taking over as we speak, with my son in tow. We don’t have time for your weird sex games and riddles.”

  “We shall leave when I finish my drink,” Lucifer said darkly. “But we aren’t returning to the world just yet. I must gather my army. The three of you are more than welcome to join us.”

  Gray spoke for the first time. “Wait. Your army…? Are you actually inviting us to—”

  “Hell,” Lilith murmured. “Of course.”

  “You don’t have to come if you’re afraid,” Lucifer said, winking at Michael.

  Gray looked to Aurora. She looked away. “Of course we’re coming.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Gray said to her. “Who knows what sort of demons are there.”

  “The worst kind, I would assume,” she said. “But they can’t touch us. Not with their leader beside us.”

  Gray shook his head, proving how much purer he was than her. The idea of Hell didn’t scare her nearly as much as the idea of waiting around for Lucifer’s demon army to arrive while her son was out there somewhere. Besides, Lilith probably needed to be watched by a woman of equal moral destituteness.

  “What do you say, Michael?” Lucifer said to the Stellar’s angel leader. “You never have come to visit my new home. Wouldn’t you like to see what I’ve done with the place?”

  Michael looked up at the Devil through his lashes. Aurora thought she could see him tremble. Why was it that the men who were meant to be robust and resolute were the ones with unsteady hands?

  Gray’s teeth worried at his lip as his gaze transferred from Michael to Aurora and back. Meanwhile, Aurora stood facing Lilith, whose lavender eyes were fixed on her. And, in their depths, a twinkle could be seen flickering like a warning.

  LILITH

  It would appear she had underestimated the golden girl with the dark soul. Turned out, Aurora Coel was nearly as ruthless as she was. Lilith had been around quite a long time, and she’d met many other Auroras. They all had one thing in common: they were mothers.

  But that was the difference between Lilith and them, wasn’t it? Few knew of her true tale. Few knew she had been created before Eve. Adam’s obedient little wife. But Lilith had been unable to do two of the things expected of her: reproduce and submit.

  A submissive wife was what the Light had intended for his first humanly creation. Someone who would listen and obey and bow down to the creature supposedly more knowledgeable than she. But Lilith did not bow down or listen. To anyone. She thought freely and spoke unguardedly. Neither Adam nor the Light appreciated these qualities. So she was cast away to slither amongst the weeds with her serpentine brothers and sisters.

  Now, here she sat before another female being with many of the same qualities. Outspoken. Stubborn. Unapologetic. Strong. Stronger, perhaps than all the men in the room. Most women were. But rather than feel camaraderie with the girl, Lilith felt competition.

  She was used to being the most desired, the most revered, the most feared. But, at least when it came to the Halo boy with the heart of gold, Aurora beat her out in every category. And Lilith didn’t like that.

  But she planned to change it.

  Soon, Aurora Coel would be nothing more than an annoyance to Grayson Cross. Lilith simply had to slither inside him and sever the tie the bound the two Stellars. Cutting the thread of life like her sisters known as the Fates.

  Nineteen

  SOREN

  Soren awoke in a sheet-less bed next to a tiny porthole window in a dungeonous room. It took him a moment to register where he was. He remembered escaping from Hiraeth on a little boat called Stellar. He remembered sailing away and crawling onto a cloud of a bed before falling asleep.

  Then…

  His father.

  His father showed up, and everything went black again. That’s what he could remember.

  Breaths came fast as he looked around the bare room. Sliding onto the cold stone floor, he padded with bare feet to the minuscule the porthole window, expecting to see the ocean.

  His eyes widened before squinting again, sure he wasn’t seeing correctly. Because, instead of water, Soren’s gaze landed on wispy clouds and air.

  Was he…flying?

  “Good morning, son.” The familiar voice reverberated around the small space.

  Soren turned quickly, flattening himself against the wall.

  David—his father—stood in a doorway Soren hadn’t noticed before. It looked like it had been cut from the seemingly blank stone wall. This didn’t matter much at the moment, though, because his father was moving forward now. Inching slowly towards Soren like a lion stalking its prey.

  “Come with me,” David stated. “We have much to talk about.”

  Soren pressed himself more firmly against the wall, memories of what his father had done to his mom crashing over him, making his breathing more difficult.

  When he’d first laid eyes on Aurora, he hated her…because he thought he should.

  David had gotten a hold of him several weeks before he’d met her. And the things his father told him about Aurora made him sick. He’d said she didn’t want him—that she hated him and was selfish and didn
’t care what happened to him. David told him she had kept Soren’s existence hidden.

  But when he'd met her, he didn’t see the monster his father had described. Tears had filled her eyes when she looked at him and walls of fire rose up when she looked at David.

  She hated Soren’s father, that much was clear. But David had said she hated Soren too.

  Why then did she look at him in such a different way from David? She looked at him in a way Soren had never seen before. Tears had been in her eyes, yes, but there was more there. Deeper inside them, he could see a glint of something he’d wanted to see all his life.

  Love. Unconditional love.

  Then he had to listen to his father hurt her from the other room. She was tied up and helpless like a sick dog chained to a pole in a yard. What was he doing that made her scream like that?

  All the words David etched into Soren's mind began to wash away with each cry from his mother.

  He'd started to feel like he had been taken advantage of. Lied to. Maybe his father wasn’t actually as good as he claimed to be.

  Then he saw his father on top of his mother, tearing at her clothes and hitting her as she tried fighting back.

  Without thinking, Soren had grabbed the baseball bat David had bought for him and slammed it down onto the back of his head.

  Now, Soren stood before the man he’d learned to fear. Anything that made his mom—the strongest woman he’d ever known—cry like that couldn’t be a good person.

  David moved forward another step and held out a hand. “I said come, son.”

  Soren remained where he was, his eyes flicking from David to all corners of the room, looking for some sort of a weapon or way out.

  With a grunt of annoyance, his father was suddenly only inches away, his hand wrapping painfully around his son’s arm and squeezing tightly. “You piece of shit. I knew your pathetic mother would get to you. If you won’t come on your own, I’ll bring you with me myself.”

  Soren knew better than to resist. What good would it do when he had no weapon to protect himself with? So, he submitted and went with his father, trying not to cry. He’d learned early on that David didn’t like tears. He especially didn’t like sniffling.

  Biting hard on the insides of his cheeks and taking deep breaths, Soren kept the tears at bay, and the lump in his throat eventually deteriorated.

  David dragged Soren down a dark passageway, which was occasionally lit with red fire enclosed in glass orbs attached to the onyx walls.

  They made it to the end of the corridor and turned left into a domed room with crescent of red leather armchairs surrounding a lit fireplace tall enough to stand in.

  David shoved him into one of the leather armchairs. “Sit. If you move or attempt to escape, you’ll sorely regret it, I assure you.”

  Soren agreed.

  His father shot him a severe look before he proceeded to pace slowly around the semi-circle of chairs, keeping his ice-blue eyes fixed on his son.

  “So. Tell me. How was your vacation with your traitor mother?”

  Soren folded his hands tightly together, pushing back against the cold leather of the chair. What was the correct answer here? David wasn’t looking for the truth. At least, not in the actual definition of the word. He was looking for the truth he wanted.

  “It was…” Soren trailed off as he thought of what to say. “It was uncomfortable.”

  This wasn’t exactly a lie.

  David stopped walking and rested his arms on the top of the red chair nearest him, leaning forward. His eyes glinted. “Oh? How so?”

  Soren sat stone still in his seat, his eyes the only things that moved. He looked from his father to the flickering flames within the fireplace. “I didn’t really feel like I belonged there.”

  A pleased smile pulled David’s features upwards. “Good. That’s a good thing.” He strolled around the chair on which he was leaning and sat on the edge of it, resting his forearms on his knees. Soren’s eyes reluctantly focused on his father, who spoke once again, “Is it because you feel like you belong here instead?”

  Unable to stand another second of looking into David’s callous eyes, Soren’s gaze returned to the flames. “I don’t feel like I belong anywhere,” he admitted.

  His muscles tensed in preparation for a blow. But it never came. Instead, David stood slowly from his seat and paced to a heavy marble corner desk. A statue of two winged angels—one with chubby baby cheeks and a halo, and one with horns and an evil grin—sat to the left of the desk.

  The horned angel stood tall with his hands resting proudly on his hips, foot perched on the back of his chubby-cheeked counterpart. The angel on his knees looked up at the other with a pleading expression. Soren thought the whole piece looked almost comical.

  But this statue wasn't the reason David had traveled to this spot of them room.

  Resting atop the marble desk was a colorful book with a creased spine from overuse. Soren knew right away what it was. For the first time, he flinched, scooting forward on his chair. David swiped the book from the desk and fanned through the pages.

  “You know what I think, son?” he said casually. “I think you read too much. Fantasy books like this,” he flicked the novel back and forth, the pages slapping against each other, “make people think there are only two sides. Good and evil. They don’t educate young minds like yours on the realities of the world. I'm sure you think that your mom and the Halos are on the good side and that I’m on the evil side. The Light's angels want you to believe that all their intentions are pure and all ours are not. Well, Soren, that’s a fantasy story. But the world in which we find ourselves now is far from fantasy. The sooner you learn this, the better off you’ll be.”

  With this, David strolled languidly toward the fireplace, book in hand. Soren knew what his father was about to do before he did it. But there was nothing he could do but go rigid.

  With a flick of his wrist, David tossed the book into the flames, which brightened as paper met fire. The pages were consumed in less than a minute, turning black, and curling upward in ribbons of ash.

  Soren would have expected to cry at this, but he didn’t. He just stared at the flames in numb silence.

  He didn’t feel anything.

  “Now.” David looked upon his son with spiteful satisfaction. “There is someone on this ship I think you should meet…again.”

  Twenty

  SEVASTION

  The beast lay on a steel medical table Sev and Chord had found at the base of the vessel. Medical instruments and gauze filled the black cabinets running along the perimeter of the room. Sev assumed it was once used as a place to treat maladies which occurred during battle. He’d been under the impression that angels were able to heal themselves without such devices. Perhaps this had been for humans. He’d never ventured to think they may have joined in the holy wars of old.

  Chord leaned against the counter with a hand pressed firmly to his mouth, his pallor chalky and sweat-covered. Sev moved closer to examine the beast. It was a male of about middle-age with greying black hair and an old scar running from his ear to his chin.

  The grey tinge to its skin had returned. Earlier, when the group of beasts had fallen into the water, Sev had noticed something strange. When the creatures were submerged in the water, something physically changed. The saltwater appeared to affect them differently than demons. Rather than catching fire, their skin had gone from grey to normal again.

  “Chord,” he said, jolting the other Halo out of his frozen, horrified-state. “Would you mind fetching me a pail of water?”

  Chord snorted. “Sure, Jack.”

  Sev pulled his gaze from the still grey creature to look upon Chord’s face. It was still pale, though amusement colored his cheeks. “Jack?”

  “And Jill… Went up the hill to fetch a pail of water? No?” Sev blinked slowly in response. “Never mind. I forgot you had a sad childhood filled with encyclopedias and dictionaries.” He snatched a silver pail out of the corne
r. “I’ll be right back.”

  Chord disappeared from the room, leaving Sev alone with the deceased beast.

  Moving closer, Sev bent over the body, drawing back the eyelids to find the solid black irises still there. He ran his gloved thumb across the threaded lips. Why would the Horns require the beasts' mouths to be permanently closed? Perhaps they screamed.

  Rolling the tray of medical supplies closer, Sev searched for a pair of forceps. The wire running through the creature’s lips, like a poorly done sewing job, had already pulled loose on one side. Sev moved closer to the body, ignoring the smell.

  Squinting in concentration, he placed a hand on the left side of the creature’s face and began to unthread the wire tying the mouth closed.

  The process reminded him of when he was younger and would unstring the ties on his trainers. That hadn’t been the only thing he'd disassembled. He appreciated the act of taking things apart so he could figure out how to put them back together.

  “Urgh!”

  Sev dropped the forceps onto the ground with a loud clang. Narrowed eyes sliding to Chord, he said, “Was that necessary?”

  “What are you doing to it?” Chord said as he sat the full pail of salt water on the counter.

  “I was removing its stitches.”

  “Those aren’t stitches. Those are wires. And why on earth would you want to open its stinking mouth?”

  Sev sighed, retrieving the dropped instrument. “This is part of the exploratory process, Chord. Nothing can be overlooked. Everything must be examined.”

  Chord looked to the man’s trousers, his mouth turned up in disgust. “Everything?”

  “Well, perhaps not everything.”

  “Yes, perhaps not.” Chord guffawed, returning to his spot by the counter. “Otherwise, I will need to go upstairs and fetch some alcohol.”